Winging it

Photos: Tokyo

tash — Tue, 1 Apr 2014 23:58:00 GMT

Photos: Turkey

tash — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 20:12:00 GMT

Photos: Troy/Gallipoli

tash — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 20:02:00 GMT

Photos: Barcelona

tash — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 18:47:00 GMT

Photos: Fez

tash — Wed, 9 Feb 2011 07:32:00 GMT

Morocco

tash — Tue, 8 Feb 2011 06:35:00 GMT

Casablanca

We had generated a high level of excitement prior to landing in Morocco as we were getting back on track however it was now my turn to feel seedy. Despite this, we decided to head out on the train to see the city and happily I made it all the way to Casa station before being overcome. I at least had the presence of mind to ask Paige if she had a spare hair lackey to avoid the awkward 'vomit in hair' scenario. The bathrooms at the station were reasonably clean and it only cost me one dirham as well so money well spent, I say. Maybe my ambivalence at Casablanca was attributed to not feeling 100% or maybe it was just a rough and shabby city, either way, it was difficult to generate a positive feeling. It was, however, quite pleasant to sit on the step in the market and bask in the sun for a few hours before jumping back on the train to the airport.

Marrakesh

Landing in Marrakesh buoyed my spirits somewhat and I was feeling almost reasonable. The taxi driver took us to the gate of the medina and indicated vaguely that our hotel was inside without elaborating. Thankfully there is a thriving industry for guiding lost tourists and some sweet lads jumped up mighty quick to help. We assembled quite a collection of people in the end all wanting to claim a tip for escorting us to the hotel. We were welcomed inside with divine cups of heavily sugared mint tea which began my addiction over the following week. Our room was so beauiful but all I could think of was getting showered and crawling into bed. I fought off the chills and sweats and had a brilliant sleep (eventually). The next morning I was much rejuvenated and we breakfasted on the rooftop terrace with a collection of friendly felines before heading out to explore the medina. It is a sensory overload with a riot of colours, people and noises all clamouring for your attention. Everyone wants to take you to the tannery or the wool dyers souk or the Centre square. Everywhere you turn there is something new. Slippers, silver, carpets, Julabas (hooded robes) and occasionally threads of silk nailed at head height and stretching down the street, round the corner and entering a shop where it is spun.

The people are so friendly and have a great sense of humour. As I was looking at something in a market stall, I called to Paige to have a look and it set off a chorus of cat calls from the stall owners: 'Paige, Paige, come and have a look at this'. It is difficult to resist going into the shops if you enter into a conversation with the stall holder and we have become adept at evading this. As we passed, one guy asked if we were sisters, we toss back over our shoulder 'no just friends' He cheekily said, 'oh, I know, you are lovers' which made us laugh. We linked arms exchanged the most chaste of kisses and kept walking. This poor guy nearly fell off his chair and was left to desperately call after us, 'ladies, can you repeat the kiss...please...ladieeeessssss' as we left him trying to regain some composure.

At about 6pm, a previously barren area in the Fna Market square erupts into a flurry of activity. Hundreds of tables, chairs, cooking pots and brightly lit stalls displaying an incredible array of fresh vegetables, seafood and meat appear. The charismatic waiters exert their charms on passers by in order to get them to sit down and as soon as one person looks like they are moving towards the stall, all the waiters stop and give a huge round of applause that has you startled, laughing and sitting with a menu in your hand before you know it.

After all the hard work of shopping and eating, we were looking forward to a bit of pampering and we went for a hammam and massage. We stripped down to robe and knickers and were escorted to a quiet, candle lit, humid washroom. Your robe is removed by one of the wash women and you are washed like you havent beeen washed since you were a baby. You are then coated with a thick gritty paste of savon noir, masaged, left to rest for half an hour before being buffed with a body mitt which was a bit like being exfoliated with a cheese grater. Happily my skin was intact after this and also incredibly soft and the ensuing oil massage was very relaxing and included a rather unexpected but nonetheless pleasant boob massage.

Fez

I think I was becoming accustomed to the crazy streets and where for the life of me I couldn't make sense of the direction in Marrakesh, we just couldn't seem to get lost in Fez. Fez is much more down tempo than Marrakesh, not as busy and WAY cheaper. (e.g. starting rates for tourist Fez hats in Marrakesh was 150 dirhams and in Fez just 20 dirhams).

As delightful as the thought of viewing the tanneries from the roof top restaurants was, the hypnotic sounds of metal hammers on copper had us wandering down side streets and we came across a little hole in the wall tea house with half a dozen men chatting. This tea house draws people from outside the medina as he is one of the few people who prepare tea from a copper 'cafeteria' using water from a mineral spring. He stuffs mint leaves and a sprig wormwood into a glass, adds a wicked amount of sugar then tops it with green tea. A glass holder is quickly fashioned from an empty cardboard tea box to insulate it from the heat and we are handed them with a flourish. There is a photograph of an Egyptian musician from the '20's on the wall, yellowed like the ceiling and is the only decoration aside from the mountain of mint leaves on the counter. People come and go as we sit, including a deaf-mute gentleman on a tea run for work. He is obviously well known and we are chatting through another customer who acts as an interpreter and he asks me to marry him. Sadly I was unable to do this, but I thought he was very sweet.

I have had my eye on a fabulous pair of yellow slippers I saw someone wearing in Marrakesh and of course I didn't buy them at the time (Moral of the story -buy it when you see it!), there didn't seem to be the same market for the slippers in Fez. I had almost put them out of my mind when we got caught in a ridiculously busy intersection in a market street. It was as if a bell went off somewhere and all of a sudden about 20 men holding giant stacks of yellow slippers descended on the intersection. I felt like Alice in Wonderland being bustled about by towers of yellow slippers. Just as suddenly we were out the other side with nary a slipper to be seen. I still didn't buy them, I think the experience was more than enough.

A cooking class was also on the agenda and we took ourselves to Cafe Clock. We chose our menu (soup, couscous with chicken and seven vegetables and chocolate coated date rolls for dessert) Our host Suhad took us into the markets and although I am not a big fan of the 'tour the markets' thing, Suhad gave us a really informative commentary of what everything was plus we actually used the ingredients purchased for our meal, including our freshly killed chicken. I am not a big 'meat for eating' fan but I appreciate the respect for the life of animals killed in the halal way. Although not as hands on as I would have liked, the class was fairly inclusive and I have to say that it was the best Moroccan food we have had as it was cooked to our taste , not too soggy which is the Moroccan way. I thought the course was very overpriced for Moroccan standards and certainly needs more (like maybe an apron or sample rose oil or decent recipe book) to make it good value but worth it for my interests.

I am saddened to leave Morocco but Spain calls as our alternative to Egypt which was crippled by civil unrest at the time.

Hotel Marrakesh: Riad Ta'achachqua. Absolutely luxurious, helpful staff. They provided a laundry service which was kind of expensive but they did iron our socks and underwear! Only con is that it is difficult to find. My suggestion would be to hire a 'medina taxi'- one of the guys with the wheelbarrows to take your luggage there and lead the way (pay maybe 20 dirhams or more if you like).

Hotel Fez : Dar Seffarine. Even more fantastic than Riad Ta'ach if that is possible. An absolutely stunning reno of an old house and the staff were so lovely you felt like you were home. Breakfast wsa also first class and one of the best we have had. Cons: leaving- we really wanted to stay for longer :(

I should note that neither of these are backpacker budget stays, but still amazing value for the sheer luxury and beauty of the surrounds.

Photos: Marrakesh

tash — Sun, 6 Feb 2011 06:58:00 GMT

Photos: Mountauban

tash — Thu, 3 Feb 2011 06:56:00 GMT

France

tash — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 06:57:00 GMT

We now start the planned segment of the holiday where both Paige and I are supposed to leave England and travel by train to Paris. Seeing as I couldnt enter the UK, my last 4 weeks have been a very fantastic 'plan B' roaming over Europe instead (tough life!). Paige's lovely friend had given her a fabulous gift of 'real' hotel accommodation, a stark contrast to our usual backpacker dives. I arrived from Belgium around lunch and was so delighted by the room and beautiful clean bathroom that I made myself completely at home, you know: throw clothes all over room, long luxurious bath, wash hair, shave legs, etc. I then ventured forth and found a supermarket to get some cheese, bread and wine along with an assortment of other tasty snacks to celebrate being in Paris. It was quite a sanctuary and made a great home base for the few days we were there, up until the night we (and by this I mean 'I') trash the room by dropping red wine on the cream carpet!

We had a couple of things lined up, one to go to the Moulin Rouge which was a very glossy cabaret show and lots of fun. The other was to go to Disneyland. We raced in like excited kids chosing to go to the Movie park first and lined up immediately for the 'Tower of Terror'. ...And waited. ...For an hour. It was freezing and we were stuck behind a guy who smoked *gag* but we hung in there and I have to say, the ride was FANTASTIC!!! based on the Twilight zone movie, you were escorted into tho hotel and out to a service elevator which sent you on gravity defying drops between floors. It was a great show and brilliantly presented but the wait killed us! The rest of the park was a bit lame as we were reluctant to queue for more rides and so it consisted of wandering into buildings and looking at 'stuff'. Call me a cynic, but it seemed like one giant gift shop. I was torn between wanting to buy something and wanting to eat something. The other park was much more interresting for wandering, especially the Swiss family Robinson's treehouse and we also went on some kid rides which had short queues like Guipettos (Pinochios) workshop train and the teacup ride from Alice in Wonderland. We finally figured out how to make the wait for the rides more bearable by using fasttrack and finished with a rollercoaster 'Mountain trek', a great way to end the day.

Our next destination was Barcelona, having bought tickets for the sleeper train and after a day of wandering the galleries we head to the station. All was going well for a few hours until Paige became violently ill and although we managed to beg a private room from the hostess for about 10 minutes, the conductor was angry about this and wanted us to return to the shared room. The guy was most unforgiving and virtually kicked us off the train at 2am in the middle of nowhere! I was tired beligerantly told him that we would not get off the train if there was no ambulance and they assured us that one would be waiting. It was absolutely freezing on the platform and all poor Paige could do was puke her guts up in the nearest bin. When I realise that there was no ambulance only the station guard I turn back to see the conductor peering out the door of the train, he merely shrugs, closes the doors and leaves! dog fuckers!

The station guard is very sweet however and though he had limited English and we virtually no French, he was very compassionate. Communication proved to be an interesting barrier with the ambulance guys as well as the medics in the hospital but through a curious medly of hybrid Italian, French and English as well as some highly offensive mime, I managed to get the history of presenting complaint across. It was now about 4 in the morning in Mountauban, Paige was stable and they were ready to discharge us. I was feeling a little defeated by this stage and said 'we have no-where to go'! They found us a hotel around the corner which was good of them and Paige just crashed out and slept for 2 days. I spent the time trying to figure out how to get out of the place with confusing train websites and contradicting timetables and tourist beaureau closing for extended siestas. I finally found a tourist guy who not only helped with finding the timetable but rang the information desk (which was all in French) and got detailed info- I was so happy I thought he was an angel. With that sorted I could finally go and enjoy the town and what a serendipitous turn of fate it was to end up here! It is so beautiful you could just ramble forever with inviting little paths, a long and fascinating history and some great art bombing by 'space invader'. I loved it and although it was small, I felt it was a place that you could really make your home.

On to Toulouse then flying to Morocco!!!

Photos: Paris

tash — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 08:39:00 GMT

Photos: Brugge

tash — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 08:16:00 GMT

Photos: Antwerpen

tash — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 07:20:00 GMT

Belgium

tash — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 06:33:00 GMT

Antwerp

Why is it that I have never tried Waffles? Maybe I have but they have never tasted so mouthwateringly delicious! Warm, light doughy texture with a delicate honey glaze melting on the tongue, this is truly a taste sensation! What a welcome to Antwerp. Actually, perhaps I should say the train station was a breathtaking welcome, it was as if the train had arrived in a magnificant palace. So much room and light in the streets as well, I felt as if the city could breathe, particularly after coming from Amsterdam.

I had high expectations for the oldest zoo in the world, being in the shadow of the glorious Centraal station and all and even scored the winter price ticket for E12.50 instead of the usual ~E20. After wandering around for an hour I was very glad of the discount as it was a bit on the lame side; small with few animals in shabby cement enclosures. Antwerp is, however, a good wandering city; fascinating operating port, fantastic neighbourhoods with unbelievable mixes of gothic, Nouveau and classic architecture thrown in together, super stylish people, diamond banks and an area densly populated with Orthodox Jews. When it rained they (the Jewish men) donned plastic bags over their hats which was quite a sight as you can imagine.

Brugges

Brugges is certainly a petite city but it feels more social than Antwerp and the people here are so friendly. I ask a group of girls I asked for directions to the hostel and they virtually grabbed my hand and walked me to the front door. Even the drunk guy the next evening made sure I was not lost while stumbling on the curb. Not all had the same reception, one of the other backpackers said that someone spat on him the minute he got off the train (gross). The vast central square is well used by locals and tourists alike and the horse drawn carriages are doing a reasonable trade even in this cold weather with patrons hiding under thick rugs for warmth as they trot through the streets. I was sitting in the square people watching when I heard a commotion coming from one of the side streets. As I turn around, about 10 teenage boys explode from the mouth of a street. Reaching the square, they split up and sprint up other streets followed by an older man in heraldic livery sporting a muscateer moustache . He faces a moments indecision at the intersection before deciding on one group to chase, holding his pants which were in danger of falling down and puffing mightily, they disappear in a flurry of confusion. Everyone watched their progress then continued on about their way as if this kind of thing happened all the time.

I walked around the town about 10 times then came to the conclusion that Brugges is probably a good place to do your laundry and have a quiet one.

　Hostel Antwerp: Hostel Boomerang. Reasonable location, fantastic if you are a smoker (but at least there were non smoking in the bedrooms). Cons - poor lighting in bedrooms, awful mattresses (I had to position my bones inbetween the springs) dimly lit smoky common room.

Hostel Brugges:

Lybeers Travellers' Hostel. Lovely staff, great location (a little difficult to find, but got there in the end), comfy beds, clean, industrial washers and driers available (yay!) Cons: none (yay!)

Photos: Amsterdam

tash — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 02:09:00 GMT

Amsterdam

tash — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 02:08:00 GMT

And so begins another assault on my liver! Paige and I meet at the train station in Amsterdam in the afternoon, although this in itself was almost a happy co-incidence. Paige was due to arrive earlier that day and after a 4am wake up, she was really looking forward to a few hours nana in the hostel before I arrived. Sadly this was not to be as she inadvertantly took the train to Rotterdam instead of Amsterdam. She realised her mistake after 30 mins of wandering around looking for the hostel and had to jump on the return train in a sleep deprived haze. I had a pretty crappy night sleep myself sharing the hostel room in Berlin with a guy who SNORED the whole night. I was seriously considering doing a 'Chief' on him (ref: One flew over the cuckoo's nest), but I figure he will die from pulmonary hypertension eventually. Karma, love you!

Despite our lack of sleep, we hit the streets in a random kind of way, looking really to explore the neighbourhood. I didn't quite realise what a bike friendly city it was, beautifully flat and compact, although the cobbled streets would be rattling a brain or two. When talking to people, they say 'oh, it is only a 5 minute bike ride away' when giving directions. The street facades consist of tightly packed townhouses which lean at gentle angles in unexpected directions. We find an amazing shoe shop (http://www.unitednude.com/) with some amazingly quirky shoes, and we now have a few more favourite shops for our repertoire, we went a bit nutso in H&M and Sissy Boy which was very cool. Food is quite expensive in Amsterdam, and after having what was touted as 'the best felafel' in Holland, a claim that I will have to take their word for as I was not game to have another, we felt prepared to tackle a coffe shop. I should point out here that my position was just to go and 'sniff the air' so to speak, as I fear that if I smoked anything, I may take up cigarette smoking again, something I have been clean of for over 3 years now and have NO intention of going back to. Europe is so cigarette friendly that it almost seems attractive to indulge, I don't want to risk it and feel quite proud that I have abstained. We thought perhaps that truffles were more our scene, and were directed to a dark and very smoky lounge. The air was so thick with smoke it made your eyes water and as there were no seats available, we bailed and entered the bar next door, Oportos, a dim and cosy cavern that felt warm and welcoming. Europe's low tax on alcohol: say no more...needless to say, we settled in for the night with a great group of people who took us under their wing and became brilliant shining stars for the whole weekend. It must have been around 11pm when we thought Japanese was a good idea - it certainly was (just very expensive) and by some strange accident, this restaurant was opposite our hostel so we didn't even have to think about how to get home!

Being narrow, the hostel also has some crazy ass spiral stairs which are half the depth and height of your usual stairs. I can't even imagine how we managed to ascend the three flights of stairs in our drunken state, not to mention get our kit off and into jarmies, clean up, open another bottle of wine (a rose, which was, that evening, tasting surprisingly good), eat some disgusting chocolate coated waffle and make it to bed. The next morning, Paige asked me if I had eaten some of her chocolate donut as a large chunk had been taken out through the plastic wrap to which I answered 'No! of course not!'. She thought it was rats, however a few hour later, the thought came to me that yes, infact it WAS me that had a ferral midnight snack and forgotten about it. Oops.

The next night I was invited to join everyone for dinner and meet another lovely guy who cooked a delicious paneer and spicy chicken dish which were SO GOOD! his mama would be proud! It was such a fun night, joking, laughing and singing to Rammstein(!), I felt totally welcomed as an old friend - so lovely. We went to a few bars after this and then ended up in the red light district for a bit of a perv really. There was no need to see a show as some dodgy backpackers had been fucking in our room. I am always happy to take a top bunk for this very reason- much harder for them to get up there and less likely to be hit in the crossfire!

It wasn't all a drinking binge, and a sobering experience was had at the Anne Frank house. After the annonymity of the victims at Sachsenhausen, it was appropriate to put a personal perspective on events. I remember reading her diary at school when I was of a similar age to Anne and remember feeling that you knew how she was feeling so well she was almost like a friend. I have to say that the house was larger than I expected- I had visions of being a closet. At the end, there was an interactive video which provided scenarios dased on ethical dilemmas. For example, one story was about a woman who campaigned to have the crucifix banned in public schools as it was taking away the rights of the parent to choose if their child should have a religious education. You were then asked to vote based, well, the information given and your own point of view. These votes were then collated for the viewing group and compared with all voters on a whole. Granted, these scenarios was a little biased, but it was in nteresting activity none the less.

Hostel
: Hotel hostel Melvena: free wifi, cafe and mini shop in foyer, good location, clean, comfortable beds. Cons: kinda costly, cramped rooms, those dodgy stairs!!!

Berlin: she may be poor...but she's sexy

tash — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 07:21:00 GMT

As soon as I arrived, I knew I would be spending much more time here. How easy is it to fall in love with this city with it's glorious architecture, magnificant memorials, amazing history and vibrant underbelly.

Berlin has a long and checkered history and the changes are marked on the cityscape. It is a peculiar mix; graceful Prussian facades, cripplingly powerful 3rd reich monstrosities, 80's high rise and in the boom following the reunification, elegant modern glass fronted structures that blend the old with the new in a seamless example of a dynamic city encorporating the past and embracing the future. The city has accomplished a monumental feat of overcoming a grim and cruel past and emerging into modern society with it's head held high. There is no homage to the perpetrators of war crimes, only respectful yet inspiring tributes to those who have suffered and died. From the remarkable city center monument of 1000 silent granite rectangles that tilt and tip, making you feel displaced and uncomfortable to the Sachsenhousen concentration camp memorial, Berlin is making sure that the mistakes of the past will not be repeated.

Sachsenhousen

We follow the same path that over 200 000 people walked in '36-'45, munching on McDonalds, Subway and buttery pastries, feeling the cold despite being wrapped in warm jackets, scarves and boots. We walk through entry point A and stand in the same yard, look at the same primitive ablution block and see an example of the pathetically insufficient blue striped 'uniform' that the 'prisoners' wore in conditions far worse that today. We wander through the Gestapo prison for 'special' prisoners, a frightening torture chambre and stumble over the flint 'running track' used for prisoners to test German army boots (they had to run up to 40 km/day, malnourished in often ill fitting boots to see if they were suitable). There is a sense of macabre fascination and I desperately wish that these are awful stories were not true because surely no human could do something this terrible to another. Our final point of call is the pathology room, perhaps the most sickening part for me as it's very existence makes a mockery of what medicine stands for.

Humboldt University

I would like to make a special mention on a memorial outside the Humboldt university, which at this time was almost obscured by the tents of Berlin fashion week. This is simply a room in the ground , painted stark white with bookshelves lining the walls. This is viewed through a hole at ground level covered with glass which acts to reflect the images of those looking into the room. This room represents an empty library with shelf space enough to house the 20 000 books that were burned in the efforts to eradicate degenerate thinking during the 3rd Reich. This was such a simple idea but it certainly had me thinking, what would I do if I was in that position?

New wave

It hasn't all been gloomy and a stroll through the artist quater will brighten anyones day. If you walk down Oranienburger Strasse, you will find Tacheles, and artist community in a 5 story classic/gothic style building . On my street art quest, this looks promising. Smelling not so much catty as ...human... there is a poster advertising literally 'show' (and nothing else), so I wander in and find it is a fashion parade. Tiers of seats crowd against one wall filled with smoking hipsters, the front rows are occupied by photographers, cameras heavy with lenses. The music was great (heavy electro dub step and breaks) and there was a fantastic video montage at the parade intermission which was pretty cool too. However it may well be that I have no concept of fashion (and entirely likely) but one designer had draped black jersey knit material over the uncomfortably angular and unusual looking models and patched some fairly manky looking orange fur in peculiar spots over this material. Well, they got a huge round of applause, so what would I know! Climbing flights of stairs will take you to DJ dens, performance spaces and artist studios displaying quirky and definately offbeat styles. Walls are covered floor to ceiling with images, tags, stickers and photos, every spare inch is a riot of colour and the rabbit warren rooms. The 'back yard' if a ferral hive of activity, manky sofas, broken chairs patched together and spray painted, crazy 3D metal sculptures dominating the open areas next to bath tubs and open fire pits. It feels like a carnivale and gypsy circus wrapped into one. You breathe a deep lung full of fresh air when you exit. The streets in this area are heavy with the street artists mark- from crappy spray tags to iconic stickers, posters, stencils and some really smart neon signs. A game of 'Rock, paper scissors' is played out each evening from dusk to 1am under the Oberbaum bridge traversing the Spree signifying anything from a simple decision making tool, a friendly rivalry between two sides of the river to a more complex 'us and them' battle.

The East Side gallery is a bunch of murals painted by various artists on the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin wall. It is a powerful symbol of people overcoming oppression and has presented many iconic images. Interestingly a section has been removed to afford a better river aspect to the commercial O2 building on the riverfront. Salute capitalism!

Berlin, you may be poor, but you are SO SEXY

Hostel
: City hostel Berlin. Clean, cheap, comfortable beds, great breakfast, internet, non-smoking social area, pool table. Cons: no Wifi in the rooms (and some guy snoring like crazy the last night - I seriously was going to do a 'Chief' on him)http://www.goldberg-berlin.de/EnglishFiles/english.html

Photos: Berlin

tash — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 08:08:00 GMT

She may be poor, but she is sexy

Moscow

tash — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 05:46:00 GMT

Photos: Moscow

tash — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 07:03:00 GMT

Pisa

tash — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 08:58:00 GMT

After a night in Milan, I change my mind about Cinque Terra and decide to see that damn tower in Pisa then get the hell down to Rome to see about my luggage. I was staying in the South away from the tourist area and in the morning as I was heading out, the reception guy asked if I was going on th efree tour. Seeing as it was in my price range, I said 'sure'! I was the only one from the hostel going and no one was at the other pick up spots so I had a personal guide and was able to ask any thing I wanted without seeming wanky, it was great! The tour guide was a native Pisan lass with an arts degree majoring in history and art and was fabulous in her depth of knowledge. Wandering through the streets, I was informed about art, architecture, the rise and fall of empires and the cause of the rivalry between Pisa, Florence and Livorno which still exists today. Pisa is a university city of ~100 000 people, half of which are students which has resulted in a young and vibrant environment, eateries, entertainment and activity late into the night. Yes we saw the tower which was pretty cool but a highlight for me was finishing with a mural by Keith Haring on the wall of Sant'Antonio 'Tuttomondo' (1989). He was invited to come to the city to paint what would be his last public work. THe priests gave him free reign to do what he wanted without even seeing the plan for his work. Keith himself was concerned that the people of Pisa should enjoy his work which was quite different to what you would wxpect for the area. He asked one of the art students to go and ask the little old lady who lived next door if she minded the work and she responded that she loved it. Although he had worked all over the world, he felt that Pisa was the place that welcomed him and felt like home. He died a short time later from an AIDS related illness. I think this exemplifies what an amazing, forward thinking city Pisa is, to embrace the diversity of art and people and encorporate it into a unified package.

I could seriously live in Pisa- one hour from Florence and Cinque Terra, great food, cheap, beautiful, fascinating and so much more than a tower!

Hostel: Hostel Pisa- clean, cheap, great kitchen, free internet, pool table, great location, friendly staff. Cons, close to the rail line so a bit noisy sometimes.

http://www.hostelbookers.com/hostels/italy/pisa/58428/