Random Traveller

As I write this

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 16:35:00 GMT

I thought this might be a better place to start than the beginning for reasons mainly to do with the fact that I am writing this sitting in what is technically a Homeless Shelter. It’s one of those nice Homeless Shelters. I have a room with only three other people and I get fed dinner. The only downside is there are no locks and I think I have to go to Church in the morning. I was looking for a Hostel, really. Then they took my details and gave me a confused look when I asked how much it cost per night.

Just got back from dinner. I was served by Nuns! And there were lots of men with beards. But I fit in cause I had my beanie (furry hat) and puffy jacket. If only I had my Hobo gloves there would have been no difference between us. Apart from the complete lack of facial hair…

I find myself in this situation because I ran away from my apartment. That’s right, I backed up my bags and snuck out the door while my Landlady wasn’t looking. She was crazy and obsessive and generally a very angry person. All lights had to be turned off apart from the one you were currently using. I was allowed to use one saucepan, two frying pans, two cups, one sink and toilet and one pillow. I was not allowed to use any other cooking implements or mugs, the couch or the pillows from the couch to make my little chair more comfortable. For that I could take the pillow from my bed.

Yesterday she demanded 40 Euros for power because using my laptop hadn’t been part of the rent. I asked to see the power bill and she blew her top. Figuring if I didn’t pay up she would start stealing my stuff I packed up and left. I left a little note that said “Tu eres demasiado enfadado” or “You are too angry”.

Yes, I know it was childish, but after a month living with her I needed something to chuckle about.

England

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:30:00 GMT

Well this is where I left off communication all those months ago. I met up with my parents in London for the week. Didn’t really do too much other than see some friends of the family and visit my Granny in Oxfordshire for a night. I like visiting and don’t really get to see her that often. I’ll be spending Christmas in Newcastle with her and my Aunt/Uncle/cousins, which should be really nice. Proper English Christmas and all.

Barcelona and the Pyrenees

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:29:00 GMT

My parents and I headed down to Barcelona where we met up with my brother James. He’s been overseas since November last year and has only just made it home. For anyone travelling to Barcelona, which is a lovely city, the one thing you have to see is the Sagrada Familiar. It is a Cathedral under construction. The only one currently being built and on the inside it is magnificent. The columns branch as they reach for the ceiling, which is dotted with small skylights, creating the impression of a forest canopy. Designed by Gaudi (those bits of the design that were left after the Civil War) it really is something else. Personally my favourite façade is the one not built by him, but the latter more modernistic one.

After Barcelona we headed to a town on the Costa Brava called Llafranc. Nice typical seaside town, lots of whitewash and Spanish tourists. I got to go Kayaking on the Med! I also managed to get sunburned, but it was the strange kind that doesn’t show up until 3 hours later and then burns all night.

The next stop was some nice resorty place. All I did there was swim and work on my golf swing.

From here we headed inland. The Pyrenees are beautiful. We took the scenic routes up over the mountain passes and winding through tiny 5 house villages like the Village of Prat. Yes, we did giggle through the whole 100m stretch of it. The high altitude meadows were gorgeous. Unbelievably green, dotted with wild flowers and perpetually permeated by the clanking of cowbells. I feel the need to make obvious comments in relation to The Sound of Music. As for return visits I think motorcycles are the way to go. Firstly you’d be on a motorcycle, enough said, secondly the roads are really winding, views spectacular and there’s the fresh mountain air and thirdly you get to drive past all the poor souls who decided to go on a bicycle tour in the Mountains.

I am very ‘Activities’ orientated so the real highlight for me was James and I managing to talk our parents into letting us go canyoning. As I said in the summary it was Awesomeness. We had one of those new digital cameras that claim to be waterproof down to 1m. It was not. I even kept it all safe and warm tucked down by bikini top and it still broke. Thankfully the memory stick survived.

As for the last photo; yes, that is me and yes, I am extremely airborne. You can see my “Oh shit!” face. The little pool of water I was aiming for was about the same distance again below and to the right of the bottom of the photo. However once my brothers do something I usually feel obliged not to chicken out. This is generally how I get myself into situations like, for example, stuck on top of an icy chute narrower than my skis, lined by rocks, ending in rocks followed by more cliff and Henry standing below shouting “Just point your skis down, hop that bit and make a sharp left. It’s fine!”

We finished the circle back in Barcelona where parents flew to the Southern Hemisphere and siblings flew south to sunny Alicante.

Alicante

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:28:00 GMT

Alicante is a small city a few hours south of Valencia on the Costa Blanca. I went to school here for 3 weeks and had a ball. Traditionally everyone has classes for a few hours in the morning and heads to the beach for the afternoon. For me the beach was a bit ‘meh’. If you hop on a tram for about 15 minutes the ratio of cigarettes to sand improves dramatically, but there are still no waves. With my Irish skin I can’t tan so I got bored pretty quickly. I guess I’m a surf person rather than a beach person.

It was here that I first really got to enjoy the Spanish night out. To start we all grab a few bottles of wine from the supermarket for 1 or 2 Euros each and then either sit on someone’s roof or climb the old fortifications affectionately dubbed The Drinking Wall. We pass away the time admiring the city lights until it’s 11:00 or 12:00 at night. Next it’s off to a bar in search of pool or good music. We bar hop until about 3:00 by which time we figure the clubs must be going and head to one we’ve been told plays a good mix. However we’re a tad early so we find a dark corner and try to ignore the looks the staff are giving us, which say “Who are these daft foreigners who go to clubs at 3am? Now I have to look like I’m working.” By about 5:00 the dance floor was finally packed. I don’t really remember much after that, but I woke up in my apartment some time Saturday afternoon. My friends however were delighted to fill me in and for the next week kept pointing out the tag I’d supposedly clawed into their elevator door.

I met quite a few people there, although I did seem to spend most nights hanging with a German couple – Chris and Dorothea, affectionately known as Zee Germanz. Actually I’m not sure they knew that, but they do now.

The school was good. I think I really learned a lot there in only three weeks. I, at least, only turned up with hangovers, James seemed to be renown for practically passing out at his desk every day. I heard this from three separate teachers: “Tu eres la hermana de Alex? Ah! El es bueno chico, pero mal estudiante.” Or “You’re Alex’s sister? Ah! (indicating understanding for my obvious hangover) He is a good boy, but a bad student.”

Towards the end of my stay we visited some family friends, Bev and Mike, in their little villa about an hour away. We imposed on their hospitality for a week and they nursed us through a vicious cold. Believed to be Moroccan in origin, damn you Adam.

La Tomatina (The Great Tomato Fight!)

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:27:00 GMT

It is held in Buñol. It is exactly what the title says.

Imagine the most insane mosh you have ever been in and then add several tonnes of tomato pulp.

Everyone, thousands of people, were packed into this long street no wider than my bedroom. I’m there, so squashed I’m having flashbacks of a Red Hot Chilli Peppers concert and soaked from the hoses and buckets of water being thrown from the apartments above. At least they were supposed to be water. I got hit by a bucket of something that definitely tasted like cold coffee.

My friend (female) ended up topless after getting too close to one of the pockets of half naked people yelling “Camiseta! Camiseta!” My brother stripped voluntarily so he would have clothes to wear home. I tried to get closer to the walls and hit anyone who wanted a piece of my clothing.

While all this is going on I’m starting to wonder about the distinct lack of tomatoes. I was thinking they must all be in the square at the end of the street and I was missing out. But wait! Here comes a massive truck! When I looked up and saw a thing the size of a small semi-trailer approaching the mouth of the calle all that came to mind was “Fuck No!?” The crowd went from writhing mass of densely packed flesh to two rows of very still compacted bodies as the massive thing lumbered past. Every 20m or so it would stop, tilt up the container and pour a tonne of tomatoes onto the street. The crowd quickly returned to a writing mass of densely packed flesh, except now with ammunition. Oh, and this happened 6 times.

On the sixth occasion James had the luck of being right behind the truck as it stopped. They held the back open and he was in tomatoes past his knees. He flopped back and got a brief swim before everyone else piled in. I think there was a near drowning.

So in summary it was an Experience (capital letter necessary); one that was scary, interesting and disappointingly without personal photos. You should have seen me afterwards. It took three days and multiple washes to get all the pulp out of my hair. I think my shirt still smells. In fact Valencia, an hour away, smelt of tomatoes. Admittedly this was not due to winds, but thousands of tomato covered people returning to their hostels.

A strange question that may never be answered is: Why, amidst the thousands of people who had gathered in this little Spanish town for a festival that admits it has absolutely no point, did we bump into several Whistler ski instructors?

Oviedo

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:26:00 GMT

After the tomatoes and the cold James and I took our leave and one headed north, the other south. I ended up in Oviedo the capital of Asturias, which is one of the provinces on the northern seaboard. I have to say it is the prettiest city I have ever seen. I’m told this is because Prince Felipe lives here, the son of Spain’s King. The head Sister of this shelter I’m currently in suggested gardening as a possible job. I can understand why. I think immaculate hedgerows, fountains and bushes shaped like bounding puppies is the Asturian approach to solving its unemployment problem.

My first few days here were spent window-shopping. It’s a University town so almost all the shops are in my demographic and the prices so tempting. The French tell me that the fashion here is way out of date, but that still means it’s two years ahead of Australia.

I like the way they organise bar hopping here. Every bar bribes you with free drinks to come inside, you spend half an hour on the dance floor, then step outside and walk 5 metres for your next free drink.

I learnt a new drinking game that I am forcing everyone to partake in when I get home. You need little plastic cups the size of small whiskey glasses, some jugs of cheap wine mixed with cola and a few coins (one per 3 or 4 people). The rules are simple, spread out the coins around the table, you have to bounce the coin into your glass then you can drink it and pass the coin. If the next coin catches you, you have to drink every drink on the table. We played with 13 people, that’s a lot of penalty shots. I’m told this is the game all the students play here before going to the clubs.

Well, just as I was settling in to Oviedo, found an apartment etc. James SMSs from somewhere with monkeys to say: Look monkeys! and Oh, you know those travel plans we had for two months time? Could we move them to next week?

Scotland

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:25:00 GMT

Ryanair, it really is a love-hate relationship. They’ll fly you across Europe for 15 Euros then the bus from their middle of nowhere airport to your actual destination will cost you 20 Euros. Warning: don’t you dare go over their 20kg luggage limit or you’ll have to sell your first born. Both James and I had interesting journeys trying to meet up in Edinburgh. James’ flight arrived in Prestwick after the connecting busses to Glasgow had stopped. Split between 4 people the taxi still cost more than his flight. Dumped at the currently closed Glasgow railway station he asked a Policeman directions to the closest hostel and was told something along the lines of “There are some over there, but if you go to that side of the river you’ll probably get mugged.” Deciding against crossing the river he found a well lit stairwell, put on every warm item he owned, socks on his hands and passed the night in the company of roving drunks and patrolling Police. I also found myself without a place for the night before my flight into the UK. I discovered on arrival in Santander that the hostel I wanted to stay in had closed down. The Spanish are quite firm believers in not working on a Sunday so I couldn’t even find a piece of bread to eat with my whole tomato. I had no idea where to find another hostel and lugging a backpack up and down a mountainside in search of food is not fun. While sitting on a curb munching away I thought “What the hell” and pulled out my laptop. I love that the Spanish have all discovered the joys of Wifi, but are yet to learn about internet security. Half an hour later accommodation was sorted, email checked and a few episodes of anime downloaded courtesy of Youtube. Edinburgh is a lovely city. We visited Edinburgh castle, listened to some tours and saw the giant siege cannon Mons Meg. Behind Holyrood Palace is Holyrood Park, a small island of traditional Scottish moor right in the middle of the sprawling metropolis. We climbed up the bluff for a magnificent view of the old city and surrounds. Of course the moment we decided to do this we were subjected to the classic Scottish weather of harsh winds and frigid rain, fully completing the experience.

Dublin

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:24:00 GMT

We arrived in Dublin late at night to discover that, through a combination of a large international intervarsity sporting competition and a football game, every single hostel was fully booked for the next 4 days. As a result we spent the first half of every day walking around looking for accommodation. At one hostel the receptionist asked us if we would like to take a look at the rooms. Usually it’s much of a muchness, but the look she was giving us said “You REALLY want to take a look at the rooms.” So we obliged. Thank God we didn’t have to stay there. The roof was peeling and dripping in places, some of the beds had half collapsed from rust and then there was the smell; some offensive blend of mold and urine. We thanked her as we quickly left. Such a nice lady.

After the first night’s accommodation had been secured we went out in search of our first ever real Irish pub. The one we found was lovely; solid wood interior, let the Guinness stand for ages before you could touch it and two men with guitar and accordion playing Danny Boy. What I did not expect when they moved on to jigs was for four couples to take to the dance floor and perform choreographed Irish dances. There was foot tapping by all. So unbelievably stereotypical, my opinion of ‘What is an Irish Pub’ is now set in stone, never again to be swayed.

We had hoped to get in contact with some people James knew to take us round Dublin, however this fell through for reasons related to vegan farming. I still don’t quite understand. It was late on the second day I eventually remembered I had a friend from Australia who moved to Dublin. Feeling very ashamed for forgetting I now had the task of somehow getting in contact with him. Realising I had no numbers or addresses I thought “Hey, let’s try Google!” and voilà, full contact details. The phone call went a bit like this:

“Oh, hey Andrew! It’s Rhiannon. Umm… what country are you in?”

“Uh, that would be the Republic of Ireland.”

“Sweet, me too! Dublin, until the day after tomorrow. Are you free?”

He took my popping up on the other side of the world with absolutely no warning surprisingly well. I think I might have developed a reputation for this type of behaviour. I generally give friends or family about 3 days notice, or less, before turning up on their doorstep. I’m trying to be better, really. I blame my upbringing, which reminds me of a conversation I had in my kitchen in Brisbane a while back.

Marc walks in:

“Hey Rhiannon. Where’s your Mum?”

“Hmm? Oh, in Wales.”

“Wales?”

“Uh huh … what?” (in reference to the look he is now giving me)

“… I thought you were going to say down the shops.”

Going back to Dublin. We walked around a lot, were confused by the Millennium Spire and went on the Guinness and Jameson’s Whiskey tours. We also saw the Book of Kells and typed our Surname into one of Trinity College’s genealogy computers. Up popped the early family history right back to Saint Kieran. All in all it was a brief, but pleasant, stay. I want to go back with someone who can rent a car and drive around, which was actually part of the original plan before James turned things upside down.

Amsterdam

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:23:00 GMT

I love Amsterdam. It is by far my favourite European city and I’d love to live there for a bit if I ever get the chance. The Dutch people are amazing. Always friendly and helpful, although sometimes they can be so helpful you have to be careful. If you ask a Dutch person for directions firstly make sure they know the place you are looking for. Even if they don’t have a clue where your hostel is they will give you directions anyway. Walking around for an hour, at night, with luggage, in circles that include the red light district, is not fun.

The Flying Pig is an awesome hostel. Uptown is newer, bigger and laidback, whereas Downtown is groovier and has a bar and lounge area that rival any in town. They also make a gazette that tells you about the good places to eat, cool stores to visit and what free tours are available. This was my second time in the city and I didn’t feel like redoing tours, so James and I hired bikes instead. It was a great idea, I fully recommend it, but I couldn’t walk properly for the next 3 days. There are a lot of cobblestones in Holland and rental bikes don’t come with suspension.

I read somewhere that everything in Holland is small, except the people. This is completely true. Tiny houses, tiny streets, tiny ferries, tiny drawbridges and you still feel short. Supposedly until a few generations ago the people were tiny too. No one really knows what happened. James remarked that it had been a bit of a shock to his system. He’d come to think of himself as tall while living in Spain, now he was a short-ass again.

I’ve been musing about the possible psychological effect of having to build your country. They literally have carved it piece by piece, meadow by meadow, out from the sea. Once a dyke is built there are still 30 years of drainage and desalination before the land becomes arable. Then there’s the fact that almost every bit of rain that falls in the country has to be pumped out. I wonder if this results in a different valuation of what in life is important. In general they seem happier, more laidback and proud of their enlightened social policies. They also don’t dub their movies or TV, so all the young people speak fluent, if somewhat American, english.

Berlin and Würzburg

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:22:00 GMT

From Amsterdam we caught an overnight bus and I managed to sleep the whole way. I woke up at a about 9 o’clock in the morning and on finding the bus stopped thought to myself, “Hmm…wonder where we are? Might get some breakfast.” In answer to the first part, it was Berlin. I think I would have ended up in Dresden if I hadn’t woken just then.

We didn’t do the big walking tour in continuation of my refusal to do tours I’d already done, but I’d recommend it to anyone who isn’t travelling with me. James had to settle for “Behind the Iron Curtain”, a tour mostly focused on the Cold War period and the Berlin Wall. Also recommended, the guide is an ex-British spy who lived and worked in Berlin during that period. He regaled us with tales of how they would cross into East Berlin for diplomatic talks then disappear for a few days to steal Russian rockets and the instruction manuals of ballistic missiles.

The other tour we went on was The Pub Crawl. The first stop was a lovely, cosy, low lit place, completely coated in DDR memorabilia. The third stop was the club I mentioned in the summary. It is in the remaining sections of a gutted 4 story building. The building used to be a Squat for impoverished artists and much of their work still decorates the interior. You can stand in the bar on the 4th floor as gaze out across a sculpture littered sandlot to watch random artistic projections on a large whitewashed wall. Unfortunately we were there on a Wednesday, but I’m told that on the weekends the whole building in packed. If you watch Goodbye Lenin there’s one club in it that makes you sit up and think, “Holy crap! That’s a club? So cool!”. Well it’s pretty much like that.

Zee Germanz from Alicante had extended an invitation for us to stay in Würzburg if we visited Germany, although I know they didn’t think it would be this soon. We booked a bus for Friday, unfortunately I had forgotten to change the time zone on my phone, yet again. This was the third time. On the other two occasions I woke up early, but on this day we weren’t so lucky. Fortunately we managed a full refund and seeing as we were up early decided to visit all the Berlin monuments that hadn’t been in the Spy tour. One of my favourites is the monument to the Nazi book burnings. In a large square called the Bebelplatz in-between the Humboldt University and St. Hedwig's Cathedral, the cobbles give way to a small panel of glass. If you walk right up to it and peer down you see a large dark room under your feet. Its walls lined by rows and rows of empty shelves.

In the afternoon James finally realised his dream of seeing Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Postdam Platz was part of the Death Strip during the time of the Wall. Nowadays super modern buildings tower over your head. They exemplify such architectural extremes you really feel like you’re in a future with flying cars. The Sony Building, which contains the Version Original cinemas, looks like a cross between Mount Fuji and a spaceship.

By the time we eventually made it down to Würzburg James could only spare a few hours before starting his Australia bound journey. We knew both Chris and Dorothea were in Munich at the time so we decided to give the idea of visiting a miss and hop the next train to Frankfurt. However a man that turned out to be Doro’s father accosted James at the station. She’d trusted in James’ hair to make him stand out from the crowd and we were invited home for beer and sausage. With no arm-twisting involved I was convinced to stay for the week. They have a standing invitation to visit Australia, but don’t know when they’ll make it. These Europeans seem to think it’s so far away. “Pah!” I say.

Back in Oviedo

rhiannon — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 04:20:00 GMT

Well this bit will be where I update. I plan to stay in this city until Christmas and hopefully improve my woeful Spanish. Unless something untoward happens I’ll be staying in this nice bit of free accommodation for a few days, during which I need to find another apartment.

After the New Year it’s on to Cuba then Vail. It’s looking like our little apartment will be completely packed. My mother has reached the point of “Well, if we have this many people staying, let’s invite more! After all once you’re on to floor space it’s definitely the more the merrier.”

Note to my Mother: I bagsie a bed, cause I said I was coming first!

Slight update: I do now have a proper roof over my head. A little room, just one bed plus chair kind of thing, but nice flatmates, which really is what matters.

Comments

rhiannon — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 20:44:00 GMT

I love comments. They let me know people like me bothering with this and if anything I´ve done actually counts as exciting. If you don´t want to give this site your email address you can put journals.worldnomads.com/rhiannon as your webpage.

Introduction

rhiannon — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 22:00:00 GMT

Here’s a brief rundown for people that can’t be bothered:

Right now: In a Homeless Shelter..
England: Saw my Granny..
Barcelona: I love Gaudi, Costa Brava = Kayaking on the Med, Yay!.
Pyrenees: Canyoning = Even more Yay!.
Alicante: Learning, Beach, Drinking..
La Tomatina (The Great Tomato Fight!): Awesomeness..
Oviedo: Sweet, Tiny, Disrupted by brother..
Scotland: Rain, Moors..
Dublin: Guiness, Jamesons, My Irish blood..
Amsterdam: Bicycles, Canals, Tiny towns..
Berlin: Spy tour, Best club ever..
Würzburg: Friends..
Oviedo again: To be seen..
Cuba: After New Year..
Vail: After Cuba..

Note: Most of this travel was done with my younger brother who has a tendency to introduce himself by a new name in each country he visits. For my purposes James-James-Alex-Mully-Asshole is known as James.

Gallery: Costa Brava and Pyrenees

rhiannon — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 21:05:00 GMT

Gallery: Alicante

rhiannon — Mon, 13 Nov 2006 21:11:00 GMT

Gallery: Oviedo

rhiannon — Sat, 11 Nov 2006 21:16:00 GMT

Gallery: Edinburgh

rhiannon — Fri, 10 Nov 2006 21:18:00 GMT

Gallery: Berlin

rhiannon — Tue, 7 Nov 2006 21:24:00 GMT

I'm Free! (for 6 months)

rhiannon — Fri, 8 Sep 2006 01:45:00 GMT

Hello everyone,

Well now that I’m all graduated and stuff I’m off to not really see the world, but lounge around in a far off corner of it; mainly southern Spain. I promised everyone back home I’d be staying in contact so hopefully this is just the first of my updates. I’ve just arrived in London after a brief 2 day stopover in Hong Kong. Great to see the place again even if I didn’t have time to do much other than play with my little cousins (which was a lot of fun). Not really any adventures so far other than forgetting to change the time zone on my phone alarm. Bad enough having to wake up at 5am, but far worse to look at your watch after just finishing lacing up your boots and discover it is in fact now 20 past 3. Some (silent) cursing was involved. Thankfully I was sleeping in the TV room so the next few hours were occupied by Plunkett and Macleane. Also due to certain necklace purchases I did not have enough money to pay my taxi driver when we got to the airport.

The next week will be pottering around London, followed by family trip to northern Spain. After that the parentals head home and I’m on my own. Not fully decided what I’ll be doing next, but Spanish beaches and job hunting will probably be involved. So hope everyone is well and let me know if you’re going to be in the area. Of course being Australian by 'the area' I mean Western Europe.

Bye for now :)

Rhi