Workin the World

Gallery: Vic falls

worker — Wed, 7 Nov 2007 00:53:00 GMT

Gallery: Nogorongoro Crater

worker — Thu, 1 Nov 2007 02:14:00 GMT

Malawi Mishap!

worker — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 21:17:00 GMT

I had great plans for Malawi, specifically Lake Malawi. A lake so large it runs almost the entire length of the country, is classed as an inland sea and is in fact tidal. As I said, I had great plans but thing were about to turn horribly wrong.

Having commenced my SCUBA course on Zanzibar, where you can find some of the worlds best diving, Lake Malawi would provide the opportunity to complete my qualification, whilst ticking off an altitude dive.

Staying at Kande beach, you would seriously believe you are at a coastal resort. Beautiful, white sand beaches, rolling waves and tiny thatched huts make for a most idyllic setting, you could be on a tropical island anywhere in the world, apart from the fact the water lapping at shore is actually fresh.

We had a farily quiet first night here with a few beers, prior to getting up and completing by SCUBA course. Well it was supposed to be quiet but after a few beers, some skinny dipping, on beach wrestling and a few shots it had proved to be anything but. It was still early however, so I could retire and still make my training fresh as a daisy, that was until someone smashed a beer bottle in the sand and Matthewman decided to step on it.

The bottom had shattered off from the bottle and somehow managed to land 5m from where the bottle smashed in the opposite direction. Of course I had no shoes on so when i trod flush on the bottle it sliced the bottom of my foot open. Now, slicing the sole of your foot (about 5cm in length), in sand, in Africa is probably not what one would be hoping for so after some hasty repairs - it is quite amazing how everyone becomes a medical professional in times like this - I managed to get carried back to my cabin where I would spend most of my time over the coming days.

Fortunately we have a nurse on our truck, the lovely Lisa, who has managed to nurse my foot back to health. Quite a relief after the response I received from tour leaders of other trucks who were saying things like "you need to get to a doctor, the last time something like this happened it got infected and they had to amputate", or my favourite "thats the end of your trip mate, you have to get back to Australia before that gets infected". It was also fortunate because that night a massive storm rolled in, washing out the roads for a couple of days, so i wouldn't have been able to get out anyway.

My recommendation to anyone coming to Africa is to get a good medical kit. And check whats in it because despite me buying the biggest, most expensive one in the shop (which will surprise no one), all I managed to bring with me was about 500 syringes. A perfect kit for a herion addict but, as Lisa put it, bloody useless if you need it for anything worthwhile.

So there you have it. I would like to tell amazing stories about the tropical fish I saw diving (most of the worlds fresh water fish you buy in pet stores are from lake Malawi), the great horse ride I did on the sands or simply the exhilaration of swimming in one of the worlds largest fresh water lakes but alas I can't. I spent my time reading books, sulking that I couldn't do anything!

The one highlight however was walking - read hopping - out to a local village where we were treated to regional meal of vegetable soup and a meat stew before a performance by the local children of the village. If you think Beyonce can shake it you should see the kids in the village, they boogie like their feet are on fire. They all have the most beautiful voices, which put ours to shame when we had a sing along with them. The crescendo, however, was 4 of the boys, who can not have been any older that 10, stripping off their shirts off to perform a perfect Haka, complete with toungue wagging at the end!

So apart from stupidly cutting my foot open, we did have a great time in Malawi. To see an inland lake so large it looks like an ocean is quite something and to dine with the locals was very special. Thats it, next stop Zimbabwe, sorry for the delay in putting these up also, to get online over here is nothing short of a miracle. I promise the updates will be more regular now!!

Pack Your Pith Helmet ... We're on Safari

worker — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 20:21:00 GMT

This was it, the chance to go on safari, sure it wouldn’t be on the back of elephants clad in safari suit and pith helmet, but it would be a safari all the same. Our 3 day trek would take us out to the Nogorongoro Crater and Serengeti National park, with the promise off seeing a few members of the big 5 - Elephant, Rhino, Lion, Water Buffalo, Cheetah.

Our driver, Copper, greeted us with a broad grin looking more like a giant version of Arnold than a hard nosed safari, advised us to load up the truck for a 4 hour drive to a campsite bordering the crater. A drive, which could have been an half as long, had it not Copper’s reluctance to drive at any speed above reverse. Not long out of the camp we were treated to seeing giraffes and baboons. This glimpse of some wildlife, from a fair distance I may add, had the whole truck excited, everyone asking to stop the truck for pictures, a reaction we would later realise was quite over the top given the amount of action we were about to be treated to. Eventually arriving at our campsite we were treated to some local cooking before hitting the hay for an early night, in preparation for our 4.30am kick off.

Nogorongoro is a volcanic crater approximately 20km’s across, providing a natural pen to keep the amazing array of wildlife inside. Driving up toward the lip of the crater the fog was dense, however, as soon as we got over the lip and began our descent into the crater the clouds broke to provide the most amazing vista. Complete with lakes, sweeping plains and forests, it is like God’s very own petrie dish. In fact it is believed early man began right here with following the discovery of homosapien footprints dating back millions of years, some with just the one big toe and others with a complete foot as we have today.

The first animal we saw was a water buffalo, number one of the big 5 ticked off, despite it being a small dot on the horizon. Upon reflection, our initial reactions must have amused Copper no end. He surely would have known what we were about to see would blow this out of the water. Everywhere you looked there were animals, sleeping, eating, hunting, swimming. It is so surreal to see an array of animals you would normally have to sit through a David Attenborough doco to view up close. Over the course of the next couple of hours we managed to see, up close and personal:

Lions – the crater is so big there are 4 prides inside it. We managed to see 2 of them, one of which got up and walked up to our trucks, passing between them to have a drink in a nearby stream before heading off to hunt some buffalo
Elephants – From a distance but still mighty all the same
Ostrich’s doing a mating dance – which is apparently pretty rare
Hippos – complete with babies, amazing creatures. The half rotted corpse in their pool of an old hippo who had died from illness showed us the sheer size of their rib cage as well.
Hyenas – complete with kill, I could not get over how fat they all were
Wart hogs – a small family with 4 little ones
Zebras – these guys really lucked out when it comes to the camouflage stakes! When we left the crater one of the guys on the tour, Phil, and myself decided to stalk some who were lurking in the picnic area we stopped in. We did actually managed to get within a metre or so of them before they took off and I got my potentially fatal spider bite, but more on that later
An amazing array of birds
Gazelle
Grants
Impala
Antelope
Monkeys – there is a picnic area inside the crater where you get out and eat lunch. The monkeys here come and steal your food; in fact they climb inside the trucks, through the roof, to get at it if the doors are closed.

After a full morning we stopped for lunch. To get out of the truck and wander around knowing there are lions just a short drive away is quite incredible, yet rather worrying. Next stop would be the Serengeti, a 3 hour drive on dirt roads across impossibly flat, baron land, which would be a test in itself, let alone if you are worried you are dying from a spider bite. As mentioned, we chased some zebras to get close to them, being the intelligent person I am, I figured it would be ok to do this barefoot. Of course there is nothing in Africa that could harm me, no flesh eating worms or poisonous snakes and spiders. After the zebras had taken off I felt a prick in my foot, I didn’t think too much of it at the time but as we continued on to the Serengeti it became worse, much worse. My toes were tingling and where I had been pricked was so sore. It is about this time my over active imagination kicked in and I began to prepare my final thoughts, quite sure I was about to die. Of course this was quite amusing to the other guys in my truck, particularly Copper, who thought it would be best to let me stew for sometime before advising me that I had actually stepped on a prickle, nothing more nothing less. He did this by saying ‘if it was a spider you would be dead by now, so I wouldn’t worry about it’. I wanted to punch that ‘what you talking about Willis’ look off his face, but his cheeky grin got me, well that and the relief upon the realisation I was not going to die a week into my trip.

Leaving the crater most of us were questioning whether the extra £120 to go into the Serengeti would be worth it. We had seen a heap of wildlife and up very close, what more could the Serengeti offer? Apart from the benefit of being able to say you had actually been into the worlds largest game reserve, surely we would see much of the same. We could not have been more wrong. As for the £120, well let me just say it represented better value than my Macpac waterproof sleeping bag, which cost me the same amount has not been used! Plus here your money goes into the protection of the worlds great animals.

Here is a run brief down of our Serengeti adventure:

Giraffes – we came across a male and female eating their dinner right in front of the truck, you could seriously almost reach out and touch them
Elephants – there were so many walking around here it was incredible. Little babies, large males, one of whom was going to but into our truck until another truck drove in front of himn causing him to rear, raise his trunk and roar. It was sensational. We also saw two packs have a stand off on one of the plains as one group made their way to get water.
Lions – we finally got to clap eyes on the king of the jungle, the male lion. These are the most incredible creatures, so big and powerful. It was mating season and our big cat was trying to put the moves on his lady friend, unfortunately she was nt having a bar of it.
Lion cubs – with their mothers out hunting there were sevral cubs left on their own. In one place we actually had 4 cubs all lying together on a rock, according to Copper this is very, very rare to have a litter this size
Cheetah – we were very fortunate to see a Cheetah, even though they were a couple of hundred metres away. We managed to see one out hunting on its own and a pack of 3 who were being monitored by a scientific team
Leopard – this was the absolute highlight. It is very rare to see Leopards up close, they are usually hanging out in trees with a kill. We managed to get one walking along a stream, Copper was on the ball and predicted where he would come out in the clearing, gunning the Landcruiser at a speed he had not managed to reach on the tar, we positioned ourselves and waited. Next, out of the reeds it stalked, right up to and past our truck. Now there are times over here where you think your guide is telling you some things are rare just to make you feel special, not so in this case. I thought Copper was going to have a heart attack he was so excited, he said he had never been that close to one and could not get the grin off his face for about an hour afterwards. The Leopard itself is a lot smaller than I would have thought but they are the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. The sleek body, beautiful colours in its coat and piercing, gold eyes are unbelievable.

That night we actually slept in the reserve. The welcome sign, which advises, in a rather relaxed manner, you may die if you wander outside the camp boundaries, is not your usual welcome but then again this is not your usual campsite. Probably just as well given 200m down the road there was a dead gazelle hanging in the tree, placed there by a leopard a week earlier.

Waking the next morning we continued our safari before heading back to Arusha, in fact this would prove to be the scariest event of the weekend. Copper must have decided to tryuu and break the record for a run back. He was driving at least 80k/h on all surfaces. Now remember the majority of the drive is on a windy dirt road, the main road between the Serengeti, so there are also trucks with livestock, fruit and veg etc making their way along these roads. I used to say Egypt was crazy, but I am now sure you have not experienced true fear on the road until you have tried to overtake a lorrie, carrying fish (with no refrigeration and covered in a tarp so it pongs), on a single lane dirt track, on a sharp bend, in an area where the smell of your blood if there is an accident, can attract animals that will eat you. Eventually we made it home in one piece in a time that the Delorian would be proud of.

There are not enough superlatives to describe the experience. It is incredibly surreal to be so close with these beautiful, yet deadly, creatures that have no apparent fear of the trucks. If anyone is ever thinking of coming to Africa, do it! Hell, I am only a week into my trip and I can not believe all we have managed to see and do!

Africa Awakening

worker — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 21:20:00 GMT

Want a recipe for disaster? Take 27 strangers, place them in the back of an open truck for 54 days then drive them through, hot, dusty Africa adding a nightly booze stop followed by early morning wake up calls. Sounds like a great holiday right? Well so far it has been nothing short of sensational.

I know it is a cliché but Africa is the most amazing continent, well, behind Australia of course. The diversity in scenery, the unique flora and fauna and the lovely people have so far made the trip an incredible one.

When I last wrote we were about to board our truck and head off to explore Africa. Once we had completed the formalities at our 7.30am team meeting (I have since learned this is a late wake up) we jumped on our 28 seater truck to head through Kenya and into Tanzania.

The truck itself is a marvel in maximising space usage, with 2 rows of seats facing each other along the side of the walls, plkenty of storage and even a beach area, it is surprisingly very comfortable. In fact I would suggest that whoever did design this truck get a job with a major airline to teach them a thing or two about customer comfort!

Driving out of Nairobi and through the countryside of Kenya, the first thing you notice is how friendly the people are. Despite many overland trucks passing through these towns over the course of a year, every person seems amazed to see such a vehicle passing by. Everyone waves with a big broad smile, children chase the truck and cyclists, who seem to be carrying as much on their back as we shipped home from London, give you a big thumbs up.

After a long, 11 hour drive, taking in Masai villages, complete with mud huts, expansive dusty plains and even our first sighting of a giraffe we rolled into Snake Park campground, just outside Arusha, Tanzania.

The campground was more a sandpit than anything else, however with the water shortages out here it is amazing that Ma & Pa (the Safa’s who run the place) can even run a campsite. Of course the first stop was the bar and, as with most first nights with a crew of strangers, everyone proceeded to up the ante, the beers, ciders and shooters were flowing, I was in my element with the Ma’s revenge, a concoction of tequila and Tabasco. I was soon to learn, however, the dangers of running a tab, $110USD later and I had formally settled in to Africa, so much, it would seem, that Ma was concerned for myself and gave Mouse a hug as she had apparently agreed to become Pa’s 3rd wife.

Waking in a tent is not normally the best way to greet the day, it gets even worse when you are hung over and multiplies exponentially if it is hot, hence upon opening my bleary eyes the next morning, I was as dusty as the camp surrounding me, however, we had a Masai village tour to take part in, so with my head under my arm I made my way over to begin what would turn out to be a magic experience.

First stop was the museum of Masai life, if I was feeling queasy before the tour, I was not made to feel any better when told by our guide that circumcision takes place for a Masai warrior when he is 18, you are not allowed to make any noise and it is done by a witch doctor in a dusty hut.

Next we made our way to the village, it would seem the Masai have quite an interesting take on life – marry as many women as you can, pump out a stack of children, then move to quieter surrounds in your old age, leaving the women to manage things. Each Masai village houses a single warrior and their respective families. The particular village we visited was home to a local warrior, his 8 wives and countless number of children, in fact there were almost more children here than people at a Power home game, though I guess that is no mean feat.

But back to the children, they, and I can say this with no feeling of metrosexuality, are absolutely beautiful. They perfectly encapsulate youth, big broad smiles, completely un-assuming nature and loving to every one, including their siblings. They hug you, hold your hand, play swings with you and seem genuinely mesmerised by your appearance, despite the fact there are groups passing through here every day. Friends who have been to Africa previously have all remarked how, upon seeing the children, you simply want to hug and take them all home with you I can confirm this is no lie.

Over the course of this trip I have seen how amazingly resilient humans can be, take the loving nature of those in Bosnia and Poland who have suffered terrible atrocities in the name of ethnic cleansing, likewise just how horrible we can be to one another. Seeing young African children actually puts faith back in what mankind can truly be like, these children have nothing and yet retain a loving, caring nature, it is quite moving to actually be with them, rather overwhelming actually.

After spending some time with the children and seeing the inside of a hut, we were treated to a Masai warrior dance. They assemble themselves in a semi circle, not too differently to a rap dance group, then begin to sing and wail beautifully before, one by one, a warrior will move into the middle and jump into the air, coming down with big dust clearing thud to end their turn. After a while we were invited to dance with them so of course Matthewman came bustling out of the pack, however, my inability to get more than 2cm from the ground soon proved my downfall and my Masai dancing career was over just as quickly as it had begun.

After the dancing had finished we bid our new friends farewell and were shown some of the good work our hosts Ma & Pa were doing around the local area. They have built a free medical clinic for the locals using proceeds from the campground, this made me feel a little better for spending my $110USD, in fact, if you look at it, I simply had to keep drinking there, sure I felt bad from the night before, but it was now my duty to our new friends!

So, after a few beers we packed up ready to head off on our first safari … next stop Nogorongoro Crater and Serengeti National park

Gallery: Leaving London

worker — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 06:44:00 GMT

African Arrival

worker — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 18:58:00 GMT

After a long flight and even longer visa application line, we have arrived in Nairobi. The thing that strikes you first is that everyone operates on Kenyan time. I believe this is the reason we are now 2 hours ahead of the UK because by the time you get anything done those 2 hours are long gone!

Driving from the airport to the hotel was interesting, I have driven in Africa before and it would seem each country is vying as to who can be the craziest on the road. I will say this though, I have never seen a man running with a stick chasing an ox along a main road anywhere else in the world, I also never knew just how quick an ox can move!

You will also be pleased to know council workers over here appear to have the same work ethic as their counterparts the world over, only difference here is there are about 30 of them standing around instead of the customary 4 or 5. In fact I would suggest some time in motion studies would not go astray over here, the hotel we are in for tonight would seriously have more staff than guests and yet it seems like no one is doing anything??

So we meet up with our crew tomorrow and begin our trek down through the heart of Africa, 54 days camping and riding rough in the back of a truck, should be interesting!!

Until then, stay classy

Leaving London

worker — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 09:07:00 GMT

So it’s all over, London is now sans Worker and vice versa and I must say never again will I attempt to pack 4 years of my life into 4 boxes! The last week in London has been such a roller coaster ride of emotions, sad to be leaving, frustrated at having to spend my final week packing and hung over after the numerous farewells!

I figure since I have spent so long in London I would compile my list of 10 ‘must dos’ and favourite things about London and the UK, sure I spent 4 years there and never went into St Pauls Cathedral or Westminster Abbey, but I did mange to cram in a fair bit all the same:

1. Explore – every time you go into London you can come across a little alley or old pub that you never knew existed.

2. Get out – make sure you get out of London, having a car makes this easier as does working as a tour guide, but you would be amazed at the number of remarkable places within 90 mins of London; Rochester, Leeds Castle, Cotswolds, Oxford, Cambridge, MTB Riding in Wales etc etc

3. Wimbledon – the greatest tennis slam on earth is a must to do if you are then when it is on. Pity the only time I went it rained all day and not a ball was hit, but Yo and I still managed to get a good game of cricket going in the eating area, using a bottle of champagne as a bat.

4. High Tea – Go to Claridges for this. It is a sensational day out, even if drinking tea is not your thing, to sit in those surrounds listening to classical music even made me feel like I had class.

5. The Galleries – The collection of art and other artefacts in London is second to none, I probably didn’t spend enough time checking them out, but it gives me a reason to go back I guess

6. Stroll along Southbank – the walk from Big Ben down to Borough Markets winding past the London Eye, The Tate and Shakespeare’s Globe, with views of St Pauls, is second to none

7. Go to The Church – Ok, so most people think this place is feral but if you go with a good crew of people and stand at the back it is one of the great ways to spend a few hours on Sunday. The music is excellent, almost like being at a barbie at home.

8. Catch Buses – I know the tube is quicker but to sit atop a double decker bus and watch London go by is pretty special.

9. Ride a bike into London early on a weekend – Most people who read this would be leaving London early on a weekend morning, however, if you stay sober one Friday or Saturday night and get up around 7am to ride through the city you will have the whole place to yourself. Riding your bike down Oxford Street, through Picadilly Circus and past Buckingham Palace with no one else on the road is truly sensational.

10. Ice Skate – there is no better way to get into the festive spirit than rugging up and hitting one of the various open air skating rinks around the city at Christmas. If you drink enough mulled wine you wont even feel the bruises you get from falling on your ass.

So London is over and with it comes a new start, firstly in Africa and then at home, it will be weird to go back to my own country and feel like a foreigner but I am also looking forward to it.

To all the amazing friends I have made in London thanks for the good times, I know we will get on it together again somewhere, sometime. Especially the girls at Culmington who put us up for the last 2 weeks, stored all our stuff and are now trying to sell my car!!

For those of you who are back in Australia, I look forward to catching up at Christmas and for anyone in Africa … look out!

Gallery: Ventspils Hunting

worker — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 06:49:00 GMT

Shhh it's Hunting Season!

worker — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 09:05:00 GMT

Ever got drunk and agreed to go on a hunting trip with a complete stranger? No? Well, come to Riga where the beer is cheap and the deer are scared.

Riga has a beautiful old town, fantastic medieval architecture with winding cobbled alleys makes this a great city to hang out in, especially when beers are just £1, a price so low that you can't afford not to drink but careful what you'll agree to do!

The first night in town we decided that we had spent so many days travelling we would have a few quiet beers, that was our first mistake! At some time that morning I met Aleks, a local who said he had a summer house where he went hunting. Now there are 2 ‘manly’ things I have never done in my life; a) shoot a gun, and b) ride a motorbike. I figured, what better time to shoot a gun than with a complete stranger, in the middle of nowhere, in a strange country.

So the next day we hopped on a bus over to Ventspils, arriving at midnight we turned up at Alek’s girlfriends house to find Mum sitting on the couch in rollers, rather surprised that 2 strangers had come home with her 19yo daughter and boyfriend. Not to be flustered, however, before you could say ‘make mine white with 2’ we had been served some dinner, had the fold out bed made in the lounge room and were drinking some home made herbal tea.

The next morning I awoke to meet Dad in the kitchen, there is something strange about meeting a man, whose house you just spent the night in and speaks no English, for the first time in his own kitchen. Next to come down for breakfast was Grandad, who has been an unemployed artist his entire life, he then put on an impromptu art show for us over breakfast.

It was agreed, over some eggs, we would explore Ventspils during the day and go shooting that night, however, I would need to do some practice shots before given it was my first time. Ventspils is a lovely old town littered with fruit trees, which you can help yourself to as you stroll around, but our hosts thought it would be a good idea to go tree cabling. Tree cabling is where you climb up trees to about 20m, strap yourself on to cables and swing from one tree to another, which can be quite concerning when you have no guide and receive all your instructions in Latvian.

Having completed our tree course we then jumped into Dads car and drove out to the summer house, which proved to be an old property on the river surrounded by fruit trees and a lovely garden. After we had put our stuff in the house Dad pulled out the gun and set up a target for us, receiving my instructions in the third person I made my way to the plastic garden table we were using as a resting platform. Put the rifle up to my cheek, the but against my shoulder and squeezed the trigger gently. What occurred next could only be described as a horse kicking me whilst someone let off a bomb in my ear drum. How did I do? Well I just missed the bulls eye, in fact my hosts were quite impressed but to be honest I was lucky, I had no idea what I was doing and so was probably more surprised than them to see I had actually hit anything.

With this extensive training session under my belt, it was felt I was good to go hunting the next morning, but nor before we had used the home made wood sauna. A similar sauna to the one in Finland, the rocks are heated but a fire underneath until they get hot enough to give off steam once water is poured over. I love my saunas and this was no exception, the heat was up, the sweat was flowing, I was in heave, until they pulled out the branches and whipping us with them. Now I am all into experiencing the many flavours of our cultural stew, but there is something quite unnerving about having a bloke in a towel, covered in sweat, whipping you with a branch of leaves at 1am in a very remote sauna!

That night I slept rather uneasy, the next morning was the big hunt, would I have the balls to kill anything? Would I even get to see any animals? We woke early, put on our gumboots and went out to the car, at this point I noticed the Dad had taken the rifle out, loaded and cocked it, then explained something to Alex, this was then relayed to me, and I quote: “Right we are going to get into the car, the gun is loaded but don’t worry the safety is on. When we see something you will jump out of the car and shoot. Ok?”

Sure why wouldn’t that be ok? Hell I’m practically a professional hunter now, so I would love to sit in a car driving over rough dirt roads with a loaded, cocked rifle resting up next to my head. As it turned out we did manage to see a couple of deer, which I did get out and hunt but didn’t get a shot off, and a wolf, but alas I didn’t get to make a kill.

Later that day, after going mushrooming, we were driven into town and put on the bus back to Riga to complete one of the most random, yet truly great, experiences I have had travelling. To spend time with a local family you have never met and have them take you in like that is truly humbling, so a massive thanks to Aleks, Santa and her family for a wonderful weekend.

Gallery: Transylvania

worker — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 09:30:00 GMT

Gallery: Belgrade

worker — Sun, 23 Sep 2007 10:04:00 GMT

Gallery: Bucharest

worker — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 09:12:00 GMT

Gallery: Sarajevo

worker — Fri, 21 Sep 2007 08:22:00 GMT

Gallery: Mostar

worker — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 08:15:00 GMT

B Grade Belgrade

worker — Wed, 5 Sep 2007 08:57:00 GMT

After having a great time in Sarajevo, Belgrade was always going to struggle to compare. It is a much bigger city, lacking a lot of the charm which Sarajevo has.

There are a few tourist sites such as the Palace, which over looks the Sava River and the bohemian restaurant street, where you can grab a great bite to eat, however, our highlight was the hostel, which never says much for a city.

We did try to head out one night to the floating bars on the Sava yet we found only one open? The next bar we went into we copped it from the locals for speaking English, so left, until we finally found a Scottish bar, complete with Serbians sporting Kilts. We were not allowed to sit down here, despite numerous spare tables, so had to stand at the bar and our whaaaaaaaate waaaaaaaaahne was decidedly red!!

After these experiences we decided the next day it would be a good idea to leave and so made our way to Bucharest, written up in my LP as the new Prague. We had been pretty lucky up until this point so were hoping this luck would return as we headed into Romania ....

Gallery: Croatia Cruising

worker — Sun, 2 Sep 2007 23:23:00 GMT

Miss Sarajevo

worker — Sun, 2 Sep 2007 08:43:00 GMT

Ever had to rebuild your house because it was shelled to the ground? Or perhaps, in order to avoid snipers, you were required to hide behind a tank to cross the street? No? Well thank your lucky stars because for just over 3 years this was life in Bosnia and Herzegovina (B&H), in particular Sarajevo, home to the 1984 Winter Olympics and the longest siege of a city in any modern conflict.

To make our way to B&H we caught a bus from Split to Mostar, along the type of coastal road you dream about; were it not for the break-neck speed, 1.5 metre road width and passing semi’s. Driving atop huge cliffs that plunge into the sea and through tiny fishing villages, the road from Croatia to Bosnia belies the war that raged through this region just over a decade ago. I can vaguely recall the conflict in the Balkans, however, I was just finishing high school at the time and a war being fought over the other side of the world, one we were not involved in, didn’t really register. In fact the only 3 things I could remember were:

1)   Our science teacher, a very quiet spoken and lovely, yet rather huge Serbian, being caught on television at a soccer match belting the life out of a Croatian
2)   The story of the 500 year old bridge in Mostar being destroyed. Purely because it amazed me that men were still diving off it whilst war was going on
3)   The U2 song Miss Sarajevo, which came out long into the siege of the city

After entering B&H, you are struck by the beauty of the landscape and, sadly, the number of shelled, empty houses and cemeteries dotted along the mountains, where various massacres took place.

Mostar is a picturesque, if rather unique, city. Divided by the Neretva river Muslims reside on one side, Christians on the other, it is these religious differences, amongst others, which lead to the conflict that virtually levelled the city.

The main road through town, in fact all transport links, are on the Muslim side of the river, which is no big deal, however, it is a little unsettling to arrive in a town where every wall is full of bullet marks and many of the buildings have gaping shell holes. Upon arriving at the bus station we were accosted by Damian, a local 19yo who offered us a new, air conditioned room in his hostel for just €10 a night per person, so we took it without much hesitation as I really had no desire to wander the streets trying to find an alternative. As it turned out the room was pretty good, sure ‘air-conditioning’ meant a fan in the corner and open window, but it was clean, safe and his mother even brought us up some coffee on a tray, so how could we not trust him?

After dropping our bags we made our way past the bombed out mosk to the Muslim old town and the Mostar bridge. A cobbled street, lined with vendors selling everything from shish pipes and Turkish tea-set’s to local art and war memorabilia (ever wanted a pistol oiler, or perhaps your very own ammunition belt?), winds its way through the old town to the famous bridge. So long the symbol of Mostar, the bridge fell into the river as a result of shelling in 1993, now rebuilt and standing 27m above the river, young men continue the centuries old tradition of jumping into the very shallow river below, if you are willing to part with the €25 they charge for your viewing pleasure. The rebuilding of the bridge, however, has been done perfectly, in fact if it didn’t look so clean you would swear it was the original, in fact most of Mostar continues to undergo rebuilding work to put together what was once a most beautiful old town.

After a night in Mostar, with great food eaten on the river, overlooking the beautifully lit Bridge, we caught the train up to Sarajevo. The track runs along the Naranta River, cutting through deep gorges and up mountain scenery that is nothing short of spectacular. That is until you get closer to Sarajevo and pass by grave site after grave site.

Sarajevo itself is a beautiful city and it would be even more so, if a lot of it wasn’t still showing signs of the siege that took place there at the beginning of the 1990’s. Now, as many of you know, I hate to put forward my own opinions on world events, however, I was both shocked and appalled at what I discovered transpired in Sarajevo, whilst the rest of the world sat by and largely watched. For those of you who are not aware of what happened, here is a quick Worker run down:

1 – Yugoslavia fell apart
2 – The former Yugoslav states scrambled for independence
3 – Bosnia & Herzegovina declared their own independence with elections – the Serbian party was one of 3 sharing power
4 – The Serbian Government wanted to retain a Yugoslav state, with political power based in Serbia
5 – Serbian forces cut Sarajevo off from the rest of the world, including water, food, electricity and communications, whilst sitting in the hills surrounding the city, pelting it with shells and sniper fire. For 3 years!!!

Sarajevo has played a fairly significant part in world history over the past 100 years. It was the place where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, leading to World War 1, and it was the host city for the 1984 Winter Olympics, however, you need to be careful in the mountains now because they were heavily mined by the retreating Serbian forces.

Having said all this, Sarajevo is an amazing city and one I would highly recommend people visit, not only to get the wakeup call that seeing the horrors of war provides, but to meet the locals. The Sarajevons are some of the loveliest people I have met in Europe, which is even more surprising when you thing that every person in this town would have lost someone as a result of the war. Everyone is smiling, the food is amazing and it is all so cheap! In fact they are so nice that, after I had lost my sunglasses in the river, a nice local fisherman managed to land them for me the next day when we went back to see if they were still there!

The tourism industry is still really taking off here, so we stayed at Mickey’s hostel and by hostel I mean lounge room with a bed in it, but don’t let this put you off, there are some must sees:

- The History Museum – this gives the run down of the war, complete with pictures and interesting facts. For example the only factory, which kept running throughout, was the cigarette factory. You also see pictures of people doing the dash: The dash is what crossing the road was called, you hid behind an armoured tank on one side and when given the go, sprinted to hide behind another tank trying to avoid the snipers
- The local brewery – this has been done up sensationally, all dark wood and gold, with beers at just on £1 this is a must to stop in for a nice afternoon of the local drop
- Turkish old town – the heart of the city is like a Turkish Bazaar, with shops everywhere selling tea-sets and other Turkish items, it is almost like you are in Istanbul.
- The Travelodge – the place made famous by the press during the war, it borders sniper alley. Complete with bullet ridden Olympic logo out the front, it is definitely worth stopping in for a beer here

Even if you just spend your days sitting around doing nothing but appreciating the fact you are now able to do exactly that, Sarajevo is one of the most amazing, moving, cities I have been to. I know the song miss Sarajevo will never be the same for me again.

Croatian Cruising

worker — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 23:38:00 GMT

At the beginning of this trip I had stared down death in the form of Peter Elliott and Pamps. Fortunately for me, Pete had been struck down with a flu and I escaped with a few minor injuries, but pretty in tact. I was not planning to fare so well over the coming week, as the Colonel and Amanda (aka Miranda) were due to touch down and that can mean only one thing … trouble. Two will enter, one will leave.

During my time in London, just about all my friends, at one time or another, has managed to fit in a Croatian Cruise; J-Lowe for her 30th (sorry luv), O because he is loose; Cork for J-Lowe’s party etc etc. Every person, bar none, has come away raving about the experience, so when Ange said she was looking to organise our very own cruise, I jumped on board quick smart. The cruise itself runs for a week sailing from Split to Dubrovnik and back, the days are spent lounging on the deck drinking warm, flat beer (but beer all the same), stopping periodically in some sheltered cove to jump off the boat into crystal clear, amazingly blue, water. The evenings are spent docking in small towns along the coast or on Islands, eating sensational food and wandering marble clad old towns to drink in cool little bars. Not a bad way to while away a week of ones life.

Driving into Split to complete the Cannon Ball Run I was immediately struck by how busy it was and the beauty of the old town, my the first impressions:

1) It is hot, and by hot, I mean melt your thongs hot
2) Everything is white marble, reflecting the sun at you from 360° (see point 1)
3) Every second person is Australian and not just young backpackers, from middle aged, young parents to retirees, it would seem Split is to summer what Whistler is to winter for the Aussie tourist. As the Colonel said, it is a tad ironic that the inhabitants of a country surrounded by beautiful coastline, feel they have to pay thousands of dollars to see pebble beaches on the other side of the world!

Boulevard in Split

As I mentioned earlier, the days onboard are spent doing as little as possible allowing you to either; a) read, or b) recover from the night before. As a result, each stop, and indeed town, tends to blur into one, however, there are some real trip highlights. Firstly though the members of Team Ange:

Flange
Andrea (all the way from the good ol’ south)
Chesty
Mouse
Ruiksop
Colonel (RIP)
Miranda (my BOB – best on boat. An inspired performance drinking pints of what is quite possibly the worst white wine ever, for an entire week)
Chad
Naomi
Worker

Flange and Andrea ... all the way from the USA!

Day 1

On any trip this is always the biggest. With a boat of 22 strangers (19 of whom were Aussies), everyone is a bit nervy, using the ‘confidence building beer’, to break down the barriers, as well as happy to be out of work for a week. We could see from early on, it was going to be a big week, especially with Scotty too Hotty setting a cracking pace. The trap in all of this, however, is the ability to charge drinks to your room and at the price of £1.50/pint who cares if they are warm and flat. This boost of courage of course also lead to people jumping off all vantage points of the boat, although the craziest diver, Jodie, would not come into her own until the last day when, upon attempting a somersault from the top deck, she gave herself 2 black eyes.

Arriving at our first port we immediately lost everyone, as wandering drunks tend to do, so ended up in a fantastic night club. The Cave Bar, a name surely conjured by a marketing genius, was built in a cave, right on the water, overlooking the port. It came complete with g-string clad, podium dancers (for pictures see Ruiksop) and was going completely mental, so mental in fact, that Chesty fell off the wall and onto the rocks below and Amanda tripped over the stairs in, cutting her foot open.

Adam Boat Jumping Day 1 as Chad & Abby look on

Petrified Mouse

Another tough day at the office

Colonel ... Maggot much?

Sunset day 1

Dubrovnik

Everyone who has been to Croatia raves about Dubrovnik, how its beauty, food and nightlife set this city apart from others in Croatia. I can now confirm these are not rumours. The city itself is absolutely amazing, to think 80% of the buildings suffered shelling damage during the conflicts of the early 90’s is even more bewildering, as everything has been completely restored to its previous condition. Winding your way slowly through the marble streets it is like you have stepped back in time, to when the great civilisations of the world were forming. Amazing architecture set on cliffs overlooking crystal clear water; ensure Dubrovnik rates as one of the most beautiful old cities I have visited. A little tip for those going, if you walk to the water side of the city wall you will find doors, which lead you out to bars set on the cliffs over looking the ocean, to sit here and have a beer and watch the sunset is a must. You may also like to jump off the 22m cliff that Adam and myself did, but of course this is optional.

Main drag Dubrovnik Mouse, Flange & Ruiksop

Dubrovnik Harbour - completely shelled during the war

Bar outside city wall rock where people are standing below is the one Adam and I jumped off ... for more info see facebook profile pic

Soccer Dubrovnik style

Dubrovnik @ Night ... as you can see, pretty quiet!

The Storm

Leaving Dubrovnik we were to make our way to Hvar, unfortunately Neptune was not smiling on us and whipped up a frenzy on the sea. There were a few big waves and hairy moments, however, the highlight would have to be the sensational show put on, with water spouts (which look like small tornadoes to me) whipping up one after the other for about an hour. We enjoyed a rare insight into the power of nature.

It is difficult to describe how beautiful these spouts looked and the pictures below can not really do them justice, though I will try; imagine a whirlpool of water on the surface begin to stir around then rise toward the skies, simultaneously the clouds above begin to circle and, what looks like God’s finger from Michaelangelo’s famous fresco in the Sistine Chappel, slowly the clouds begin to reach down to the water, eventually they connect. Then for some reason the power is lost and the show is over as quickly as it began, until it all begins again in another spot. It made for incredible viewing and in hindsight should have perhaps been more worrying, as our captain continued to plough on toward them undaunted, however this only served to provide us with the confidence all would be ok. The papers the next day would tell a different story, houses were destroyed and many boats reported trouble as a result of being struck by the storm.

A boat sails beneath the beginning of a new spout

Storm clouds circle

Chasing the storm

The finger of God

Rock & Roll with a Random Italian

The night spent on Hvar Island, we stumbled across a local rock concert being held in the open-air theatre (read: open area with one side wall of a building painted white). Colonel, Miranda, Ruiksop and I sat for 4 hours drinking rocket fuel vodka, until that ran out, then warm beers, listening to local bands play originals with a smattering of their unique take on classics like the Stones and Beatles. Although their lack of English speaking ability did hamper their covers, they gave it a fair crack all the same and after 2 vodkas from the bar, anyone would have sounded good.

Upon returning to the boat the Colonel and Ruiksop promptly crashed, so Miranda and I thought it would be a good idea to venture onshore in search of a dart, or light, or both, I can’t really remember. Anyway, we did manage to procure ourselves a nice Italian bloke, who had 4 hours to wait for his 6am ferry, doing the hospitable thing we invited him, complete with massive case of which I am sure he was using to traffic dead bodies, back to the boat. This of course involved carrying said case through the 3 boats docked closer to the port than ours. Once back on deck I also fell asleep leaving Miranda to continue drinking and entertaining our Italian guest. I am unsure what they managed to talk about for 4 hours, given the extent of Miranda’s Italian is ‘scusi’ and our friends English finished with ‘yes’.

Colonel before the concert

Dinking the rocket fuel

The big stage

Dress up/Naomi’s B’day

For this night, which began as a toga party and ended with a dress up theme, we were supposed to drink and eat all we could, whilst wearing whatever costume you could fashion. Unfortunately I was hit with the ‘Croatian Belly’ that swept our boat and spent the entire night below deck (in the sauna that was our cabin) trying my best to not vomit. I did, however, manage to see the costumes early in the night and special mention must be made to; Colonel, resplendent in the bikini Miranda wore for their honeymoon; Ruiksop, who managed to carry off one of Miranda’s dresses with far too much flair and; Johnny who, in his halter top, white pants and multi coloured sombrero, provided a rare insight to the life of a gay Mexican.

The Crew

As with any situation, where you are placed with strangers in an enclosed vessel for a substantial period of time, you are at the mercy of the God’s as to how you fare with the quality of people you are to spend said time with. We could not have been more lucky with the boat load of drinking, diving, watery soup eating, cross dressing, part animals we were placed with, sure there was Colonel and Miranda, who I knew would either be sleeping, swimming, drinking or all three at the same time, however, the score a boat of 22 where everyone got along and had a great time must be rare. To the guys on the boat; thanks for a sensational trip and the abuse, by some, on the second to last night when I was struck down by the dreaded ‘Croatian Belly’ (when will I ever learn that peer pressure always comes back to bite me in the ass!).

The girls (and I mean all women, hence Ruiksop's addition)

Champagne anyone

This is how you do a footy photo

Thats better

So there you have it, a round up of a sensational time in Croatia, an amazing country, even if it is a bit over run by tourists. If you are planning to head there I would suggest spending at least 2 weeks as, whilst the cruise is unbelievably relaxing, I felt we missed much of the ‘real’ Croatia. There are amazing lakes inland and many cities you don’t see on a boat, in fact it would have been nice to have more time at the ones we did visit. But if you are looking to spend a week doing nothing but sunning yourself, eating great food (when you dock) and drinking cheap booze, then look no further.

Best on Boat

Gallery: Finnish Sauna

worker — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 18:30:00 GMT

The Surprise Packet

worker — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 04:17:00 GMT

Arriving in Slovenia we were all a little unsure what to expect, sure they had just entered the EU (and now use euro for those of you thinking of heading there), but for many of the eastern countries, entering the EU seems to be no guarantee of decent infrastructure or even stability. None of this could be said for Slovenia.

For the last leg of the run, our plan was to head straight to Lake Bled for a few days, drive on through to the capital, Ljubljana, finally calling in to see the famous Skocjan caves before crossing the border into Croatia. However, as soon as we drove into Bled, I was quite sure this plan would be thrown out of the window. Bled is, without doubt, one of the most beautiful places I have been to in Europe, situated on crystal clear lake (complete with a Monastery in the middle on an island), surrounded by the Julian Alps and with a castle nestled on the cliffs over looking the town, it is almost as if the setting was designed around producing the perfect post card.

Bled Castle

The Monastery

The Castle with Monestary in Background

However, it does not stop there, the beer and food is dirt cheap (80p for a pint) and the people are so friendly you wonder if they are ripping you off (at 80p a pint who cares), it reminded me of Switzerland without the tourists, high prices and ugly industry. I will try to give you a brief insight to how nice the Slovenians are, on our first day we decided to hire some bikes and ride around the lake, now, we also tried to do this in Avignon and were advised:

1) There would be a hire fee of €10/hour
2) We would need to leave a deposit of €200/bike
3) If the bikes got stolen we would need to pay €400 (the bikes were only worth about €150 new)
4) We would not be provided with a lock, the bikes were our responsibility, if we had any questions about losing them, see point 3

No such trouble in Bled, we paid our €7 each for 4 hours, left no deposit or ID, were given a lock but advised no one will steal them so don’t worry about using it and to drop them back whenever. Upon returning the bikes, Chesty dropped her bike back an hour early with not so much as a query to where the other 2 were, we returned ours to a former World Champion rower (he runs the shop with his wife and coaches current Olympians on the lake), with no inspection to see if the bikes were even out the front!

After checking out the lake for a few hours we decided the time had come for a swim, I had previously spied a rope tied to a tree so suggested we go for a dip there, however, it was a pretty lame rope and so I began wondering if you could actually jump out of the tree into the lake. There were nailed bits of wood up the trunk, surely this must mean it was safe, so up I climbed, to the branch I thought looked the strongest (I am not the lithe youngster I used to be). It was at this point I realised I had not actually checked the depth of the water so the jitters set in, it also came to the attention of a group of German teenagers that some idiot had climbed the tree and was going to jump. Now I was not only unsure of the depth, I had to jump as the crowd was giving me the German version of the ‘slow-clap’. After a few minutes a young lad from the supporters group, who was obviously the bravest amongst them or most stupid, decided he would come up and show me how it was done, yet he also froze upon arriving at the branch because, despite me asking him several times to check the depth, he was not sure it would be deep enough!! By this stage more people had milled around, I had somehow managed to split the crowd between the youngsters, cheering me on, and the parents, shaking their heads, chastising children for even thinking of doing something so stupid. Eventually the pressure became too much and I launched myself into the air, landing with a perfect pinny I had pulled it off, crowds applauded, champagne was popped, for 10 seconds I was the hero of Bled, until the guy behind me jumped and I became yesterdays news.

Sizing up the climb

The Crowd Looks On

The Jump

That afternoon I wandered into town, I had seen a camping/adventure shop and figured there must be something in there I need, given the great amount of outdoors adventure sports I partake in. And I was right, a portable stove beckoned, this would be great for camping through Europe, sure it had rained most the time I had been away and I’ll probably never use it, but I just had to get one. After making the transaction and agreeing to go canyoning and rafting the next day (despite the fact we were due to leave) I made my way back to the campsite to find the girls rowing out to the Monastery in a blow up dinghy Chesty had purchased for £4 in London, which also included aluminium oars. I figured at that price we would be lucky to pull out a garbage bag from the box but judging by their laughter, which I could hear before I even got to the lake, they were staying a float and even doing a good job at reaching their destination. I saw this as my opportunity, go over to the monastery girls, have a few drinks and I’ll cook dinner on my new cooker. My aim was to get them drunk enough to agree in staying an extra night for a canyoning and rafting trip I had already booked them in on.

Chesty & Mouse - Maggot Rowing

Making my way back to the campsite quite proud of myself I decided to have a celebratory beer, met up with another Aussie couple, John and Michelle, and ended up staying there until the girls came back, with no dinner prepared.

Anyway they were up for it, as were my new mates, so the next day we were up early, watching sunrise over the lake as the rowers trained in the clearing mist was pretty special (Bled RC has produced Olympic medallists at the last 5 Olympics). However we had more important things to do so we set off behind our guide for the drive into Italy and back into Slovenia, again with not one passport check, for a day of canyoning and rafting.

I had never been canyoning before but if you do ever get the chance I can not recommend it enough, apart from having to hike up the mountain in your speedo’s, everything else is magic. Sliding down rock faces into pools of water, repelling down 50m water falls as water tumbles over your head, and jumping from rock ledges into cavernous holes with the promise of deep water beneath, it is a truly amazing experience. We were lucky enough to be the first people on the mountain so had the canyon to ourselves and the girls were doubly lucky as our guide was apparently very hot, when I say apparently I mean hearing every couple of minutes just how hot he was.

The Canyoning Team - our canyon is behind us

After canyoning we drove over to a town, which appeared to be built purposefully for rafting trips. Every shop is either selling rafting tours or a restaurant, or both. Unfortunately it had been a very dry summer in Slovenia so the rapids were not too rough and the fact our raft had a slow leak in it meant we had to do a lot of rowing just to get through, however it was still great fun and something I would definitely like to give another go.

Returning that night, after a magical drive through the Julian Alps watching the sunset, we were all pretty knackered, but so glad we had stayed on. Unfortunately this meant we missed everything else we had planned for Slovenia so, if you do plan on coming here, leave yourself at least a week as you will not want to leave.

Pics of the Julian Alps

Sunset hitting the Alps

Closeup of the colours

This would be the final leg of the run, our next stop would be Croatia, for some magical coastlines and cruising. We drove that afternoon along the coast to Zadar and the next day into Split to meet the Colonel and others for our week long cruise down to Dubrovnik and back. By the time we arrived in Split the run had already surpassed 4,000km’s, by the end, once Chesty had driven back to London with Flange and her sister, she and Hamish had covered over 6,400km’s in just 3 weeks, some great times and funny action. I figure this type of performance is pretty special and as such, hereby enter them both into the Cannon Ball Run Hall of Fame.

Where For Art Thou Romeo

worker — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 03:30:00 GMT

Leaving France behind, we made our way into the home of pasta, pizza and animated talkers: Italy. I had been to Italy previously and was not really bothered whether I made it back there or not, however, as soon as you get your first illy coffee, gelati or pizza slice, you wonder how you ever left. Even the food and coffee in the service stations is sensational.

French - Italian Border

Stop for Laaaaaaaaaaaadies

The plan for Italy was to stop in Verona for lunch then make our way over to Slovenia however the hangover from Monte Carlo prevented this so we decided to find a place to stay for the night and to attack Verona first thing in the morning. Driving off the motorway in Italy is an experience in itself, the streets are not lit, the signage is non existant and very, very good looking prostitutes are scattered along the side of the road. The prostitutes actually proved to be a source of great amusement for the weary travellers (well for this weary traveller), where did they come from? How did they get there? Who would stop for them out here in the middle of nowhere? Growing up in Australia, in a family where long road trip holidays are the norm (my mother once sat with me on her lap for 22hrs as a 2 year old across the Nullabor), you become pretty resourceful as a kid. In fact, I believe it is this childhood experience in most young Aussies that places us as one of the leading drinking game creating nations. However, never in my life had I played ‘spotto’ with prostitutes, only in Italy (or perhaps the freeways outside of Amiens).

For those of you who have never been to Italy before, it is an amazing country, from the sun drenched coastlines in the south and the skiing in the Alps, to the sheer beauty of the Amalfi Coast, Cinque Terra and Tuscany, the landscape changes in a matter of kilometres in parts leaving you in wonder as to how so much beauty could be packed into one ‘knee high boot’ (although the aforementioned prostitutes would probably argue this point).

After a nice breakfast in our suitably Italian named ‘Hotel Elephant’, we drove into Verona braving the Italian traffic, mind you the level of road craziness seems to dissipate the further you go from Rome, so it wasn’t all that bad. The first time I was in Italy I was so in awe of the place I failed to actually give any proper thought or appreciation to the contributions they have made to the world, not in terms of great works of art etc but in terms of normal every day life. Pizza and pasta of course are the staple diet of most people aged 20-26 who live in share housing, in fact every country I have been to, Asia included, will have Italian dishes on their menu to cater for the ‘fussy eater’. Road systems are a legacy of the Romans, in fact many of the major roadways in Britain still use old Roman paths, as is mass irrigation, it is quite amazing when you sit and think about it, even more so when you see the state of Italy today, unorganised chaos would best sum it up. However, much like when Mr Burns was advised he had every disease known to man, in fact even some new diseases they discovered in him alone, in just the right amounts so as to not kill him, the chaos in Italy seems to be in just the right amounts to keep life running smoothly, as long as you can get a coffee and a cigarette, everything else seems to be ok.

Verona itself was an amazing city, home of the Capulets and Montagues from Shakespeare’s famous tale, Romeo and Juliet. Now also famous for where Bunny proposed to Amelia, a tale of love, which is sure to eclipse the Bards trashy musings. I was surprised at how beautiful Verona was, with its own Coliseum (used during summer for classical concerts), Montresor Palace, and a rambling old town, it has all you would want from an Italian city (Gelati, Pizza & Pasta) with less tourists.

Our first stop was to check out the Colosseum, which sits in Piaza Bra, dwarfing all in front of it, after the obligatory picture with some Roman centry, we made our way through the tight, cobbled streets to the home of the Capulets and the famous balcony from where Juliet stood. The tunnel leading into the courtyard is covered in graffiti (as well as pieces of chewing gum and band-aids for some reason??) of people declaring their undying love for each other, fortunately, however, the graffiti, which once covered the front of the house, has been cleaned off leaving a great view of the famous balcony. For those of you unaware the story is said to be based on 2 real families who were at war with each other for centuries, the story was first documented by a few Italian writers, it was then translated into French, after which it made it’s way to England, where the Bard got his hands on it, saw it had all the makings for a classic tragedy and put his own spin on it. In fact, the ‘official’ explanation provided by the €1 handsets in the tunnel, claims Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet as one of the greatest examples of plagiarism in history.

The Colosseum

Roman Sentry

Getting close to Juliet - the balcony is in the background

After having the standard picture grabbing the boob of Juliet’s statue we headed back out into the old town and wandered through some lovely markets (complete with real, functioning Pinocchio’s), got a beautiful foccacia and shopped in the designer stores, until the time came to jump back in the car and head over to Slovenia. However, before we could leave Italy and on Soph’s orders, we had to stop for Pasta. According to the map there was a lovely town on the border, complete with castle so the decision was made to pull in there, unfortunately if you are wanting to eat anywhere in Europe between the hours of 3-6pm, you either have to get a stale sandwich or kebab, so, after driving around for a while, going to Lidl without enough money (much to the dismay of the angry Italians behind us) and getting lost a couple of times we eventually made the border where once more we were waved through without so much as a glance in our direction.

If you ever want to traffic drugs, people or even plutonium, then drive a car through Europe. You are lucky if the border patrol guards even take the time to look up from their book before telling you to hurry through. It almost seems like you are imposing on their time by even stopping “well what are you waiting for mate, can’t you see I am up the part where Harry Potter and Voldemort battle for control of Hogwarts!”.

So there you go, a brief stint in Italy, a truly amazing country and one I will definitely get back to one day (perhaps for the wedding of my good mate Horse/Jigger/Rourkey etc etc, an event for which I am supposed to be ‘the official photographer - wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Next stop Slovenia ...

Gallery: Slovenia

worker — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 07:23:00 GMT

Gallery: South of France

worker — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 19:06:00 GMT

Running Through the South of France

worker — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 18:55:00 GMT

It became a race against time, as darkness descended with over 100k’s to go and the campsite closing at 9pm things were looking good for sleeping in the car, that was until I realised that Hamish could do in excess of 160k’s/hr. The best thing about driving in Europe is the fact there seems to be no speed limit, now I have driven on the Autobahn in Germany where cars speed past you like you are standing still, despite doing 150k/h, however that trend seems to be the same everywhere. There appears to be no road traps and there are certainly no police, so when you see a sign saying 100k to your next destination it is sometimes only 40mins away, magic!

Arriving in Avignon at 8.50pm we had snuck in with 10 minutes to spare (we should have stopped for that beer as I suggested!), by the time we had negotiated a tent space using our best French (even though the guy behind the counter spoke perfect English) it was dark, which would make for some interesting erection activity (one reason I enjoy camping is the flagrant use of the word erection that accompanies it). It would also seem our friend had put our tents in quite possibly the worst site available, quite an achievement for a campsite consisting of ant hills and rock hard dust on which to erect your tents, so we figured why rush, it will be a lot more interesting to attempt, not only in the dark, but also after a few beers … waking the next morning I was not surprised to note I had managed to put the tent in a patch of nettles.

Avignon is a beautiful town, situated on the Rhone River it was the Papal home from 1309 to 1377 when the church was run out of Rome, as a result there is a heavily fortified old town, complete with protective wall and tight cobbled streets, and a mini Vatican left as a reminder (what takes some countries hundreds of years to complete the Catholic Church managed to do in well under 70 … money much???). Avignon is also home to the famous Pont D’Avignon, one of the longest bridges in Europe until it fell into the Rhone and is now immortalised in the famous nursery rhyme (so famous I don't actually know it). We spent a couple of relaxing days here, wandering the streets, eating cheese and baguettes on the river, drinking red wine, basically taking in all the delights on offer in Provonce.

Our next stop on the run was Arles, a town I visited when I first left home by pure accident that turned out to be one of those rare places you stumble across, where you can easily return, lucky as that is exactly what I was about to do. Arles is famous for a few things, the Roman amphitheatre, which is still in use for bull fighting and featured in the film Ronin starring Robert De Niro, however, it was largely put on the map by Vincent Van Gough, via his paintings and being the town where he was committed after chopping his ear off and mailing it to a friend as a result of too much absythne consumption. Vincent (that’s what he prefers to be called by his mates) spent the latter part of his life painting in Arles, including the famous Café by Night, The Bedroom, The Hospital Gardens and the self-portrait with the bandage around his head. In fact there is a self-guided tour available, which marks out each of these paintings (and others) and you are able to stand in the very spot he painted. Now I am no art aficionado but I know what I like and the impressionists are it, so to have the opportunity to eat in the actual Night Café (and take a few of the table cloths as a memento), stand in the hospital gardens and climb on the wooden bridge upon which the old women were crossing is pretty special. Fortunately Arles also remains off many tourist routes so it is not too over run by large bus groups, though it can be a docking point for the wealthy who spend their summer cruising up the Rhone drinking wine and lounging in their on deck spa as we cheese baguette eating paupers wave them by. If you do ever get to the south of France however, definitely take the time to come and see Arles, in fact if you are not pressed for time, you could easily spend days here eating good food and drinking wine whilst writing your memoirs.

Our next stop was the French Riviera, playground of the rich and famous, in keeping in tune with that theme we camped half way between Cannes and Nice, perfectly positioned to make the most of what the Cote D’Azure has to offer. First port of call was the red carpet in Cannes and some beach time outside the famous theatre, unless you are looking to drop a few grand shopping in designer stores there is not much more to do here so we jetted over for an afternoon/evening of wine and cheese on the pebbles in Nice to watch the sunset go down. Nice is an amazing city, it was beautiful when I did this same route 4 years ago, however much work has been done to remove traffic from the centre of town and it is now even more inviting than before. We spent the evening wandering the streets taking in the atmosphere with cafes and restaurants all spilling onto the sidewalk, that was until we finally got back on to the campsite and found we had to be out the next day, despite advising them at 9am and again at 11am we wished to stay, they thought it best we leave, which was fine but to find this out at 11pm and a few beers into what was looking to be a good night was not ideal. Now, up until I had my snowboard stolen in Les Arcs, I had never encountered the rude French stereotype, however, since that fateful eve in the Alps, it would seem the entire nation of France has turned against me, particularly those working in accommodation provision. Not only did the lady providing me with the news I had to pack up my tent tomorrow not give a sh*t, she was quite indignant that I had in fact never advised her colleague of the fact we wished to stay. Upon checking out it would seem I was not the only person having to deal with this level of service as one English family were not allowed to leave the campsite because they had stolen knob off the cooker in their apartment. As the lady proclaimed to the girl behind the counter “why on earth would I want to steal a knob off the cooker! I have my own at home”, the French reply? “Well perhaps you need more, or you broke it”.

When we finally managed to leave the campsite we drove the stunning coast road over to Monte Carlo for gambling and shoulder rubbing with the high end of town. Parking our hotel room for the night on the side of the road (who says I don’t show the ladies a good time!) we settled in for some cocktails at Café Paris and waited for the Casino to open. After a couple of glasses of what I am sure NASA use in the space program, we managed to stagger our way up the stairs and into the famous gambling den, which is more a museum than the bawdy type of casinos we are used to in Australia. The place drips with gold, amazing paintings adorn the walls and huge chandeliers dangle over head as people drop thousands of euros per hand, a bit rich for my blood but I did manage to win €100 on the pokies and €125 on black jack before I came back after a few later in the night and blew it all.

Waking in the car the next morning the first thing I noticed is that someone had somehow managed to get in during the night and: a) steal the money from my pockets, b) empty an ash tray in my mouth and c) break my thongs! As a result it was time for a driver change, so Chesty stepped up to the plate and took us over to the beautiful seaside town of Mentone for lunch, before driving us into Italy. Unfortunately the attack of the previous night had me so upset that I slept the whole way, so I can’t really provide much of an update here. Next stop Verona …

Start Your Engines

worker — Wed, 8 Aug 2007 08:30:00 GMT

For those familiar with the Cannon Ball Run movies, you will know they managed to seamlessly blend a group of hard drinking Hollywood stars, fast cars and hot women, with just the right mix of Dom deLouis, to create an all time classic. These were just the ingredients I was looking for when the team set out for our own version. So strap yourself in, this series is going to be a long one, good to while away at least 30mins of work time.

The Cannon Ball Run

The Team:
Feisty Mechanic - Sophia ‘Mouse’ Herdina
Big Busted Driver – Jane ‘Chesty LaRue’ Gray
Drunk Priest ala dean Martin - Worker

The Vehicle:
Hamish, a 1998 Vauxhall (Holden) Vectra station Wagon

The Challenge:
To leave a trail of destruction from Barcelona, Spain to Split, Croatia, in 2 weeks ensuring we covered off:
- Dali’s House
- French Riveria
- Tuscanny
- Slovenia
- North Croatian Coast

Sure the task seemed ominous, but with enough beer in your system and fuel in your tank I was sure Europe would truly be at our mercy. The meeting date was August 3, allowing 4 days to cover Barcelona and get the preparations complete. Mouse would be coming in by bus from Valencia, Worker from Helsinki via Plane with Chesty and Hamish driving down from London. After spending a few days immersing ourselves in Barca, including, but not limited to:
- The Gaudi Works - Apartments, Park Guell and Sagrada Famiglia
- Las Ramblas – amazing street full of street performers where my last visit I managed to lose €45 betting on the ‘spot the pea game’ only to get back €50 an hour later when I complained to the cops (with interest rates like that I could fund my trip if I invested enough!)
- The fountain water show, complete with classical music and illuminated spray, this is truly magical
- Nou Camp – Home to Barcelona FC, amazing stadium and museum
- Eating as much Tapas as possible

We drove out of Barcelona destination unknown, why? Because the girls wouldn’t tell me! Sure it was my car and hey I was driving but why on earth should I need to know where we were headed!! However their choice proved to be a good one, after camping for the night in torrential rain (for those still in drought all you need to do is simply think about putting up my tent and the heavens will open), we drove the windy road to Figueres, the last residence of Salvador Dali. The house is situated on cliffs over looking the bay of a small fishing village, from the moment you arrive it is clear why he chose this spot; the contrasting colours, the landscape, the water, for an artist there is inspiration all around. Fortunately the house is open for the public providing an insight into the mind of a truly eccentric, yet great artist. From the stuffed polar bear coat rack in the welcoming room, to the tiny cage on the wall of his bedroom where he kept crickets to lull him to sleep, the house is full of unique and interesting furnishings and yet somehow it all works well. After spending a couple of hours here we jumped back into Hamish with the aim to get in to the south of France by the end of the day, but would we make it?? Stay tuned …

Gallery: Patarei Prison

worker — Thu, 2 Aug 2007 01:50:00 GMT

Locked Up in Estonia

worker — Thu, 2 Aug 2007 01:21:00 GMT

“Yeah this place is good, but it was much better 10 years ago”. “I was here before all the tourists, it was much more authentic then”. When travelling you hear lines like this often, sure they usually come from 50yo, Thai dye, Teva, wearing hippies, but they frustrate you none the less. If only, just once, you could be the person who discovered something, the one who could say “I remember how cool it was before the tourists”. Welcome to Patarei Prison, Workers Thai dye, Teva moment.

Situated in Tallin, Estonia, Patarei was a former KGB prison. Closed in 2002 as Estonia was pushing for inclusion to the EU it remains, to this day, in the same condition it was left in. I had actually not heard about it prior to arriving in Tallin, in fact I didn’t read or see anything about it until my last night there.

Firstly however, a bit of background information, for those of you who have never been to Tallin, or indeed Estonia, it is listed as the best-preserved medieval town in Northern Europe. Just 80km from Finland it was occupied by the Russians in 1938, annexed by the Nazis in 1939 and then returned to the USSR after the second world war. Amazingly, or thankfully, the city itself was spared as each retreating army left so quickly they had no time to implement their respective scorched earth policies.

Having gained their freedom peacefully in 1991 and now one of the newest entrants to the European Union, Estonia, and specifically Tallin, are thriving, yet despite this the locals remain friendly (the service is second to none) and the prices cheap!

Right ... now lets get back to the story at hand, for my last night in Tallin I thought it would be nice to go watch the sunset over the medieval ramparts. Whilst sitting alone, a nice German couple began speaking to me and after a few minutes a strange lady, with a crazy look in her eye, butted in and began talking about the KGB; how they treated people, where they locked them up, how they had a file on her etc etc. As the story unfolded it gradually became clear that this women may actually be speaking the truth, she advised if I wanted to see the real Estonia I should do a tour of Patarei Prison, where the KGB held, tortured and killed political prisoners. I was sold, I took down the details and was advised any hostel in town could tell me how to get there.

My ferry was booked for 4pm on the last day, leaving me a few hours to tour the prison before heading back to grab my bags and leave Estonia. No one appeared to know what I was talking about but a nice lady did point me toward Patarei Bay, eager to discover the prison I set off on foot however I was soon to find there are no signs or directions. I wandered around aimlessly for about 90 minutes before I decided to give up and head back for my ferry. The end

Nah only joking, I turned the corner to head back into town and spotted some barbed wire with an observation tower, I had found it. Arriving at the gate I was already feeling a little edgy, there was no ticket office, just the main gate was left slightly ajar. I decided to wander in anyway so I could at least take a snap, at which point I spotted some movement, there were a few people about 100m away inside the prison so I went down to see if this tour did indeed exist. An old lady came out to greet me and proceeded to advise I would need to pay around £3 to do the tour (well she yelled at me in Estonian, I worked out the price by looking at the ticket). I advised her I could not speak Estonian but she ploughed on regardless, fortunately I nice Finnish bloke arrived, translated and we were in. When I say fortunately I really mean it because, having done the tour, there is no way I would do it on my own!

The tour is self guided, there are a few signs put up telling you what a particular room was used for but you basically enter the prison and stroll around on your own. When the prison was vacated in 2002 they lead the prisoners out and shut the doors, leaving behind clothing, bedding, hospital utensils, posters on walls, shoes, old wheel chairs etc etc.

The first floor included the hospital where the operating bed still has blood stained sheets on it complete with used scalpels in the trays 9as you can see from the above pic). There are cells left as they were lived in, with bedding, books, clothing, shoes, toiletries etc, you seriously feel like someone is about to jump out at you. The solitary confinement cell has carvings of crazy ranting, the wooden sledge hammers those on hard labour used are also left lying around. In fact I spent the entire time with my emotions wavering between sheer disbelief and terror, it didn’t help that my friend and I were the only people in there at the time and he decided to advise me we need to be quick as some people have actually been locked in there over night if they don’t get out in time.

An empty cell

Blood stains on the sheet to match the utensils above (hint check the tray)

An old wheel chair look sover the bay

Having gone through all 3 levels including the gym, theatre, barber, officer rooms, library we made our way back out to the courtyard, I was just happy to be out in the fresh air. To see the conditions prisoners were held in by the KGB, and indeed the Estonian government once the Russians had left, was appalling, however worse was to come. As I was about to leave I spotted a little green arrow (the sign of where we could actually go) the sign outside read hanging room, walking through a dark tunnel we came out into a small room and the sight was quite incredible. There in front of us was the room where prisoners were executed, complete with ladder, removable floor, an old prisoners jacket (not sure if he was a victim) and a few switches. Now I must stress here there is nothing made up about this tour ie they have not dressed things up, the room and the ladder are left exactly as they were last used, the ladder lying propped up against a wall as if kicked backwards. My friend and I could not believe this was the actual hanging room but after speaking to the old lady out the front and watching her make a hanging action, it was confirmed.

Hanging room entrance

The henaging room

So there you have it, my shot at the travelling big time, although now I have posted this I am sure people will write in saying they have been there. If you have not however, I can not encourage you enough to do it now, before it either gets cleaned up or closed down. Though I’ll remember how cool it was before the tourists invaded it, right then where’s my Teva’s.

Photos to come!

Nude it up!

worker — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 18:20:00 GMT

Hands up who likes to go nude? Ok, ok, I have a few of you. Hands up who likes to get drunk? Hmmm, much better response. Finally, hands up who likes to do both at the same time? Ahh I see Wooly still has his hand up as does Pete Bro, excellent. Well then do I have a deal for you! And Horse, staying in your hornets, drinking beer on the couch, watching the crows, does not count as nude.

After spending a couple of days in Helsinki, once again in the rain, I boarded a train to head toward the land of the midnight sun, my first stop Kuopio, home of the Worlds Largest Smoke Sauna.

There are 2 things in life the Fins take seriously: Saunas and drinking. The first is not so easy to spot, the second however, well if you stop and look around you in Finland, everyone is drunk. From the 13yo girl who accosted me in the main street, to the blokes in the car park outside central station drinking bottles of Vodka (and dressed rather respectably may I add), this is a nation of boozers. However it is their ability to seamlessly blend the act of sitting in 90c heat whilst on the chop, which sets them apart.

The WLSS is situated in the forest on the banks of the lake surrounding Kuopio, it is usually only open on a Tuesday however there are also Thursday summer sessions. They crank it from early morning so the coals are ready to fire by 4pm when it opens and hit their peak around 7-9pm, being such a regular sauna attendee I thought it best to be there at this time, when the heat was really cranking.

As I have come to expect up here, when Tuesday rolled around it was cold and wet, after winding our way through the islands in the lake for about 30 mins, past some magnificent scenery, I was dropped at a pontoon in the middle of nowhere and pointed in the right direction. Through the forest I ploughed in my thongs until I arrived at a couple of wooden huts. The first thing you notice out here is the scent of the forest, fresh pine covered in a light layer of rain, it is something you forget about when living in big city’s, this, coupled with smell of campfire smoke, got the senses pumping and reminded me of camping with my family as a kid. I was officially excited.

Arriving at the WLSS I was surprised to see everyone sitting out the front in their towels, that’s right there was a bar there and all in sundry were on the chop. I promptly paid my €10 and was given 2 towels, one for use in the sauna and one to dry myself off with at the end. Did I want a beer to start? Sure why not, when about to enter a smoke filled, 90c room, why would I want all my senses operating at full capacity.

After the beer I made my way into the change room and a wall of nude, the Fins love it and the sauna is a deeply sacred thing to them, so whilst we of English colonisation retain some of that British prudishness, the Scandi’s have none. After showering I made my way into the sauna, which proved to be a mixed sex sauna, so apparently you are supposed to keep your towel wrapped around you, perhaps someone should have instructed everyone else. I know it is probably not the nicest image to conjure up, however try to picture walking into a dark room and a wall of naked people sitting there in front of you, balls on wooden seats, boobs sagging (the demographic was more Coronation Street than Hollyoaks). After getting over my initial shock I made my way up to the top seat, where the hard units reside, and settled in for my goal of 10 mins.

The first few minutes drifted by effortlessly, I was travelling ok, sure it was hot and the smoke hurt the lungs a little, but I was going to make it, and that was when I received my next lesson in sauna law, the old men are the craziest. Old man number 1 figured it was not hot enough so dumped about half a bucket on the coals (which are in a bricked off area about 2m x 2m and piled about 1.5m into the air). When the heat hits you it is like someone has filled a sleeping bag with hot water and dumped you in it, it wraps itself around you, stings the skin and hurts the eyes, it is difficult to breath and to be honest not that enjoyable, however the Fins loved it.

Eventually my 10 mins were up next stop was to head out nude and jump into the freezing lake. When I arrived at the sauna I noticed people jumping into the lake and thought they were crazy given how cold it was however, having spent a mere 10 mins in the sauna, I could think of nothing better. Making my way gingerly down a makeshift jetty, I plunged head first into the icy lake, the feeling was incredible, I was hooked. In winter they actually cut a hole in the ice and plunge in holding a rope in case they get lost under the ice, and after my first time I wanted to come back and do that. After about 5 mins in the lake I made my way back to the sauna, sitting there amongst the locals, feeling completely alive all I wanted to do was yell out “I love this” however I thought this may not go down too well with the big, nude, drunk guy next to me, so held my tongue.

After repeating the process for about an hour or so and to the point where I wanted the crazy old men to put more water on, I went out for a celebratory beer, of course my hosts were well smashed by this stage (they actually take their beers and gins into the sauna with them), ensuring some interesting conversation ensued as to why an Australian was sitting nude, drinking beer, with a big red, round face, in the middle of the forest in North Findland.

This is without a doubt one of the greatest things I have done o/s, to get nude and drink beer with locals, in the middle of nowhere, whilst partaking in their national obsession, is an opportunity which does not present itself often ... after reading that back to myself, it is probably a good thing opportunities like this don’t arise often! So, if you are ever in Finland, I can not recommend enough you make your way to Kupio on a Tuesday night for some nude, beer drinking, sauna actiion!

Gallery: Stockholm & Ferry

worker — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 03:04:00 GMT

Cruising for Some Boozing

worker — Sun, 22 Jul 2007 21:33:00 GMT

Now as some of you will attest, I don’t mind a tipple every now and then, a glass of sherry on one’s birthday, perhaps some egg-nog at Christmas, but only on special occasions. So when the opportunity presented itself to catch the ferry from Stockholm to Helsinki, I decided the chance to sail through the Archipelago Islands too good to pass up, of course it had nothing to do with the rumours surrounding how this is one of Europe’s biggest organised piss up's.

Now, in Sweden alcohol is controlled by the state, you can only buy it from government run stores and it is very expensive, as a result the Swede’s like to jump on the ferry to Helsinki, where it is duty free, get on the gas all the way there, dock for a few hours (some don’t even leave the ferry!) and get blind all the way back. Not to be outdone by the Swede’s, the Fin’s also like to make a few trips a year, it is like an old school Viking stand off, in fact when you board the ferry those who have just sailed in to port can be found on board already drunk and by drunk I mean 16 hours of drinking, drunk.

Firstly let me describe the vessel; 6 decks of discos, casinos, restaurants, duty free shopping, a sauna area, this place has the lot, even a sleeping room for those of us who could only secure deck tickets. After placing all my belongings in a locker I went on deck to watch the Archipalego islands sail by, sitting there in the sun, beer in hand I did manage to spare a thought for all my friends back at work … well actually no I didn’t but now I type this I'm thinking it probably would have been the right thing to do, so let’s just say I did. However for all the hype and despite a few drunk Fin’s gambling in the casino, it all seemed pretty tame.

The actual course sailed is quite amazing, winding through tiny islands and rock formations, some which are so small they look like the top of a whale, there is little to no room for error. As the sun went down though the real show began, the colours in the sky were quite incredible, scorched reds, brilliant oranges, imagine a sunset/twilight that goes on for about 6 hours, I had never seen anything like this.

After a while I decided to head down and grab a beer, that was my first mistake, in the few hours I had been on deck someone seemed to have got everyone on the boat absolutely maggot. Keen to play catch up I met some Fins (who I find are much more friendly than the Swedes) and kicked on. There are about 4 night clubs open all night and every one of them was heaving, in fact given the state of some people I am surprised people don’t fall over board. When the bar finished serving at about 5am my new friends decided they would scour the boat for more booze. They did manage to find a carton however drinking warm beer at 5am was the end of me (I know some of you out there are thinking ‘hey but you’ve done that before’ but the language barrier at this time is also an issue) so I decided to call it a night because the views sailing into Helsinki are meant to be incrtedible and I wanted to make sure I was up for that.

I awoke with the cleaner vacuuming in to me; apparently we had been docked for an hour so I will have to buy the video of the trip into Helsinki. Having said that if you are ever in this part of the world this is one ferry trip that must be done, incredible scenery, one of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen and as much drink as you can handle, hell I even had enough time to spend 2 hours in the Sauna/Spa!

Next ... Nude Sauna's in Finland ... you know you want to!

I Can't Afjord It!

worker — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 22:28:00 GMT

So the plan after Pamps was to try and put a hold on the spending, slow it down a notch, after all there is still 6 months to go. I know I'll head to Scandi, take it easy and camp saving money ... WRONG!

If you ever plan on owning your own home do not come to Norway, if on the other hand you are after beautiful scenery, cascading waterfalls into deep sunken fjords, friendly people and good times then this could be the destination for you.

First stop was Oslo, the capital and a city I thought would give me a good insight into Norway and the travel to come. Thankfully I was wrong as Oslo is dirty and quite dodge, there are some cool things to see here but otherwise get out of there and to the west and fjords as quick as possible (most people I have spoken with agree). Having said that there were a couple of highlights from Oslo:

- Munch Museum - to see the painting 'the scream' was pretty cool

- Vigeland Sculpture Park - amazing sculptures depicting the different stages and struggles of mankind, all from the same artist, line the path leading up to a 30m tower of bodies struggling to reach to the top

- Fram Museum - the boat which has sailed furthest north to the pole and south when Amundsen was the first to reach the pole, is housed in a museum allowing you to walk over it, in it and check out the wildlife they shot and brought back with them. Amazing to see the conditions these early explorers endured, especially when an idiot like me owns more adventure gear than the entire boat put together, yet doesn't use any of it!

- Hostelling - it was the first time I had been back in a hostel on my own for a few years and to get back to sharing a room with randoms was pretty tough, although I do believe this first room was the most random bunch of people I have ever shared with - an Itialian gigolo, a Japanese interpreter who translates copyright laws and a mand who stunk so bad it was rather pungent, like sex panther. However the king of them all was Leo, I wont bore you with all the details however he is quite possibly the most random person I have ever met. A 70yo Russian Jew who emigrated to the US in 1968, lost his leg 2 years later when he fell under a train in Greece. Has since lived in a government supplied home in Hells Kitchen, right off Broadway in NYC. He travels for a couple of years at a time sub letting his apartment (highly illegal) whilst still claiming benefits he was on his way to board a Russian ice breaker and trek to the North Pole. All this plus he could snore like no one I have ever encountered, there were people in the rooms next to us laughing at how load he was. Anyway wherever you are Leo I know you are keeping the dream alive.

Tower in Vigeland Park

Sculpture Vigeland Park

The Fram

The Scream

From Oslo I boarded the famous train to Bergen, rated as one of the most beautiful train trips in the world and highly recommended by my Lonely Planet, I was eager to check it out. What the LP fails to tell you however is that when you do reach the highest station it is still covered in snow, hence boardies and thongs were not a good choice of attire. Arriving in Myrdal I got off the train to take another train down to Flam, ignoring the strange looks I was getting by people wearing ski gear, I jumped on the train and took what is quite possibly the most incredible train ride ever. Cut into and through the cliffs leading down to Fram the train snakes it's way past waterfalls and sheer drops to certain death to arrive at the bottom of the fjord in Flam. Absolutely amazing scenery, Norway had managed to claw back some respect after the debacle that was Oslo.

Thongs were not a good choice

The only person in Norway carrying more than me, note the dog, not to be outdone I have since purchased myself one

Arriving in Flam I jumped on a ferry to take me up the Naeroyfjorden to Gudvanden. I had heard good reports about the fjords so they had a lot to live up to and they did not disappoint. The scenery here is absolutely amazing with sheer mountains, in some cases over 1km high dropping straight into the water, every 50m there is a waterfall cascading into the fjord, everything is so green and the little villages dotted along the route make it even more beautiful. I was absolutley in awe at the sheer scale of the mountains and the beauty of this place, if you were ever to become a writer this would be the place to lock yourself away and crank out a best seller. Luckily the only 2 hours of sunlight I had in Norway were also during the ferry trip, otherwise is bucketed rain the whole time. Good thing I purchased my £200 tent as i have not even taken it out of the bag yet!!

The fjord

More fjord

Getting off the ferry the next port of call was Bergen. Bergen is everything Oslo isnt, clean, pretty, nice people and a wicked hostel. I spent a few days here wandering through the old wooden buildings (which they continue to build despite the city being levelled by fire 5 times), around the port where you can buy seal skins, white reindeer fur and any other animal you have ever thought was adorable. I did have plans to move on from Bergen and go further north exploring the fjords however the cost of travelling Norway, coupled with the constant rain, meant I cut my time here short and boarded a train to Stockholm.

The main square in Bergen

The famous wooden buildings

Looking back on Bergen

All in all Norway has some of the most incredible scenery I have seen, unfortunately it comes at a cost and I didnt get to catch a glimpse of the Norsca girl showering under a waterfall either! Next stop Stockholm and the delights of Sweden.

Pandemonium in Pamps but where's the Sun in San Seb??

worker — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 22:25:00 GMT

For all of you left reading this (without me actually badgering you daily from my work e-mail) this is a quick note to say I managed to get out of Pamps alive ... sure Pete has my soul in his back pocket and my liver missed the flight, but I am safe and sound in Oslo.

The trip started much the same as any other where you have to be up at 3am to get to Stansted ... well planned, with promises made to keep out of the LOD yet ended as they all do ... unpacked and maggot with someone knocking on your door to get out and in to the cab. If there were any thoughts the reunion of this group (4 years post our initial Pamps fling) would be any different, they were quickly thrown out of Ahmed's (our mini cab driver) door.

First a run down of the crew with number of appearances in brackets: O 'Lord of Loose' Matthews (4), P 'Death' J Elliott (3), Worker (3), Mo 'McCaffrey' Matthews (2), Soph 'Mouse' Herdina (2), Jason 'Birdman' Robertson (0), Jess 'Dutchess of Destruction' Cowie (0) & Ange 'Flange' Lancaster (0).

The trip began in San Seb where we thought we may be lucky enough to jag some sun ... PNod number 1 ... no sun to be seen, sure the pic looks sunny but it was windy and cool so we thought instead it would make sense to hit the old town and chop on with the locals. For those of you who have never been to San Seb before it is a beautiful town set on 2 amazing bays, one protected by an island, the other a surf bay. From atop the mountain overlooking the town is a huge Jesus statue (similar to Rio though not as large), beneath the statue is the old town, where the streets are small and tight and the tapas and cerveza flows. It is here (away from the high street shops) where you finally feel you are really in Spain.

Every Tapas restaurant seems to be busy, irrespective of the time, and each one has an aray of eye catching, colourful plates, full of local produce for you to sample along with your beer.

After a few hours of respectable behaviour Mo returned with a cooler full of Sangria and so we took to the streets pouring said concotion into mouths as they passed. As per usual in San Seb we all managed to somehow get seperated, though Mo & Mouse took themselves home early because they felt too drunk. Well what a surprise when we returned and found them putting on their own comedy show, a performance that would earn them free drinks and tapas from the publican for the rest of the trip. Pity no one can remember what it was they were doing otherwise I would pass this invaluable information on.

Next stop was Pamps a day before the San Fermin festival officially kicks off, to get in to our apartment and have a quick look around the town before the madness begins. The locals rent out their flats over the weekend (and for €1,200 for 3 days why wouldn't you) and the Lord had scored us a beauty, sure it was closer to San Seb than Pamps, but it was a corker all the same.

Opening day came and dressed in our traditional red and white outfits we made our way to the plaza for the festivities. Everyone congregates here in front of the town hall to conduct what could only be described as 'the biggest food fight in the world'. Sangria is sprayed, flour flies, champagne cascades and eggs ... whoops sorry no eggs any more after the Mayor copped one a couple of years ago. It is total madness and great fun however, unfortunately, this year there were way too many people there and it became a scary crush, girls were crying, it was difficult to breath and as the crowd surged you were powerless to prevent it. This being the third time I have braved it I can honestly say it was out of control so hopefully something is done next year before a tragedy occurs.

Anyway enough of the morbid rubbish, next stop The White Horse, a beautiful bar overlooking the valley, however a quick swing by the Muscle Bar is in order first. This is the statue where idiots climb up and fall into the arms of the people below, what a great idea lets get maggot and hope those more maggot than me will catch me as I head toward a cobbled street. The less said about this the better.

Up at the White Horse I can honestly say it was one of the best days had there, brilliant fun and great to be up there with Pete, O, Mo and the rest of the crew as we took the p*ss out of all in sundry including many ad hoc games of stacks on. The night ended in boogie street, a street just outside the bull ring where the disco goes all night (believe me no-one parties like the Spanish), chopping was flowing and with it the memory checked out ... the sign of a great opening day.

The first bull run was the next morning however given I had done it a few times previously (read: Mum told me that if I did it again I was disowned), I felt why tempt fate (read: too maggot to get out of bed).

The next few days were spent pretty much in the same cycle ie wake up, feel ill, have Pete had you a glass of Sangria, suddenly feel better and do the Poppa Choo's long into the night.

Leaving Pamps, and our stinky clothes behind, we headed back to San Seb with our tails between our legs. The last few days were a bit quieter as we tried to recover from Death and Pamps before we all had to say our goodbyes and jetted back to London (Death is now destroying Portugal).

All in all a magnificent trip, I know I have said it before but if there is one festival you ever do in Europe, make it Pamps. The people are nice, the prices are relatively cheap, the food fantastic and the atmosphere unbeatable. Thanks to the guys who made it a great trip but special mention to Death who spent $4k hard earned Kiwi (so £5) to get there, was great to see you again mate and I look forward to chopping on once more in NZ, Oz or Canada where ever they will let us in.

For all pics check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/worker/

Gallery: San Seb & Pamps

worker — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 21:28:00 GMT

San Fermin Festival

Irish Eyes Are Smiling

worker — Tue, 3 Jul 2007 23:47:00 GMT

Because Worker has left the country ...

For the final fling there was a heap planned, 6 mates making the trip from London, partying of rock and roll proportions, tempered with some cultural activity … was this too much to ask? We’d soon find out ….

My final week of work didn’t prove to be the usual wind down you’d expect with so much going on, however it didn’t stop the guys from getting me some excellent presents: a Leinster Rugby Jersey and a traditional Leinster kilt. I was actually pretty emotional about it so a big thanks to all at NewTel, it has been an amazing 12 months and I hope we all get to have a beer together again at some point, which I’m sure we will.

With the formalities out of the way we headed in to town for the obligatory farewell to Dublin drinks, after a couple of hours and beers with just Horse I had begun to question my value to the organisation but fear not soon Sheillsy turned up and with Mouse, Ange, One Fiddy, Craig & Rui winging their way over it would prove to be a massive night winding up early hours of the morning. This meant all plans for cultural events were scrapped for Satruday as we spent the entire day in bed then up at the hotel bar bidding farewell to the locals, again until the early hours.

Sunday rolled around and once more we missed out on the majority of our planned cultural events bar getting to Croke Park to watch the Leinster Hurling final, which unfortunately was a rather one sided affair. However if you have never seen a game of Hurling make the effort to do so, it consists of 2 teams running around with fat hockey sticks clubbing each other as they try to score rugby or soccer type goals … mental!

So then, lets run through the weekend checklist:
1. Rock and Roll lifestyle – check.
2. Drinking in the culture – 50% (we did drink didn’t we!?!?).

So farewell to Dublin and Ireland, I have had a magnificent time here and will always have the country and of course the people, near to my heart. In fact it isn’t until you spend some time in Ireland you realise just how similar Aussies and in particular Aussie culture is.

Well Oil Beef Hooked

worker — Sun, 24 Jun 2007 21:37:00 GMT

For the second to last weekend in Ireland I finally got to cover off one of the great wonders of the Emerald Isle, no not the Guinness Factory, Giants Causeway, or GC to it’s mates.

Soph’s parents were over for their final weekend of a 3 month jaunt and given none of us had been up to Belfast we decided a road trip was in order. Leaving early Saturday morning (despite hitting the hotel bar the evening before) our first port of call was Belfast.

A town known as much for ‘The Troubles’ as anything else, Belfast is a city slowly undergoing a renaissance of sorts, as it attempts to move on from, but not forget, the past. As if to prove my point, the Belfast parade was taking place as soon as we walked down the main drag, with a mish mash of colour representing the diverse cultures of Belfast; Chinese, Italian, Greek etc all on floats of varying quality … even the Mayor came out to say G’day to us.

Next up we partook in a walking tour of the city, probably not something I would recommend, sure it is insightful and gives a good detail of the history of Belfast (including being the city where the Titanic was built) however, as a tourist, most people are interested in hearing about the Troubles, something you get the feeling the local guides are reluctant to talk about.

Unfortunately we did not do a black cab tour, despite being recommended by several people once again Matthewman thought he knew best! So, if heading to Belfast, defo do one – they are relatively cheap as well. At our own peril (given we had Republic plates on) we did take the rental car through the Falls area, where many of the murals are painted, and to say it is quite depressing would be an understatement. You do get the sense there is still very strong feelings just below the surface and it will take some time yet before this is gone, if ever.

After the day in Belfast we took a drive up to coast road toward Giants Causeway, a sensational drive and well worth doing, especially for those who have heard about the width of the roads in the Republic, which are not wide enough to play cricket on in some spots, you don’t have to contend with this issue up north.

After a few beers and snooze at a great B&B in the (insert name I cant remember) falls area, where there is a great trail running through rainforest (something I never knew Ireland had) we continued on to the Carrick-a-rede bridge. A rope bridge strung by the local fisherman 300 years ago (yet only recently replaced!) from the mainland to a cliff island to catch migrating salmon. This is picture postcard Ireland, green rolling hills, sheer cliff faces, blue water, the only problem is the bridge has a limited capacity so if you get there around the time of a Japanese bus or a heap of Eastern Europeans (all of whom think it is ok to stand in the middle whilst their companions take pictures of them posing) then take your time getting out there or suffer the boring consequences.

Mouse on the Bridge

From here we next hit Giants Causeway, again this is Ireland at it’s best with the rolling green hills leading down into the ocean where they hit a volcanic formation that can only be described as magnificent. As lava flowed into the ocean thousands of years ago it dried like cracked mud would in the outback, leaving perfect hexagonal formations of rocks. As with most tourist attractions in Ireland you are able to climb all over them, allowing you to get up close and personal with this natural wonder. But words can not do this justice so check out these pics:

For this week I’ll leave you with the wonderful Irish folklore story of the Giants Causeway. Apparently the local Irish Giant (Finn McCool) was warring with his Scottish counterpart across the way so began building GC to go over and have it out with him. Well as he got closer to Scotland he realised just how big the Scottish giant was so came running back to his wife with the terrible news. Being a typically resourceful Irish lass she dressed Finn up as a baby and left him in a massive cradle, when the Scottish giant got over and saw the size of the Irish Giant’s ‘baby’ he fled in fear, tearing up the causeway behind him.

Gallery: Blue Light and Dingle

worker — Mon, 11 Jun 2007 19:47:00 GMT

Gallery: Leeds & Liverpool

worker — Wed, 6 Jun 2007 02:42:00 GMT

Life in a Northern Town

worker — Wed, 6 Jun 2007 02:41:00 GMT

Another weekend has passed us by and, as my time to leave the UK gets closer, I do what most antipodeans do; try to cram everything I could have done in a few years into a month.

This trip would once again be about family, in particular visiting the roots in the old country. My father was born in Bromley, Leeds. He caught the boat out to Australia with his parents and 6 brothers and sisters as part of the £10 ticket offer after the war. In fact they were the biggest family to emigrate from the area at the time, they even managed to knock the Queen off the front page of the local rag!

Now to me Dad was always an Aussie, he didnt have an English accent and followed Australia in all things sporting. In fact he developed a hate for the English that you would normally only expect from a true-blue Aussie.

Personally, I had been to Leeds once before, however I spent the entire weekend drunk and felt no real ties to the place, so this time would be different ... or would it?

Arriving Saturday afternoonon the outskirts of Leeds the anticipation was building, especially after putting up with traffic on the M1. However I had no map of Leeds so pulled into a servo where I actually managed to jag an AtoZ for free, a saving of £5.50, a good start I thought.

After driving through the heart of Leeds we arrived at Bromley and located the house (as shown in the pic above). Whilst standing out the front a lovely young gentleman (read derelict covered in tatts) poked his head out the window as if to ask 'what the f*ck do you want', so I kindly gave him a wave. This brought him downstairs and out the front just as his skinheaded mate rolled up with a 6 pack of beer.

Side of Dad's Place

Having explained my reason for being there he quickly went inside and grabbed his mother who came out and invited us in for tea. It is quite amazing to see how the hardest nuts act/melt in front of their mothers. Anyway it was really special, she remembered the Matthewmans and regaled me with tales of the local area including:

- She remembered seeing the Matthewman children playing in the front yard on her way to school
- There were only 2 houses on the street in those days, the rest were fields, which from the pics you can see is no longer the case
- How the front fence got taken away when Dad lived there so the metal could be used for the war effort (although it turned out to be the wrong metal so got thrown in the sea, which apparently was quite common),
The changes they have made to the house (which incidentally is over 200 years old) including knocking into next door which used to be a local store
- How my Dad's family lived there, all 9 of them, in 3 bedrooms - one just for for the parents

After hearing this (and complaints from the son's mate how he wished he'd been sent out to oz for stealing a loaf of bread 'because the weather and women are better there') I really, for the first time ever, felt some connection to England, to these people in Leeds.

Next we went off to Dad's old primary school, which is now apartments, via a local tavern. However given we were not local (and by local I mean our parents did not bring us a home made pizza into the pub for our dinner) we aroused a few stares and so we chopped our beer and left.

Boys entry to Dad's Primary School

That night we spent wandering Leeds, which is a beautiful city. You can see it was once very wealthy from the cotton trade, amazing buildings and architecture everywhere.

The Corn Exchange

Leeds Markets

Old Mall

A few things about Leeds by night:

For the men

Hens nights abound
I have not seen a town with more night clubs anywhere in my travels
Short skirts are in and I mean short
Boobs are out
Chicks are everywhere

For the ladies

Stag do's are everywhere (although they are British so slim pickings)
Drink specials are all over the place
The shopping is sensational (Soph's feedback)

Owl in Millenium Square

Soph Millemium Square

Next morning we awoke and hit the road to Liverpool, I was really sad to be leaving Leeds, disappointed I have not spent more time there. Liverpool was quite a contrast, being European Centre for Culture 2008 I was surprised to see what a dump it is. Sure there is a heap of work going on to tart the place up but it is dirty, run down and depressing, probably why they have given birth to so many musicians.

Having said that Albert Dock is fantastic, full of cafe's overlooking the Mersey and the city definitely does have a very strong vibe about it. We began here by heading over to Anfield, the Kop, to check out one of the worlds most famous stadiums. Now I dont particularly like Liverpool but the stadium is as impressive and imposing as their fans, memorials are up for the Hillsborough tragedy and a steady stream of fans is flowing in and out covered in red. Despite the season being over every tour is booked out. However this didnt stop me from sneaking into the museum, if you ever want to get into the museum for free simply ask to use the toilet and save yourself the £10.

Outside Anfield

Houses next to the Stadium

Hillsborough Memorial in the Museum

Next stop was the Beatles Tour where we drove past the houses for the Fab Four, learnt about their early history (for example John Lennons Mother was killed crossing the road outside his house), down Penny Lane and past Strawberry Fields, winding up at the Cavern where they used to play every lunch time when they first came together. A pretty cool tour, quite surreal to see the very modest backgrounds of the four men who changed the world.

George Harrison's House

Srawberry Fields - used to be an Orphanage

John Lennon's House - his mother died out the road where the pic is taken

Soph out the front of Paul McCartney's house - now a National Trust House, where over 100 Beatles songs were written (because John Lennon was not allowed to play the guitar at home - his Aunt's place)

Guess where this was taken ....

The Cavern Entry

Stage at the Cavern

So all in all a great weekend, if you have never been up North do it, the people are nicer, the beer is cheaper and the culture somehow seems more 'British'. London is fantastic for the melting pot it is, but even they will acknowledge people are unsure what British is any more, in fact they are now talking about having a Britain Day, modelled on Australia Day, which really is Britain Day anwyay ... how ironic!

O up in the Eire

worker — Tue, 29 May 2007 00:03:00 GMT

After the antics of Porto it was always going to be a tough act to follow up, so who better to draft into the fold than the Lord of Loose, Captain Oh-Zone himself. So the scene was set, 2 good looking roosters, one Emerald Isle, 68,700 pints of Guinness ... news of this weekend would be the biggest thing to come out of Ireland since Boyzone!

20.25 Friday night was touch down, this allowed me enough time to race to the shops for 3 cartons of beer and a heap of snacks in preperation for the weekend. After the flight eventually landed (due to delays out of Deathrow, what a surprise!) we jetted over to my mate Daves place for a few cheeky beers and a 'Welcome Back O' party. Having chopped a couple we then hightailed it over to the cultural epi-centre that is Saggart, via a police check point, dumped O's gear and headed to the hotel bar for a few Guinness.

The bar was pretty quiet so we took our leave (once I had fooled some poor bloke into believing that I owned the Ferrari out the front) and headed home to rest up for the road trip tomorrow.

Saturday rolled around and after a hearty breakfast, we headed off to Wexford to explore the home Irish cheddar. I had received some glowing recommendations of Wexford; let me begin by saying they all fell well short of the mark. The drive down was beautiful, as most driving trips in Ireland are, with some great scenery although, in typical Irish fashion, the coast road actually didnt really go along the coast, it was a few km's inland. Hence, when we saw the first opportunity to snap the ocean ,we grabbed it, unfortunately it meant we were required to walk through graveyard, although it did give a nice photo opportunity.

Next stop Wexford, not really much to report here, fishing town on a river with an above average representation of teenage mothers. It was like walking through Tea Tree Plaza there were so many young Mum's. Had a wicked lunch here though, seafood chowder was sensational despite having capsicum in it (has anyone ever heard of that before?). We did manage to board a few fishing boats whilst there, which was really interesting and no one seemed to care!

O at the harbour

Next stop was Kilkenny, which had also received good reviews so by this stage I was not really hoping for much. The drive there was pleasant enough (apart from me nearly running out of petrol), we stopped at a really nice little town to take some pics before jetting to Kilkenny, with the goal of drinking some Kilkenny.

The old bridge we just drove over

To take a pic of O by the river

Arriving at Kilkenny we were pleasantly surprised to see it was actually a really nice town, complete with Castle, many watering holes with traditonal music and Travellers/Pikeys. We had a pleasant stroll along the mall until I decided to head into the local souvenir store. Out the front were some pikey kids giving the shop owner grief, trying to steal postcards as he stood there warding them off with his golf umbrella. Eventually the poor bloke had too much and belted one of the kids with it, next thing we knew a knife came flying at him from around the corner, thats right a 12yo girl decided to throw a knife at the bloke. This was topped by the 14yo boy declaring "if you think thats a knife you should see the one in my pants. If you come near me I'll bury a knife in your neck". All rather pleasant really, so we purchased our fridge magnets and took our leave.

Next stop was Kytelers Inn to sample the Kilkenny, this pub was excellent, exactly what you'd expect from an Irish pub with local music, pleny of bar space and a nice publican. I proudly strode to the bar, confident of receiving the obligatory pat on the back from a local for ordering the home brew. Said I to the bar keep "2 Kilkennys please". Only to have the local next to me say "what are you drinking that piss for?" as he proudly sipped on his Carling. Unpreturbed I stood my ground and returned to our table excited in the prospect of chopping a Kilkenny in Kilkenny. Now I have done Kalamata Olives in Kalamata, Dijon in Dijon (well close to it) and Port in Porto so it would be a stern test and it did not disappoint, sure it's not Guinness but it's still a good drop and easy going down. In fact it was so good we toyed with the idea of staying there but, unlike so many other occasions, 2 did not lead to 20 and we headed back to go out in Dublin.

O points the way, Kilkenny Castle

Worker @ Kilkenny Castle

O goes his Kilkenny

Not to be outdone I chop one as well

O outside the local

After a couple of pints we returned to the car, ready to face the Irish roads and oncoming traffic with courage! Arriving back in the Dubs we dressed up and headed to a nightclub in town where we proceeded to dance the night away with a hens night and several other locals. Now heres a tip: if you ever go out in Dublin leave before the club shuts because you have to contend with 1,000 other people all trying to get home at the same time and there are no taxis!

Sunday was spent recovering then having lunch in town with the lovely Inneka, who is all domesticated and loved up over here now, she had just purchased a new leather couch and BMW!! It was great to catch up though, for just the second time in the 11 months I have been in Ireland, pretty slack by me but what are you gonna do!?

All in all a massive weekend spent with a great mate, a lot of man love and a road trip - what more could we ask for?

Next stop ... Leeds & Liverpool to see the birthplace of my Dad and the Beatles respectively