Had it with Delhi. The noise and the air is too much. Kutub and I booked flights to Bubaneshwar on the Eastern coast, with the intention of spending some time by the beach area of Puri. There were a few interesting places we wanted to see around the area and we intended to do some day trips and hang out there for about five days before he headed back to Delhi and me onto Goa.
Flight was three hours delayed, and at the cost of US$250 was a total shock (when I had just paid US$50 for the equivalent flight with NZ).
We arrived in Bubaneshwar and took a taxi to the local bus stop. Kutub and the driver chatted the whole way there and I just switched off. We just had time to clamber aboud the bus to Puri (about 30 km away) before it sped off. Kutub asked me - 'did you understand anything that driver said?'. 'No - of course not' I replied. 'Well, he was criticizing me for telling you that you can get the bus for 20 rupees. He said if it wasn't for me, he could have charged you 500 rupees to get to Puri as you're just a tourist and you can afford it'. 'Whhhaaatt???'. I was pretty angry at this but it's a good example of the way they work here. Everyone but everyone looks at you and goes 'ch-ching!' and all they see is money money money and how much can they ring out of you. That is one of the main reasons why travelling here is so tiring ~ not the bumpy lumpy roads that have you feeling like you been sitting on a washing machine for three hours, not the crap everywhere that you have to step around and not the men peeing at the sides of the streets. Not the noise, the lack of hot water in your shower and not the challenge of finding a clean restaurant for lunch. What makes you so tired is dealing with all the hacks who are out to rip you off. Side-stepping these guys is like avoiding landmines - you know you're going to come across a few and you just pray you can survive the damage they do to your wallet, not to mention your pride.
We had booked a really lovely hotel in Puri with a balcony and view over the almost deserted beach which had large waves lapping it - such a lovely change from Delhi it was worth all the effort to get here.
Monday, November 24, 2003
Taj Mahal - Agra
Today we went to the Taj Mahal in Agra, about a three hour train ride away from Delhi. You can take various tourist buses there for a princely sum but Kutub and I decided to do it ourselves. The Lonely Planet would have you believe there are only two trains heading there early in the morning, but Kutib, not being very much into getting up before 8am, wasn't keen on my idea that we get the 8.30 train. So we met up at the train station around 9am and he figured out how to get tickets for us both. Turned out there were loads of trains going there, they just took a little longer. We sneaked into second class and when the ticket inspector came around we paid him a little more cash so we could stay in our seats. The landscape quickly changed from foggy urban sprawl to countryside slums.
I've been trying to figure out how to best describe Indiam streets. The best thing I can come up with is to have you imagine taking the entire contents of your local rubbish tip. Imagine several dozen huge diggers each unloading tons of debris directly onto the side of your local street. Scatter it about a bit. Leave large piles at various intervals. Insert several thousand mangy flea-infested stray dogs. Now, take all the cars in a parking lot and honk their horns simultaniously. Double the volume and pipe it into the very same street with all the garbage. Pile onto this the population of India and there you have a pretty good idea of what it is like. The countryside is not much better but at least these people aren't dealing with the severe dust or quite so much noise pollution.
Finally we rolled into Agra around lunchtime adn headed for the nearest restaurant. "Only Restaurant" was located not far from the Taj and I had a wonderful meal of roti bread, chicken curry (ala milch nahi) and basmati rice. Kutub had the Tandoori chicken. Service was excellent.
We'd read that the best time to visit the Taj was just before sunset so we headed for the Red Fort instead. Foreigners 350 rupees, locals 20 rupees. I try not to get angry at this blatent racism... particluray in light of the fact there are so many rich indians with loads more dosh than your joe-average backpacker. I could probably understand it if the difference wasn't such a huge percent but they really take the piss.
After the scandelous entrance fee, we brushed off all offers of personal guides and wandered around the fort ourselves. (nb - Insert various facts about the fort from LP at later date). One of the Taj's son's was mad at him not handing over the crown so he imprisoned his father in the fort for the rest of his life. The father's only wish was to get a view of the Taj Mahal across the river. The first glimpse of the Taj we got from high on he fort and it does take your breath away. It is gleaming white (nb - insert interesting story about how they cleaned it) and situated next to the flowing ....... River. There are no buildings around the Taj (by law) and therefore no traffric noise either.
After the Red Fort we finally got to see the Taj. They had a special women's queue for tickets and a bag-search but this didn't help me because I still had to wait for Kutub. The Taj Mahal's outragous entrance fee was 750 rupees for foreigners, 20 rupees for locals... Ouch!!! Taking the piss big time! When I asked what the 'tax fee' was, I was told it was the maintenance fee. So there you have it - the tourists pay for the maintenance of the Taj Mahal, not the locals. Hmmmm - something wrong with that picture. The LP explains that up until 2000, all tourists paid the same 20 rupees, but that so much 'environmental' damage was being done to the Taj Mahal that they increased the fee (for foreigners only) in order to discourange us from going. (It's that good old Indian 'logic' again). Well, I observed approximately five foreign tourists and approximately 5000 locals, so not sure if it's worked or not, but whose going to come all the way to India, survive the carnage that is Delhi and not see the Taj Mahal?? Finally it was my turn to get my bag searched and I had my mini-calculator confiscated (hmmm... you can see the headline - "Kiwi Sabotages Taj Mahal with Dangerous Matriculation") and was sent back to leave it in a locker. Waiting for Kutub to get frisked, I witnessed the most vicious attack between two women - the Calculator Confiscator (not rooting for her) and another very upset local woman who went for her eyes.... it was a major catfight! All the men just stood around staring and finally some of the male guards with long rifles slung over their shoulders intervened and pulled the women off each other. They continued screaming what I imagine to be Hindi obescenities at each other for quite some time and I don't mind admitting I was a little scared. No idea what it was all about but got the heart rate going that's for sure. I used the time wisely by secreting my calulator into a pocket and banking that Calculator Confiscator woman was too upset to notice - it worked.
Eventually we had made it! The Taj from the outside is a stufy in symetry ~ if you go all the way around it, it is idenical from each direction. We had a nice quite couple of hours there exploring the grounds. The detail in the tiling was very impressive, as were the figures - 40,000 men 40 years of hard toiling and labour to complete. All because the Taj at the time loved one of his wives so much he gifted it to her as a present. She was quite sick and didn't make it to see the completed structure unfortunately but it's the thought that counts.
The inside of the Taj is much much small than it appears from the outside - no bigger than the size of couple of large living rooms really. Inside are the tombs of the Taj and his beloved, but it was so dimly lit I couldn't see properly.
Finally we called it a day and after a brief cycle-rickshaw ride through the smelly markets around the Taj, headed for a light dinner at another great and very cheap restaurant, before getting the express train back to Delhi.
I've been trying to figure out how to best describe Indiam streets. The best thing I can come up with is to have you imagine taking the entire contents of your local rubbish tip. Imagine several dozen huge diggers each unloading tons of debris directly onto the side of your local street. Scatter it about a bit. Leave large piles at various intervals. Insert several thousand mangy flea-infested stray dogs. Now, take all the cars in a parking lot and honk their horns simultaniously. Double the volume and pipe it into the very same street with all the garbage. Pile onto this the population of India and there you have a pretty good idea of what it is like. The countryside is not much better but at least these people aren't dealing with the severe dust or quite so much noise pollution.
Finally we rolled into Agra around lunchtime adn headed for the nearest restaurant. "Only Restaurant" was located not far from the Taj and I had a wonderful meal of roti bread, chicken curry (ala milch nahi) and basmati rice. Kutub had the Tandoori chicken. Service was excellent.
We'd read that the best time to visit the Taj was just before sunset so we headed for the Red Fort instead. Foreigners 350 rupees, locals 20 rupees. I try not to get angry at this blatent racism... particluray in light of the fact there are so many rich indians with loads more dosh than your joe-average backpacker. I could probably understand it if the difference wasn't such a huge percent but they really take the piss.
After the scandelous entrance fee, we brushed off all offers of personal guides and wandered around the fort ourselves. (nb - Insert various facts about the fort from LP at later date). One of the Taj's son's was mad at him not handing over the crown so he imprisoned his father in the fort for the rest of his life. The father's only wish was to get a view of the Taj Mahal across the river. The first glimpse of the Taj we got from high on he fort and it does take your breath away. It is gleaming white (nb - insert interesting story about how they cleaned it) and situated next to the flowing ....... River. There are no buildings around the Taj (by law) and therefore no traffric noise either.
After the Red Fort we finally got to see the Taj. They had a special women's queue for tickets and a bag-search but this didn't help me because I still had to wait for Kutub. The Taj Mahal's outragous entrance fee was 750 rupees for foreigners, 20 rupees for locals... Ouch!!! Taking the piss big time! When I asked what the 'tax fee' was, I was told it was the maintenance fee. So there you have it - the tourists pay for the maintenance of the Taj Mahal, not the locals. Hmmmm - something wrong with that picture. The LP explains that up until 2000, all tourists paid the same 20 rupees, but that so much 'environmental' damage was being done to the Taj Mahal that they increased the fee (for foreigners only) in order to discourange us from going. (It's that good old Indian 'logic' again). Well, I observed approximately five foreign tourists and approximately 5000 locals, so not sure if it's worked or not, but whose going to come all the way to India, survive the carnage that is Delhi and not see the Taj Mahal?? Finally it was my turn to get my bag searched and I had my mini-calculator confiscated (hmmm... you can see the headline - "Kiwi Sabotages Taj Mahal with Dangerous Matriculation") and was sent back to leave it in a locker. Waiting for Kutub to get frisked, I witnessed the most vicious attack between two women - the Calculator Confiscator (not rooting for her) and another very upset local woman who went for her eyes.... it was a major catfight! All the men just stood around staring and finally some of the male guards with long rifles slung over their shoulders intervened and pulled the women off each other. They continued screaming what I imagine to be Hindi obescenities at each other for quite some time and I don't mind admitting I was a little scared. No idea what it was all about but got the heart rate going that's for sure. I used the time wisely by secreting my calulator into a pocket and banking that Calculator Confiscator woman was too upset to notice - it worked.
Eventually we had made it! The Taj from the outside is a stufy in symetry ~ if you go all the way around it, it is idenical from each direction. We had a nice quite couple of hours there exploring the grounds. The detail in the tiling was very impressive, as were the figures - 40,000 men 40 years of hard toiling and labour to complete. All because the Taj at the time loved one of his wives so much he gifted it to her as a present. She was quite sick and didn't make it to see the completed structure unfortunately but it's the thought that counts.
The inside of the Taj is much much small than it appears from the outside - no bigger than the size of couple of large living rooms really. Inside are the tombs of the Taj and his beloved, but it was so dimly lit I couldn't see properly.
Finally we called it a day and after a brief cycle-rickshaw ride through the smelly markets around the Taj, headed for a light dinner at another great and very cheap restaurant, before getting the express train back to Delhi.
Delhi - Agra
Met up with Kutob today and we decided to explore Old Delhi. The tour basically took in most of New Delhi, consisting of the embassies, Parliament, Museums etc.. But we were both eager to see the real Delhi and away from all the touristy places yesterday (which quite frankly, even on more than an hour's sleep, mostly bore me to tears. I only did that tour yesterday to save me from having to walk all over Delhi by myself being accosted by men every step of the way offering 'assistance' and enquiring several times over whether I would like to see their shop: 'Scuze me Mam? Mam? MAM? You look for something? You like scarf? You come with me. See my shop. Come. COME!")
We jumped in an auto-rickshaw (fume-spilling green and yellow painted three wheeled hunks of metal that run all over Delhi in vast numbers and add to the pollution in staggering amounts). We had a delicious breakfast of a circular hollow and crispy deep-fried bread, with a chickpea and potato curry, washed down with very sweet chai tea. Then we had a sweet of carrot, cashew nuts and almonds with cheese curds, which was still warm from being freshly made that morning. It kind of looked like un-cooked carrot cake and it was delicious. Kutub ordering everything for me and telling me about it all. I am writing down all the important words like 'milch nahi' (no spice!). Lots of people asking us all the time where we are from and staring in the most incredulous way because (I guess) it is unusual to see an white girl with an Indian guy. (Although he is so western it is difficult to believe he is Indian sometimes - I don't think he feels much like a local at all and sometimes gets hassled more than me even which I find a great relief that it's not just me). The locals can certainly spot you a tourist mile away, even if you look just like them.
Into another autorickshaw and on to the Great Mosque. Delhi is a lot like Indonesia when I was travelling through there after Uni 10 years ago.... in a way I am glad as turns out it is not as much of a shock as if I had never seen this before. The first thing that strikes you is the pollution - air and noise. You can literally see the air and not much else past a couple of hundred meters. It's horrifying that millions of people are breathing in this much dust every day of their lives. I noticed some street-side leaves on a bush are all covered in about 2-3mm of dust, and,oddly enough, appeared to be thriving in the watery sunlight. There are homeless men women and childern everywhere and filthy kids begging on the streets amongst the chaotic traffic and people maimed with legs and arms missing, or if not missing, sticking out at all odd angles. These people mostly seem to crawl around in the squalor, covered in so much dirt it is a wonder they aren't all terribly sick. Near the Old Mosque is a huge market with people selling all kinds of crap laid out on the very dirty streets. The rickshaw had stalled in traffic and it was quicker to walk so we hopped off and picked our way through the market. A lot of used computer books I noticed, all very outdated. (Fontran??) We picked our way around the market and into the mosque (take your shoes off at all mosques so feet getting a little dirty). It was very calming and with it's huge vaulted ceilings, had the effect of making you feel instantly like a small child. Also very quiet. Did I mention the noise pollution? As if the air quality isn't bad enough, they make it all the worse for themselves with this nonsensical and fanatical obsession with honking their horn. Kutub has been explaining to me that it is their way of saying 'I am here'. There is no such thing as a formal driving licence he tells me... none of this makes sense and it occured to me today that many things in India defy all logic. On the way to the railway station after the Great Mosque, we were on a cycle-rickshaw (the ones where a little skinny guy cycles big fat tourists like myself and the more affluent locals through the streets, while you perch on the a little forward sloping seet and pray he doesn't brake too hard and you get thrown off and land in a cowpat). Anyway, we were on this bridge and on the other side there was one guy on some kind of converted bicycle, carrying what looked like about fifty large cans of oil. They reached at least a story high and how they got them all to balance on there is a total mystery but how this guy could lug them up the bridge (and think - down it!) just defies all logic. Well - that kind of sums up India - there appears to be little sound reasoning, but somehow it works.
Anyway, we've had a South-Indian lunch of dosa (a large very flat bread that I'm quite coming to like) and more types of curry that I'll never remember the names of, and sweet chai tea. We think we will hang out together a bit longer and go to see the Taj Mahal tomorrow for a day trip and then maybe take a flight to Goa for a week or so. Then I will stay in the South of India for the remainder of my time in India where I am assured there is plenty to keep me occupied for three more weeks. I can't wait to get out of Delhi - three days is definately enough. But so glad I met Kutub - he is teaching me a little bit of Hindi even so I can get around later. I am also learning relative costs, bargaining for rickshaws, ordering food, what it means when people do strange things, (like when they make the sign of the cross when you give them money. This is because it is the first money they have received that day and they are thanking the Indian God of money).
We jumped in an auto-rickshaw (fume-spilling green and yellow painted three wheeled hunks of metal that run all over Delhi in vast numbers and add to the pollution in staggering amounts). We had a delicious breakfast of a circular hollow and crispy deep-fried bread, with a chickpea and potato curry, washed down with very sweet chai tea. Then we had a sweet of carrot, cashew nuts and almonds with cheese curds, which was still warm from being freshly made that morning. It kind of looked like un-cooked carrot cake and it was delicious. Kutub ordering everything for me and telling me about it all. I am writing down all the important words like 'milch nahi' (no spice!). Lots of people asking us all the time where we are from and staring in the most incredulous way because (I guess) it is unusual to see an white girl with an Indian guy. (Although he is so western it is difficult to believe he is Indian sometimes - I don't think he feels much like a local at all and sometimes gets hassled more than me even which I find a great relief that it's not just me). The locals can certainly spot you a tourist mile away, even if you look just like them.
Into another autorickshaw and on to the Great Mosque. Delhi is a lot like Indonesia when I was travelling through there after Uni 10 years ago.... in a way I am glad as turns out it is not as much of a shock as if I had never seen this before. The first thing that strikes you is the pollution - air and noise. You can literally see the air and not much else past a couple of hundred meters. It's horrifying that millions of people are breathing in this much dust every day of their lives. I noticed some street-side leaves on a bush are all covered in about 2-3mm of dust, and,oddly enough, appeared to be thriving in the watery sunlight. There are homeless men women and childern everywhere and filthy kids begging on the streets amongst the chaotic traffic and people maimed with legs and arms missing, or if not missing, sticking out at all odd angles. These people mostly seem to crawl around in the squalor, covered in so much dirt it is a wonder they aren't all terribly sick. Near the Old Mosque is a huge market with people selling all kinds of crap laid out on the very dirty streets. The rickshaw had stalled in traffic and it was quicker to walk so we hopped off and picked our way through the market. A lot of used computer books I noticed, all very outdated. (Fontran??) We picked our way around the market and into the mosque (take your shoes off at all mosques so feet getting a little dirty). It was very calming and with it's huge vaulted ceilings, had the effect of making you feel instantly like a small child. Also very quiet. Did I mention the noise pollution? As if the air quality isn't bad enough, they make it all the worse for themselves with this nonsensical and fanatical obsession with honking their horn. Kutub has been explaining to me that it is their way of saying 'I am here'. There is no such thing as a formal driving licence he tells me... none of this makes sense and it occured to me today that many things in India defy all logic. On the way to the railway station after the Great Mosque, we were on a cycle-rickshaw (the ones where a little skinny guy cycles big fat tourists like myself and the more affluent locals through the streets, while you perch on the a little forward sloping seet and pray he doesn't brake too hard and you get thrown off and land in a cowpat). Anyway, we were on this bridge and on the other side there was one guy on some kind of converted bicycle, carrying what looked like about fifty large cans of oil. They reached at least a story high and how they got them all to balance on there is a total mystery but how this guy could lug them up the bridge (and think - down it!) just defies all logic. Well - that kind of sums up India - there appears to be little sound reasoning, but somehow it works.
Anyway, we've had a South-Indian lunch of dosa (a large very flat bread that I'm quite coming to like) and more types of curry that I'll never remember the names of, and sweet chai tea. We think we will hang out together a bit longer and go to see the Taj Mahal tomorrow for a day trip and then maybe take a flight to Goa for a week or so. Then I will stay in the South of India for the remainder of my time in India where I am assured there is plenty to keep me occupied for three more weeks. I can't wait to get out of Delhi - three days is definately enough. But so glad I met Kutub - he is teaching me a little bit of Hindi even so I can get around later. I am also learning relative costs, bargaining for rickshaws, ordering food, what it means when people do strange things, (like when they make the sign of the cross when you give them money. This is because it is the first money they have received that day and they are thanking the Indian God of money).
Saturday, November 22, 2003
India - Delhi - 14th - 15th November
Arrived in Delhi finally after the flight from Dubai was delayed for over two hours. UAE, supposedly the airline to fly with, has thus far not gained the highest esteem in the Book of Jane's Judgements as yet. I still have a couple of flights left with them, so will reserve my final ruling for later (i.e - if they upgrade my on the Singapore-Auckland leg I will throw away all other my Frequent Flyer cards and stick with them forever). They are no-where near United or Virgin Express on the list, but neither are they up there with JAL or Air NZ. The delay caused me bad jet-lag which I fought with for about two days. I had booked a pick-up from London to take me to the hotel but didn't get there until 4am, with a check-out for 10am. Didn't seem much point really. Grumpy and tired, I negotiated (demanded) a late checkout and then, in true Sod's Law style, remained wide awake until around 6am when I eventually dropped off. Several strange phone calls insisting that I go on a day trip that I had supposedly booked periodically woke me up, as well as housekeeping, laundry and various other knocks at the door I tried to ignore. After about the fifth call and me screaming at whoever it was to stop calling he eventually got the message I think. Finally I gave up sleep and marched downstairs with my bags. Of course no-one knew anything about the phone calls and then I clicked...the taxi driver who had picked me up had hung around long enough at the reception to hear my room number.... I reckon it was him calling all along to try to get me to go on some sort of day trip. Dodgy or what! I must write to the agency who booked them in London and tell them to ditch these guys.
Anyway, I found a hostel in Connought Square - actually not a square at all but an octagonal roundabout in the center of Delhi, surrounded by a cloud of carbon monoxide, noxious fumes and obnoxious horns bellowing from every motorised vehicle within a hundred mile radious. Rickshaw drivers on three-wheeled bicycles and autorickshaws illustrating perfectly the Chaos Theory in action. White ford-style taxis and thousands of people wandering all over the roads at their own pace. Beggers, children with threadbare clothes and many without shoes. It was into this maelstrom of activity that the good old Lonely Planet assured me I would find a couple of gloomy hostels. The first one I checked out I wouldn't exactly have described as gloomy. No. The words I would have chosen would come closer to fetid, windowless, doorless, mice-infested and unsavoury-looking beds looking like they were possibly crawling with lice. Hmmm. I think I can do better. Next place along, 'Gringo's Hostel' or some such name wasn't much better but at least the dorm looked like it was habited by someone. I wanted a dorm as I was kind of hoping to meet people and hook up with someone. This was not to be unfortunately. Gloomy it was, and so were the two guys in the dorm who said hardly a word to me since I'd arrived, despite my cheery 'hello' and 'is there a lightswitch?'. The first night there proved to be too much. I had a sheet with me and no blanket. The hostel didn't provide one (and I was scared to ask anyway for fear of what it might smell like). I lay awake all night, completely wide awake doing my best not to touch the walls (crumbling with mould) or the bed (when I patted it down a huge cloud of dust rose up from it). Inspecting my fingernails which I had cleaned spotless before retiring, they were dissapointingly caked again caked with dirt. The last place I slept in this bad was 10 years ago in Indonesia, in a hostel high up in the mountains of Java. I'll never forget that terrifying and freezing night and count my blessings there was actually no electricity to make out the room beyond the shape of a tiny frame and square mattress passing itself off as a bed. So I lay awake and hatched a plan to leave that morning and find something better. As I had checked in the previous day, I had spotted an offer for a day trip around Delhi which I booked. 110 rupees (about US $3). It sounded just what I needed.... to do nothing for myself and still get to see the sights so I booked it straight away. So I had a couple of hours in the morning to attend to business. Firstly I handed my laundry to the dhobi-wallahs (laundry men who hand-wash everything, dry it in the sun and then iron even your knickers). Everything comes back cleaner than some of the drycleaners we got ripped off in around Europe, with one in Seville, Spain being a particularly memorable one in that all my white underwear came back grey! I nearly cried.
After dispensing the entire contents of my packpack to the dhobi-wallah, I attempted to make what should have been a fairly straight-forward call to another hostel to book a room for that evening. Silly me. Nothing in India (apart from maybe having your clothes cleaned), is simple. All the half-decent sounding hostels in the LP had since changed their numbers, which left me with a dwindling list of hopefuls. Finally I managed to talk to one hostel that was quite a way out of Delhi, but at least I hoped it would be quiet. I just had time for a cup of tea (served in a small cracked and dirty cup) before the tour guide came to pick me up (45 minutes late) and motioned to me to follow him. He had rotted blackened teeth, tinged with a severe-looking reddish colour caused by the betel nut leaves (a mild narcotic) that the men chew. They frequently stop to spit out a large gobs of red goo, and you have to be really careful to pick your way through the dusty streets as, apart from all the cow dung and discarded rubbish piled high, are also cloaked with bright-red splattery splodges of spit.
I board the rickety old bus and land the best seat at the front by the window. Score! They had an on-board photographer, a driver, a guide and about three other guys sitting up front of uncertain employment who basically looked like they just came along from the ride. Occassionaly one or two of them would beat the side of the bus with the flat of his hand, jumping on and off as it slowed down to stop or sped up to go. (I observed after a few more bus rides that these guys are basically acting as rear-view mirrors. Now, that's a good idea isn't it? We could demolish unemployment in the West with one foul swoop if all the buses removed their side mirrors and had a couple of these guys along.)
So they took us to all the sights. Mosques and temples. Parliament Houses, Indira Ghandi's museum and even a sari-shop...and all this before lunch and on one cup of tea so that by the time we did eventually stop for lunch I was starved. The Lotus-Flowers shaped temple was by far my favourite - there was a no-talking policy and it was the most peaceful place I've yet to encounter in this ear-drum splitting of a city. I had met a great guy on the bus who I chatted with at each stop - Kutub was born in North-Eastern India but his family had moved to Switzerland when he was twelve so to all extents he was basically a foreigner who happened to speak fluent Hindi - not a bad combination when you're me, with no Hindi, and about as green as they come having just arrived in India! After the tour, we went out for a pretty expensive (at least by Indian standards) dinner - 500 rupees each. I even had a beer but it wasn't that good and turned down the offer of a free second one. We had pretty good mexican nachos and other mexican stuff. The restaurant suddenly turned into a bar and Kutub noted on the way in a sign with a strange rule - no singles after 8pm - only couples. Can't imagine that going down well any else I've visited. They had the cricket on live and I watched as India thrashed NZ and kicked us out of the World Cup. That sucks. I've been getting ribbed about it from the locals ever since.
Anyway, I found a hostel in Connought Square - actually not a square at all but an octagonal roundabout in the center of Delhi, surrounded by a cloud of carbon monoxide, noxious fumes and obnoxious horns bellowing from every motorised vehicle within a hundred mile radious. Rickshaw drivers on three-wheeled bicycles and autorickshaws illustrating perfectly the Chaos Theory in action. White ford-style taxis and thousands of people wandering all over the roads at their own pace. Beggers, children with threadbare clothes and many without shoes. It was into this maelstrom of activity that the good old Lonely Planet assured me I would find a couple of gloomy hostels. The first one I checked out I wouldn't exactly have described as gloomy. No. The words I would have chosen would come closer to fetid, windowless, doorless, mice-infested and unsavoury-looking beds looking like they were possibly crawling with lice. Hmmm. I think I can do better. Next place along, 'Gringo's Hostel' or some such name wasn't much better but at least the dorm looked like it was habited by someone. I wanted a dorm as I was kind of hoping to meet people and hook up with someone. This was not to be unfortunately. Gloomy it was, and so were the two guys in the dorm who said hardly a word to me since I'd arrived, despite my cheery 'hello' and 'is there a lightswitch?'. The first night there proved to be too much. I had a sheet with me and no blanket. The hostel didn't provide one (and I was scared to ask anyway for fear of what it might smell like). I lay awake all night, completely wide awake doing my best not to touch the walls (crumbling with mould) or the bed (when I patted it down a huge cloud of dust rose up from it). Inspecting my fingernails which I had cleaned spotless before retiring, they were dissapointingly caked again caked with dirt. The last place I slept in this bad was 10 years ago in Indonesia, in a hostel high up in the mountains of Java. I'll never forget that terrifying and freezing night and count my blessings there was actually no electricity to make out the room beyond the shape of a tiny frame and square mattress passing itself off as a bed. So I lay awake and hatched a plan to leave that morning and find something better. As I had checked in the previous day, I had spotted an offer for a day trip around Delhi which I booked. 110 rupees (about US $3). It sounded just what I needed.... to do nothing for myself and still get to see the sights so I booked it straight away. So I had a couple of hours in the morning to attend to business. Firstly I handed my laundry to the dhobi-wallahs (laundry men who hand-wash everything, dry it in the sun and then iron even your knickers). Everything comes back cleaner than some of the drycleaners we got ripped off in around Europe, with one in Seville, Spain being a particularly memorable one in that all my white underwear came back grey! I nearly cried.
After dispensing the entire contents of my packpack to the dhobi-wallah, I attempted to make what should have been a fairly straight-forward call to another hostel to book a room for that evening. Silly me. Nothing in India (apart from maybe having your clothes cleaned), is simple. All the half-decent sounding hostels in the LP had since changed their numbers, which left me with a dwindling list of hopefuls. Finally I managed to talk to one hostel that was quite a way out of Delhi, but at least I hoped it would be quiet. I just had time for a cup of tea (served in a small cracked and dirty cup) before the tour guide came to pick me up (45 minutes late) and motioned to me to follow him. He had rotted blackened teeth, tinged with a severe-looking reddish colour caused by the betel nut leaves (a mild narcotic) that the men chew. They frequently stop to spit out a large gobs of red goo, and you have to be really careful to pick your way through the dusty streets as, apart from all the cow dung and discarded rubbish piled high, are also cloaked with bright-red splattery splodges of spit.
I board the rickety old bus and land the best seat at the front by the window. Score! They had an on-board photographer, a driver, a guide and about three other guys sitting up front of uncertain employment who basically looked like they just came along from the ride. Occassionaly one or two of them would beat the side of the bus with the flat of his hand, jumping on and off as it slowed down to stop or sped up to go. (I observed after a few more bus rides that these guys are basically acting as rear-view mirrors. Now, that's a good idea isn't it? We could demolish unemployment in the West with one foul swoop if all the buses removed their side mirrors and had a couple of these guys along.)
So they took us to all the sights. Mosques and temples. Parliament Houses, Indira Ghandi's museum and even a sari-shop...and all this before lunch and on one cup of tea so that by the time we did eventually stop for lunch I was starved. The Lotus-Flowers shaped temple was by far my favourite - there was a no-talking policy and it was the most peaceful place I've yet to encounter in this ear-drum splitting of a city. I had met a great guy on the bus who I chatted with at each stop - Kutub was born in North-Eastern India but his family had moved to Switzerland when he was twelve so to all extents he was basically a foreigner who happened to speak fluent Hindi - not a bad combination when you're me, with no Hindi, and about as green as they come having just arrived in India! After the tour, we went out for a pretty expensive (at least by Indian standards) dinner - 500 rupees each. I even had a beer but it wasn't that good and turned down the offer of a free second one. We had pretty good mexican nachos and other mexican stuff. The restaurant suddenly turned into a bar and Kutub noted on the way in a sign with a strange rule - no singles after 8pm - only couples. Can't imagine that going down well any else I've visited. They had the cricket on live and I watched as India thrashed NZ and kicked us out of the World Cup. That sucks. I've been getting ribbed about it from the locals ever since.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
Monday September 8th
Still looking for the elusive Kamari Beach.... its been two days now and we still couldnt find it however after trying every variation of road we ame across, we eventually stumbled upon it. Seems like all the restaurants are at least a third to double the price of the Perissa eating joints, so glad this is not where we chose to stay. A pleasant enough beach, with a long road of restaurants and beach bars on the road opposite. All very well set up for the tourists. We hired umbrella and deck chairs and settled in for the afternoon.
A nail-biting ride back to return the scooter, grab our bags and take the last bus to the port, to only just make it in time for our ferry to Ios.
A nail-biting ride back to return the scooter, grab our bags and take the last bus to the port, to only just make it in time for our ferry to Ios.
Sunday September 7th - Fira by Day
Today, we were back on the scooter, and drove back to Fira to get some good pictures of the famous cliff-side houses cut into the rock. Everything is painted white with blue accents. Woe-betide anyone wanting a red and yellow house with a green balcony! But it does make for some eye-appealing scenery. Next we drove the long way around the island, hugging the coast, seeing only clear blue skies, domed churches, donkey trails up the cliffs, and old men on carts pulled by asses, doing about 2 miles an hour.
We headed for the very tip of the island, to a tiny town called Oia, where we had an expensive seafood lunch of fresh octopus and stuffed eggplant. Not too bad but quite expensive. Walked lunch off around the cliffs as far as we could take the trail, with a view out over the volcano, nestled in the middle of the islet. Drove back by a faster route to Perissa Beach for a shower and change before heading out for a bite to eat. We searched all day for a beach called Kamari, next to Perissa but not accessable by road it seemed.. or were we reading the map wrong? Will try our luck again tomorrow.
We headed for the very tip of the island, to a tiny town called Oia, where we had an expensive seafood lunch of fresh octopus and stuffed eggplant. Not too bad but quite expensive. Walked lunch off around the cliffs as far as we could take the trail, with a view out over the volcano, nestled in the middle of the islet. Drove back by a faster route to Perissa Beach for a shower and change before heading out for a bite to eat. We searched all day for a beach called Kamari, next to Perissa but not accessable by road it seemed.. or were we reading the map wrong? Will try our luck again tomorrow.
Saturday Spetember 6th - Clubbing in Santorini
Having lost an entire day in Santorini, Sirena was none too happy as this was the island she had been most looking forward to. Our hotel at 12 Euro was great though. We spent a day on Perissa beach and in the evening hired a scooter so we could see the rest of the island. We drove to Fira, the capital of Santorini and had a good meal of Lasagne and beautiful baked fish at a restaurant overlooking the harbour. Fira is set on steep cliffs, with some houses actually cut into the rock, making for all the famous pictures of Santorini you see everywhere. Fira village is a maze of tiny narrow streets, whitewashed and quite attractive, altough now made very touristy with bars, expensive seafood restaurants and even a long street of jewelry shops. Snoggy hand-holding couples everywhere!
After dinner, it was still early (11pm) and the bars were not yet happening. About the only place we found with any life was Murphys Irish bar, which was packed with young (mostly) girls and a few locals trying to get lucky. We stayed for a couple of drinks and a boogy before checking out some other places. We figured it was getting close to end of season as some places were very empty. One guy, (yes, another aussie - this is turning into the story of my life) Vaughen, attempted to chat me up. It was so laughable. I dont think he realised I was about 10 years older than him. He kept asking me the exact same questions (name, where am I travelling, etc..) soooo dull. Then hed start off about himself, boring me to tears with his tedious tales of himself, all the while yelling into my ear over the din of the club. Then hed start over again with the same questions. Eventually I had to tell him he needed to learn some listening skills, but not until he had followed us around for a few minutes to various other bars, in a vain attempt to lose him. I dont believe in letting them down easy.
Fira by night was actually a little depressing but we were keen to see it by daylight to see if we couldnt get some postcard perfect pictures for ourselves. Eventually we gave up trying to have a good time - it was either working or it wasnt, and headed for home. We got a bit lost on the way back home, driving around Firas one-way side streets, and we were very happy to make it back to Perissa Beach finally.
After dinner, it was still early (11pm) and the bars were not yet happening. About the only place we found with any life was Murphys Irish bar, which was packed with young (mostly) girls and a few locals trying to get lucky. We stayed for a couple of drinks and a boogy before checking out some other places. We figured it was getting close to end of season as some places were very empty. One guy, (yes, another aussie - this is turning into the story of my life) Vaughen, attempted to chat me up. It was so laughable. I dont think he realised I was about 10 years older than him. He kept asking me the exact same questions (name, where am I travelling, etc..) soooo dull. Then hed start off about himself, boring me to tears with his tedious tales of himself, all the while yelling into my ear over the din of the club. Then hed start over again with the same questions. Eventually I had to tell him he needed to learn some listening skills, but not until he had followed us around for a few minutes to various other bars, in a vain attempt to lose him. I dont believe in letting them down easy.
Fira by night was actually a little depressing but we were keen to see it by daylight to see if we couldnt get some postcard perfect pictures for ourselves. Eventually we gave up trying to have a good time - it was either working or it wasnt, and headed for home. We got a bit lost on the way back home, driving around Firas one-way side streets, and we were very happy to make it back to Perissa Beach finally.
Friday - September 5th
Boat left at 9am, an hour later than scheduled, but we were glad to finally be underway. It was packed, presumably with two boat-load of passengers aboard. Only room to sit was in the smoking lounge where I was miserable and cold. After a while, we upgraded to First Class Lounge for the 13 hour sailing. It was brilliant. We sat at the bow of the boat and got great views the whole way, with our own restaurant, bar, and lounge to ourselves. Got into Santorini about 10pm and were picked up at the port by the owner of Stelios Place, where we had booked in for the bargain of 12 Euro a night! I was impressed with it - a lovely pool, right by the beach plus cable TV in our room! We had a late dinner in town of more greek salad and lamb chops.
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Thursday September 4th Whirlwind Trip of Athens
Very hard to wake up this morning. We had one goal - book the boats to the islands. If we managed to see anything of Athens at the same time that was a bonus. We checked out of the hotel and, with our luggage, headed straight for the nearest Starbucks and attemopted to lucate the Busabout travel agency on the map. We decided that bussing or metroing it, with all our bags, was too difficult, as Sirena with her cold was quite miserable also. So we decided to hail a cab to get to the travel agency that Busabout say you have to go to, in order to exhange your vouchers for boat tickets to the island (I had bought all my vouchers in London already). Now, it sounds the most straightforward thing, right? There are millions of cabs in Athens, all brightly coloured yellow. Unfortuantely, they do not stop for anyone. They slow down, wait for you to tell them your destination, shrug their shoulders (if youre lucky), then drive off. It was more difficult than finding an empty cab in London on a rainy Monday night during a tube strike. And Ive done that too!!
So, there we were, standing on the side of the road, taxi after taxi ignoring us, for about 40 minutes. Some taxis would slow down and we would shout into the window where we wanted to go and the driver would give us this "stupid tourist" glare, and drive off as quickly as possible. Wed noticed various other people had managed to get cabs, but they had people in them and we were very confused as to what the system was. Eventually, we approached a girl at a bus stop and asked her to give us a quick Greek language lesson .. we figured that we were pronouncing it wrongly. This appeared to work!! I affected a very stupid accent and after several more cabs stopping, one finally took us in. (Actually, I think we just barged our way in before he could drive off). And it had only taken an entire hour out of our morning.
Eventually we arrived at the travel agency were we spent some time booking sailings to Santorini, Ios and Paros. Not wishing to spend any more time in Athens, we booked the 10pm ferry to Santoini for that evening.
Took Sirena to the pharmacy to get her drugged up so she could at least breathe at night, poor thing. Decongestants, lozenges and aspirin. Next we took another taxi (we were experts by this stage) to the Plaka district again, where the previous night we had spotted a great looking hotel for the same price as the rip-off hotel we stayed in, and booked a room for the night we returned from the islands. We left our luggage there, and, as the hotel was only five minutes from the Acropolis, we spend a pleasant afternoon up at the Parthenon and Acropolis, and in the museum where a lot of the original statues (or at least what is left of them) are housed. I dont remember the museum from last time I was in Athens, but it was great to get some good shots of the famous landmark. Its dated from 420-450BC. Many stautues are missing or destroyed. I think there are some big ones in the British Museum also; I dont know why they wont return them.
Back at Plaka, a giant home-made ice-cream thick shake later, we did a spot of souvineer browsing then got the metro to the port. Where it was discovered that there were no sailings that evening due to bad whether out at sea. Oh shit. Nowhere to stay!! We queued for tickets the next morning at 8am, all the backpackers in the same boat (no pun intended)... needing a cheap place to stay that night. We wandered around the port looking for hotels.. of course - they were all fully booked out, the annoucement about all the boats being cancelled apparantly having gone out around 3pm, about the same time we left the travel agency. Sods law! We were wondering where the hell we were going to spend the night when out of nowhere a cab pulls up and the driver asks if we need a hotel and how much we were willing to pay. Going against all precautions, we jump in and he turns out to be pretty friendly... he stopped at various hotels in the area and jumped out with me and we tried to get a room for the night but they were all full. Eventually he drove us to a place he knew about 10 minutes away and bargained the price down on our behalf from 80 Euro to 60 Euro. I am pretty sure I can claim this on insurance though. I shook his hand and the two of us spent a fun evening at a pretty posh hotel dying our hair and doing our nails and being generally quite girly. :-)
So, there we were, standing on the side of the road, taxi after taxi ignoring us, for about 40 minutes. Some taxis would slow down and we would shout into the window where we wanted to go and the driver would give us this "stupid tourist" glare, and drive off as quickly as possible. Wed noticed various other people had managed to get cabs, but they had people in them and we were very confused as to what the system was. Eventually, we approached a girl at a bus stop and asked her to give us a quick Greek language lesson .. we figured that we were pronouncing it wrongly. This appeared to work!! I affected a very stupid accent and after several more cabs stopping, one finally took us in. (Actually, I think we just barged our way in before he could drive off). And it had only taken an entire hour out of our morning.
Eventually we arrived at the travel agency were we spent some time booking sailings to Santorini, Ios and Paros. Not wishing to spend any more time in Athens, we booked the 10pm ferry to Santoini for that evening.
Took Sirena to the pharmacy to get her drugged up so she could at least breathe at night, poor thing. Decongestants, lozenges and aspirin. Next we took another taxi (we were experts by this stage) to the Plaka district again, where the previous night we had spotted a great looking hotel for the same price as the rip-off hotel we stayed in, and booked a room for the night we returned from the islands. We left our luggage there, and, as the hotel was only five minutes from the Acropolis, we spend a pleasant afternoon up at the Parthenon and Acropolis, and in the museum where a lot of the original statues (or at least what is left of them) are housed. I dont remember the museum from last time I was in Athens, but it was great to get some good shots of the famous landmark. Its dated from 420-450BC. Many stautues are missing or destroyed. I think there are some big ones in the British Museum also; I dont know why they wont return them.
Back at Plaka, a giant home-made ice-cream thick shake later, we did a spot of souvineer browsing then got the metro to the port. Where it was discovered that there were no sailings that evening due to bad whether out at sea. Oh shit. Nowhere to stay!! We queued for tickets the next morning at 8am, all the backpackers in the same boat (no pun intended)... needing a cheap place to stay that night. We wandered around the port looking for hotels.. of course - they were all fully booked out, the annoucement about all the boats being cancelled apparantly having gone out around 3pm, about the same time we left the travel agency. Sods law! We were wondering where the hell we were going to spend the night when out of nowhere a cab pulls up and the driver asks if we need a hotel and how much we were willing to pay. Going against all precautions, we jump in and he turns out to be pretty friendly... he stopped at various hotels in the area and jumped out with me and we tried to get a room for the night but they were all full. Eventually he drove us to a place he knew about 10 minutes away and bargained the price down on our behalf from 80 Euro to 60 Euro. I am pretty sure I can claim this on insurance though. I shook his hand and the two of us spent a fun evening at a pretty posh hotel dying our hair and doing our nails and being generally quite girly. :-)
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Tuesday September 2nd - Nigtmare flight to Athens
Lay by pool all day and got kicked out for not checking out in time. Argued that they didn't tell us a check out time. They were going to then charge Sirena 30 Euro a night because she was not with Busabout, but then the nice manager winked at her and said 'I didn't see you, right?'. Lucky or what!!
Sirena and I said goodbye to Racheal and headed to the airport for the evening flight to Athens. A complete nightmare flight because it turns out Virgin Express fly every single European flight via Brussels, which is almost all the way back to London! Totally unimpressed with the whole trip as nowhere to sleep at the supremely crappy Brussels airport for the six hour stopover we had in the middle of the night. Flight over a complete nightmare. Brussels airport....nowere to sleep at all. We attempted to sleep on some cold hard plastic seats but it was pretty pointless. Air conditioning on full blast in this enormous room the size of a hanger and it was pretty miserable. Gave up in the end and around 3.30am went in search of coffee and breakfast. Flight out was then one and a half hours delayed (just to make it all the more painful). We didnt take off until 8.30am. Virgin Express charge you for food and drinks!! Made it to Athens midday next day only to find my backpack had been broken into with the lock jimmied and now rendered useless. All my papers and letters I have yet to send rifled through and crunched up. No idea why anyone would do this? Demanded an apology from Virgin Express carriers but they refused. Have now added Virgin Express on my Most Loathed Airlines, next to United.
Got the bus into town, and then ripped off in a cab to the hotel. Athens very hot. The hotel we had managed to find on the internet, although central, was crap to say the least. But we were both exhausted and didnt really care as it was only one night. Sirena coming down with a cold. We crashed out until about 5pm, sleeping through a Summer downpour outside. When it cleared up, we took a walk to the Plaka disctrict where all the restaurants and outdoor markets and souvineer shops are. After checking every single restaurant menu, we lucked upon a cheap outdoor place with gorgeous views over the Acropolis, lit up on the hill behind us only about 100m away. I finally got to satisfy my cravings for Greek Salad, Tsatziki, Taramasalata and eggplant salad. Yummmo. Sirena had the house specialty ... the most tender lamb strew ever. We feasted till late then caught a taxi back to the hotel, completely satiated. :-)
Sirena and I said goodbye to Racheal and headed to the airport for the evening flight to Athens. A complete nightmare flight because it turns out Virgin Express fly every single European flight via Brussels, which is almost all the way back to London! Totally unimpressed with the whole trip as nowhere to sleep at the supremely crappy Brussels airport for the six hour stopover we had in the middle of the night. Flight over a complete nightmare. Brussels airport....nowere to sleep at all. We attempted to sleep on some cold hard plastic seats but it was pretty pointless. Air conditioning on full blast in this enormous room the size of a hanger and it was pretty miserable. Gave up in the end and around 3.30am went in search of coffee and breakfast. Flight out was then one and a half hours delayed (just to make it all the more painful). We didnt take off until 8.30am. Virgin Express charge you for food and drinks!! Made it to Athens midday next day only to find my backpack had been broken into with the lock jimmied and now rendered useless. All my papers and letters I have yet to send rifled through and crunched up. No idea why anyone would do this? Demanded an apology from Virgin Express carriers but they refused. Have now added Virgin Express on my Most Loathed Airlines, next to United.
Got the bus into town, and then ripped off in a cab to the hotel. Athens very hot. The hotel we had managed to find on the internet, although central, was crap to say the least. But we were both exhausted and didnt really care as it was only one night. Sirena coming down with a cold. We crashed out until about 5pm, sleeping through a Summer downpour outside. When it cleared up, we took a walk to the Plaka disctrict where all the restaurants and outdoor markets and souvineer shops are. After checking every single restaurant menu, we lucked upon a cheap outdoor place with gorgeous views over the Acropolis, lit up on the hill behind us only about 100m away. I finally got to satisfy my cravings for Greek Salad, Tsatziki, Taramasalata and eggplant salad. Yummmo. Sirena had the house specialty ... the most tender lamb strew ever. We feasted till late then caught a taxi back to the hotel, completely satiated. :-)
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Monday September 1st. Bridget Jones Does Lisbon - A Day of Disasters
8.00am. Jane's alarm goes off.
8.05am - 8.35am. Hit snooze button several dozen times.
8.36am. Jane gets up and makes breakfast for everyone. Shakes Sirena awake who is out cold.
10.15am. Jane ready to hit the road and explore Lisbon. Racheal announces she will skip shower and be ready in five minutes.
10.35am. Racheal in shower.
11.05am. Finally leave cabin.
11.07am. See our bus leave without us.
11.20am. Still waiting for bus into town.
11.45am. Made it into Lisbon. Sirena announces she is now hungry. Jane reminds her that is because she didn't eat any breakfast. Jane explains she really needs to get to the Amex office to get some cash out as refuse to pay 7% commission to change TC's at regular places.
12.15pm. Jane still penniless. Amble up main shopping street of Lisbon waiting outside every single store while Racheal and Sirena simultaneously perform a bizarre shopping comedy entitled 'let's randomly visit every shop at different times with no clear purpose and all get lost'. Jane finally understands what it's like for a guy on a female shopping trip he didn't want to be on.
12.30pm. Wait 15 minutes for Racheal to take photo of small-begger-boy-with-accordian-and-adorable-singing-puppy-with-bucket-in-mouth.
12.45pm. Janes loses it. Needs help. Must speak with sane person immediately. Locate policeman and ask in best Portuguese "Por favor. Donde este telephonis?". Policeman takes Jane by both shoulders and spins her around. Jane is staring at a row of telephone booths. Ouch.
12.49pm. Got through to Kaoru on a Monday night at home! Rejoice. Sirena and I share a short call to her before getting cut off by stupid expensive portuguese phone cards! But not before giving her our cabin number so she can call us back tonight from work :-)
12.55pm. Jane finally manages to convince girls she really really does sort her money situation out as ATM card not working and no other options. She even offers to meet them later. They wanted to stay together so head via bus to Amex office which was fairly easily located owing to nice locals pointing us in right direction.
1.30pm. Finally Jane is cashed up! All of us starving by now and Jane needs to pee.
1.40pm. Get bus back into main square in town. Get on another bus but go too far out of town and for some stupid reason don't get off at the restauranty area like we should have done. Very reminscent of Prague Tram Disaster.
2.00pm. Stand at bus stop to study map and analyse how far back we have to walk. Nice man approaches and tells us there is a great restaurant 'not too far' that he can recommend with 'reasonable prices'. We fall for it hook, line and sinker.
2.25pm. Stoopid stoopid stoopid! Even a cable car couldn't have climbed the hill we've just been up! We walk around in circles for miles, Sirena rapidly losing the plot and Jane now really really needing to pee! Eventually we locate this ridiculous restaurant with a teeny tiny sign above the door and it's not even open. Not only that, but judging from the price list on the wall is out of the question anyway. Arrrrrgh!!
2.30pm. Walk all the way back down the hill into town. Head straight for air-conditioned mall and it's cheap resaurants inside.
2.45pm. Jane's vegetable soup and delicious portuguese pastry thing inhaled at break-neck speed. Sirena and Racheal go for cod that tasted like it died a nasty drowning in the Black Sea....totally inedible, even for a salt-lover like me.
3.00pm. Upon buying coffee, Jane's discovers missing 17 Euro from wallet which should have been change from lunch. Attempt to brainstorm where it could be. Come up with the possibility that she forgot to get her change? Go back to shop and attempt to mime this scenario to the shop assistants, none of whom speak English. Eventually they tell her to come back at 5.00 after the till has been cashed up. Jane very annoyed at herself.
3.30pm. Find slowest internet connection on earth in dodgy cafe along main square and bang out two e-mails in 1 hour. Jane and Sirena also attempt to book hotel in Athens but have no luck as connection keeps timing out.
5.00pm. Return to lunch spot and am returned only 5 Euro with no apology.
5.55pm. Racheal now at half her usual pace and attempts more shopping. Wait 40 minutes outside Zara for her. Jane not impressed. They leave her to go in search of better Internet. Locate bizarre pre-paid system in shopping mall/video shop/live entertainment area. Managed to book crappy overpriced hotel in central Athens with only 1 second to spare before PC kicked us out. Phew.
7.10pm. Locate Racheal, still shopping in La La Land.
7.30pm. Racheal finally buys 2 Euro earrings she had been dithering over for past two hours.
7.35pm. All supermarkets by now closed so we have to find a restaurant. Head down to the marina by cable car.
10.35pm. After dinner of average steak and chips and fish and rice, attempt to catch night bus back to the camp ground.
11.35pm. Still waiting at bus stop.
11.55pm. Waiting, waiting.
11.56pm. Signs on the bus stops all wrong. Cable car pulls up and takes us to the correct bus stop where we get the correct (and last) night bus from.
2.30am. Something goes right for Jane for the first time today! Kaoru calls from Tokyo and they chat for ages. She also gets to speak to Andrea, Alex and Carolyn. Very happy bunny!!
8.05am - 8.35am. Hit snooze button several dozen times.
8.36am. Jane gets up and makes breakfast for everyone. Shakes Sirena awake who is out cold.
10.15am. Jane ready to hit the road and explore Lisbon. Racheal announces she will skip shower and be ready in five minutes.
10.35am. Racheal in shower.
11.05am. Finally leave cabin.
11.07am. See our bus leave without us.
11.20am. Still waiting for bus into town.
11.45am. Made it into Lisbon. Sirena announces she is now hungry. Jane reminds her that is because she didn't eat any breakfast. Jane explains she really needs to get to the Amex office to get some cash out as refuse to pay 7% commission to change TC's at regular places.
12.15pm. Jane still penniless. Amble up main shopping street of Lisbon waiting outside every single store while Racheal and Sirena simultaneously perform a bizarre shopping comedy entitled 'let's randomly visit every shop at different times with no clear purpose and all get lost'. Jane finally understands what it's like for a guy on a female shopping trip he didn't want to be on.
12.30pm. Wait 15 minutes for Racheal to take photo of small-begger-boy-with-accordian-and-adorable-singing-puppy-with-bucket-in-mouth.
12.45pm. Janes loses it. Needs help. Must speak with sane person immediately. Locate policeman and ask in best Portuguese "Por favor. Donde este telephonis?". Policeman takes Jane by both shoulders and spins her around. Jane is staring at a row of telephone booths. Ouch.
12.49pm. Got through to Kaoru on a Monday night at home! Rejoice. Sirena and I share a short call to her before getting cut off by stupid expensive portuguese phone cards! But not before giving her our cabin number so she can call us back tonight from work :-)
12.55pm. Jane finally manages to convince girls she really really does sort her money situation out as ATM card not working and no other options. She even offers to meet them later. They wanted to stay together so head via bus to Amex office which was fairly easily located owing to nice locals pointing us in right direction.
1.30pm. Finally Jane is cashed up! All of us starving by now and Jane needs to pee.
1.40pm. Get bus back into main square in town. Get on another bus but go too far out of town and for some stupid reason don't get off at the restauranty area like we should have done. Very reminscent of Prague Tram Disaster.
2.00pm. Stand at bus stop to study map and analyse how far back we have to walk. Nice man approaches and tells us there is a great restaurant 'not too far' that he can recommend with 'reasonable prices'. We fall for it hook, line and sinker.
2.25pm. Stoopid stoopid stoopid! Even a cable car couldn't have climbed the hill we've just been up! We walk around in circles for miles, Sirena rapidly losing the plot and Jane now really really needing to pee! Eventually we locate this ridiculous restaurant with a teeny tiny sign above the door and it's not even open. Not only that, but judging from the price list on the wall is out of the question anyway. Arrrrrgh!!
2.30pm. Walk all the way back down the hill into town. Head straight for air-conditioned mall and it's cheap resaurants inside.
2.45pm. Jane's vegetable soup and delicious portuguese pastry thing inhaled at break-neck speed. Sirena and Racheal go for cod that tasted like it died a nasty drowning in the Black Sea....totally inedible, even for a salt-lover like me.
3.00pm. Upon buying coffee, Jane's discovers missing 17 Euro from wallet which should have been change from lunch. Attempt to brainstorm where it could be. Come up with the possibility that she forgot to get her change? Go back to shop and attempt to mime this scenario to the shop assistants, none of whom speak English. Eventually they tell her to come back at 5.00 after the till has been cashed up. Jane very annoyed at herself.
3.30pm. Find slowest internet connection on earth in dodgy cafe along main square and bang out two e-mails in 1 hour. Jane and Sirena also attempt to book hotel in Athens but have no luck as connection keeps timing out.
5.00pm. Return to lunch spot and am returned only 5 Euro with no apology.
5.55pm. Racheal now at half her usual pace and attempts more shopping. Wait 40 minutes outside Zara for her. Jane not impressed. They leave her to go in search of better Internet. Locate bizarre pre-paid system in shopping mall/video shop/live entertainment area. Managed to book crappy overpriced hotel in central Athens with only 1 second to spare before PC kicked us out. Phew.
7.10pm. Locate Racheal, still shopping in La La Land.
7.30pm. Racheal finally buys 2 Euro earrings she had been dithering over for past two hours.
7.35pm. All supermarkets by now closed so we have to find a restaurant. Head down to the marina by cable car.
10.35pm. After dinner of average steak and chips and fish and rice, attempt to catch night bus back to the camp ground.
11.35pm. Still waiting at bus stop.
11.55pm. Waiting, waiting.
11.56pm. Signs on the bus stops all wrong. Cable car pulls up and takes us to the correct bus stop where we get the correct (and last) night bus from.
2.30am. Something goes right for Jane for the first time today! Kaoru calls from Tokyo and they chat for ages. She also gets to speak to Andrea, Alex and Carolyn. Very happy bunny!!
Sunday 31st August - Lisbon
Nice 11am but pick up time today and short 3 hour drive along the coast to Lisbon. Sirena took the train arriving a couple of hours after us.
"Camping Lisboa" best location yet. A huge pool area, plus the three of us had our own little 2-bedroom cabin, complete with kitchen, balcony, bathroom and cable TV! All for the bargain price of 12 euro. Busabout apparantly get a big discount on the regular price so they are good for something after all. Finally got caught up on all the news and I got to see a BBC documentary abot a run-away biotic algea living in the Mediterranean Sea. Cool.
I bagsed control of the kitchen and was in heaven, cooking up a pretty good pasta and salad for dinner.
"Camping Lisboa" best location yet. A huge pool area, plus the three of us had our own little 2-bedroom cabin, complete with kitchen, balcony, bathroom and cable TV! All for the bargain price of 12 euro. Busabout apparantly get a big discount on the regular price so they are good for something after all. Finally got caught up on all the news and I got to see a BBC documentary abot a run-away biotic algea living in the Mediterranean Sea. Cool.
I bagsed control of the kitchen and was in heaven, cooking up a pretty good pasta and salad for dinner.
Saturday 30th August - Cave Grottos
Only just returned the scooters ontime (a la same pattern as yesterday morning), and had to run to catch our boat booking to the cave grottos at 12pm. The grottos are just a collection of caves carved out by the sea. Was very unusual but unfortunately the tour was a bit crap - instead of telling us about how they were formed etc, they just made stupid jokes like 'that's Micheal Jackson', and 'that's the elephant/hippo' etc.... It whiled away a couple of hours though, after which we all completely splashed out on a totally non back-packers lunch at the marina. Coconut mango prawn curry with rice and poppadoms and a glass of wine for me. Spicy chicken wings and prawn saland for Sirena..... not exactly backpacking but hey. Sirena is proving to be the worst influence on me and I blow my budget every day. Having loads of fun doing it though and no regrets! Lay on the beach again till it started to get dark and then headed for the ice cream shop. Mango, pineapple and macadamia nut three scoop enormity for me. Where do I fit it all in?
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Friday 29th August - Scootering around the Algarve coast.
I got up in plenty of time to make the 10am booking. Breakfasted and ready but Rachael and Sirena still not up at 9.45. Then I got bollocked because I didn't wake them up... ! Sirena, bless her, ready in five minutes but Rachael stuffed around doing god-knows-what for ages and we didn't get to the scooter office until after 10.30. Were then informed by the rudest woman on the planet that we would have to wait a half hour for the next pick up. An hour later we finally got taken to the scooter garage and got sorted with the insurance and paperwork. Around 12.00 we got on the road - map in hand, ready to concur the Algarve coastline. The scooters weren't the best but Sirena and I thrilled to be back on our beloved scooters again! First time for Racheal who was understandably a little nervous.
It turned out to be a brilliant day out, despite the rocky start. We visited all the little coastal villages right out to Sagres - the southern most tip of Western Europe and the place once considered to be 'The End of the World'. Luz, Burgau, (where we beach-picniked on the left-over mackeral which was still devine), Salena, Budens and inland to Vila do Bispo. We spend a couple of hours at the fortress of Henry the Navigator, who was famous for in the 1400's, charting and mapping much of the geography of the area without ever actually sailing anywhere.
Incredible views of the steep cliffs and the local fishermen perched on the edges, casting their lines out to the crashing waves 100 feet below. It really did feel like the end of the world and I can now understand why they used to think the earth was flat.
In the evening, we headed back to a restaurant we had spotted on the beach at Budens. Arrived as it was getting dark, after getting a little lost and having a nerve-racking time finding just one elusive gas station, after we had passed so many on the way there~! Isn't that always the way? I rolled into the station on fumes alone.
Dinner was another feast. We shared plates of chicken-mango salad, the most perfect grilled swordfish and juicy lamb cutlets. The electricity kept cutting off making for a strange semi-candle-lit evening for the three of us under a million stars, with Mars shining right above us. Portugese food proving to rival French cuisine!
A chilly ride back to Lagos with nothing but our sarongs wrapped around us for warmth ~ very uncool. Saw a shooting star on the way home~!
It turned out to be a brilliant day out, despite the rocky start. We visited all the little coastal villages right out to Sagres - the southern most tip of Western Europe and the place once considered to be 'The End of the World'. Luz, Burgau, (where we beach-picniked on the left-over mackeral which was still devine), Salena, Budens and inland to Vila do Bispo. We spend a couple of hours at the fortress of Henry the Navigator, who was famous for in the 1400's, charting and mapping much of the geography of the area without ever actually sailing anywhere.
Incredible views of the steep cliffs and the local fishermen perched on the edges, casting their lines out to the crashing waves 100 feet below. It really did feel like the end of the world and I can now understand why they used to think the earth was flat.
In the evening, we headed back to a restaurant we had spotted on the beach at Budens. Arrived as it was getting dark, after getting a little lost and having a nerve-racking time finding just one elusive gas station, after we had passed so many on the way there~! Isn't that always the way? I rolled into the station on fumes alone.
Dinner was another feast. We shared plates of chicken-mango salad, the most perfect grilled swordfish and juicy lamb cutlets. The electricity kept cutting off making for a strange semi-candle-lit evening for the three of us under a million stars, with Mars shining right above us. Portugese food proving to rival French cuisine!
A chilly ride back to Lagos with nothing but our sarongs wrapped around us for warmth ~ very uncool. Saw a shooting star on the way home~!
Thursday 28th August - Day in Lagos
Racheal and Sirena already good friends. Which is good because, to be honest, Racheal is doing my head in a bit. She is one of the dizziest people I have ever met. Everything seems to take her twice as long as anyone else and she remains blissfully oblivious to the fact that she keeps me waiting all the time. I find myself constantly waiting for her to catch up and get with the programme. I know I'm sounding harsh, but this is the exact reason I prefer to travel by myself.... unfortunately what I've realised is that doing Busabout it is hard to escape people like it is when you are truly doing independant travel (remember Boring Brett?) as you all get put in the same place to stay. I am trying to be very patient though but boy does she test it. You'd be discussing what time to eat and she'd be standing right there, apparantly listening, and a time would be agreed on and she'd NOD, and then five minutes later she'd be like, "umm, so, what'r we doin' again?". Maybe funny once, but several times a day can get very annoying!
Today I got everyone up at 8.30 and we had breakfast on the balcony. Our plan was to save some money on breakfast by self-catering from the supermarket so Racheal and I had brought supplies yesterday - bread, milk, honey, coffee, yoghurt. Turns out Sirena is not a morning person (Dad - I am now, honestly!) and can't even look at food. She gives me evils the whole time... yikes!
We walked around town again and booked scooters for 10am tomorrow. A nice lunch of grilled sardines, the local specialty, for Sirena, and a cheap crappy hamburger I'd rather forget, for me. Then onto the beach for the afternoon. Can't seem to tan under this sun ~ you just don't change colour at all, it's so weak.
Dinner was delicious grilled mackeral, a bargain for 11 Euro because included was a vat of vegatable soup, salad, dessert and coffee! Sirena and I discover we have a huge love of seafood in common and Lagos is proving the perfect place to satisfy our cravings. We couldn't finish it and doggy-bagged the rest. I have no pride.
Today I got everyone up at 8.30 and we had breakfast on the balcony. Our plan was to save some money on breakfast by self-catering from the supermarket so Racheal and I had brought supplies yesterday - bread, milk, honey, coffee, yoghurt. Turns out Sirena is not a morning person (Dad - I am now, honestly!) and can't even look at food. She gives me evils the whole time... yikes!
We walked around town again and booked scooters for 10am tomorrow. A nice lunch of grilled sardines, the local specialty, for Sirena, and a cheap crappy hamburger I'd rather forget, for me. Then onto the beach for the afternoon. Can't seem to tan under this sun ~ you just don't change colour at all, it's so weak.
Dinner was delicious grilled mackeral, a bargain for 11 Euro because included was a vat of vegatable soup, salad, dessert and coffee! Sirena and I discover we have a huge love of seafood in common and Lagos is proving the perfect place to satisfy our cravings. We couldn't finish it and doggy-bagged the rest. I have no pride.
Wednesday 27th August - Seville - Lagos (Portugal) and Sirena arrives.
Up early next day to get the bus to Lagos. Watched Friends episode on the bus - when did Rachel and Ross have a baby???
Arrived at around 11am and managed to wangle a room for the three of us (including Sirena). Nice clean rooms, shared clean bathrooms, kitchen and huge balcony. Lagos a tiny sea-side town, suffering (or surviving?) from too many British package holidayers, but great to be by the sea finally. All this in-land travel is hard-going without a beach to escape the heat from!
Carlos, our hostel owner, gathered us all together on the balcony, intent on giving us loads of information about what to do in Lagos and extracting promises from us all that we would not miss the cave grottos.
Spent the rest of the day looking around the tiney town and lively city centre, checking out the good bars and shops. Everybody speaks English (more than in Spain) and we marvel at how cheap everything is. We 'snacked' on soup, tomato salad, toasted sandwiches and orange juice, all for about 5 Euro which is a pretty good deal.
Sirena due to arrive around 6pm and I texted her the train times using Racheal's phone and told her where to meet us. We calculated that if she got the 4.45 train from Faro (airport town), then she would arrive at Lagos at 6.30pm. She was bang on time and we actually fluked bumping into her as at the last minute I decided to change meeting places from the centre of town to the main road, which was just as well as she would not have found us. So happy to see a familiar face again!
Arrived at around 11am and managed to wangle a room for the three of us (including Sirena). Nice clean rooms, shared clean bathrooms, kitchen and huge balcony. Lagos a tiny sea-side town, suffering (or surviving?) from too many British package holidayers, but great to be by the sea finally. All this in-land travel is hard-going without a beach to escape the heat from!
Carlos, our hostel owner, gathered us all together on the balcony, intent on giving us loads of information about what to do in Lagos and extracting promises from us all that we would not miss the cave grottos.
Spent the rest of the day looking around the tiney town and lively city centre, checking out the good bars and shops. Everybody speaks English (more than in Spain) and we marvel at how cheap everything is. We 'snacked' on soup, tomato salad, toasted sandwiches and orange juice, all for about 5 Euro which is a pretty good deal.
Sirena due to arrive around 6pm and I texted her the train times using Racheal's phone and told her where to meet us. We calculated that if she got the 4.45 train from Faro (airport town), then she would arrive at Lagos at 6.30pm. She was bang on time and we actually fluked bumping into her as at the last minute I decided to change meeting places from the centre of town to the main road, which was just as well as she would not have found us. So happy to see a familiar face again!
Tuesday 26th August - Discovering Old Seville
Today, back to the Post Office to send Racheal's stuff home to Australia.... it was too much for us to carry yesterday. In the morning, we picked up our laundry which I was pissed off at because my whites came back grey and nothing was clean. Grrrr.
Andre Agassi turned up bang on 11am and cut our hair in the bathroom. Unfortuntely he refused to do what I asked and now I hate his guts. Got to grow it out again for another six months to get the length back. Arrrgh MEN!! Okay I know I need to get a grip so the less said the better. I'm almost over it. But I did sulk for three days.
In the afternoon, after we eventually got done with all our organisation, I navigated us to the Plaza de la Expana, a cresent-shaped plaza with a huge fountain with a intricately-tiled cresent-shaped building surrounding it. We lunched at the Saint Maria park opposite - bagettes, ham and olives we'd bought at the supermarket in the morning.
Then we made our way back through the Alcatraz Gardens (palm trees, fountains) and into the old Jewish Quarter. The buildings were spectacular.
White doves nesting all over the parks; it was a most peaceful afternoon and I took an entire roll of film.
Andre Agassi turned up bang on 11am and cut our hair in the bathroom. Unfortuntely he refused to do what I asked and now I hate his guts. Got to grow it out again for another six months to get the length back. Arrrgh MEN!! Okay I know I need to get a grip so the less said the better. I'm almost over it. But I did sulk for three days.
In the afternoon, after we eventually got done with all our organisation, I navigated us to the Plaza de la Expana, a cresent-shaped plaza with a huge fountain with a intricately-tiled cresent-shaped building surrounding it. We lunched at the Saint Maria park opposite - bagettes, ham and olives we'd bought at the supermarket in the morning.
Then we made our way back through the Alcatraz Gardens (palm trees, fountains) and into the old Jewish Quarter. The buildings were spectacular.
White doves nesting all over the parks; it was a most peaceful afternoon and I took an entire roll of film.
Monday 25th August - Getting Organised
Today was our day of getting organised. Racheal and I granny-wheeled all our clothes down to the laundromat and then found the post office to send all my blankets and pottery home to NZ. In the afternoon we had a plate of delicious of fresh calamari and then sat in an outdoor cafe for several blissful hours, drinking lattes, people-watching and catching up on our diaries. We got talking to a lovely Portugese couple about Portugal, our next stop which I was psyched about.
One man we saw was a few sandwiches short of a picnic though. He came into the square, wearing a huge placard which said:
"I am Alan Mitchell, the adopted son of Marilyn Monroe and JFK. Harrassed, drugged up and isolated by the BBC. BBC are in Spain under false pretenses. I invite the BBC to deny these alegations. I invite the press to interview me and also invite a lawyer to represent me!" No kidding! This is word-for-word....total psyco.
Did a few hours on the internet and got a nice surprise - Sirena will fly out in two days time to meet me in Lagos so we can see Portugal and Greece together. Cool! I finally had a friend to play with!
Late dinner at Burger King - it just had to be done.
One man we saw was a few sandwiches short of a picnic though. He came into the square, wearing a huge placard which said:
"I am Alan Mitchell, the adopted son of Marilyn Monroe and JFK. Harrassed, drugged up and isolated by the BBC. BBC are in Spain under false pretenses. I invite the BBC to deny these alegations. I invite the press to interview me and also invite a lawyer to represent me!" No kidding! This is word-for-word....total psyco.
Did a few hours on the internet and got a nice surprise - Sirena will fly out in two days time to meet me in Lagos so we can see Portugal and Greece together. Cool! I finally had a friend to play with!
Late dinner at Burger King - it just had to be done.
Sunday 24th - Tarifa to Seville
Bus left around 12.00pm and a pleasant journey to Seville in South-central Spain. Glimpsed a flock of pink flamingos out the window. The guide played Oceans Eleven on the TV and George Clooney and Brad Pit made the three hours go very fast. Most of the Moroccan girls on the bus with us.
In Seville, Racheal and I paid a bit more to have a double-room with large bathroom, simply because we had so much stuff between us and needed the room to sort it all out before getting it to the Post Office. Five flights of stairs up though! Also to avoid all the Princesses who I was getting sick of.
Dumped our stuff and rushed straight back out again to go to the Cathedral which had free entrance on Sundays only. Whohoo! Very impressive gothic cathedral, 3rd largest in the world next to St. Peters and St. Pauls. I cunnningly tagged along to a Japanese tour and learnt all about Christopher Columbus' (supposed) tomb, (they'll know for sure some time next year when the get the DNA analysis done), as well as the enormous pipe organs, an huge baptism bowl made from alabaster marble and the 6 meter high painting of St. Christopher and an angel which hung above it and the fascinating story behind it. Turns out that if you stand at a certain angle to catch the light you can make out a rough line around the saint where he had been cut out and stolen by thieves. The portion was tracked down in New York somewhere, returned and the painting restored.
We then climped the 38 flight Giralda Tower next to the cathedral for some beautiful views over Seville. It wasn't as bad as you think as there were no steps, just slopes, so like walking uphill.
Back at the hostel and straight into the BATH - pure heaven. Scrubbed so clean I changed colour several times and was finally free of the remainder of the Moroccan dust. Felt a m a z i n g ! Deep-conditioned my hair, re-did my toe-nails (to ditch or not to ditch??), and spent a good five hours becoming human again.
Now, we'd been told by our Busabout guide, that the Red Door cafe, with cheap drinks and free Flamenco dancing was 'just down the street'. To cut a long story short, three hours, a trip back to the hostel for directions, one taxi-ride across town and much sense-of-humour failure later, we eventually arrived at this place with no name. It did have large red doors however and was located in the middle of no-where down some dark and life-less side streets. Completely unsure if we were in the correct place, but by this time in need of some stiff drinks, we decided to stay put. No sign of anyone from Busabout at all. Either our guide was talking bologny or I was just a complete space cadet when it comes to directions. I suspect both.
Drank some local 'Tinto deVerado' (red wine with lemonade - not bad actually), and sat in the outdoor courtyard for a while people-watching and listening to live Spanish music. We moved inside and watched the girls on the tiny stage perform some very sexy Flamenco to a man singing folk-songs and playing guitar. Flamenco is a big deal in Seville, where it originated from.
Got talking to an Andre Agassi look-a-like guy at the bar who spoke only broken English and me with my seven words of Spanish. He was a hairdresser and promised to come by our hostel to cut our hair the day after next.
The three of us moved on to a huge outdoor club and all of a sudden it was 4.30am. Got a taxi back home - a great evening out!
In Seville, Racheal and I paid a bit more to have a double-room with large bathroom, simply because we had so much stuff between us and needed the room to sort it all out before getting it to the Post Office. Five flights of stairs up though! Also to avoid all the Princesses who I was getting sick of.
Dumped our stuff and rushed straight back out again to go to the Cathedral which had free entrance on Sundays only. Whohoo! Very impressive gothic cathedral, 3rd largest in the world next to St. Peters and St. Pauls. I cunnningly tagged along to a Japanese tour and learnt all about Christopher Columbus' (supposed) tomb, (they'll know for sure some time next year when the get the DNA analysis done), as well as the enormous pipe organs, an huge baptism bowl made from alabaster marble and the 6 meter high painting of St. Christopher and an angel which hung above it and the fascinating story behind it. Turns out that if you stand at a certain angle to catch the light you can make out a rough line around the saint where he had been cut out and stolen by thieves. The portion was tracked down in New York somewhere, returned and the painting restored.
We then climped the 38 flight Giralda Tower next to the cathedral for some beautiful views over Seville. It wasn't as bad as you think as there were no steps, just slopes, so like walking uphill.
Back at the hostel and straight into the BATH - pure heaven. Scrubbed so clean I changed colour several times and was finally free of the remainder of the Moroccan dust. Felt a m a z i n g ! Deep-conditioned my hair, re-did my toe-nails (to ditch or not to ditch??), and spent a good five hours becoming human again.
Now, we'd been told by our Busabout guide, that the Red Door cafe, with cheap drinks and free Flamenco dancing was 'just down the street'. To cut a long story short, three hours, a trip back to the hostel for directions, one taxi-ride across town and much sense-of-humour failure later, we eventually arrived at this place with no name. It did have large red doors however and was located in the middle of no-where down some dark and life-less side streets. Completely unsure if we were in the correct place, but by this time in need of some stiff drinks, we decided to stay put. No sign of anyone from Busabout at all. Either our guide was talking bologny or I was just a complete space cadet when it comes to directions. I suspect both.
Drank some local 'Tinto deVerado' (red wine with lemonade - not bad actually), and sat in the outdoor courtyard for a while people-watching and listening to live Spanish music. We moved inside and watched the girls on the tiny stage perform some very sexy Flamenco to a man singing folk-songs and playing guitar. Flamenco is a big deal in Seville, where it originated from.
Got talking to an Andre Agassi look-a-like guy at the bar who spoke only broken English and me with my seven words of Spanish. He was a hairdresser and promised to come by our hostel to cut our hair the day after next.
The three of us moved on to a huge outdoor club and all of a sudden it was 4.30am. Got a taxi back home - a great evening out!
Saturday 23rd August - Tangiers - Tarifa (Spain)
Away by 9.00 and Brendan and Rachel dropped us all off at the ferry terminal. They had another group starting the same trip that same night. Full-on seven weeks in a row, seven days in a row and no-one I think envious of the job they did. As I write this in my diary, they will already have been to Chefchaoun and have hiked in the Rif mountains all day today.
Only just manages to make it off the truck, into the port and onto the boat with all our extra bags. The group was saved by a man offered to load 19 backpacker's worth of bags, averaging 30-40 kg's each, plus all out additional bags, onto his manually-pulled trolley and lug it, in the 30C temp, the 300m or so to the port. This guy must have towed 300kg or more, wearing an ill-fitting suit, tie and shoes along with it! Talk about a hard-warker. I vow the whole way there to get rid of my beloved red nail polish and all other unnecessary accessories. (Seven years in tokyo can do that to a girl). Sorry Carolyn! I slippe d it back in when you weren't looking..
Peaceful boat trip back to Spain; all of us thinking only of hot showers and a bed for the night. Rachael passed around baby wipes and we realise that the 'tans' we thought we had gotten was really just dirt. Honestly we had turned a different colour! FActions united at different restaurants around the boat. All of secretly glad to be rid of the others I think.
Racheal and I fumbled our way around the port town of Algeciras, finally locating the correct bus stop and bought tickets to the port town of Tarifa, the next pick-up point for Bus-about.
We arrived around 5pm (lost two hours so Spanish time) and found were all out of luck finding a hostel.
Tarifa is a pleasant town on the very tip of the southern Spanish coast , famous as the windsurfing capital of the world and was completely packed out with windsurfers. Racheal and I persisted, trying about six or seven different places, and eventually found the last remaining room to be had in the town. A single room in which they put a mattress on the floor for us. No space to put our packs and a shared bathroom along the corridor. We secured it just seconds before a couple were turned away. But after a week of smelly camping and disgusting tents, this was five-star luxury!
Straight into HOT showers and out for a bite to eat before colapsing into bed at 10pm.
Only just manages to make it off the truck, into the port and onto the boat with all our extra bags. The group was saved by a man offered to load 19 backpacker's worth of bags, averaging 30-40 kg's each, plus all out additional bags, onto his manually-pulled trolley and lug it, in the 30C temp, the 300m or so to the port. This guy must have towed 300kg or more, wearing an ill-fitting suit, tie and shoes along with it! Talk about a hard-warker. I vow the whole way there to get rid of my beloved red nail polish and all other unnecessary accessories. (Seven years in tokyo can do that to a girl). Sorry Carolyn! I slippe d it back in when you weren't looking..
Peaceful boat trip back to Spain; all of us thinking only of hot showers and a bed for the night. Rachael passed around baby wipes and we realise that the 'tans' we thought we had gotten was really just dirt. Honestly we had turned a different colour! FActions united at different restaurants around the boat. All of secretly glad to be rid of the others I think.
Racheal and I fumbled our way around the port town of Algeciras, finally locating the correct bus stop and bought tickets to the port town of Tarifa, the next pick-up point for Bus-about.
We arrived around 5pm (lost two hours so Spanish time) and found were all out of luck finding a hostel.
Tarifa is a pleasant town on the very tip of the southern Spanish coast , famous as the windsurfing capital of the world and was completely packed out with windsurfers. Racheal and I persisted, trying about six or seven different places, and eventually found the last remaining room to be had in the town. A single room in which they put a mattress on the floor for us. No space to put our packs and a shared bathroom along the corridor. We secured it just seconds before a couple were turned away. But after a week of smelly camping and disgusting tents, this was five-star luxury!
Straight into HOT showers and out for a bite to eat before colapsing into bed at 10pm.
Friday 22nd August - Asilah - Tangiers
Only one more camping night to go. Very happy about this. Sick of the lack of hygiene. Camping utenslis we have to use for cooking barely clean and covered with dust at the end of each day. Fingernails constantly black. No clean clothes to speak of and once-white underwear now grey and sweaty. It's truly horrid. Rachel and Brendan (guides) oblivious to the flith. Camping sucks so much. I never liked it and I never will. There is something seriously masochistic with people who actually like camping. However, consider myself very intrepid! Would never have coped with this ten years ago. Oh for my spotless Tokyo apartment and double bed with duvet!!
Half-day in Asilah with finally some precious free time. Asilah a small town about an hour out of Tangier with a laid-back medina in it's center. Of course it took me ninety minutes of our three hours of free time to find the internet cafe and then the Busabout website was down so I couldn't check my sector bookings anyway. Did manage to book a Virgin Express flight for 150 Euro from Lisbon to Athens however, avoiding all the backtracking I would have to do with Busabout via San Sebastian, Madrid and Barcelona. Very chuffed at myself. For some reason it is via Brussels with a long stop-over, so kind of takes the meaning out of 'Express' - it's going to take me 24 hours to get there! (But the other alternative is two weeks on the bus).
Back at camp for a quick sandwhich lunch again before driving the hour or so back to Tangiers. We stopped along the way for some more supermarket food. I spotted a granny-style wheelie trolley in the shop and snapped it up with the last of my remaining dirham (150), exactly what I had in my wallet. I bargained him down to 140 so had only 10 dirham left for an emergency. I finally had a way to carry the pottery and blankets from Fes. I am a superstar!! Nicole of course made a bitchy comment to my face about being a pack horse. Charming. Everything was somewhere hidden under the seats in the truck and I was no longer sure of what I had even bought. Not looking forward to packing!
Tangiers evening was fairly chilled.... just what the doctor ordered. Still cold showers and still can't get clean. However after seven nights on our camp stretchers I have found I can sleep like a baby, although they cetainly took some getting used to. They were really just thin pieces of green canvas smudged with dirt, onto which you attach four brackets hooked into metal poles on either long-side. Sleep comes easy though I think it's from sheer exhaustion from all the daily activities Rachel and Brendon manage to pack into one day.
Steak and potato salad for dinner, but I had no apetite... too exhausted. Angela attempted to make courgette patties for the vegetarians in the group but the frypans were useless and even I couldn't rescue them as Moroccan Okonomiyaki. More like Moroccan Mush. We had to throw it all out. Chocolate-stuffed bananas wrapped in tin-foil and baked on the hot coals (first and only campfire) and toasted marshmallows for desert.
Everyone spent hours packing all their stuff up before it got dark. By some complete miracle, I managed to fit all my stuff into my pack and the trolley. There was not an inch of free space anywhere and I reckoned I had accumulated at least another 20kg's. Idiot.
Half-day in Asilah with finally some precious free time. Asilah a small town about an hour out of Tangier with a laid-back medina in it's center. Of course it took me ninety minutes of our three hours of free time to find the internet cafe and then the Busabout website was down so I couldn't check my sector bookings anyway. Did manage to book a Virgin Express flight for 150 Euro from Lisbon to Athens however, avoiding all the backtracking I would have to do with Busabout via San Sebastian, Madrid and Barcelona. Very chuffed at myself. For some reason it is via Brussels with a long stop-over, so kind of takes the meaning out of 'Express' - it's going to take me 24 hours to get there! (But the other alternative is two weeks on the bus).
Back at camp for a quick sandwhich lunch again before driving the hour or so back to Tangiers. We stopped along the way for some more supermarket food. I spotted a granny-style wheelie trolley in the shop and snapped it up with the last of my remaining dirham (150), exactly what I had in my wallet. I bargained him down to 140 so had only 10 dirham left for an emergency. I finally had a way to carry the pottery and blankets from Fes. I am a superstar!! Nicole of course made a bitchy comment to my face about being a pack horse. Charming. Everything was somewhere hidden under the seats in the truck and I was no longer sure of what I had even bought. Not looking forward to packing!
Tangiers evening was fairly chilled.... just what the doctor ordered. Still cold showers and still can't get clean. However after seven nights on our camp stretchers I have found I can sleep like a baby, although they cetainly took some getting used to. They were really just thin pieces of green canvas smudged with dirt, onto which you attach four brackets hooked into metal poles on either long-side. Sleep comes easy though I think it's from sheer exhaustion from all the daily activities Rachel and Brendon manage to pack into one day.
Steak and potato salad for dinner, but I had no apetite... too exhausted. Angela attempted to make courgette patties for the vegetarians in the group but the frypans were useless and even I couldn't rescue them as Moroccan Okonomiyaki. More like Moroccan Mush. We had to throw it all out. Chocolate-stuffed bananas wrapped in tin-foil and baked on the hot coals (first and only campfire) and toasted marshmallows for desert.
Everyone spent hours packing all their stuff up before it got dark. By some complete miracle, I managed to fit all my stuff into my pack and the trolley. There was not an inch of free space anywhere and I reckoned I had accumulated at least another 20kg's. Idiot.
Friday 22nd August - Asilah - Tangiers
Only one more camping night to go. Very happy about this. Extremely sick the no hygiene thing - even if you want to you can't get anything clean. Permantly black fingernails. Camping utensils covered in dust all the time. Racheal and Brendan oblivious to the filth after so much time in Africa. No clean clothes to speak of. Once white underwear now grey and sweaty. It's truly horrid. Consider myself very intrepid though ~ would never have coped with this 10 years ago!
Half day in Asilah, a small town with a laid-back medina in the centre. Unfortunately in took me half of our three hour free time to find the internet cafe, and then the Busabout website was down anyway so couldn't check my sector bookings. Did manage to book a Virgin Express flight for 150 Euro from Lisbon to Athens (via Brussels!!) for the 2nd
Half day in Asilah, a small town with a laid-back medina in the centre. Unfortunately in took me half of our three hour free time to find the internet cafe, and then the Busabout website was down anyway so couldn't check my sector bookings. Did manage to book a Virgin Express flight for 150 Euro from Lisbon to Athens (via Brussels!!) for the 2nd
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Thursday 21st August - Meknes to Asilah
Up early again at 6.00am to pack up camp and be on the road by 8.00. Drove the four hour journey to the small town of Meknes. By now, everyone has their 'preferred' possie on the truck. The Princesses (five girls from Oz, nice enough on their own but scary as a pack) down the back, others in the middle all hoping they don't pick the side with the extra person on it as then it's a pretty tight fit, and me, right at the front next to the wall, in control of the beer eski and the cassettes. The Princesses issue me orders for which music they want, which I don't mind as I seem to be the only one on the truck who can figure out how to work the casette deck.
At this point, it must be noted that two distinct factions have formed. The Princesses; Kirsty and Sam (beautiful, boarding-school prefects, worked together as swimwear designers in Sydney , Angela (gorgeous, witty, always wears tight keen-length skirts), Lauren 1 (laughs a lot and very sweet), Gina (tall with chicken-legs, very opinionated but nice girl), Lauren 2 (strangly a very nice girl but with the worst taste in best friends) and Nicole (best friend of Lauren 2, screws up her nose at everything, picks arguments, foul-mouthed and basically a complete bitch)/ These girls are never seen apart... not sure if they were afraid they'd be ostricised if they dared to do something different or what. We all found them a very interesting study in the nature of group dynamics. Individually they were lovely girls, but en masse they were just a wee bit scary.... with some back-stabbing going on behind each other's backs.
The second faction was what I call the Normal People, comprised of the rest of the group. Apparantly no-one but myself and a couple of others had bothered to learn everyone's names, so I had a lot of people coming up to me whispering 'what's her name again? I'm in her group and we have to cook tomorrow'.
When we got to Meknes, we only had an hour to look around the small medina. It reminded me of the Indonesian markets throughout Java.. a lot of beef and chicken (no pork as most are muslims), all hanging from their heads or tails, tougues lolling and in various stages of death. Men carving up huge hunks of liver and intestines dangling. Piles of fruit and vegetables - peeled lemons and olives which they slick with oil to make them look more apetizing.
Took a great close up picture of the inner workings of a cow's neck, almost making myself sick. I had to move on to the sweet section. Here the french influence becomes very apparant with dozens of different types of tiny pastries and patissaries piled triangular-high on beautiful ceremic plates. Bought a small box of several for my lunch, along with some figs, but really I had no apetite after the meat market.
There were also men selling baby turtles and lizards, various other animals, musk pieces, expensive saffron and all the spices. All were attempting to do the hard sell on us. But what, for heaven's sake, do they imagine a backpacker would do with a baby chamaleon and some cumin seeds?
I emerged from the indoor market and with about 10 minutes to spare before the truck pulled away and made my way over to the tablecloths in the outdoor market (actually the parking lot) that I had spotted earlier. It was then that I inadvertantly began an enourmous catfight between two women. I had the idea that I wanted an oval-shaped table cloth for Mum's table. But all the women only appeared to have square, rectangular or round shapes. When I ask how much for a large one, I think they took me for a stupid rich tourist. This guy eyes me up, sees my camera around my neck (big mistake Jane) and writes '300' on a scrap of paper. Then he squints at me, pen hovering, sees no reaction, whispers to his cohorts, then slowly adds another zero!! That's about 300 Euro!! I knew they were worth maybe 10-20 Euro so I just waved my hand like 'don't be ridiculous!' and walked away - he didn't even try to stop me - he knew he had gone too far.
Thing is, I really wanted one. So when he became side-tracked, I went back to another lady and indicated that I wanted an oval-shaped one which she assured me she had and that she would need to run get it. I said ok, even though I was really running out of time. In the meantime, inadvertantly got locked into bargaining with another woman. When the Tablecloth Woman Number 1 hadn't returned in 5 minutes, I then decided to buy one and was locked into bargaining with Tablecloth Woman Number 2 when TWN1 finally returned. But it was too late.... I was toast. TWN2 wanted 150 Dirhum (about 15 Euro, a much fairer price, and she would throw in not eigh, but TEN matching serviettes for FREE. Whohoo!!). Immediately, I turned to TWN1 to buy the oval shaped cloth, but she had come back empty-handed. Seeing that I was about to buy from TWN2, she screamed at her in arabic. A man then appeared who spoke English and we stood there in the car park between these two crazy women shouting at each other over who gets my money.... it was really embarrassing. So I said to the man, please ask them to stop arguing as I would simply buy one from each of them but they were so busy yelling they didn't hear his translation. I was now completely out of time so I just threw the money at TWN2, she shoved it in a bag and I couldn't get away fast enough, leaving them almost clawing each other's eyes out in my wake. Must have been a very slow day for them. Ahhhhh - the joyous shopping experience of a market town.
After Meknes, we drove through the afternoon to Asilah where we set up camp and endured Nicole telling us all to move our tents away from hers. Everyone ignored her and got on with it. Getting pretty sick of camping by this stage. Hate tenting. Definately contracted the bug going around and several toilet stops a day now necessary for the majority of the group. Had a hot shower in the dark as couldn't find the light switch. Was stark naked when I realised I'd forgot to bring my shampoo. Note to me - baby-soap and rose-cream almond lotion does not for clean hair make.
At this point, it must be noted that two distinct factions have formed. The Princesses; Kirsty and Sam (beautiful, boarding-school prefects, worked together as swimwear designers in Sydney , Angela (gorgeous, witty, always wears tight keen-length skirts), Lauren 1 (laughs a lot and very sweet), Gina (tall with chicken-legs, very opinionated but nice girl), Lauren 2 (strangly a very nice girl but with the worst taste in best friends) and Nicole (best friend of Lauren 2, screws up her nose at everything, picks arguments, foul-mouthed and basically a complete bitch)/ These girls are never seen apart... not sure if they were afraid they'd be ostricised if they dared to do something different or what. We all found them a very interesting study in the nature of group dynamics. Individually they were lovely girls, but en masse they were just a wee bit scary.... with some back-stabbing going on behind each other's backs.
The second faction was what I call the Normal People, comprised of the rest of the group. Apparantly no-one but myself and a couple of others had bothered to learn everyone's names, so I had a lot of people coming up to me whispering 'what's her name again? I'm in her group and we have to cook tomorrow'.
When we got to Meknes, we only had an hour to look around the small medina. It reminded me of the Indonesian markets throughout Java.. a lot of beef and chicken (no pork as most are muslims), all hanging from their heads or tails, tougues lolling and in various stages of death. Men carving up huge hunks of liver and intestines dangling. Piles of fruit and vegetables - peeled lemons and olives which they slick with oil to make them look more apetizing.
Took a great close up picture of the inner workings of a cow's neck, almost making myself sick. I had to move on to the sweet section. Here the french influence becomes very apparant with dozens of different types of tiny pastries and patissaries piled triangular-high on beautiful ceremic plates. Bought a small box of several for my lunch, along with some figs, but really I had no apetite after the meat market.
There were also men selling baby turtles and lizards, various other animals, musk pieces, expensive saffron and all the spices. All were attempting to do the hard sell on us. But what, for heaven's sake, do they imagine a backpacker would do with a baby chamaleon and some cumin seeds?
I emerged from the indoor market and with about 10 minutes to spare before the truck pulled away and made my way over to the tablecloths in the outdoor market (actually the parking lot) that I had spotted earlier. It was then that I inadvertantly began an enourmous catfight between two women. I had the idea that I wanted an oval-shaped table cloth for Mum's table. But all the women only appeared to have square, rectangular or round shapes. When I ask how much for a large one, I think they took me for a stupid rich tourist. This guy eyes me up, sees my camera around my neck (big mistake Jane) and writes '300' on a scrap of paper. Then he squints at me, pen hovering, sees no reaction, whispers to his cohorts, then slowly adds another zero!! That's about 300 Euro!! I knew they were worth maybe 10-20 Euro so I just waved my hand like 'don't be ridiculous!' and walked away - he didn't even try to stop me - he knew he had gone too far.
Thing is, I really wanted one. So when he became side-tracked, I went back to another lady and indicated that I wanted an oval-shaped one which she assured me she had and that she would need to run get it. I said ok, even though I was really running out of time. In the meantime, inadvertantly got locked into bargaining with another woman. When the Tablecloth Woman Number 1 hadn't returned in 5 minutes, I then decided to buy one and was locked into bargaining with Tablecloth Woman Number 2 when TWN1 finally returned. But it was too late.... I was toast. TWN2 wanted 150 Dirhum (about 15 Euro, a much fairer price, and she would throw in not eigh, but TEN matching serviettes for FREE. Whohoo!!). Immediately, I turned to TWN1 to buy the oval shaped cloth, but she had come back empty-handed. Seeing that I was about to buy from TWN2, she screamed at her in arabic. A man then appeared who spoke English and we stood there in the car park between these two crazy women shouting at each other over who gets my money.... it was really embarrassing. So I said to the man, please ask them to stop arguing as I would simply buy one from each of them but they were so busy yelling they didn't hear his translation. I was now completely out of time so I just threw the money at TWN2, she shoved it in a bag and I couldn't get away fast enough, leaving them almost clawing each other's eyes out in my wake. Must have been a very slow day for them. Ahhhhh - the joyous shopping experience of a market town.
After Meknes, we drove through the afternoon to Asilah where we set up camp and endured Nicole telling us all to move our tents away from hers. Everyone ignored her and got on with it. Getting pretty sick of camping by this stage. Hate tenting. Definately contracted the bug going around and several toilet stops a day now necessary for the majority of the group. Had a hot shower in the dark as couldn't find the light switch. Was stark naked when I realised I'd forgot to bring my shampoo. Note to me - baby-soap and rose-cream almond lotion does not for clean hair make.
Wednesday 20th August - Incredible Fes Medina
We picked up our guide, Kalam who took us first to a pottery warehouse and then for a guided tour through the impossibly complicated Fes Medina. This is everything you imagined Morocco to be, and more. It was straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. Kalam began with a strong speach on staying together, as he explained there were over 9000 tiny narrow streets and about 2000 donkeys used as transportation of items and that we would need to be very careful not to get lost.
As soon as we entered through the gates, the medina (original walled city found in every town), was immediately like stepping onto another planet. Not that I've ever stepped on another planet, but you know what I mean. People scurrying and moving in every direction. Dozens of mini-markets all leading into each other. Squaking chickens getting plucked and then their heads chopped off, skinny cats, mangy dogs, warm eggs, mountains of spices, jewellery shops and junk shops. Metal workers hammering and banging with mallots and chisels. Needleworkers sewing tablecloths at break-neck speed and children feeding them the yarn at their feet with complex-looking home-made spinners. Vegetable markets piled high with figs, grapes and prickly pears. Shoe-shiners and beggers. Bakerys everywhere and small girls carrying loaves of bread above their heads. Mosques and people washing before prayers.
It was hard to take it all in and we had to move as one large group the whole time... I was petrified of getting lost and this was nothing at all like the calm and clean white and blue chefchauon medina - this was the Chaos Theory in action! We wound our way slowly around the streets in a totally ilogical manner and I wondered how anyone could remember their way home at all. We had no chance of being found if we got lost. The first stop was the tannery. We turned left down a small dark narrow alleyway, entered into a courtyard, right into a street, second on the left, and then turned suddenly at a door with no sign, up a set of narrow stairs, past a group of men in a room having mint tea, down a corridor and into an expansive shop. The shop looked out over the enormous tannery below where three stories below us several men navigated or were submerged in huge circular vats filled with stinking brown liquid. They worked all day under the beating hot sun, dying the leather for bags and shoes and wallets and chairs. The heat and stench was too much for me and I had to go back outside after a while. Not really into leather anyway but the rest of the group dutifully bought out half the shop.
The next stop was a cavernous and mercifully cool marbled blanket shop where we were given Moroccan-style chip buddies for lunch with loads of coke. We sat through the carpet speil but I resisted buying any more. They were all very beautiful though.
After the blanket shop lunch, we were taken to various other specialty shops..... jewellery shops and a natural remedy shop with bottles of pastel coloured powders and perfumed oils lining the walls. We were given the speil in almost every place, but there was never any pressure to buy anything. I bought some clay masque 'shampoo' (which doesn't work and feels like you attempted to wash your hair with a, well, clay masque), as well as some rose and almond cream. They also had a sinus remedy which was a kind of spicy powder you sniff, and powder eyeliners that you apply by dipping a tiny brush into a tiny bottle and then kind of 'blink' it on.
Finally late in the afternoon, we were taken back to camp for a brief wash before a convoy of taxis came to take us to the one dinner out for the week. It was an entertainment type place for the foreigners with belly dancers (one was totally useless just rolling her flab around) but one great woman who was very experienced and had a real talent. She had all the girls up in the middle of the restaurant doing the moves with her. Also a magician, a dance troop and musicians provided hours of entertainment. The food was pretty good too.... among other dishes, chicken stew with prunes was memorable.... there were more prunes than chicken! It was tasty, but unfortunately prunes were the last thing any of us should have been eating as most of us had become sick by this stage.
As soon as we entered through the gates, the medina (original walled city found in every town), was immediately like stepping onto another planet. Not that I've ever stepped on another planet, but you know what I mean. People scurrying and moving in every direction. Dozens of mini-markets all leading into each other. Squaking chickens getting plucked and then their heads chopped off, skinny cats, mangy dogs, warm eggs, mountains of spices, jewellery shops and junk shops. Metal workers hammering and banging with mallots and chisels. Needleworkers sewing tablecloths at break-neck speed and children feeding them the yarn at their feet with complex-looking home-made spinners. Vegetable markets piled high with figs, grapes and prickly pears. Shoe-shiners and beggers. Bakerys everywhere and small girls carrying loaves of bread above their heads. Mosques and people washing before prayers.
It was hard to take it all in and we had to move as one large group the whole time... I was petrified of getting lost and this was nothing at all like the calm and clean white and blue chefchauon medina - this was the Chaos Theory in action! We wound our way slowly around the streets in a totally ilogical manner and I wondered how anyone could remember their way home at all. We had no chance of being found if we got lost. The first stop was the tannery. We turned left down a small dark narrow alleyway, entered into a courtyard, right into a street, second on the left, and then turned suddenly at a door with no sign, up a set of narrow stairs, past a group of men in a room having mint tea, down a corridor and into an expansive shop. The shop looked out over the enormous tannery below where three stories below us several men navigated or were submerged in huge circular vats filled with stinking brown liquid. They worked all day under the beating hot sun, dying the leather for bags and shoes and wallets and chairs. The heat and stench was too much for me and I had to go back outside after a while. Not really into leather anyway but the rest of the group dutifully bought out half the shop.
The next stop was a cavernous and mercifully cool marbled blanket shop where we were given Moroccan-style chip buddies for lunch with loads of coke. We sat through the carpet speil but I resisted buying any more. They were all very beautiful though.
After the blanket shop lunch, we were taken to various other specialty shops..... jewellery shops and a natural remedy shop with bottles of pastel coloured powders and perfumed oils lining the walls. We were given the speil in almost every place, but there was never any pressure to buy anything. I bought some clay masque 'shampoo' (which doesn't work and feels like you attempted to wash your hair with a, well, clay masque), as well as some rose and almond cream. They also had a sinus remedy which was a kind of spicy powder you sniff, and powder eyeliners that you apply by dipping a tiny brush into a tiny bottle and then kind of 'blink' it on.
Finally late in the afternoon, we were taken back to camp for a brief wash before a convoy of taxis came to take us to the one dinner out for the week. It was an entertainment type place for the foreigners with belly dancers (one was totally useless just rolling her flab around) but one great woman who was very experienced and had a real talent. She had all the girls up in the middle of the restaurant doing the moves with her. Also a magician, a dance troop and musicians provided hours of entertainment. The food was pretty good too.... among other dishes, chicken stew with prunes was memorable.... there were more prunes than chicken! It was tasty, but unfortunately prunes were the last thing any of us should have been eating as most of us had become sick by this stage.
Tuesday 19th August - Volubolis Ancient Roman Ruins and Homemade Hamburgers
My group up early as we were the cook group for today. We did scrambled eggs but for some reason they came out green. And baked beans. Nothing too difficult. Rachael took our tent on her own as I had to cook. Then we all loaded into the truck for the four hour ride to Volubolis, the site of the ancient roman ruins. Had lunch at the truck again (more spam and bread), and then a guided tour of the ruins. Some people couldn't make it as they had already become sick - possibly from the lack of hygiene available to us. Was extremely hot walking around the site which had almost no shade, I estimated about 35 - 39C. Angela got heat stroke and others with vomiting. My camera stopped working I think due to the heat.
Volubolis was estimated at a population of 30-40,000 people at it's height. The Arch de Triumph still stands in almost perfect condition. Many beautiful in-laid tilings on the floors of houses which were still in their original condition. Enormous courtyards acted as light and ventilation with evidence of fountains and fish-ponds in the centre of the larger houses. We saw a brothel, complete with giant penis statue in the centre. The public loos boasted a vomitorium, where you could go to throw up during a feast so you could fit more in. A line of oval-shaped loos were used by the men so they could sit together and chat (in lieu of a good newspaper)? All the run-off carefully circumnavigated the enormous olive presses below. A truly fascinating insight into ancient roman life. Just like Discovery channel, only in 3D!!
Back on the truck and into Fes, where we set up camp for the evening. One the way, we stopped to get ingredients for dinner. It was an enormous 'cash and carry' supermarket, with everything in bulk. Only our group was allowed in to do the shopping so we felt very lucky as we all got a chance to stock up on things like toothpaste and soap that we were running out of. We bought ingredients for hamburgers, guacamole and coleslaw.
Back at camp, Julie and I made the hamburgers - I put tomato sauce, worchestire sauce, eggs, salt, pepper and spices and then coated in cornflour and fried in oil on the gas hobbs. Took ages to make enough for 20 hungry people. Dion made an excellent coleslaw and Gina made a huge batch of Guacamole - everyone loved it and there were no leftovers. The hamburgers were a first for me and I can't believe how good they turned out.
Volubolis was estimated at a population of 30-40,000 people at it's height. The Arch de Triumph still stands in almost perfect condition. Many beautiful in-laid tilings on the floors of houses which were still in their original condition. Enormous courtyards acted as light and ventilation with evidence of fountains and fish-ponds in the centre of the larger houses. We saw a brothel, complete with giant penis statue in the centre. The public loos boasted a vomitorium, where you could go to throw up during a feast so you could fit more in. A line of oval-shaped loos were used by the men so they could sit together and chat (in lieu of a good newspaper)? All the run-off carefully circumnavigated the enormous olive presses below. A truly fascinating insight into ancient roman life. Just like Discovery channel, only in 3D!!
Back on the truck and into Fes, where we set up camp for the evening. One the way, we stopped to get ingredients for dinner. It was an enormous 'cash and carry' supermarket, with everything in bulk. Only our group was allowed in to do the shopping so we felt very lucky as we all got a chance to stock up on things like toothpaste and soap that we were running out of. We bought ingredients for hamburgers, guacamole and coleslaw.
Back at camp, Julie and I made the hamburgers - I put tomato sauce, worchestire sauce, eggs, salt, pepper and spices and then coated in cornflour and fried in oil on the gas hobbs. Took ages to make enough for 20 hungry people. Dion made an excellent coleslaw and Gina made a huge batch of Guacamole - everyone loved it and there were no leftovers. The hamburgers were a first for me and I can't believe how good they turned out.
Monday 18th August - Trekking through Kif in the Rif Mountains
Early breakfast at 6.30am and then away in the truck, headed up to the Rif Mountains for an hour or so. Stopped at a tiny village and our guide, Mohammad, led us into the Marujuana filled mountains, an area of Morocco where they grow, sell and use a lot of pot, legally. Smoking pot starts young and is a way of life here. We pass acres and acres of it growing. Also olive groves, plum trees, and fig trees which Mohammad clambers up like a monkey and choosing only the purplyist and ripest of figs, selects one for each of us to try. So yummy!!
After three hours walking, we arrived at the most glorious river - so clear you could see right to the bottom. It was an emerald green colour and surrounded on either bank with pink rhodedendrun blossoms... it was such an amazing sight I just wished I could bottle and take it home, but I had to be content with just photos. Some of the girls (including me) stopped for a long swim and sunbathe on the rocks while the rest carried on up to the waterfall where it was a lot colder for swimming.
Starving after our swim, we hiked back for a truck camp lunch of bread, spam, tomatoes and cucumbers. Back at camp we all dragged our stretchers into the opening in the middle of the tents and catught up on our diaries for the afternoon. I did some much needed hand-washing, only losing one sock down the drain in the process. Had a faily decent shower, though cold.
Pack seems to get in complete disarray every day, despite my best efforts to keep it sorted out. My new favourite pass-time is now re-organising it. This then confuses me as to where I have put everything and creates the perfect challange for the morning when I play the 'in which bag is my clean underwear?' game. This has been the replacement for Discovery Channel every evening. Instead, I now 'discover' all the things in my pack that I should not have brought with me, the stupidist items being one pair of stilletto heels, with the Giant Mosquito Net following as a close second. Have yet to see a single mossie in Europe and obviously that story the guy in the camping shop in Covent Garden spun me about there being swarms of mossies coming up from Africa and migrating to Europe was a load of shit!
After three hours walking, we arrived at the most glorious river - so clear you could see right to the bottom. It was an emerald green colour and surrounded on either bank with pink rhodedendrun blossoms... it was such an amazing sight I just wished I could bottle and take it home, but I had to be content with just photos. Some of the girls (including me) stopped for a long swim and sunbathe on the rocks while the rest carried on up to the waterfall where it was a lot colder for swimming.
Starving after our swim, we hiked back for a truck camp lunch of bread, spam, tomatoes and cucumbers. Back at camp we all dragged our stretchers into the opening in the middle of the tents and catught up on our diaries for the afternoon. I did some much needed hand-washing, only losing one sock down the drain in the process. Had a faily decent shower, though cold.
Pack seems to get in complete disarray every day, despite my best efforts to keep it sorted out. My new favourite pass-time is now re-organising it. This then confuses me as to where I have put everything and creates the perfect challange for the morning when I play the 'in which bag is my clean underwear?' game. This has been the replacement for Discovery Channel every evening. Instead, I now 'discover' all the things in my pack that I should not have brought with me, the stupidist items being one pair of stilletto heels, with the Giant Mosquito Net following as a close second. Have yet to see a single mossie in Europe and obviously that story the guy in the camping shop in Covent Garden spun me about there being swarms of mossies coming up from Africa and migrating to Europe was a load of shit!
Monday, September 08, 2003
Sunday August 17th - Chefchauon Medina and Bulk Blanket Buying
Up at 7.30 for breakfast by the truck. It's a dusty orange 4x4 open-sided, no seatbelted, beer-stocked, dodgy-80's cassette taped collection, very-breezy-at-the-back truck-mobile. We stock all the backpacks under the seats and Brendan and Rachel take us through the trucks many mysteries - the back and sides open out and store in them all the ingredients for the cooking - baskets of vegetables and all the basics, a gas-top table, a large table for preparing food, as well as all the cutlery and utensils. Also 20 fold-down chairs and 4 large canisters for water and all the purification stuff we will need. It is all of dubious cleanliness and I hope I can cope with the dirt. I have to shut my eyes at all the dust over everything and pray I don't get sick.
Inside the truck we also have a buzzer through to Brendan where one buzz means toilet stop, two buzzes mean photo stop and three buzzes mean Stop! Emergency!! We sit 10 either side and it's a tight fit but at least everyone gets a window seat!
We drove up the coast, past ancient ruins on the beaches. We climb up into the Rif mountains, where we are assured that masses of marajuana are farmed and that we will get to see it all. Very scenic all the way up adn lots of chatting and getting to know each other. Around lunchtime we arrived at a dam where we climbed down the hill, got stung by bees and had a swim in the lake. The bottom was muddy and very sqidgy between the toes. We girls considered getting some for clay masques later on but decided against it...
Lunched on bread rolls filled with canned meat, tomatoes and cucumber. This was to become our standard lunch for the week, with sometimes corn and tuna if we were lucky.
In the late afternoon, we eventually arrive at the camping ground outside of the picturesque Chefchaoun. After a tent constuction demonstration, we spend the next hour banging mallots into the hard rocky ground with much effort. It's luxury camping - we have showers (cold) in a nearby shower block. We are also provided with stretchers (of sorts), so we don't have to sleep on the ground. One blanket each - although some nights it got chilly as we neared the desert. The tents only just fit two stretchers and no standing room. All I could think about is Japanese camping where they have so many mod-cons it's more like bringing along your home than anything else. Oh well - I resign myself to this an try to remember as much of my Girl Guiding days as I can. Unfortunately I can't remember how to tie knots but we seem to cope ok.
We then took a pre-dinner walk through the gorgeous streets of the Chefchaoun and into it's medina (old city centre). Settled by the Greeks the Jews and the Arabs at different times the facades to the buildings are a mixture of white and pale-blue. Got some great pictures and in the process also got lost from the rest of the group. Deon and I were at the back of the group and we'd spotted the most beautiful street and got all caught up snapping the grapes vines hanging between the tiny streets... we looked up and everyone had moved on. Now, if you ever been lost in a maze and tried to find your way out, you'll know what kind of trouble we were in. Treble the difficulty level and then add me. In a panic. Not good.
An hour and half later, Brendan, (who'd been sent by Rachel on a rescue mission), found us. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life! Ever! We eventually made it to "The Blanket Shop" where everyone was waiting. A small shop that we all only just managed to squeeze into. After a demonstration of the most beautifully soft blankets and covers (and some unashamed bribery with some fantastic mint-tea and enormous home-made coconut and nut biscuits that I still want the recipe for), we all procedded to spend spend spend. I got all my Christmas presents though... have no idea how I was to lug it all back to Spain to send it home but figured I would think about that when the time came.
Inside the truck we also have a buzzer through to Brendan where one buzz means toilet stop, two buzzes mean photo stop and three buzzes mean Stop! Emergency!! We sit 10 either side and it's a tight fit but at least everyone gets a window seat!
We drove up the coast, past ancient ruins on the beaches. We climb up into the Rif mountains, where we are assured that masses of marajuana are farmed and that we will get to see it all. Very scenic all the way up adn lots of chatting and getting to know each other. Around lunchtime we arrived at a dam where we climbed down the hill, got stung by bees and had a swim in the lake. The bottom was muddy and very sqidgy between the toes. We girls considered getting some for clay masques later on but decided against it...
Lunched on bread rolls filled with canned meat, tomatoes and cucumber. This was to become our standard lunch for the week, with sometimes corn and tuna if we were lucky.
In the late afternoon, we eventually arrive at the camping ground outside of the picturesque Chefchaoun. After a tent constuction demonstration, we spend the next hour banging mallots into the hard rocky ground with much effort. It's luxury camping - we have showers (cold) in a nearby shower block. We are also provided with stretchers (of sorts), so we don't have to sleep on the ground. One blanket each - although some nights it got chilly as we neared the desert. The tents only just fit two stretchers and no standing room. All I could think about is Japanese camping where they have so many mod-cons it's more like bringing along your home than anything else. Oh well - I resign myself to this an try to remember as much of my Girl Guiding days as I can. Unfortunately I can't remember how to tie knots but we seem to cope ok.
We then took a pre-dinner walk through the gorgeous streets of the Chefchaoun and into it's medina (old city centre). Settled by the Greeks the Jews and the Arabs at different times the facades to the buildings are a mixture of white and pale-blue. Got some great pictures and in the process also got lost from the rest of the group. Deon and I were at the back of the group and we'd spotted the most beautiful street and got all caught up snapping the grapes vines hanging between the tiny streets... we looked up and everyone had moved on. Now, if you ever been lost in a maze and tried to find your way out, you'll know what kind of trouble we were in. Treble the difficulty level and then add me. In a panic. Not good.
An hour and half later, Brendan, (who'd been sent by Rachel on a rescue mission), found us. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life! Ever! We eventually made it to "The Blanket Shop" where everyone was waiting. A small shop that we all only just managed to squeeze into. After a demonstration of the most beautifully soft blankets and covers (and some unashamed bribery with some fantastic mint-tea and enormous home-made coconut and nut biscuits that I still want the recipe for), we all procedded to spend spend spend. I got all my Christmas presents though... have no idea how I was to lug it all back to Spain to send it home but figured I would think about that when the time came.
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Satruday 16th August - MOROCCO
Tangiers
Quite a few people together on the ferry going over to Tangiers. Cool couple Mace (NZ) and Amanda (Aus). They've been cracking us up with stories of Mace's Diabetic nightmares (he's type A so qyite serious if he goes too low on insulin) - force-feeding him Mar's Bars etc.... Also Rachael, who is from Brisbane - very nice girl. A few more kiwi's, lots of Aussies and a few Canadians.
Get off the boat and walked the 300m to the Marco Polo office where they'd told us to go. They arranged taxis for us to the hotel - the only night we stay at a hotel for this trip. 5 of us crammed into a taxi for three, plus packs, for a fairly crazy ride through the streets of Tangier. Lots of noise and dust and very hot.
Rooming with Rachael which I am happy about. Spent the afternoon lazing by the pool and waiting for the 6pm meeting when we meet our group leader and driver.
6pm rolled around and we all met in the hotel lobby for our first group meeting. Our leader is Rachel (another Rachel - there were two Laurens, two Rachels and two Angela's in the group of 21 of us - very confusing!!).
Rachel took us through the lowdown for the week and we also met Brendan, the driver, a 26 year old hard-core guy from Perth. We filled in all the necessary forms and produced confirmation of insurance. The trip, as we'd been told, was a camping trip and we would all be put into groups to do the chores - water, cooking, dishes and truck clean.
A fairly sleepless night on beds that I think were specially imported from a Communist Russian hotel and up early for breakfast the next morning at the truck.
Quite a few people together on the ferry going over to Tangiers. Cool couple Mace (NZ) and Amanda (Aus). They've been cracking us up with stories of Mace's Diabetic nightmares (he's type A so qyite serious if he goes too low on insulin) - force-feeding him Mar's Bars etc.... Also Rachael, who is from Brisbane - very nice girl. A few more kiwi's, lots of Aussies and a few Canadians.
Get off the boat and walked the 300m to the Marco Polo office where they'd told us to go. They arranged taxis for us to the hotel - the only night we stay at a hotel for this trip. 5 of us crammed into a taxi for three, plus packs, for a fairly crazy ride through the streets of Tangier. Lots of noise and dust and very hot.
Rooming with Rachael which I am happy about. Spent the afternoon lazing by the pool and waiting for the 6pm meeting when we meet our group leader and driver.
6pm rolled around and we all met in the hotel lobby for our first group meeting. Our leader is Rachel (another Rachel - there were two Laurens, two Rachels and two Angela's in the group of 21 of us - very confusing!!).
Rachel took us through the lowdown for the week and we also met Brendan, the driver, a 26 year old hard-core guy from Perth. We filled in all the necessary forms and produced confirmation of insurance. The trip, as we'd been told, was a camping trip and we would all be put into groups to do the chores - water, cooking, dishes and truck clean.
A fairly sleepless night on beds that I think were specially imported from a Communist Russian hotel and up early for breakfast the next morning at the truck.
Friday 15th - Gibraltar
Now, for those of you that don't know, because I didn't and it's probably one of those Trivial Pursuit questions you can never answer and think you'd be some much cleverer if you could answer, Gibralter is basically just a great big enormous rock about 300m high, sticking up out of the water, attached by a thin strip of land, to the very Southern most tip of Spain. It's very close to Northern Africa (Morocco), and, (this is the bit I find fascinating), came about when the two continents divided millions of years ago and Africa literally pushed this huge piece of rock up out of the bottom the sea. You can still see sea-shell fossils at the top of the rock. Isn't that cool?
So anyway, Danni, Emma and I got the morning bus to La Linia, which is where you stay in Spain if you want to go for a day to Gibralter. Got a hotel there and got over the border about 12.00, (immigration closed for siesta so a quick passport flashed seemed to suffice). Just in time for a lunch of (pretty average) fish and chips.
There were loads of Brits going over the border from Costa for their 5 quid bottles of vodka and duty free cigs en masse. The originally titled "Main Street" was a log like shopping at an airport... perfume, makeup, sunflasses, big brand names. I wanted to see the caves which I had heard were very good so decided to do a rock tour. Broke the budget a bit, but in 35C heat you'd have to have been psychotic to climb the rock yourself.
Gibralter belongs to the UK 'in perpetuem', meaning they don't have to give it back like they did HK. How it came about belonging to the UK is a story I learnt when I took the tour. The driver/guide was a fountain of information and I was fascinated how this tiny piece of land could have so much history. I've probably got it all wrong but bits pieces go something like this:
First stop was the beautiful St Michael's stallectite and stallectmite limestone caves. They were enormous. One Stallectite? Stallecmite?, had fallen and they'd cut a cross-section and it was like marble. They could even tell how old it was from it's rings, just like a tree trunk. Also, when the caves were discovered years ago, they'd found a human skull that they did not identify as Neanderthal until a similar skull was found several years later in Africa. I thought that was pretty cool trivia. Just like Discovery channel, only in 3D.
Further up the rock, we stopped to see the monkeys (Barbery Apes). Sir Winston Churchill, on his visit to Gib once, famously said that if the monkeys were ever to leave the rock, so would the British. Since then they've been protected and there are about 300 of the smelly things all trying to steal your camera.
Next stop we went to the Great Seige Tunnels. These are a huge set of winding tunnels cut right into the centre of the rock by the British Army during WW1 during the British Invasions. Also very impressive as all cut by hand.
A great tour, ended with our driver telling us to look out for him in "The Living Daylights" as 1) the man at the opening scene getting shot, 2) the man at another opening scene getting shot, and 3) the man at the fruit stall running to get out of the way of more shots. He was quite a character actually - would have liked to have a beer with him but he was a but old for me.
Then spent the next few hours looking for the perfect pair of Gucci sunglasses that I bargained down the price of and am very proud of. I have a bet with myself that I can't make them last a whole year without sitting on them, breaking them, losing them or scratching them. I really hope I lose.
So anyway, Danni, Emma and I got the morning bus to La Linia, which is where you stay in Spain if you want to go for a day to Gibralter. Got a hotel there and got over the border about 12.00, (immigration closed for siesta so a quick passport flashed seemed to suffice). Just in time for a lunch of (pretty average) fish and chips.
There were loads of Brits going over the border from Costa for their 5 quid bottles of vodka and duty free cigs en masse. The originally titled "Main Street" was a log like shopping at an airport... perfume, makeup, sunflasses, big brand names. I wanted to see the caves which I had heard were very good so decided to do a rock tour. Broke the budget a bit, but in 35C heat you'd have to have been psychotic to climb the rock yourself.
Gibralter belongs to the UK 'in perpetuem', meaning they don't have to give it back like they did HK. How it came about belonging to the UK is a story I learnt when I took the tour. The driver/guide was a fountain of information and I was fascinated how this tiny piece of land could have so much history. I've probably got it all wrong but bits pieces go something like this:
First stop was the beautiful St Michael's stallectite and stallectmite limestone caves. They were enormous. One Stallectite? Stallecmite?, had fallen and they'd cut a cross-section and it was like marble. They could even tell how old it was from it's rings, just like a tree trunk. Also, when the caves were discovered years ago, they'd found a human skull that they did not identify as Neanderthal until a similar skull was found several years later in Africa. I thought that was pretty cool trivia. Just like Discovery channel, only in 3D.
Further up the rock, we stopped to see the monkeys (Barbery Apes). Sir Winston Churchill, on his visit to Gib once, famously said that if the monkeys were ever to leave the rock, so would the British. Since then they've been protected and there are about 300 of the smelly things all trying to steal your camera.
Next stop we went to the Great Seige Tunnels. These are a huge set of winding tunnels cut right into the centre of the rock by the British Army during WW1 during the British Invasions. Also very impressive as all cut by hand.
A great tour, ended with our driver telling us to look out for him in "The Living Daylights" as 1) the man at the opening scene getting shot, 2) the man at another opening scene getting shot, and 3) the man at the fruit stall running to get out of the way of more shots. He was quite a character actually - would have liked to have a beer with him but he was a but old for me.
Then spent the next few hours looking for the perfect pair of Gucci sunglasses that I bargained down the price of and am very proud of. I have a bet with myself that I can't make them last a whole year without sitting on them, breaking them, losing them or scratching them. I really hope I lose.
Tuesday 12th - Madrid and Costa del Sol
Two full days on the coach and a night in Madrid. Fairly uneventful. Beautiful scenery coming into Valencia - plenty of orange groves and fresh-squeezed orange juice everywhere. We also had a good guide on the coach who was very informative about the areas we passed through. Tapas for dinner in Madrid with two girls in my room, both also solo travellers, both from Canada. Katie, 22, had been to Ibiza and spent €1000 in two weeks! Apparnatly the clubs are between €60-80 to get into, then the drinks cost from €10. Ouch. That´s more than we pay in Tokyo and we´d never pay a cover charge. Loads of drugs and a huge club scene there with the hard-core rave music and ´world-famous´ DJ´s I´ve never heard of. Call me old and boring, but not my scene at all so glad I never got a ticket to go there.
Only one night in Madrid, but to be honest, I´m not a huge fan of museums. I am figuring out that I much prefer all the smaller towns to the big cities.
Costa del Sol in the Andalucia region of southern Spain. Turned out to be the best hotel yet, with AIR CONDITIONING in the hotel and was also right on a small pretty beach overlooking Gibraltar, but still away from the hoardes of English tourists. Sharing a room with a couple Danny and Emma (both 24), from Adelaide. Literally nothing to do in this tiny town expect eat and lie on the beach. First night we went over the road to a great Indian restaurant. We also had ´happy hour´ at the hostel restaurant; 3 home-made Sangria´s for €3 - bargain! Had a few of these too. :-)
I was at the beach by 10.00am, leaving everyone else asleep in bed... I can´t waste all this glorious sunlight. A full two hours before I saw anyone from the Busabout crowd. Caught up on some much needed sun bathing for the entire day, hanging around the beach swimming, (lunch at the Indian restaurant again ´cause it was so good), and generally just doing lots of nothing. Met a lovely woman from Gibraltar, Jenny, (she called it Gib´), and we chatted for hours about things whilst out in the water on her lilo. She was half-Spanish-half-English, with a Spanish husband. There were also loads of the most adorable kids from around Britain, between the ages of about 6 and 13. We sent them all off to collect sea-shells for us. Then they spent a couple of hours telling us what they aspired to be when they grew up - actors, midwives, vets... They were all either related to each other somehow or had been coming to this beach in Spain every year since they were born so all knew each other. I know I'm getting all clucky here but it was so refreshing to chat to kids instead of adults all the time.
Finally left the beach around 7pm, a little redder but very happy. Showered and Sangriad, I was very good and had a nice greek salad for dinner with Gazpacho. It still wasn't a patch on my Aunty Mavis' gazpacho though. I still want that recipe please Mavis!! Martha Stuart did one once but it was so complicated and must have had 50 ingredients. Stuff that.
Anyway, I digress. Over dinner I met some of the girls who were booked on the same Morocco trip as me. Lots of Aussies (mostly girls) and travelling on their own or in pairs. Lots of school teachers working in London on their holidays.
Totally psyched about Morocco, but decided to have a wee slice of the UK before going there and made plans to go to Gibralter the next day for a day trip.
Only one night in Madrid, but to be honest, I´m not a huge fan of museums. I am figuring out that I much prefer all the smaller towns to the big cities.
Costa del Sol in the Andalucia region of southern Spain. Turned out to be the best hotel yet, with AIR CONDITIONING in the hotel and was also right on a small pretty beach overlooking Gibraltar, but still away from the hoardes of English tourists. Sharing a room with a couple Danny and Emma (both 24), from Adelaide. Literally nothing to do in this tiny town expect eat and lie on the beach. First night we went over the road to a great Indian restaurant. We also had ´happy hour´ at the hostel restaurant; 3 home-made Sangria´s for €3 - bargain! Had a few of these too. :-)
I was at the beach by 10.00am, leaving everyone else asleep in bed... I can´t waste all this glorious sunlight. A full two hours before I saw anyone from the Busabout crowd. Caught up on some much needed sun bathing for the entire day, hanging around the beach swimming, (lunch at the Indian restaurant again ´cause it was so good), and generally just doing lots of nothing. Met a lovely woman from Gibraltar, Jenny, (she called it Gib´), and we chatted for hours about things whilst out in the water on her lilo. She was half-Spanish-half-English, with a Spanish husband. There were also loads of the most adorable kids from around Britain, between the ages of about 6 and 13. We sent them all off to collect sea-shells for us. Then they spent a couple of hours telling us what they aspired to be when they grew up - actors, midwives, vets... They were all either related to each other somehow or had been coming to this beach in Spain every year since they were born so all knew each other. I know I'm getting all clucky here but it was so refreshing to chat to kids instead of adults all the time.
Finally left the beach around 7pm, a little redder but very happy. Showered and Sangriad, I was very good and had a nice greek salad for dinner with Gazpacho. It still wasn't a patch on my Aunty Mavis' gazpacho though. I still want that recipe please Mavis!! Martha Stuart did one once but it was so complicated and must have had 50 ingredients. Stuff that.
Anyway, I digress. Over dinner I met some of the girls who were booked on the same Morocco trip as me. Lots of Aussies (mostly girls) and travelling on their own or in pairs. Lots of school teachers working in London on their holidays.
Totally psyched about Morocco, but decided to have a wee slice of the UK before going there and made plans to go to Gibralter the next day for a day trip.
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
One Day in Barcelona
Barcelona was HOT!!
But still we managed to get a lot done. After sucessfully ditching Brett in the morning, by getting up really early and sneaking off, ( and no, I don´t feel the slightest bit guilty about this - if you had met this guy you would understand), Belinda and I went in search of American Express. Metro´s proved the best bet and we eventually found it about 12.00. Turns out I´m the only person in Europe with a Citibank account which doens´t work in ANY ATM, and travellers cheques that they want 6% commission to exchange! So am having to exchange a lot at once and take the cash... not the best solution but I don´t have a lot of choice. Belinda was a total star in helping me find the Amex office. Huge thank you to Belinda!!
Then we went to the Olympic Center which I think they built specifically for the Games in 2000, or added to it substantially or something. Cable car to the top of the hill, but in this heat, we just couldn´t stay long. The heat wave not looking like it was going to pass any time soon. Coveted every fountain we came across. Competely useless Information Center in the centre of the park on the hill, and, after about an hour of fruitless wandering amongst some statues and a few trees, decided it was all a bit dull. Walked back down the hill for another 40 minutes into town and back onto the wonderfully air-conditioned metros. Breifly considered riding the Metros all day until the sun went down, but then came to our senses and braved the heat once more. This time headed for the famous Gaudi park - Parc Guell. Temperature guages everywhere all giving different readings, ranging from 32C to 49C. All I know it was HOT HOT HOT!!.
A MAJOR trek getting up the hill to the park. Almost didn´t make it and had a sense of humour failure half way there as we passed sign after sign assuring us the park was only another 800m. Tried to convice Belinda we should get a bus, but she was a complete masochist and made me walk the whole way there. Sweated 5kg of body weight getting up the hill, and arrived at the park a greasy, sweaty mess. Gotta love backpacking! As you read this sitting in your air-conditioned offices, laden down with work to do, don´t think I´m having fun all the time OK??!
Anyway, Parc Guell was pretty cool. Guadi was in favour of curvy lines and pastels. No sharp contours or boring colours for him. A welcome break and had some fruit and water for lunch in the kiddies playground. Wasn´t at all what I expected - not many large trees and no grass at all, but instead, lots of coloured concrete and frescoes, statues and beautiful tiles.
Completely knackered, but Belinda informed me we had hours of sunlight to go and lots of things to see yet! Stopping only for an over-priced ice-block, it was another long hot walk back to the station. This time, we headed back into town via Metro to see Gaudi´s 8-spìre Cathedral that he designed, but did not complete. Much scaffolding around it so hard to make out squinting into the sunlight, but still impressive. Mum has since informed me that the leading architect working on the completion is a kiwi. It´s due to be finished in 2020.
Then, Belinda and I bought some cheese and wine and WALKED AGAIN, only just barely making it, all the way back down the La Rumbla, and back to the hostel. Arriving around 9.00pm we caught the last of the sunset at the beach (hostel right on the beach front), and sat for the most well-deserved break ever. Belinda got chatted up by some locals; one of which was really trying to crack on to her. I watched the moon come up and thought of all my friends back in Tokyo who I miss so much :-(
But still we managed to get a lot done. After sucessfully ditching Brett in the morning, by getting up really early and sneaking off, ( and no, I don´t feel the slightest bit guilty about this - if you had met this guy you would understand), Belinda and I went in search of American Express. Metro´s proved the best bet and we eventually found it about 12.00. Turns out I´m the only person in Europe with a Citibank account which doens´t work in ANY ATM, and travellers cheques that they want 6% commission to exchange! So am having to exchange a lot at once and take the cash... not the best solution but I don´t have a lot of choice. Belinda was a total star in helping me find the Amex office. Huge thank you to Belinda!!
Then we went to the Olympic Center which I think they built specifically for the Games in 2000, or added to it substantially or something. Cable car to the top of the hill, but in this heat, we just couldn´t stay long. The heat wave not looking like it was going to pass any time soon. Coveted every fountain we came across. Competely useless Information Center in the centre of the park on the hill, and, after about an hour of fruitless wandering amongst some statues and a few trees, decided it was all a bit dull. Walked back down the hill for another 40 minutes into town and back onto the wonderfully air-conditioned metros. Breifly considered riding the Metros all day until the sun went down, but then came to our senses and braved the heat once more. This time headed for the famous Gaudi park - Parc Guell. Temperature guages everywhere all giving different readings, ranging from 32C to 49C. All I know it was HOT HOT HOT!!.
A MAJOR trek getting up the hill to the park. Almost didn´t make it and had a sense of humour failure half way there as we passed sign after sign assuring us the park was only another 800m. Tried to convice Belinda we should get a bus, but she was a complete masochist and made me walk the whole way there. Sweated 5kg of body weight getting up the hill, and arrived at the park a greasy, sweaty mess. Gotta love backpacking! As you read this sitting in your air-conditioned offices, laden down with work to do, don´t think I´m having fun all the time OK??!
Anyway, Parc Guell was pretty cool. Guadi was in favour of curvy lines and pastels. No sharp contours or boring colours for him. A welcome break and had some fruit and water for lunch in the kiddies playground. Wasn´t at all what I expected - not many large trees and no grass at all, but instead, lots of coloured concrete and frescoes, statues and beautiful tiles.
Completely knackered, but Belinda informed me we had hours of sunlight to go and lots of things to see yet! Stopping only for an over-priced ice-block, it was another long hot walk back to the station. This time, we headed back into town via Metro to see Gaudi´s 8-spìre Cathedral that he designed, but did not complete. Much scaffolding around it so hard to make out squinting into the sunlight, but still impressive. Mum has since informed me that the leading architect working on the completion is a kiwi. It´s due to be finished in 2020.
Then, Belinda and I bought some cheese and wine and WALKED AGAIN, only just barely making it, all the way back down the La Rumbla, and back to the hostel. Arriving around 9.00pm we caught the last of the sunset at the beach (hostel right on the beach front), and sat for the most well-deserved break ever. Belinda got chatted up by some locals; one of which was really trying to crack on to her. I watched the moon come up and thought of all my friends back in Tokyo who I miss so much :-(
Monday, August 11, 2003
San Seb to Barcelona
The last two evenings in San Sebastian a NIGHTMARE. Everyone I met had raved about this place but Oh My God I'ts Awful. The new place we got put at turned out to be right in the centre of town. All the streets in San Seb are very tighly packed and narrow, with tall apartment blocks very close to each other. At street level, the bars come alive. For those of you in Tokyo, imagine living on the floor above 911, Propaganda and the Irish Bar over the road I forget the name of right now, on St Patricks Day and the day of Japan winning the World Cup. With the window open. In 34C heat. Tres Impossible.
I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if the only company I had wasn't The Man With No Personality Who Didn't Drink. At least then we could have gone out and had a few drinks and got some sleep. But No. It was a case of the lesser of two evils what with the window closed and no ventilation or the window open and some ventilation but the noise to keep you awake. Drunk men karaoking at the top of their lungs, guys vomiting all over the show, girls squeeling and screaming. It was two of the worst nights ever. I think also it was some kind of Fiesta evening which we didn't know about. Finally, after several hours of induced wakefulness, got to sleep about 5am and on the third day we had to get the bus at 7.45. I was pretty glad to be leaving though!
The San Seb council has this whole routine down pat. Around 6am the bottle cleaners come past and all you hear is the loud crashing of bottles into enormous metal containers. Then they wash down all the streets so the smell of urine and becomes somewhat dissapated. Then the sweep everything clean and by 9am when the tourists wake up again you'd never know what had happened the night before. I suppose if I were 10 years younger I'd think it was just great.
Arrived in Barcelona after an 8-hour bus ride (sans Brett in a different seat finally). Met a great Aussie girl on the bus (Belinda), and we have today conspired to try to lose Boring Brett once and for all. After my tales of what he does all day (hacking and spitting and following you around), she agrees with me that he has to go.
Took a walk with Belinda (Brett in tow) up the main touristy street La Rumbla, last night, before stopping for some Sangria and Tapas. Too expensive to stay there long, and we meandered around the Old Quarter. Lots of people out enjoying the balmy Sunday evening at a cool 42C. Many things to see - street performers, human statues, and one woman who was crouched in a refridgerator and when I took her picture and gave her some change, she ´sneezed´ so hard I jumped out of my skin and couldn´t breath for several seconds and then almost had a delayed-reaction heart attack. Nightmare. I think I got a good picture though!
Anyway, up early today (well 8.00 early), and off out to see some of Gaudi´s parks and arcitecture around the city. Will stop back at the hostel which is right on the beach, for some more sunbathing.
I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if the only company I had wasn't The Man With No Personality Who Didn't Drink. At least then we could have gone out and had a few drinks and got some sleep. But No. It was a case of the lesser of two evils what with the window closed and no ventilation or the window open and some ventilation but the noise to keep you awake. Drunk men karaoking at the top of their lungs, guys vomiting all over the show, girls squeeling and screaming. It was two of the worst nights ever. I think also it was some kind of Fiesta evening which we didn't know about. Finally, after several hours of induced wakefulness, got to sleep about 5am and on the third day we had to get the bus at 7.45. I was pretty glad to be leaving though!
The San Seb council has this whole routine down pat. Around 6am the bottle cleaners come past and all you hear is the loud crashing of bottles into enormous metal containers. Then they wash down all the streets so the smell of urine and becomes somewhat dissapated. Then the sweep everything clean and by 9am when the tourists wake up again you'd never know what had happened the night before. I suppose if I were 10 years younger I'd think it was just great.
Arrived in Barcelona after an 8-hour bus ride (sans Brett in a different seat finally). Met a great Aussie girl on the bus (Belinda), and we have today conspired to try to lose Boring Brett once and for all. After my tales of what he does all day (hacking and spitting and following you around), she agrees with me that he has to go.
Took a walk with Belinda (Brett in tow) up the main touristy street La Rumbla, last night, before stopping for some Sangria and Tapas. Too expensive to stay there long, and we meandered around the Old Quarter. Lots of people out enjoying the balmy Sunday evening at a cool 42C. Many things to see - street performers, human statues, and one woman who was crouched in a refridgerator and when I took her picture and gave her some change, she ´sneezed´ so hard I jumped out of my skin and couldn´t breath for several seconds and then almost had a delayed-reaction heart attack. Nightmare. I think I got a good picture though!
Anyway, up early today (well 8.00 early), and off out to see some of Gaudi´s parks and arcitecture around the city. Will stop back at the hostel which is right on the beach, for some more sunbathing.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
SPAIN - San Sebastian
HOLA! Este es Español - por favor? Mi casa su casa? Por favor. Mui Bien.
That´s the extent of my Spanish..... only studied for two weeks at University before giving up... I know - I am a total embarrasment to myself.
Came to the gorgeous San Sebastian in Spain arriving about 8.00 last night. Now the Busabout people think Brett and I are an item so still stuck with him. Am really craving some girly company - I don´t think I can take the burping and farting much longer. Got put in the world's smallest hostel room (actually a pension in what we think is a bachelor pad). Brett had the top bunk, me the bottom and two sisters from London the double bed. There was about a foot of space around the double bed, and not much else. Showered and all went out for a lovely Paella dinner. Girls left on the bus first thing this morning, but that was on three hours sleep as we'd all gone out clubbing last night. Drinking very yummy Sangrias and feeling like everyones mother - -getting my bun pinched by the locals but they were all so young.... it was quite tedious.
San Sebastian is packed with tourists. There are two beaches which I went to today. Think it only got up to about 37C or so today, and the sun here is definately less harsh than back home. I put 45 on all over, and lay on the beach for a couple of hours this afternoon. Even so, I would never ever have gotten away with that in NZ - I didn't even go a little bit brown and my Siberian Suntan is starting to wear off! Everyone here is majory tanned but I can´t figure out why. Maybe it´s because they all shut down shop for four hours every afternoon and take their siesta on the beach? Great life huh? Can you imagine doing that back home?
Wandered around the ancient streets today and had a late lunch of Gazpacho and salad, and more sangria. :-)
Off to a Tapas bar with Whiny Brett now - we had to change rooms again this morning so it's just me and him again...
That´s the extent of my Spanish..... only studied for two weeks at University before giving up... I know - I am a total embarrasment to myself.
Came to the gorgeous San Sebastian in Spain arriving about 8.00 last night. Now the Busabout people think Brett and I are an item so still stuck with him. Am really craving some girly company - I don´t think I can take the burping and farting much longer. Got put in the world's smallest hostel room (actually a pension in what we think is a bachelor pad). Brett had the top bunk, me the bottom and two sisters from London the double bed. There was about a foot of space around the double bed, and not much else. Showered and all went out for a lovely Paella dinner. Girls left on the bus first thing this morning, but that was on three hours sleep as we'd all gone out clubbing last night. Drinking very yummy Sangrias and feeling like everyones mother - -getting my bun pinched by the locals but they were all so young.... it was quite tedious.
San Sebastian is packed with tourists. There are two beaches which I went to today. Think it only got up to about 37C or so today, and the sun here is definately less harsh than back home. I put 45 on all over, and lay on the beach for a couple of hours this afternoon. Even so, I would never ever have gotten away with that in NZ - I didn't even go a little bit brown and my Siberian Suntan is starting to wear off! Everyone here is majory tanned but I can´t figure out why. Maybe it´s because they all shut down shop for four hours every afternoon and take their siesta on the beach? Great life huh? Can you imagine doing that back home?
Wandered around the ancient streets today and had a late lunch of Gazpacho and salad, and more sangria. :-)
Off to a Tapas bar with Whiny Brett now - we had to change rooms again this morning so it's just me and him again...
Bordeaux
IT'S HOT!!!!
Bordeaux is hotter than Tours, and not much breeze as it is a little bit inland from the Ocean. Spent two days walking around the (quite pretty) town, cancelling my credit card which I'd managed to lose in Tours at the internet cafe, and then cooling off in the fountain in the middle of town. People were using it like a swimming pool. One guy even dived in with all his clothes on - shirt, jacket, tie, socks, shoes and trousers. People were dunking their dogs in it.
Had been placed in a room with an Aussie guy - Brett (seeing a pattern here? - Maybe God is trying to tell me something???). Anyway, he seemed perfectly ok, until I realised that he never says anything at all positive and whines a lot. Aaaaaaargh. But he did help me cancel my credit card, which involved, very simply, buying a phone card, finding a phone (easier said than done when all the phone booths turn to ovens and you need an air-conditioned one in order to keep your senses), and then jotting down some notes. Also, he is very handy for map-reading so I've been keeping him on. I suck at map-reading.
We didn't do any wine tours as we had heard that they were a bif of a rip-off. But we did buy some very cheap Bordeaux and drink it by the fountain. (Well, I drank it actually - Brett doesn't drink. Have you ever heard of an Aussie that doesn't drink? I think it's quite a bad sign....)
Ten facts about the French that I have discovered:
1) French people kiss. A lot.
2) French people are a million times more polite than the Brits and I don't care how many people disagree with me. They're all wrong.
3) French people address each other as Sir or Madame and are very formal (like the Japanese).
4) It is illegal to be fat in France.
5) It is illegal to be ugly in France.
6) French food is flipping fantastic and I want to learn how to make it.
7) It has, and probably always will, remain a total mystery to me how French women stay so good looking after popping out three perfect looking children, wear white all day and keep it white, and still manage to look like they could grace the cover of Vogue.
8) French people do not gain weight even after eating three pain-a-chocolat for breakfast, a brie and pate bagette for lunch and a three-course gourmet dinner followed by a gelato ice-cream. Unfortunately I do.
9) French Fries are not served with everything, as they are in most other countries.
10) I don't think I was ever French in a former life.
Was very glad to leave Bordeaux and the heat for Spain and staying by the ocean...
Bordeaux is hotter than Tours, and not much breeze as it is a little bit inland from the Ocean. Spent two days walking around the (quite pretty) town, cancelling my credit card which I'd managed to lose in Tours at the internet cafe, and then cooling off in the fountain in the middle of town. People were using it like a swimming pool. One guy even dived in with all his clothes on - shirt, jacket, tie, socks, shoes and trousers. People were dunking their dogs in it.
Had been placed in a room with an Aussie guy - Brett (seeing a pattern here? - Maybe God is trying to tell me something???). Anyway, he seemed perfectly ok, until I realised that he never says anything at all positive and whines a lot. Aaaaaaargh. But he did help me cancel my credit card, which involved, very simply, buying a phone card, finding a phone (easier said than done when all the phone booths turn to ovens and you need an air-conditioned one in order to keep your senses), and then jotting down some notes. Also, he is very handy for map-reading so I've been keeping him on. I suck at map-reading.
We didn't do any wine tours as we had heard that they were a bif of a rip-off. But we did buy some very cheap Bordeaux and drink it by the fountain. (Well, I drank it actually - Brett doesn't drink. Have you ever heard of an Aussie that doesn't drink? I think it's quite a bad sign....)
Ten facts about the French that I have discovered:
1) French people kiss. A lot.
2) French people are a million times more polite than the Brits and I don't care how many people disagree with me. They're all wrong.
3) French people address each other as Sir or Madame and are very formal (like the Japanese).
4) It is illegal to be fat in France.
5) It is illegal to be ugly in France.
6) French food is flipping fantastic and I want to learn how to make it.
7) It has, and probably always will, remain a total mystery to me how French women stay so good looking after popping out three perfect looking children, wear white all day and keep it white, and still manage to look like they could grace the cover of Vogue.
8) French people do not gain weight even after eating three pain-a-chocolat for breakfast, a brie and pate bagette for lunch and a three-course gourmet dinner followed by a gelato ice-cream. Unfortunately I do.
9) French Fries are not served with everything, as they are in most other countries.
10) I don't think I was ever French in a former life.
Was very glad to leave Bordeaux and the heat for Spain and staying by the ocean...