Blogabout Europe

Current Events

I lied when I said I'd be updating the blog and/or starting a new one in a week. Nearly a month has passed since that post and much has happened.

What has not happened, however, is people making suggestions. So I still have no name suggestions for the new Australia blog. Looks like I'm on my own here, faithful reader (s?).

Since my last post, here are some things that have happened.

1. I have been shit on three times by fruit bats in the Blackbutt Reserve. First it was on my leg, then on my wrist. Yesterday, one particular bat exhibited stunning accuracy and smashed me right on top of the head. Awesome.

2. I got a job. I work for a surf clothing store at the local shopping mall. Kind of like I did when I was seventeen. Some might say I am coming full circle. Some might say I am hitting rock bottom. I'll leave it to you to decide. I am managed by an 18-year-old and a 19-year-old. What's that? A unanimous vote for rock bottom?

3. We got a car. Well, really, Jared and his parents did all the searching and procuring of said car, all I had to do was be surprised when he picked me up from work in it. White subaru station wagon, '95. We don't do flashy. Most importantly, it is an automatic - woohoo! My manual driving lessons are on hiatus so I think this is safer for everyone.

4. Surf lessons are underway. I ordered a wetsuit off of eBay, and it arrived two sizes too small. I think I used to have a cabbage patch kid that would fit easily into this wetsuit. However, with the magic of stretching, I managed to get it on and get in the water. Although I still have not mastered the art of standing up on the board, I did see dolphins. Jared guided my board through the surf so I was at least able to catch some waves while continuing to lie facedown on the board, much to the disgust of the surrounding surfers.

5. The east coast of Australia had the biggest dust storm in something like seventy years. I woke up on Wednesday morning to find the atmosphere completely orange.  Dust had blown in from the outback, through Canberra and all the way up the New South Wales coast to Queensland. People were advised not to exercise and that it would pass. It did. The dust on my pillow that was in front of the window, however, did not pass and I have had to pummel it several times so far.

6. I learned secondhand about the wrath of magpies. While driving around Newcastle, I saw a man on a bicycle who had long antennaes sticking out of his helmet. "What's that?" I said. "To keep away the magpies," Jared said. I laughed. "No, really. What's that for?" "You laugh," Jared said. "I'm the one who's going to be laughing when you get attacked by magpies." That afternoon, walking back from work, I saw a man cycling down the sidewalk. Suddenly, a vicious black and white bird swooped down from above and pecked his helmet, hard! He cowered in fear and pedaled faster. The bird flew down no less than FOUR times in total, giving the cyclist a lifetime of bad memories and me a newfound fear of birds. "I told you," said Jared. Currently contemplating wearing an antennaed helmet every time I exit the house, like sunscreen.

These are the main things.

In the Land of Oz

I've been in Australia for just over three weeks, and the thought occured to me that 'Blogabout Europe' is no longer an appropriate title for this blog.  So I'm going to start a new one in the next week or so, and it's going to be Australia-centric.  If you have any suggestions for a new name, please let me know because I'm experiencing a lull in creativity. 

Australia is like the promised land after nearly two years in the UK.  This is, in large part, due to the weather, but mainly because of the overall quality of life. 

Example:  Last week, I went skiing for the first time, a few hours inland from Canberra.  A few days later, I went to the beach.  The conditions were excellent in both locations for both activities. 

In the morning I get up and run in the Blackbutt Nature Reserve across the street.  The other morning I literally raced an emu.  This is not an exaggeration.  The emu instigated it, and I am proud to say that it lost.  The fact that there was a fence between us is a minor detail.  There are also goannas, fruit bats, kangaroos, and even koalas scattered around the reserve.  Nothing like the smell of eucalyptus in the morning.

Yesterday I went for a walk around the wildlife exhibits and got an impromptu meeting with a wombat. The keeper happened to be passing by and asked if I would like to pat Bonnie or Clyde, the resident wombats.  Who passes up this kind of opportunity?  Not me.  In case you were wondering, wombats have scratchy fur and get jealous if they are not the ones being patted. They also like chocolate and crunchy noodles, though they aren't allowed to eat either one.

Not the kind of stuff you get to do on a daily basis anywhere else, at least not in my experience.

Regular blogging (and photos!) to come, which will focus on life and travel in and around Australia. As soon as I come up with a name. 

Passport at the ready

This blog is almost one year old, and it has been shamefully neglected.  I am aware.  I blame the fact that i can't access it at work, and my computer (second computer in four months) has recently died. 

Here's the important stuff - my UK days are numbered.  Next week, I'm going to Turkey, then a few weeks after that I'll be blogging a Wicked campervan trip around the UK & Ireland.  Then...it's a one way flight to Sydney.  Goodbye Thames, hello Pacific.  Now that's a body of water. 

So I need to know this:  advice for Turkey?  It will be a quick trip, five days of Istanbul, cannakale, and Gallipoli. 

You can also start thinking about this:  advice for a three week campervan journey around England, Scotland, Ireland & Wales.  My primary question is How do I shower?  Someone suggested wet naps.  I hope it doesn't come to that.

Can you really Carpe every Diem?

When we were sitting in Rome, sharing a bottle of Italian red, Anne brought up a good point. 

"Do you ever find it kind of sad that traveling isn't always as exciting as you imagined?"  

I couldn't help but wonder (shoot me now, Carrie Bradshaw) if she was right.  In a way, yes.  There are those times when you are exhausted from taking a bus to a plane to a train, down a darkened Roman alley, only to arrive at a hostel that is experiencing a blackout.  There are times when you are dirty, wearing scummy tennis shoes, sporting a bird's nest on your head, and all you want is a hot bath and some nice-smelling body lotion.  And, as we experienced in Italy, there are the times when you see something so mind-blowingly old, like the colosseum, and instead of really seeing it, you snap a few photos with your pocket-sized digital camera and dart back into the metro station.  

I think the initial letdown comes from the realisation that no matter where you are, you are still you.  Turning up in Rome, Paris, Tokyo or Sydney doesn't guarantee some sort of personal transformation.  The enlightenment, the exciting part, comes from the parts that aren't on your must-see list, or the images that are frozen in your mind instead of on your memory card.  

Anne and I might not remember exactly how we felt when we threw coins into the Trevi fountain, but I won't forget 3-year-old Francesca, who insisted on throwing her bunny puppet into our laps on the plane, then roaring with laughter.  Or Mister Salvatore, a young Italian mama's boy who tried to coerce us into the hotel's reception area so that his silent, computer-card-playing friend could have a crack at Anne, the blonde American.  Though it certainly wasn't funny at the time, I'd like to think that Anne can now laugh at the stress of us running like graceful elephants through the Vauxhall train station so we could get the last train to Hampton Court.  Then, thirty minutes later, just after we'd caught our breath, I inexplicably got off at the stop just before mine, forcing us to make the game time decision to call a taxi.  

Because that's the appeal of travel, really, as opposed to a vacation.  You learn what kind of stuff you're made of.  Once you survive a wily cab ride through the streets of Cairo with a fist waving Arabic man, or a food-poisoning-related blackout on the hard linoleum of a New Zealand hostel bathroom, you realise that you're capable of more than you thought.  You learn to relax, you learn to breathe, and then you learn to really look at what's in front of you, and understand that you're here to see much more than you'll ever fit into a photo album.  

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Mummies were people too

I'm moving again, so have been slightly distracted from the blog.  This will be my eleventh move in the last five years, as I learned today while filling out a security clearance form for work.  Which, by the way, is nowhere near as interesting as it sounds.  That goes for moving, work, and security forms.  Anyway, after this weekend I'll be a resident of East Molesey, but this is eclipsed by the excitement of next week's trip to Egypt. 

I'll be flying BA to Cairo, leaving Britain's balmy shores for hot days, cold nights, sand, dust, potential food-related illness, pyramids, temples, and the Red Sea.  To warm up for Egypt, we visited the British Museum last weekend, which, oddly, houses the world's largest Egyptian collection. 

I saw the Rosetta Stone, used to decipher hieroglyphics, massive sculptures of Ramses II, and glass cases of mummified human (& animal) remains.  I even saw Cleopatra, who, like most celebrities in person, was much smaller than I would have imagined.  Not too surprising, I suppose, given that she was only 17 when she died. 

My curiosity is now in full force, so I'm pretty excited for next Friday, our first full day in Cairo, where the plan is to check out the pyramids/sphinx.  Then it's an overnight train to Luxor, where we'll be for two nights, before figuring out a way to Hurghada for some Red Sea diving.  After that, back to Cairo for another day before flying back to London.  We've booked a few hotels, in Cairo & Luxor, have done a fair bit of research, but are planning to kind of play it by ear. 

I've been given random bits of advice, such as:

- only drink bottled water.
- bring stomach tablets, as apparently 'everyone' gets sick in Egypt as a tourist.  Reassuring.
- Do not get ripped off (this was specific, and, therefore, helpful)

I'm not so sure about other etiquette-related things, such as:

- how much skin am I allowed to show?  I'm not planning on parading myself around the streets, but do I need to be covering my ankles?  I realise this question is mildly ignorant, but I'm really not sure what to do.

- if I shouldn't eat the local food, what do I eat?  I'm not flying to Africa so I can feast on KFC. 

- Apparently tourists can only buy train tickets for certain trains, but the rules are not always clear.  So how do I know which one to go with?

- Just how far is English going to take me?  My Arabic is crap.  And by crap, I mean I can't speak it at all.

Only one way to figure it out. 

Back in Action

It had been four weeks, and still no sign of my passport or approved visa.  I spent ludicrous amounts of company time scouring immigration forums, reading about various reasons why people's visas were rejected, and how long it took.  Just when I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be waiting six months only to face rejection, I found a delivery slip inside my front door.

"Sorry we missed you," it said.  "Attempted delivery 10:40a.m."

It was my passport.  I knew it.  The next day I went to the post office, where they handed me a brown envelope.  I ripped it open and scanned the letter desperately.

"...we are pleased to say that your application has been successful..."

That's all I needed.  Sure enough, inside my passport was a sticker with a picture of me, looking like a convict, confirming that I am eligible to work until January 9th, 2011. 

This means that the travel plans, put on hold until the return of the passport, are now underway.

First on the list is Egypt, just over three weeks from now.  No, I don't waste any time.  The plan is to start in Cairo, train to Luxor, then get over to the Red Sea for some diving.  I'll be going with my boyfriend, and we'll be doing it completely on our own.  Time for a crash course in Arabic, I think.

In March I'll be jumping over to Rome and the Amalfi Coast with Anne, my best friend from Indianapolis.  Budget travel meets 29-year-old mother of two who has never stayed in a hostel before.  We are taking any and all suggestions for a Roman hostel that won't send her running for the hills.  I'm trying to convince her it's not so bad, but then I remember the snoring, the stench of random people's feet, newly-made love connections on the bunk above, and sleeping with your valuables tucked under your arm. 

If anyone has any advice about Egypt, send it on - as well as anything you'd like to see happen in this blog.  But you've only got until February 19th. 

It's good to have my passport back. 

Pack your bags, I'm not done yet

I have no excuse, really, for the way I've neglected the blog.  The truth is, I have just dedicated myself to being extremely lazy over the holidays.  Now that it's time to focus on real life again, I've got some trips to plan.  Here they are, in random order:

1) Egypt
2) Morocco
3) Turkey
4) Ireland/Scotland
5) Beach location to be determined.  Possibly Santorini or Italy. 
6) Norway

A little bit further afield, there is also talk of trips to Tanzania, America & Australia. 

"How can she afford all this?"  You are probably asking yourself.  "Did she win the lottery over the festive season?"  The answer is that although I did win the lottery (£20, baby), it's all in the budgeting.  That and the fact that I don't have a mortgage or any of those other grown up financial obligations.  Student loans don't count, at least not during the short grace period that I am currently enjoying. 

Anyway, my point is that travel really isn't as expensive or as difficult as it seems, though my plans may occasionally exceed my bank account. 

It looks like the first trip is going to be a toss-up between an EasyJet flight to Istanbul or driving a campervan around Ireland & Scotland.  I will be updating the blog on progress as it develops. 

There is one thing preventing me from jumping into the trip-planning:  I am passport-less.  It feels strangely claustrophobic, not having my ticket to the outside world.  My little blue book is now in the capable (?) hands of the UK Home Office, where the powers that be will determine whether or not I am allowed to stay and work in the UK for two more years. 

I know that they at least have my passport, because I got a letter back stating that the application for LAUREN PITZPATRICK had been received safely.  Which was a not much of a relief, considering that my surname is Fitzpatrick, not Pitzpatrick.  Like I said, capable hands. 

Words of Advice

As part of the continual effort to procrastinate on my paper, here are five random tips for those of you who haven't yet started your European adventure.

1. Always carry change for the toilets. Peeing is rarely free in Europe. Unless you are male, that is. Especially in Amsterdam, where there are plastic urinals scattered throughout the city. The whole place is like an outdoor concert. For the rest of us, plan to pay anywhere from 10 to 50 euro cents to use a public toilet. Make the most out of it - I still sort of wish I had taken a camera with me into some German rest stops, where the toilet seats actually rotate and self-clean. It is how I imagine Japan to be, where hygiene and technology go hand-in-hand. Also in Germany - when you pay 50 cents at certain roadside stops, you get a coupon for 50 cents off of a food purchase. Even a roadside schnitzel is better than no schnitzel at all.

2. Sticker your fruit. When in a European grocery store, don't fill a bag with nectarines and expect to pass smoothly through the checkout. I tried this in a Paris MonoPrix with a naked apple and the cashier was not pleased. She lectured me in French that I couldn't keep up with, then the man behind me grabbed the fruit and ran off. Literally, ran, as I stood confused. He returned, breathless, thirty seconds later, proudly producing an apple with a bar coded sticker on it. Even if you are only buying a single grape, I recommend that you weigh it on the scale and attach a sticker. It's for everyone's benefit.

3. Do stuff. Even if you don't feel like it. OK, you've been on a long bus ride. It's raining. You're hungover and desperate for a shower. The last thing you want to do is take a free walking tour of Bruges with a bunch of virtual strangers. Do it anyway. Whether it's a free tour or a night bike ride or a hike to the top of a fortress, don't cop out. Suck it up and do it - you'll usually get the benefit of local knowledge and see places you would otherwise have missed out on. But please. Shower first, which you really should have done before getting on the bus in the first place.

4. Create a Facebook account. Yes, it is kind of like selling your soul to the internet, but on the other hand, it's a really easy way to trade photos and keep in touch with people. Thanks to Facebook, I've already caught up with several people in London who I might otherwise not have seen again. We also have access to each other's photos. Much better results than empty promises to 'stay in touch' and 'send that group picture from Salzburg.'

5. Take pictures of people. Not just buildings. This sounds obvious, but it's such an easy trap to fall into, especially after several weeks of travel. The last thing you want is an album full of you, making the same pose, in front of a building that may as well be a backdrop. "This is me in front of the Eiffel Tower. This is me in front of a church in Berlin. This is me, looking exactly the same, in front of the Alps." Be that annoying person who is always carrying around a camera and instructing people to look your way. The pictures you are going to want later are not the ones of anonymous monuments. But if you don't get any good shots, you can always steal other people's photos from Facebook.

RIP Freedom

I am in mourning. 

London, formerly my favorite city, is now the home of obligations and dissertations.  You mean to tell me I've got to pay rent?  And go to work?  Possibly most depressing is when my alarm goes off and I go to catch the bus.  It is now a red double decker that takes me into the heart of Kingston-upon-Thames, not a smurfy blue Busabout bus full of hungover travellers.

 

I watch my Croatian tan rapidly fade as I sit on the couch, 'working on my dissertation.' 

This is how I work on my dissertation:

Log onto Facebook (warming up my brain)
30 minutes later:  Open Word and look at document
5 minutes later:  Check email
20 minutes later:  Delete five sentences of dissertation.  Write one.  Despair. 
3 minutes later:  Look back on photos from trip. 
40 minutes later:  Wander into kitchen for snack.  Become depressed at lack of gelato in freezer. 
Repeat cycle for 2-3 hours, then close down computer and vow to really focus tomorrow. 

I look at all of my stuff that has yet to be unpacked:  books, DVDs, piles of random paper that I've kept 'just in case,' shoes, clothes.  I have come to the realisation that I don't need any of this stuff.  I wish there was somewhere I could sell it all and head back out on the road.  Sadly, I can't think of a place that would pay good money for a chipped Prague mug or rejected drafts of my dissertation. 

BUT.  Silver lining alert. 
I'll be at Stansted airport at six AM on Friday, October 3rd, to catch my flight to Stuttgart, where I'll join a Busabout coach to Munich, where I will participate in the great celebration that is Oktoberfest.  This will be an ideal way to complete my Masters Degree. 

Between deleting sentences from my paper and checking my facebook account, I'll work on getting some of the backlogged video footage up from the most recent trip.  I'm also going to do some more in-depth posts on some of the hostels I stayed in and activities I did, so hopefully that will be helpful to anyone out there who is planning their own trip.

SO Blogabout Europe is not dead, keep checking back for more. 

 

Tell me how you really feel

Six weeks ago, I was in Paris.
Five weeks ago, I was in Berlin.
Four weeks ago, I was in Vienna.
Three weeks ago, I was in Venice.
Two weeks ago, I was in Korcula, Croatia.
One week ago, I was in Slovenia.

Now, of course, I'm in London, still reeling from everything. I actually got up and went to work this morning. I'm sure they were pleased to see me turn up in obscenely wrinkled clothes (gotta get an iron) with a dazed look on my face. The inevitable question was posed:

"How was your trip?"

I knew it would happen, but I didn't have an answer. How was my trip?

I met what seemed like hundreds of people, some crazy or suspect, most friendly and incredibly fun. I went whitewater rafting in Croatia, canyoning in Austria, tobogganing in Slovenia, and hiking in the Czech Republic. I touched the Berlin wall, toured the Red Light District, and gawked at the Basilica San Marco. I ate baby octopus, pork knuckle, and genuine Belgian waffles, not to mention countless pizza slices and gelato cones. I drank steins in the beer halls of Munich and Austria, sampled walnut brandy on a Croatian sailboat, and toured a brewery in Bruges. I spent hour after hour on busses, trains, boats and planes, missing the city I left behind but looking forward to the next one. I sang karaoke, pub crawled in the rain, and stayed up way past my bedtime. I added numerous destinations to my list, stamps in my passport, and random foreign words to my vocabulary.

That's how my trip was. So if you ask me that question and I say, "Great," know that my answer is a gross understatement, because until you do it yourself, you can only imagine. And doing it yourself will far surpass your imagination, so my advice is to start planning.

I've got some laundry to catch up on and some boxes to unpack, but you haven't heard the last of me. I hear this rumour that itchy feet are incurable.

But for now, the photo albums on the blog have all been uploaded - my computer is not letting me add pictures to the posts, but everything is up in the albums.