The adventures of Sy

Winging it!

sy — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 04:53:00 GMT

The reason this story came about is due to my own inability to make decisions and to plan anything further in advance than 72 hours. Also due to the aforemention qualities I posses I also nearly spent a night on a bench in Hyde Park. You'd think i'd learn...

So I had arrived in England the previous week and had spent some time with family friends and got to see bit of the countryside and a fleeting glimpse of Stone Henge. Due to my spectacular organisational skills and also the fact that I can't commit to booking a hostel for an entire week in advance "just incase I don't like it", I ended up almost homeless and over 1000km away from where I wanted to be.

It happened to be easter weekend and I could not find a hostel to stay in for under 70 pound, just to do the math that works out at around $160 for the night. This infuriated me for many different reasons, but mostly due to my own lack of forethought, and also not realising it was easter. So I decided that I was leaving London as it was too expensive, the weather was shit, and the people were rude and arrogant.

This was a marvellous plan except for the fact that every single flight back to Europe was going to cost me around $200 which I found ridiculous because I got to London for about $30. So thats when things began to unravel...

I decided to take the bus to Dover (about 2.5hours), and then the ferry from Dover to Calais and then the train from Calais to Lille, and then Lille to Brussels. All was fine, I arrived at Calais and got my ticket and sat down to eat something, it wasn't until everyone started getting up and leaving the cafe that I looked at the time and I thought oh no problem I have another hour and 10 minutes before the train goes. However in hastiness to leave the UK I forgot about the time difference of one hour, and as it turned out I actually had 10 minutes to get to the train. All I can say thank christ I remembered! So I hopped onto the train to Lille and was on my way. Once I arrived at Lille I had a 45 minute way for my connecting train to Brussels. That was fine except for the fact that the train station was outdoors and it was snowing. Departure time was nearing so I made my way down to the platform that I was told the train was going from, and of course the train didn't go from that platform, it went from a different one, but somehow I managed to figure that out aswell and got on the train. So off I set with high hopes and dreams of belgium hot chocolates.

When I arrived in Brussels it wasn't all lollipops and hot chocolates as my deluded brain had led me to believe. It was more like a freezing, filthy station overrun with homeless people. Anyway I had written down different hostels names and numbers to contact when I got to Brussels. So I found a public phone and called them all, and of course not a single one of them answered their phone. I tried again, and again, and again. After smashing the phone onto the receiver a few times I calmed myself down and tried to figure out my next move. After walking around the train station aimlessly for half an hour trying to find a beacon of shining light, my saviour, I gave up and went to try and talk to the travel office and see if they had info about hostels etc., but of course not they only dealt with train tickets. They did mention however that there was an ibis across the road which I could check out, I had already seen an advertisement for the Ibis and it was well out of my price range. So as I left the travel office, totally disheartened and ready to curl up in a corner of the freezing station my saviour came to me in the form of an overnight train to Berlin, and my friend just happened to live near Berlin, and this was my ultimate destination at the end of this crazy overland adventure, I just thought I would stop and see some of the sights along the way. I nearly sprinted back to the ticket office before it closed and proudly announced that I needed a ticket on the only international, overnight train running that evening, to Berlin please! and it was a done deal. Ticket in hand I marched triumphantly back out into the freezing station to wait the four hours until my train left.

I found a waiting room, which of course wasn't heated, but it was enclosed and had seats. The only downside was the homeless man pissing in the corner, but hey you gotta take the good with the bad. This was fine until 10pm sharp when the security men came in and told everyone to get out because the waiting area was closing. Perfect!

I walked around the station which had become full of homeless people aimlessly wandering around. There were about 20 or so seats which were all occupied, and the further you ventured away from this area the less people there were. So I found a nice piece of floor space and made myself comofortable until sometime after midnight when the train left. In that time people were being spat on, abused and yelled at, and people trying to rip tourists off and just cause general mayhem. Definitely a night i'll never forget!

Anyway the train arrived and I spent a luxurious eight hours in a heated carriage, and then arrived in Berlin the next morning, only 24 or so hours after I left my original destination. Just gotta love the way things work out when you try to wing it!

I have since learnt my lesson and conquered my phobia of committment and have booked all hostels, flights and transfers in advance. I swear i'm a changed person!

Helmut and Leona...an interesting train trip.

sy — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 04:38:00 GMT

I was catching an overnight train to Berlin (another story in itself), and as luck would have it I was placed in a cabin with three burly looking German men. They were polite enough, and even helped me to lift my bags up onto the rack. However for the remainder of the trip they sat steely faced either staring at the floor, sleeping with one eye open, or staring out the window. This is all but normal for the Germans as they are a very stoic race, but there was one guy that was particularly interesting. I am going to call him Helmut for the purpose of this story (a common male German name). Helmut was particuarly mean looking; jaw clamped shut, and mouth in a thin straight grimace. Meticulously shaved beard and eyes narrowed to slits. Helmut sat staunchly upright in his black leather jacket for the the best part of the journey, this man was serious business! As the train careened through the countryside I started to drift off to sleep, however just as i'd started to drift off I started to hear Leona Lewis' song Bleeding Love, at first I thought I was actually dreaming and it was in my dream, but it started to get louder and louder until I was completely awake and aware that the song was coming somewhere from in our cabin. I shifted positions and while doing so stole a quick glance around the cabin at the men, and sure enough Helmut had his ipod on blasting out Leona Lewis. Helmut played that song the ENTIRE trip to Berlin - eight long hours on a train with Helmut and Leona Lewis. I swear I know every word off by heart now. So after eight hours of Leona pumping away on the ipod I came to the conclusion that poor Helmut wasn't as mean as he looked, he was simply heartbroken!!!

Madam, it was the champagne.

sy — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 03:03:00 GMT

After a particularly gruelling day of pounding the pavement in Venice what better way to relax than find a 3 michelen star restaurant and relax over a glass, or a bottle, or two, of local vino. Well thats what I thought aswell...

So we arrived for our 7pm reservation a little early and decided we would indulge in an aperitif, or two. By the time we sat down to our starters we were feeling the effects of said aperitifs, however this didn't slow us down, and when the sommelier suggested we try a Sauvignon Blanc with our entree we agreed whole heartedly. Then our main meals arrived along with the very persistent sommelier who insisted that a nebbiolo would compliment our main meals perfectly, and we agreed. Who were we to disagree with an Italian sommelier?
So we ate and drank, and drank, and drank. It wasn't until Bergs refused her desert that I knew something was terribly wrong, and all of two minutes later she stood up and said "right, we're going now!" and off she tottered to pay the bill. As she was paying the bill the cashier eyed us suspicisouly, exactly how you would look at two sozzled foreigners. Poor Bergs, she tried to explain that our hotel was in San Marco square directly opposite the bell tower that rings on the hour, every hour and she was simply tired. The cashier politely declined her explanation and said "It was not the bell madam, it was the champagne".

The Lorry of Spaxton

sy — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 02:49:00 GMT

This is just a random story that I found highly amusing.

After spending one night at Kingston (a suburb in London), we made our way 3 hours south/west to a small country town called Spaxton. I'm sure that's where Heartbeat was filmed, it looked exactly the same! Anyway we stayed with some friends who live in this town and after welcoming us warmly with bottles of red wine, white wine, cider, and liqueur, they decided that it was then an appropriate time to tell us about the locals. So the story goes...there is a man who lives in Spaxton that actually thinks he is a lorry truck, so much so that he actually runs along the road and toots his imaginary lorry horn in his imaginary lorry truck. One might think this is slightly peculiar, however the plot thickens da da daaaa! One day this delightful young lorry driver was making the rounds of Spaxton and as he did this an unmarked police car (also a local, it figures!) pulls the lorry driver over and tells him he has been speeding. So in accordance with the law the officer issues the lorry driver a speeding ticket. So we have a happy bunch of Spaxtonite's all round; the lorry driver finds someone else as bat shit crazy as him, and the police officer makes his quota. Ahhhhh yes, small country towns you just can't beat the smell of fresh air in the morning, and the sight of a man who thinks he's a lorry.

The Ladies of New York...

sy — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 22:19:00 GMT

I spent some time with Shonah and Gabrielle and some of Gabrielle's friends from her apartment building. They all happened to be rich, middle aged, single women who spent the best part of their day talking about how ditsy, mixy, muffy and dongo needed to be taken outside to shit at particular times or their whole schedule would be thrown off, and don't even get me started the time we spent an hour waiting in the lobby for one lady to come down for our a brunch meeting...we later found out that dongo or bongo or whatever the dogs name was, was feeling a little shy and couldn't quite go to the toilet and she just couldn't leave bitzy if it hadnt been. They were lovely women, but they spent the other half of their lives talking about men, and how they hated their ex husbands and then proceeded to tick of a list of things they wanted in a man...it went something like this:

1. Must be rich - $500,000 and over annual income is a MUST

2. Must shower me with freshly picked rose petals every morning before I shower

3. Must cook, clean, work like a pack horse, but also have the time to have children with me and take us on family holidays every 2 to 3 weeks to the Carribean.

4. Must be romantic - this means picking up the bill or bar tab where ever we go, everytime we go!

5. Must also be a fully qualified masseuse (in addition to banker, lawyers or whatever daytime profession is), and proceed to give a one hour back massage every evening after a hard day of having nails done and shopping on 5th Ave.

These were the basic guidelines that these women were following to find their next suitor. Not only that they were actually all getting together with this famous matchmaker (read: scammer) to see if she had any clients on her books who would be a suitable match. I was later informed that her female clients didn't have to pay a cent, however the male clients had to pay upwards of $100,000 to be on her books. HA!!! Those poor suckers are paying $100,000 to be setup with neurotic, menopausal nutjobs!!!!

Anyway, the whole ordeal had me in hysterics. On our sunday morning brunch (after we'd had an early morning bottle of champagne to deal with their shit) I found it almost impossible to sit at the table and listen to dixie's latest doo doo story without bursting out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Its just one of those times where you really want to laugh but have to stay quiet which makes it even harder to keep quiet. The only way I managed to deal with the situation was to follow the example of the ladies of New York and order myself a prosecco...Its amazing how alcohol can help in a situation like this.

Now I know how the socially elite live - with a pole up their arse, no husband, and dog crapping schedule that surpasses any other daily activity.

New York to Munich

sy — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 21:37:00 GMT

New York City was great fun. In between the early morning mimosas, crashing supermodel parties, stalking squirrels and cute nigerian waiters. The weather was absolutely freezing cold, surprisingly the weather was colder on a sunny day when the were no clouds in the sky.

Anyway, I checked out all the touristy things like empire state bldg. Time Sq. and the rockerfeller centre...all very nice. Also went ice skating in central park at the wollman rink, that was really nice as we went in the afternoon as the sun was setting and was all pretty.

I walked across the Brooklyn bridge a couple of times aswell. That was really nice to be able to see the Manhattan skyline, both during the day and at night. Brooklyn itself was really nice, we stopped off at a middle eastern restaurant on Atlantic Ave and had a feast, then we waddled on down to a bar that was just next to the bridge to watch the highly publicised superbowl between NY Giants and the New England Patriots...Giants won!!!!!! So we watched about half of the game and got bored. The street that the pub was on was really nice, full of bars and restaurants and leafy trees...well they will be leafy when spring comes. After that we walked back across the bridge at night, that was really beautiful.

The hostel I stayed in was good...for the price I paid. Clean sheets and towels every morning, hot water and it was warm, free internet access, and it was 1.5 blocks from the subway station which was REALLY convenient. We had a few incidents with vermin breaking into our room and some of the girls screaming about it, but I was on the top bunk and went back to sleep haha. One of the security guards was really funny, the first time he saw me he asked where I was from and I said Australia and everytime I saw him after that he would say "Hey Australia, what you doing today?" haha...It was old by the end of my time there, but funny all the same I suppose.

People in NY, maybe just America in general, have really funny mannerisms and quirks. For example when someone apologises to an American their reply is usually "Uhuh"...in fact they use Uhuh A LOT!!! They just have a different way of doing things, Australia is very different in their aproach to many things.

Eating NY was good because every area of the city has a different cuisine. I loved heading downtown to chinatown and checking out the retaurants they had, lots of warm soups and dumplings...all my favourite food! Chinatown was also great to just wander around, the streets really smell like Asia, and its dirty and grimy, and people spit everywhere. You walk one street away and its like you've stepped into a different country altogether. There are fish markets with fresh seafood displayed on a big benches filled with ice and the daily catch...weird seafood too, stuff i've never seen before. There are a lot of cute little bakeries with custard buns and the like, and there are HEAPS of street vendors selling designer knockoffs anything from purses and perfume to jewellery...anything you want they've got it, and they love a good bargain. I haven't had to bargain for something since I was in Asia last.

I decided while I was in New York I should visit the world trade centre site to really understand the enormity of it and all that jazz, but when I got their I found out that, to my amazement, they had pimped that place out too and were charging people to go on a guided walk which was the only way to see the site because it was all fenced off. I refused to pay $10 to see a hole in the ground, it just cheapened to whole experience, so I left. I went across the street to century 21, which is a massive discount designer shop, and spent hours looking around at heaps of shit. When I came out of the shop there were cops everywhere and MASSES of people, I mean THOUSANDS, so many that the streets were all blocked off. I had no idea what was going on until I realised everyone around me had giants shirts and caps on...apparently I had walked out into the middle of the NY Giants street parade. So I spent an hour or more trying to make my way trough the hoardes of people and trying to find a subway station. It was total chaos on the streets, and even the subway timetables had been amended to deal with all the extra people who were downtown and this made it particularly hard to get anywhere.

I was introduced to this supermarket in NY called wholefoods, as most would know I am a total food lover, so when I went into this department store size supermarket I was so overcome with joy that I couldnt decided where to go. The place is totally amazing. I've never seen a supermarket with such variety, and not only that it has a food bar where you can get anything from fresh sushi, salad, soup, sandwiches, pasta and then go sit down in their dining area and eat it. They also had a cheese and chocolate bar...MMM! Oh and they sell alcohol! I loved that place!!!

Le Cirque. Nobu...Yep it can only mean one thing...Restaurant week in NYC!

sy — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 09:44:00 GMT

The rumours are true! It is indeed restaurant week in New York City. As a budding food critic and self proclaimed connoiseur of all things gastronomical there is nothing more exciting than being able to go to a 3 star restaurant in New York and eat a 3 course meal for $35. If one of the dinner guests happens to be a generous New York native and feels compelled to purchase the vintage Moet and Chandon for the table to enjoy, whose to argue? Not I! Full reviews on these so called 3 star restaurants to come...watch this space.

I have arrived...

sy — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 12:35:00 GMT

I have arrived in New York City! To start off with I have a few random musings which have crossed my mind from time to time...Ok at least three times to six times a day.

To start off with the resevoir in Central Park has started to freeze around the edge and has created a 5 metre ring of ice around the edge of the lake, now I understand that it is winter and freezing is the natural occurance of a liquid turning into a solid at 0 degrees. What I am failing to comprehend is how the ducks and geese still land on the water and sit in it. How are they doing this? Do they have insulation on their legs? And is this why duck leg is a gourmet delicacy in china town? AND aren't the ducks suppose to head north for the winter so that they minimize the chance of becoming a permanent fixture of the lake? Speaking of, how do they know when the water is starting to freeze around them? The whole situation has me perplexed and I feel compelled to find out the truth about this freezing duck phenomena!

Next item on the agenda. Why do the greek statues in The Met have such perfectly sculpted testicles? Lets all be honest here, when have they ever looked so smooth and perfect? Same goes for the ass! Because I can tell that the nether regions of these greek gods are somewhat misleading in their representation of real life, does this mean that their six pack and pectorals are also a false representation of what was many thousands of years ago? Is this like the B.C version of photoshop? Yes, I think so!

Why is it that in a city of roughly 19 million people do seemingly ordinary citizens, with no obvious disability or crack addiction, find the need to talk to themselves so frequently, and even sing opera to themselves. I am really confused by this habit.

Finally on my list of things that have crossed my mind this week. Do you thinks it's bad if the recommended price for museum entry is $20 and I give them $1? Is it my moral obligation to give in and waste $20?

Departures

sy — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 23:43:00 GMT

Sydney to NY - 21st Jan 12pm

Stage 1: Get on plane

Stage 2: Drink beer to calm nerves

Stage 3: Knock self out with sleeping tablets

Stage 4: wake up in new country