Alex's Travel Tales

Taking the inital "Next Step"

2008-12-12T17:15:00.000-08:00

I just spent the best part of four hours writing a blog about Ascot, finding the pictures to go with it, editting it and posting it only to find out from Davina that I have already written about Ascot back in June when it actually happened. Lovely. I am very switched on and up to date obviously. So actually, I have no idea what I am up to on this blog, but will wing it and see what happens.

I am writing this entry in Sydney at my Mum's house. A series of events have lead me here but I am far from certain that this is where I should actually be. I guess only time will tell.

So how did I get here? The teacher I replaced at Telferscot Primary School decided not to return to her job after her maternity leave finished. No one was surprised by this at all. Not because she wanted to spend time with her son, but rather, she told me that she was so burnt out by the time she left that she just refused to consider returning at all. Over time this seemed to be a bit of a running theme at that school. Anyway, her job was advertised and the Head Teacher asked me to apply. I wasn't so sure. It was a permanent full time position with the school (I was employed through an agency at that point) and would mean a change in Visa and sponsorship which would limit my ability to move if I wanted to. After thought and consideration I thought you only live once and I might not even get the job anyway so I put my application in. I got an interview and sat down with the panel to answer their questions. Half way through the interview the Head Teacher asked me some really odd questions which made me think that there was more going on than I realised. I have always thought that the point of the interview process was to find the best candidate for the job. If I was the best candidate for the job I should be the one who gets it regardless of what nationality I am. Obviously I have much to learn and shouldn't be so naive. I walked away from the interview in a stunned awe. Writing this now and looking back it doesn't seem so dramatic but at the time I was just amazed that this system of doing things was so...dodgy is really the only word I can think of.

Between my interview and the outcome two very sad things happened in my class that shook me to the core. One of my children brought a gun to school; he came from a very difficult home life and he had brought it to school to show off. The second instance was a boy from my class was snatched from the playground. In both instances the school brushed the situation away with very little attempt to sort out the issue. I would rather not write up the circumstances here as it probably isn't appropriate but it left me more than a little bit shocked. I went home and downed a bottle of wine.

Two days later I was offered the full time job. But by this stage I didn't think I wanted to continue at Telferscot for another 12 months so I declined.

Another contributing factor was that my lovely co-worker Fran decided to leave to travel and then teach in Australia. She is an amazing teacher and we had a blast hanging out after hours too. Since she lived three streets away we used to have lunch or dinner at each others house with no tube travel involved. With no Fran at school how would I cope? :)

By the time school had finished and I had finished up working a few days at the holiday care camp for Sammi I had boxes everywhere in various stages of packing. Being the seasoned procrastinator that I am I went to Fran's parent's place in Devon to see her hometown and eat more "Devonshire Teas".

Silly on Scilly and the great mystery of the missing brie!

2008-11-01T16:23:00.000-07:00

Back in January when I was living in Jo and Jonathon's flat in Tooting I had watched a program on TV called "An Island Parish". It was about an Anglican priest who had decided to take a left hand turn in his career path and take on a parish on the remote island of St Mary's in a group of small islands off the south west coast of England called the Isles of Scilly. Although it sounds like a Nana program it was actually very interesting, especially when his wife decides she can't take the remoteness anymore and grabs the kids and hot foots it back to the mainland leaving him alone and rather depressed (it rains a lot and to get anywhere you have to do it by boat, a problem for a priest who suffers extreme seasickness).

As Davina pulled out her map at the Godolphin pub in front of Michael St Mount I happened to notice that there was a small insert box highlighted at the bottom and lo and behold, there were the Isles of Scilly. I'm a bit of a doofus when it comes to TV, nothing seems real. I could see my own house on there and still have the sense of feeling that it was in a make believe world far, far away. So seeing the Isles of Scilly on a map was very exciting and after a quick trip to the Tourist Information centre we found out we could get to the Isles of Scilly several different ways. With nothing much else to do in Penzance and with the fire of excitement in my belly we made the decision to head further south and a little bit west to St Mary's. Next decision was, how do we actually get there?

There are 3 main forms of transport to the Isles of Scilly.

1) By ferry boat. It takes 3 hours to get there and with the slightest wind, tends to render any and all passengers green around the edges and permanently attached to the sick bag. This was the cheapest option.

2) By sea plane. This seemed the most popular form of transportation and travel time was limited to 45 minutes. It was a a small Cessna type aircraft with seating for approximately 40 people. It made 6 daily trips out to the islands and back and cost about £90.

3) By helicopter. Travel time was 25 minutes and you could fly to 4 different islands as it was not limited to the runway at the St Mary's airport. The helicopter charter company offered day trips where they would fly you out and back in one day with lunch on the island of your choice. It cost about £150. Or you could use them as a flight only and stay out on the island.

You can guess which one the budget travellers Davina and I were chose, can't you? Helicopters all the way!!!! They were large corporate helicopters, like one ones used to ferry celebrities and politicians around in. Inside was trimmed with cream leather with plush cream carpeting and an air hostess to explain the finer details of how to unfasten your seat belt when you are hanging upside down submerged in water after you crash.

Flying into Scilly, the first 15 minutes are just water views, with no land in sight at all. And then popping up over the horizon you can see a dot of green surrounded by even smaller dots. The Isles of Scilly are made up of six inhabited islands and numerous other small rocky islets (around 140 in total) lying 45 km off the coast of Land's End at the bottom of Cornwall. The four main inhabited islands are St Mary's, Tresco, St Martin's and St Agnes. Because of their global position the islands are more often than not battered by fierce rain storms, but very rarely see ice and snow. As a result they have a booming flower farming industry which supplies the mainland with flowers, especially daffodils, long before any of the flower farms up there have a chance of growing anything. Scilly has been inhabited since the Stone Age and people have been making a living off the land and the sea there ever since. Farming and fishing continue today, but the main industry now is tourism.

Davina and I caught an island taxi (someone has cleaned out an old Kombi like van and added a few extra rickety seats) into town for the hefty price of £3 each. We had booked the only remaining room on the island at a B&B (everyone's house is a B&B between May and October) and had had visions of being squished into a single bed together but were pleasantly surprised to find a room with two beds and an ensuite, even if the room tilted on a 30º angle!

As with Penzance, there is not much to do in Scilly. The shops that line the main street in Maintown (yep, that's the largest town's name) are geared towards tourists as you would expect. Davina found a fabulous dress which she later wore to Royal Ascot and I picked up a windbreaker vest to ward off the chill as it was on sale. I will probably find it too hot to wear anywhere else in the world, but it was perfect for the hike I did later on. I went up and about one of the walking tracks that took you around the main island. It was beautiful scenery and I felt something akin to the feeling I had at Nord Kapp last year, of standing on the edge of the earth and out there somewhere is a vast drop off into the unknown. I also ended up feeling sunburnt and managed to create a wonderful set of huge panda eyes where my skin had white sunglasses marks!

Around the top of one of the headland there is a nature reserve. You can open the gates and walk through it without too much hassle, but someone on the island decided to play a joke a while ago and put horses in there too. Now wild horses roam the nature reserves along with the tourist trekkers and they seem quiet and relaxed enough but I wasn't game to pat any of them. I later found out that the park ranger keeps them well fed and groomed although is reluctant to take them on officially.

For lunch Davina had her obligatory Cornish pasty as the Isles of Scilly come under the jurisdiction of the Duke of Cornwall (aka Charles, Prince of Wales) and when in Cornwall... After which we did what any self respecting traveller with time on their hands does - went to the pub for a quiet ale with the locals and a read of the well creased and dog-eared novel you carry at the bottom of your bag. Because in the end, it is at the pub that you hear the best gossip and keep up to date with the news of the town and it is also where Davina and I heard about the local quiz night being held at the pub near the wharf.

The pub near the wharf had recently (as in that day) finished it's major overhaul and refurbishment. I am not sure what it looked like before the overhaul but it was still odd looking after it. Everyone sat perched on these old and wobbly stools around tables that were equally strange looking. It added such a fabulous atmosphere to the place. A real eating adventure unlike anything I had ever done or am likely to do again.

I'm going to remember that place (even if I can't remember the name) for three very distinct reasons - 1) the fact that Davina and I scored the lowest quiz score out of everyone there and it was announced on the microphone, 2) Davina ordered a deep fried brie from the menu and when she cut into it there was no brie. Where did the brie go? and 3) there was a lady who brought her ferret to the pub for quiz night. When questioned by management about the inclusion of an animal in her party she replied "Your sign says 'No Dogs' and this is quite clearly not a dog!" Needless to say the ferret stayed. As did the dog who had been wandering in and around the tables all night without a mention or query at all.

The next day, after sleeping on an angle that night, Davina and I set sail on a tour of some of the other islands in the group. We got to see Puffins and some other different marine and bird life that flock to these islands as a safe haven. The best part however was getting close up to a seal as it ducked in and out of the combined wash of the boat and the waves that crashed up against the rocks. I have exactly 3 photographs of this water tour as it turn out my stomach and I do not agree on what is "good form" on the water. I had an excellent time and my devonshire tea lunch did not come back to haunt me later but it was touch and go there for quite some time (ok, until we got back to the wharf). But not to worry, the ice cream I had straight after sorted me out! :)

Not long after we got back to dry land we had to speed up to the airport in the island taxi again and lift off to get back to Penzance to meet my 6pm train to London Paddington (6.5hrs, ick!). Luckily I am much better in the air and on a train than I am on water!

I recommend the Isles of Scilly 100%. Going there was a spur of the moment decision based on a TV show I had seen 6 months earlier. It was wonderful walking around and seeing the places I recognised from the show and taking time out to slow down and absorb the culture of a society almost always forgot about by mainlanders. But apart from that, and the exclusiveness of the fact that not many people can say that they have walked the shores of Scilly, it felt good putting my money into an economy that so desperately needs it. More people move away from Scilly each year because of the hardship of trying to make a living there. Last year the tourist season was a write-off as the planes, boats and helicopters were grounded for the majority of summer due to weather and everyone on the islands suffered. I've been on Contiki trips and poured my money into the booming economies of Europe and Scandinavia, but this felt so much better and whilst I didn't see the big sights I did on those commercial trips, I felt so much more on those islands than I have in a very long time (and technically on their water too but I get the impression that might have been for a completely different reason!).

Pirates aplenty in Penzance

2008-09-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

Back onto the First Great Western train to Penzance Davina and I found ourselves reading, sleeping, chatting to while away the four or so hours to Penzance. Penzance has always been a mythical place to me. A place you hear of in fantasy and fairy tales where Pirates reside and shenanigans are aplenty in public houses that line the wooden foreshore docks. I never really expected it to be real. But real it was and unfortunately rather disappointing. It is grey, dull and I want to say concreted. The town wraps itself around a port in a sweeping motion that, as you walk to the bottom end, draws you into a run down and long forgotten tip of England.

Davina found us a great B&B in Alexandra Street. It was beautifully renovated and the owners were welcoming and attentive. It gave me hope that perhaps the real shine of Penzance wasn't its shell or it's notoriety but the kind and open-hearted people. Maybe I am over dramatising it all, but it was a kick in the guts to see what Penzance actually was. Totally not what I expected and a bit of a let down. But it did have its highlights and I give credit to Davina for picking some fantastic things to see - The Michael St Mount, the Minack theatre and the fish and chippie joint that made us laugh.

Michael St Mount is at the northern part of the town. You pass it on the train coming in and on the bus going out. The castle stands tall and proud off the coast and seems both isolating and enticing at the same time. When the tide is in it is accessible only by boat. But when the tide goes out the true magic happens. Almost like a scaly dragon rising from the deep, a cobblestone walkway emerges from the water allowing people to walk across from the mainland to the church and surrounding buildings. Davina rolled up her trousers and took off, one foot in front of the other, hoping and praying the middle section wouldn't be too deep. Me? I did what any sane Australian does when faced with a breath-taking scene and a setting sun...headed to the Godolphin pub to appreciate it with a cold beverage!

As any Aussie traveller will attest to - you travel 100,000 miles to meet Australians and Penzance is no different. Whilst I sat back and took in the "serenity" at the pub overlooking Michael St Mount I overheard a familiar accent and ended up talking to Ben from Umina whilst his kids had running races from the wall of the pub to the receding tide. Ben and his family were doing a house swap with a family from Penzance. For 4 months they swapped complete lives, from schools to cars to houses to jobs. It was a fascinating way to see the other side of the world and allow your kids to expand their minds with experiences and history not available at home. I also had to admire the youngest child's ingenuity when a mud throwing match broke out with his older siblings. Unable to sling the mud as far as the others, he perfected the art of catapulting seaweed by whipping it around his head a few times first. :)

Davina, queen of finding strange, unusual and often life altering things to see and do, had heard about a theatre that had been carved into the sheer cliffs outside of Penzance. The Minack Theatre was designed, built and financed by a woman named Rowena Cade in the 50s and 60s. It was her lifelong dream to see plays performed with nature as the dramatic backdrop. "Minack" in Cornish means a rocky place and the theatre does not disappoint. The patrons sit on slabs of rock tiered up from a split stage. The actors and actresses work on two main levels - a spot light section up to the left of the main stage and the stage itself.

Getting to the theatre is an adventure unto itself. We caught the only bus that goes up and out of Penzance from the top of our B&B's street. It is old and although double storey you may be taking your life into your own hands heading up top. Keen adventurers that we were, we gave it a shot but most people stayed downstairs. The bus itself doesn't have a death wish so much as there is no stopping, slowing down or even allowing others to pass. It just hurtles along the ever increasingly smaller country roads, up jagged hills and down twisting and turning paths. When the roads became gravel rather than bitumen you know you are heading to the sticks. We made it in one piece 50 minutes later and then glanced up to realise that the biggest hill has been left to last and this one we had to hike up as the bus wouldn't make it. Nothing like a bit of exercise!

The play showing that night was Cinderella and despite it being a children's play, I'm never to old for a fairytale. We ended up sitting next to the family of the actress who played Cinderella. Immediately to my left was Nanna who came prepared with shortbread biscuits and fruit pastilles. All throughout the play she kept insisting that Davina and I eat because we had travelled so far. I think perhaps she thought that we had flown in from Sydney that evening just for the 7 o'clock performance! She was an absolutely lovely lady and made me miss my Grandma very much. She spoke so lovingly of her grand-daughter and was eagerly anticipating her wedding that Autumn. But it was Cinderella's dad who brought a glisten to my eye. At the end of the performance he stood and gave the loudest, most raucous applause and a standing ovation to his daughter. I can't be sure but I think he may have been the instigator of the beginning of a Mexican wave too!

After negotiating the mega hill down to the bus stop we boarded the bus back to Penzance and our B&B room (complete with hanging stuffed monkey from the ceiling - we think it was a child's room). It was well after midnight by the time we reached "home" and we both crashed into an immediate Cinderella filled slumber.

Having visited Michael St Mount, drunk at the pub, walked along the main street and hot footing it to the Minack theatre I think it was safe to say we had seen Penzance. Whilst devouring an ice-cream and watching the ships docking and unloading their goods in the harbour I couldn't help feeling proud of the fact that I had made it to the southern most part of England...or had I?

Spur of the moment memories of gold

2008-07-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

I had an awesome time last night and I didn't even have to travel further than 200m from my house. First up, I spent a good day at Play Group at the school I have just finished teaching at. I left with a very negative outlook but a nice day with 10 kids of varying ages has given me a little positive influence. Then I came home and walked to Sainsbury's with Andy, somehow convincing him to cook me dinner on the way, which was an absolute bonus because I was just going to Sainsbury's for a bottle of wine. Then had a laugh on the way back reciting old 12th Man cricket jokes. After dinner, Vanessa, Andy I took our glasses of wine and the Boules set Vic gave me for my 27th birthday to the Common at the end of the street and we played a few games of Boules. Vanessa, being Vanessa, decided to make the game a little bit more interesting and added a new rule that the bowler needed sing a couple of lines of a cheesy 90s pop song as they threw their ball and the other 2 had to guess what song it was from. May sound dodgy to you, but I have to say that it was a fantastic and relaxing, but most of all, enjoyable evening. Certainly something I am going to remember with a huge smile on my face for the rest of my life as a "London moment". :)

On my way to St Ives...

2008-07-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

I'm currently sporting the latest in steel grey hospital issue crutch fashion as I have managed to do some damage to the ligaments in my right foot. It is now twice the size it should be and I am house bound because I am slower on crutches than a tortoise on slow motion replay. As a result I thought I would procrastinate no longer about blogging my trip to Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly during the May school holidays.

I found myself in the unusual position of actually having some money to spend at the same time as the school holidays decended and so spent an agonising four days trying to choose a destination. I finally settled on Los Angeles as I could get a great deal to fly there and back (under 400 quid) and I really wanted to see my friend Rachael who is living there at the moment. Unfortunately Rach was not going to be there as she was heading away for the memorial day long weekend.

Instead of boarding a US bound flight I changed my mind completely found myself standing at London Paddington Train Station on Monday morning buying a one way ticket to Torquay in Cornwall. The South West of England was the one area I had not yet discovered and since I had a week and some coin to splurge on I boarded the first train I could. Turns out it was meant to be as I made a call to Davina who was camping in Devon. Her camping adventure had been a wash out so she headed to Torquay too and we planned to rendezvous at 1300hrs.

Torquay is a very hip and happening place with lots to do...if you are over 65. There is a beach and a pier but even though it was school holidays the whole place was like a ghost town. Even the carnival that had set up its tents in the park was deserted. We wandered around the town and stopped in at some old pubs that really highlight how much "pubbing" is a grand British institution. We ate our weight in food at the oldest pub in Torquay, The Jolly Roger, and Davina still raves about the steak!

Every year when I was a kid my Mum, brother, Grandma and I would go for a winter holiday to the Blue Mountains. My grandmother would always insist that we have a Devonshire Tea (scones, cream, jam + cup of tea) at one of the small cafes that line the main street in Katoomba. Since I was in Devon I thought it would be a great travesty if I didn't at least sit down once and eat a Cream Tea, as they are called here, in her honour. Davina had already sussed out a great little place called "The Tea Kettle" and so before heading to the train station to continue to our next destination we sat down to eat the most enormous scones I have seen in ages slathered with jam and cream and followed by some tried and true English Breakfast tea. Sure, they weren't flowerpot scones but these were so much better. They were true Devonshire scones in a Cream Tea in Devon itself.

Davina and I met in Shepherds Bush, London through our mutual friend Simon. She grew up in Turramurra and I grew up in Terrey Hills but it wasn't until we were thousands of miles from home did we become friends. When consulting the map to decide on our next stop, we found that if we caught the train for a few hours and then changed for a coastal train we would be able to visit St Ives - the real one. I went to high school in St. Ives in Sydney and Turramurra is the next suburb along from it. It had to be our next stop. And we were rewarded greatly for our choice too. St.Ives gave us our first glimpses of sunlight, white sandy beaches and the smell of salt in the air.

I really love the English St. Ives. It is a small coastal port that is nestled into the edge of England. It's the kind of place that, in my fantasies, I could settle down and teach at the local primary school, raise kids and enjoy the English "life". It is never going to happen but for the moments when I close my eyes and dream, it feels like a possibility.

The tide retreats during the middle of the day leaving many small boats stranded for the afternoon whilst children scream with delight as they use them for hide and seek places. Tourists slurp at dripping ice creams as locals weave their way through the obstacles of baby buggies and discarded buckets and spades to get to their intended destinations. People can be heard laughing and chatting in the beer gardens of the seaside pubs and the fish and chip joints make a roaring profit from gullible visitors.

St. Ives is an ambling town - a place where you spend your time wandering up and down the tiny cobbled streets poking your head in and out of tiny shops that have stood there for centuries. You buy postcards from an old fashioned newsagency that can only accommodate 4 people at a time. Ice creams are sold from a small cart that is wheeled along the promenade by a man who looks as old as the weary wooden boards that have weathered many storms. Davina found a warm and sunny spot on the beach to read her book and was not there 10 minutes before she was approached by two little boys wanting her to play frisbee. So we spent the next hour of so throwing the frisbee to and fro.

It's almost as if time stands still in St. Ives. In times gone by children were confident in approaching strangers to play games on the beach or to help them build sandcastles. Unfortunately now days you can't trust anyone. It would be a nightmare to look up and see your child walking down the beach with a random person they picked up on the sand. But it seemed normal and safe in St Ives throwing that frisbee back and forth with these kids and you can't help but smiling and appreciating that innocence and trust is not completely banished to yesteryear.

For dinner Davina and I stumbled upon this awesome restaurant that is situated on top of the first row of shops back from the harbour. I think it was called Coast but I can't quite remember. It was super cheap and the food was amazing. The owner is this delightful pregnant lady who thinks nothing of stopping by your table to discuss your travel plans and anything else you wish to chat about. At the end of the meal they bring you the bill and a comment card for you to let the staff know what you think of the dining experience you had. We ticked all the excellent boxes and wrote about how pleased we were to have sampled not only good food but wonderful customer service and that they should advertise in more visual places so that more people could experience what we had. Just as we were leaving we heard the wait staff talking about the comment not knowing it came from us and they seemed so proud, not of themselves but of the fact that their little restaurant had made an impact on someone. Call me sentimental, but when was the last time that happened in "Here's your hat, there's the door" London?

St. Ives did have an impact on us. So much so that we stayed an extra night. But, as much as I wanted to stay forever, we were drawn to search for pirates and wenches in Penzance and so found ourselves bound for the train station the next morning...

Good things happen to those who get screwed over.

2008-06-29T04:58:00.000-07:00

This week was totally screwed up but it is a boring story and I have no desire to retell it plus I really should have known better than to go to Wimbledon on "British Day". :)

But good things happen after all and when I answered my phone even though I didn't recognise the number (they are usually Carphone Warehouse telemarketers) I was rewarded big time. Rachael was calling from work to ask me if I wanted Matt's extra ticket to go and see Bon Jovi for their second to last concert on their European "All roads lead to London" tour. Awesome! (Photo - Me, Rach, Matt and Alex)

I can't claim that I am a Bon Jovi supporter from way back. I like a handful of their songs but couldn't name you more than 3 at most. However, I was totally impressed by the fact that they remained on stage for more than 2 hours straight! And I am now converter to being a fan (I even bought the t-shirt to prove it!)

One other thing I did come away with was an added appreciation of being tall. I know I whinge about the fact that British bus seats are too close together and that I have to pay extra for airline tickets to get more leg room because I don't fit in the normal ones, but being tall really came into its own on Friday night as I could see everything even from the back of the "pit". I had to feel for Rach, who's no taller than my shoulder at the best of times! ;)

Royal Ascot

2008-06-22T10:36:00.000-07:00

My posts are a bit out of order here as I still have to blog about my trip through Cornwall and onto the Isles of Scilly but I went to Royal Ascot yesterday and since that is at the front of my mind I'm going to start there and work backwards and sideways later. (Photo right - Ascot Train Station)

There is something synonymous with England and the horse races. Maybe it is because their Crown Princess looks like one or simply the fact that aristocracy has traditionally treated their horses better than their household staff, I'm not sure. But I am not one to argue with an age old tradition (*cough, cough*) and when I found myself staring at the word "Ascot" on my "Things I need to do before I go home" list I knew I needed to don the hat and frock and head south.

Finding said frock and hat was a mission unto itself. I have all these beautiful outifts at home in Sydney but didn't think to pack one when moving here as it would have meant forsaking my third pair of themals, my second jumper and my nineteenth scarf! :) Luciky for me, my friend Fran is a seasoned frock shopper and she had me up at Debenhams, Monsoon and Oasis on Oxford Street trying on dress after dress after dress, at the risk of great financial disaster. Who knew that a piece of fluff masquerading as a hat could set you back more than the national debt of a third world country? They won't this week though, since I can smell a hat sale in the air. In the end we were successful in the great dress hunt and I walked away with a blue dress that didn't set me back too many £££. I wasn't so successful in the hat department and had to make a mercy dash over to Clapham Junction, down to Wandsworth Town and back up to Clapham Junction at 8pm on Friday night. (Photo above - Serena, Pippa and Mel)

My flatmate Vanessa and I got dressed and flocked with the other frocked up people to Clapham Junction to catch the train out to Ascot early on Saturday morning. By sheer luck Davina, Rachael, Michelle, Kylie and Angela got held back from the first train and we found them on the platform. We also found Mel, Serena and Pippa standing in the croissant shop on the platform too. The next train was ours for the taking and although Pippa fainted due to the sardine like conditions, we made it to Ascot 45 minutes later. (Photo right - Vanessa with her winnings and Barry in his "helpful to spot him" orange jumper behind her.)

I could have honestly sat at the train station and watched the ladies walk passed in their outfits all day. It was really interesting to see what people were wearing and whether I recognised the hats or dresses from my own hunting and gathering. Although I did see the g-string of a rather large girl in an extremely short white dress from the underneath and it put me off the whole frock watching from that point on. It was an "Ah my eyes, my eyes!" moment. (Photo left - Me and Karen)

Getting into the Silver Ring, where we had tickets for, was a hike and a half, but when the whole crowd is getting into the swing of things, you can't help but be pulled along into the jovial mood of the start of the day. The men, in their top hats and tails, were very striking and kept us amused with their thoughts on what the top hat could come in handy for later as the day progressed and we managed to dodge the cheese that had fallen out of someone's picnic basket on the way up to the "Top of the Hill".

Kylie was a forward thinker and brought along some picnic rugs and although it threatened to rain the most it actually dropped was a few spits here and there. I had a bet on 3 out of the 5 races but only managed bring home some £ in the last race - the Queen Alexandra race - when I backed the winner and second place. Rach had better luck and so did Kylie, who was celebrating her birthday so it made for a nice birthday present. (Photo left - Kylie)

There was about 15 of us all up. 14 girls and Will, who I must say, probably thought he was in heaven and had the most fun out of all of us. We spent the afternoon drinking champagne with strawberries and eating our picnic lunch in between putting a few bets on. I kept going back to the same bookie who was nice enough to explain what to do to bet i.e. pick a number and give him money (a MENSA student I am not). (Photo right - Will and Thesea)

Surprisingly, the day went really quickly. As with all things you look forward to, you tend to over do the excitement stakes and it takes it's toll. Both Davina and Rachael had a quick kip on the lawn but we couldn't take too much of the mickey as we soon saw the races "bogan of the day" passed out on the grass on the way back to the train station. As with most rowdy incidents, he will find himself the subject of many a Facebook photo with people standing over him and posing in lewd acts. It was hilarious. Especially when his girlfriend saw what was going on and launched into a tirade of abuse at the crowd. (Photo - Passed out guy on the way to the train station).

To top the day off, Vanessa and I stopped in for Thai takeaway on the way home and we finished off our Saturday watching dodgy 90s films in our PJs. What more could you ask for?

What have I come to?

2008-06-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

Here's some food for my thought...

I have just finished having dinner with my flatmates. We were talking about what happened today at work. Vanessa is going to work on a photo shoot, Katie is working out visas and KK is working with more numbers but when it got to my turn I said "Nothing much happening. It was an okay day. Oh but one of my kids sent another one to hospital". That in itself is worrying but you know what the truly disturbing thing is? I actually didn't think it was really a big deal, like it is normal, an everyday occurance.

I think there is something very wrong with that. What have London schools done to me?

Farewell Skeet

2008-04-26T03:30:00.001-07:00

My flatmate Skeet has gone back home to Perth to help his Dad out on the farm. He'll be back but not for a while. So we had a house dinner to send him off in style.

Photo - (going clockwise) Charlie (in red), Andrea, Katie, Vanessa, KK, Skeet and Me.

The things that happened in April.

2008-04-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

April, for the most part was full of me procrastinating about doing things and then not really doing much at all. It did snow on the first Sunday of the holidays, so I walked through the Common. See my earlier post for more on that.

I did do a school club day on the first Friday because they didn't have anyone else to do it. It was a swimming day (that would be why) so I walked 21 kids to the bus stop (20 mins) then took the bus (25 mins) got off the bus and walked to the pool (20 mins) then got them changed (30 mins + extra whinging) and then swam with them for 1.5 hours then repeated the whole process backwards for the trip home. But I actually had a fabulous time and it was interesting to see how the group of mixed ages from 12 to 4 interacted together. I walked with Hannah, aged 5, who speaks Japanese, English and French fluently and insisted on informing me about where she "came from" (think reproduction here people). She tells me, and I quote, "I'm only little so I am still learning..." I didn't take any photos because, as the trip wasn't actually a school function, it was illegal - to take photos, not go swimming.

For my birthday last year I was in New York City climbing the Empire State Building. That is very hard to beat and since I stayed in London this year I decided to do the most strangest and weirdest thing I could find. So...I went to...THE DOCTOR WHO EXHIBITION! Surprisingly, I actually enjoyed it. I'd only ever seen one Doctor Who episode (the week before) since it returned to the BBC. I used to watch when I was a kid and get scared silly. It wasn't illegal to take photos of that. Will post some more of them up soon but here is the Face of Boe.

Then after a very quiet second week, see earlier post about procrastinating about the dishwasher, this last weekend was pretty jam packed. Friday night I went to the movies with my flatmates Charlie and Andrea as well as Sarah, my friend I met in Scandinavia last year who was staying with us. Saturday I helped Sarah move to Standford Brook where she was going to stay before heading off on her Top Deck training tour. Sarah was training with Contiki but they asked her to leave when they got to Prague after 45 days because she was "too nice". What a crock! Anyway, Top Deck Tours snapped her up and she is now traipsing around Europe once again.

Saturday night was spent at Rachael's house party. When I first met Davina she lived at 62 Minford Gardens a.k.a "62MG". She has since moved out, but when Rach was looking for a new place to live a room was available there and she moved in. 62MG is the location of many great house parties and so, Deevs passed the hostess tag onto Rach. Saturday night saw Rach's first 62MG party and I went and hung out with Rachael, Jan (Rach's boyfriend) and his German friends visiting from Hanover. We did manage to have a very lively and interesting conversation about Inspector Rex (a German show shown on SBS TV at home). Oh and I did know about their Prince who is married to Princess Caroline of Monaco. But they didn't. Oh, that and we chatted about hats! Theresa is a milliner! I didn't realise people still made hats by hand. I thought that they were all done by machines now. Der me!

On Sunday I met a few friends at the Revolutions Bar in Richmond for some beverages and brunch by the river. It was lovely going back to West London and spending some time at a bar next to the river like I used to when I lived over there with Karen. Once again I was blown away by the fact that half the people there I didn't actually know at this time last year. Katie, Charlie and Andrea came along too, which was great.

And then there was Monday. Monday was a back to school. Phew! But no kiddies. We had a Inservice Day where we had to think about what learning means to us and then build it out of willow sticks. My group built a tree complete with leaves and a butterfly. One group made a treasure box with stars in it and another made a hot air balloon. Fran made a stealth turtle. The turtle itself wasn't stealth, rather she wasn't supposed to be making it so had to make it on the sly under the table when the instructor wasn't looking our way. :)

Bathrooms 2, Alex 0

2008-04-17T03:38:00.000-07:00

I'm back to being a bit behind with the blogs. It's school holidays and I am procrastinating about EVERYTHING, from doing the washing to writing my plans for next term, to just going to Sainsbury's to buy food. I am one of those freaky few who hate school holidays. I like to be busy, I like to have purpose and I have neither of those things this week. Photo - Me and Rach in the car in Londonderry.

Anyway, so I am now procrastinating about emptying the dishwasher so I thought I would write in my blog about my Easter Road Trip to Northern Ireland with Rachael, Davina and Michelle.

I'd been to Northern Ireland before back in 2003 with Rachael G. We'd done a driving trip around the island of Ireland and I actually disliked Northern Ireland immensely. I felt a real connection to the South but the North felt grotty, dirty and a little bit scary. It could have something to do with the fact that a bomb went off in Belfast while we were there at a place we had only visited 90 minutes before hand. Or the massive protests in the main streets. I also felt really, really sad there. Growing up in Australia my best friend in the whole wide world was Christine. She was Prodestant, I was Catholic (I know because in primary school we were separated during scripture time and I was not happy about it). If we had grown up in Northern Ireland, same as we were, same time, just in a different location, we would have been sworn enemies. And that made me so sad. Especially because Christine's friendship still means a lot to me, and there are thousands of young children who miss out on experiencing that over there due to someone long ago being an arse and stubborn about their religion.

So when Davina asked me to come along I was not jumping for joy at seeing Northern Ireland, but I was really keen to have a girlie road trip. I hadn't done a full girlie road trip before. Vic and I had driven around Scotland together but that was just the two of us. This would be 4 chicks in a car driving from London through Wales, catching a ferry across the channel and then pottering around another country. Davina joked that I was asked to go along to be the chauffeur. Turns out I was the only girl over 25 and thus the only person legally allowed to drive a hire car (yay, age has it's benefit finally) and one of only two of us able to drive a manual. Photo - Davina and Rachael in the back of our road trip vehicle.

Good Friday morning saw me set off on the tube for Heathrow and meeting the others at Terminal 3. We then picked our car up and headed off towards North Wales. North Wales is absolutely beautiful. I really enjoyed seeing the mountains creeping up off the horizon and dotted with snow at their peaks. At about this time we got word that our ferry from Holyhead to Dublin had been cancelled due to high winds and we had been bumped back to the one at 2:45am. So instead of ploughing our way through Wales we meandered instead, stopping at a fabulous pub along the way for lunch and then slowly winding our way up to Holyhead. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant in Caenarvon, right by the castle. By this stage I'd been driving for 10 hours and we needed a break so we drove to the ferry and checked in. Then all four of us tried to catch some shut eye until the ferry boarded. Four people sleeping in a Vauxhall Vectra was a little bit squishy and I kept waking myself afraid that we'd missed the ferry and would be stuck in Wales forever. I needn't have worried. A ferry man came up the rows of cars and banged on the roof shocking us back into the real world. Photo - Caenarvon Castle.

The ferry ride across was a bit of a blur. I found a piece of couch and actually managed to sleep through most of the worst as we were tossed from side to side on the rough seas. I did catch myself once about to fall straight onto Deev who was sleeping on the floor beside my bit of couch. Rachael, being tiny and short, managed to squeeze onto two chairs. To this day I don't know where Michelle was. You know how when you fly you can have extreme turbulance? Well we had extreme turbulance on water. The noise of the hull smashing into the huge waves was very freaky. Photo - Rachael curled up on the ferry chairs and me (the black blob) on the couch.

5:30am saw us all loaded back into the car for another big day. We got through Dublin due to Rach's superb navigation skills (I don't do numbers well and all the roads are numbered. I needed a destination, not an easy task when destinations were not clearly labelled) and headed north to Belfast to meet Deev's friend. We then kept driving towards Carrick-e-rede where there is an amazing rope bridge suspended over a huge drop into the roaring sea below. Absolutely amazing location and almost mystical. You get the intense feeling of history as the winds blow the long blades this way and that. Walking ahead of the others gave me the opportunity to "listen". It's almost as if a song was being played across the hills. Complete with me sniffling in time. :) We had to wait about 90 minutes to cross the bridge as there was only so many people allowed on the small fishing island on the other side. 90 minutes in the freezing cold was not very pleasurable and as a result I got really ill. It was only a strong cold but coupled with 1hr sleep and 16hrs of driving at this point I was beginning to think I had reached my limit. I made a bargain with myself though that if I wasn't at the front of the line by a certain time I was headed back to get a warm drink at the tourist info centre and hope to thaw out my extremities. But the fates had me crossing the bridge with only 5 minutes to spare. Photo - The rope bridge.

The island had been used many moons ago by local fisherman who erected the bridge as a way to cross so that they could fish from the more advantageous point. There is a small cottage that was built to give them safe harbour from fast approaching storms and a place to gut their catches. The cottage has long since been boarded up, but I could imaine myself living there with the fire blazing, watching the clouds rolling past the magical headlands and across the tempermental grey ocean. An electrical storm would have been something else altogether!

Rach managed to slide down one embankment on her rear end but not before the lady beside her did as well. I've never been more thankful for my trusty hiking boots. The views were fabulous and "breathtaking" is not sufficient a word to describe it. Photo - Walking down the stairs to get to the rope bridge.

Our next driving stop was the Giant's Causeway, which was Davina's chief reason for travelling to Northern Ireland. Because I had been before I stayed behind and tried to organise some accommodation for the evening at the Tourist Information Centre. I did manage to find something against the odds (it was Saturday of the easter long weekend) and we made our way down to Coleraine to a hotel...where I got locked in the bathroom. For over an hour I was in there as the lock had fallen through after I locked myself in for a shower. The others were still down in the restaurant so I had to MacGyver myself out with bobbypins and a pair of tweezers! But, I survived! Funny though that it was the second bathroom I had been locked in in the last month (other was at Mark's pub the George and Vulture). Maybe they are out to get me? :) Bathrooms 2, Alex 0. Photo - Michelle, Rachael, Me and Davina on the fishing island right after Rach slid down the hill on her rear end.

Sleep was amazing. Sleep was beautiful. Sleep was the best! After nealry 20 hours of driving, 1 hour of interrupted sleep on a sea sick ferry and a rope bridge crossing that bed could have been made of nails and I still would have fallen into a welcomed slumber. Photo - Me driving and Michelle in the front seat of the Vauxhall Vectra.

Sunday saw us drive all the way through Londonderry up to the coast road back in the Republic near Ballygorman and then leisurely down through Donegal and then evetually all the way to Navan. Deev and Michelle found us this amazing hostel to stay in just outside of the town. It was so lovely. It used to be a nursing home but an older couple had bought it and refurbished it with huge plasma screens, computers, leather couches and great breakfast facilities. Before getting there we made a stop at this lookout, sipping cups of tea that Davina has thoughtfully provided in thermoses and eating biscuits "acquired" from the hotel mini-bar. You stood there and felt like the world was completely behind you and you could just see forever. There were some sheep grazing in the paddock that skirted the edge of the sea. I got the feeling that the sea was a powerful character in the story that is Ireland. I've heard it referred to as a life force before but never really grasped the concept until that moment. It surges with force the same way your heart pumps blood through your veins. Photo - Michelle, Rachael, Me and Davina at our tea stop in Donegal. Starting to think I am a giant compared to these girls!

Our ferry back to Holyhead was scheduled for 7:30am so we drove the last hour into Dublin in the early morning mist. Thankfully this trip across the channel was much more pleasant and we arrived in Holhead ready to see some of the renowned Snowdonia in Wales. Passing through small country towns which backed onto these snow capped mountains is beyond description. It is so different to anythign I had experienced anywhere else in the world. I love hiking expeditions, despite my unfit state, and was eager to join one of the many groups of walkers that were seeting off on their journeys from one of the many towns nestled at the foot of the hills. Photo - The Welsh Snowdonia countryside.

Snow began to fall as we snaked our way towards our final destination, London, fittingly somehow drawing a white curtain over our weekend of girlie road trip fun.

And they said it would never happen...

2008-04-07T02:09:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's right, it has snowed again in London. That's four times now since I moved here. And before I left Australia I was told not to get my hopes up for snow since it was a very rare sight in London. To be truthful, I think I have experienced snow in London more times than I have experienced hot days!

The Olympic Torch run

2008-04-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

On an otherwise snowy and cold Sunday morning and in an effort to see more "London", I took my friend Marleen up on her offer to head into London Bridge to see the 2008 Beijing Olympic Torch run. Having been part of the security with the RFS when the torch made it through Sydney in 2000 I knew that this would be a little less exciting as it had being able to run along side the torch on Wakehurst Parkway, but still, this torch relay is in London, and that always adds a little extra exhilaration. Photo - Torch relay at London Bridge. Torch is labelled on right hand side.

I needn't have worried though because the runners actually by-passed us. We got a fabulous spot only to just catch a glimpse of the action as the runners took a detour. I got to see a flicker of flame and about 30 armed policemen guarding the runner but that's about it. Turns out that the Police changed the runner's path because of protester mayhem about Tibet (see any news broadcast). I can say that I was very impressed that the armed policemen managed to keep up with the runner. They must be very fit! :P

It was good to see Marleen again. She is from the Netherlands. I met her on the Tube one day last year. When I lived with Karen in Chiswick she told me about an article in the newspaper about how people never talk to one another on the Tube. One day I was travelling south on the Northern line and that conversation popped into my head. So I turned to the person next to me and started chatting. And that was Marleen.

Photo - Marleen and me at London Bridge just after the Olympic Torch completely bypassed us.

There's a current in my puddle!

2008-03-20T12:05:00.000-07:00

How is it that I can buy a digital camera at Tescos (supermarket chain) for less than the price of a disposable camera? Mind you I also had to buy batteries to go in it and they cost the same price again. But still!!! I've been smacking myself on the back of my head for losing my camera battery charger. I have this amazing Sony 8MG pixel camera that I bought before leaving home in 2006. But it does me no good because somewhere between Mum's place and my Tooting flat I lost the charger. I have a sneaking suspicion there is a customs officer in Singapore with an extra camera charger he dug out of the lost and found box at the airport. My lovely brother found me a new charger in Sydney and my wonderful mother has posted it to me but unfortunately it won't be here in time for Easter which is when I head off on my next adventure - road tripping through Northern Ireland. Hence why I grabbed the camera at the supermarket this afternoon. You can also blame my lack of blogs on my lack of camera battery charge too.

Because of my lack of camera I have been looking at London with the eyes of someone who has to rely on words rather than pictures to describe the situation. And it is a enlightening experience. Maybe it is because I walk or catch public transport everywhere instead of drive that I am seeing more of "life" and it makes you smile. Like the man in Victoria Library on Saturday. I went up there in search of a particular crime thriller I was searching for and ended up sitting against the stacks enthralled in a book. Half an hour into my little read I heard a thud and looked up to see the old man asleep, having dropped his book. He sat there snoring away for a good 20 minutes before he woke himself up with a particularly loud snort and promptly lent down to pick up the book and continue reading. Then there is the little girl in the line with her mother at the bank. We stood there having a competition crossing our eyes and giggling. Then there is the laundromat - a mecca for random people. I go down the road to dry my sheets for the grand sum of 40p. One week I sat and chatted to a guy from Clapham South who was washing and drying the team shirts for the rugby team he played for "The Pink Ladies". I helped him fold some shirts while we talked about travel and places we'd been and were yet to go. Another week I got into a debate with a large black Caribbean lady about British celebrities in the OK magazine. And then last week a old man came in and started talking to me while he spun and dried his weekly washing. His preferred topic - the size of railway tracks in Ireland and their influence on the Indian-Pacific track in Australia. He also had a lot to say about the women's vote coming into effect in the 1920s.

I notice more things during my walks to and from school too. I think I let life whizz by my side mirrors in Australia as I drove past in my Mazda 6. I notice how gorgeous little children are in their coats and scarves, especially little girls with stockings and Mary Jane shoes on. I notice that I pass 13 men walking to the station in the morning and 19 women. There are also spy puddles here. You can't see them. They are in stealth mode. The only way you figure out that they are there is when you're ankle deep in water. I have a sneaking suspicion that they have a plot to take over the footpaths of London. I currently have 3 pairs of shoes up against the radiator trying to dry out. But I have come up with a way to bring down this invasion!

We had amazing wind storms and rain showers earlier this week. The wind was pushing at me with such force that I made it home in half the time it usually takes me! :) But my trusty M&S umbrella was a casualty of war. On my charge home, I saw that there was not just a ripple of water running across the stealth puddles, but an actual current! And for the first time in a long time I made it home with dry shoes! So, to flush out the enemy we just need to watch for the tell tale sign of a puddle being pulled out to sea! :P

Yes, I think I have lost the plot. But I bought a camera today so the next blog should be back to normal. Either that or London has made me cuckoo again and I need to escape. Good thing I am headed over to Ireland tomorrow.

The George and Vulture

2008-03-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

Davina's friend Mark decided towards the end of last year that he wasn't enjoying his job so much over here so he and 3 mates went and bought a pub. It is called the George and Vulture (what is it with the weird and wonderful pub names over here?) and is in Pitfield Street in North London. Last night, after weeks of refurbishment that they did themselves, it had it's opening night.

As is the way with London, the Northern line was shut on the branch that stops at Old Street which is the closest tube station to the pub. Added to that the fact that the overground station at Old Street was also closed, it took most of us over 2 hours to get there. But it was great to see some familiar faces and share a pint of brew (or in my case a Strongbow laced with blackcurrent - don't knock it till you've tried it) at a pub that is now part of our "London family".

It never ceases to amaze me every day that my photos contain the people nearest and dearest to me. 98% of which I had never met 18 months ago. Huge shout out to Davina, who was the photographer of the night and whose photos I have "acquired" for this blog. Cheers mate!

So if you are in London at all, stopping over of staying for a while, why not head up and over to the George and Vulture?

Photos from top to bottom:

1) The bar at the George and Vulture

2) Barry and Davina

3) Nina, Me, Davina and Gabby

4) Rachael and Davina.

Wonderful but wet Wales, with a little bit of Mozart thrown in.

2008-03-01T05:45:00.000-08:00

London had mid-term holidays last week and I was very much looking forward to having a lie in each morning and getting through some planning work for school and generally just catching up with myself. Obviously my body thought catching up would be a good idea too and struck me down with a rather nasty case of the flu. The flu is so much worse when you can't whinge to your mum and she looks after you by making you tea and bringing you chicken soup! So, the first 4 days of my week were spent in bed surrounded by tissues, magazines that Karen had given me and cups of lemon and honey tea. Don't get me wrong, I am actually grateful that it happened in the holidays because, as I am a supply teacher, I don't get paid if I don't teach.

On Tuesday night I managed to pull myself together to go to the Mozart symphony with Karen, who had scored some free tickets through work. It was an adventure, I tell you. Here I was thinking I was in for a night of classical music, and how wrong I was. First of all Karen and I were the last to arrive and we couldn't find our seats so we ended up walking the full length of the auditorium trying to find seats 34 and 35. As per normal we were both wearing the same colour and of course, it had to be bright red, so inconspicuous we were not! Then after an usher rushed over to get us to sit down, a guy 2 rows from us had a fit and threw up all over the place before promptly passing out, and then an old gentlemen needed to make an emergency stop at the bathroom and it took him 25 minutes to climb the stairs and then he just disappeared and never came back! Add to that the hoopla involved in getting the ambulance officers into the auditorium and set it all against the backdrop against the fine tunes from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart! What a night!

By Thursday afternoon I managed to function on 7 out of 8 cylinders, which is an improvement on me normally anyway, so on a whim I booked a trip to Wales. Wales was the only UK country I hadn't explored and thought that it was high time to get my butt into action and head west. It was very last minute as the tour I booked left London at 7am on Friday morning! There were 21 people on the bus and our tour manager, Gary, was very good at coming up with ways to keep us entertained during the drive out of the city to the Welsh countryside. Usually it involved a story where he completely embarrassed himself!

If I had to describe Wales I would say that it is a poor man's Scotland. I know that sounds unfair but it is exactly how I felt about the countryside and cities. I am extremely partial to Scotland as you could probably tell by my blog entry from when I went exploring the Highlands with Vic back in October 2007. So anything compared to Scotland was always going to come off second best unfortunately for Wales. Wales just lacks the vibrancy and the colours I see in Scotland. We originally drove into Newport and stopped for morning tea. It was a pretty place, but nothing jumped up and grabbed me.

I was very much looking forward to visiting Cardiff. I am a Rugby Union nut and love watching the game, so why not visit the home of rugby? Millennium Stadium is massive! And stuck in the middle of all these other buildings. I am so used to Sydney, where they build the stadiums in the middle of nowhere and it takes you ages to get there and they are surrounded by huge car parks. Millennium Stadium is smack bang in the middle of the city, with other buildings almost touching it's edges. Not sure where people park their cars though??????

Wales was playing Italy that afternoon (Wales thrashed them) so they had cancelled all the stadium tours meaning I missed out on going inside, but I am sure I will be back there at some point. I will have to catch a game there before I head home. Instead of touring the stadium I tried to find the waterfront. I tried for an hour and a half but had no joy so headed to the castle and took a tour there.

We stayed at a rather dodgy pub which doubled as a backpackers, called "The Black Sheep". Most of the girls stayed in a 20 bed dorm room which had the unmistakable odour of cat pee. Luckily my bed had slats missing and in order to prevent getting to know the girl sleeping below me better in the middle of the night, I moved to the 7 bed dorm where the couples and 2 other girls were sleeping. Turns out it was an excellent move. Not only because my bed actually had slats but also because I met Chris and Michelle, a married couple from Adelaide. It was good having some friendly people to chat with on the bus, or walking with them when we went to certain sites etc. Plus they like UNO (as do I, with a passion) so we played a championship game after dinner one night.

The Black Sheep served food a'la chips, peas and pies or chips, peas and lasagne or chips, peas and faggots (giggle, giggle). Oh Yes! The Welsh delicacy of FAGGOTS! (giggle, giggle). Faggots (giggle, giggle) are basically sausage type meat balls. On our second night there some of us couldn't handle chips, peas and something, so we went out for a very expensive but nonetheless yummy meal in town. I had the Moroccan Lamb and it was delicious.

We toured some of the dams in the south of Wales but none had tipped over the edge, so rather than cascading, they were casually dribbling not unlike your old age grandma. We also saw one of the Welsh beaches. The best description I can come up for this is grey. Grey sand, grey water smothered by a grey sky. To counteract this "greyness" the people have painted the buildings that line the concourse a variety of pastel colours which actually compliment the grey rather than compete with it.

I think that the highlights of the trip were The Big Pit and Tintern Abbey which we saw on Sunday. The Big Pit is one of the last coal mines in Wales. It was closed in the 1990s and now serves as a working museum. We got kitted out with emergency packs, air canisters and hardhats with headlamps just before descending down into the mine shaft. It was a good thing I am not a) claustrophobic or b) afraid of the dark because the mine corridors are pretty scary. Added to the tight spaces and darkness was the very chilly air and all up you get a rather freaky experience that makes you glad that you never had to work in those conditions. I think I will take my 29 smelly, snotty, snivelling children any day!

Tintern Abbey is a magnificent set of ruins that used to be a grand abbey that served the Southern Wales people for ages. It was destroyed under the ruling of Henry 8th when he developed the Church of England (bastard!). What a waste! It would have been an awesome sight to behold in it's heyday. Most of the external structure had held, but all of the interior has been reduced to sprouts of weeds and grass spurting between upturned rubble and rocks. It's not hard to imagine the monks wandering around the draughty halls and lofty rooms that would have made up the buildings within the compound.

Whilst Wales was not spectacular or soul moving, like Scotland is for me, I am still impressed by it. I hear that the northern parts of Wales e.g. Snowdonia are amazing and I am hoping to travel there in May. There is lots to see in Wales but the best part is listening to the accent. It's like the Welsh people are singing to you as they speak. The lilt is more like a tune. Absolutely beautiful!

February was "Found a house" month

2008-02-25T10:26:00.000-08:00

Yes, you read correctly, I finally found a house at the beginning of February. I now live in Balham in a house share with 5 others - 3 guys (Aussie, Indian and English) and 2 girls (Aussie and English). It is not the best looking house I saw but the people make up for that without a doubt. They are great flatmates and seem to get on very well. We have a house dinner each month (lamb roast this month) and tend to eat at the same time so all sit around the kitchen table. After living alone for a while it is nice to have some people to talk to although I never seem to be able to find a place to dry my washing on the lines. :) Can't complain though as the house has an "ironing room", a room filled with airers and an ironing board!

I'm never moving again though! It took me a full month of looking at places. 19 to be exact. I was out seeing places after work and it was not a happy experience. I saw some beautiful places but people wouldn't ring you back and I saw some really dodgy joints where you had to run home for a shower because you might have caught something just from stepping foot over the threshold!

Here are some photos of my new place...

The Ballet

2008-01-22T08:10:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday my class went on an excursion to the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden to see the Royal Ballet Company’s production of “Sylvia”. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I had never seen a ballet before, never taken Year 5 on an excursion and certainly never travelled on the tube with children. But I loved it. And am planning to go back and see another performance (not Sylvia but something else) at night when I don’t have a theatre full of school aged children surrounding me.

I was very proud of my kids though because there were high school children screaming and hollering throughout the performance. But my class sat quietly and watched and clapped which was really lovely to see. Goes to show you that money does not necessarily buy you manners!

Strange but true fact… it turns out that Jonathan (my cousin’s husband) actually produced the one off performance’s programme! Small world huh?

Still searching for a house. As of Sunday afternoon I have now seen 16 places. As of next weekend I am officially desperate! Keep your fingers crossed for me please.

Just before I went home Karen, Vic, Nicola and I went ice-skating in Hyde Park for the Winter Wonderland festival. It was great fun and although cold, the atmosphere was amazing. Felt like a little bit of Scandinavia in London!

Hunting for a House

2008-01-10T08:22:00.000-08:00

I'm in the middle of house hunting at the moment and it sucks big time. Either the places are yicky or they are lovely and I am competing with 100 people for them.

School has begun and I am really enjoying teaching full time on one class again. I love being evil and setting lots of homework too. Something I could never do teaching Kindy. I'm giving the kids a 4 week project tomorrow along with a maths test and spelling quiz. Moohahahahaha (that's my evil laugh in case you weren't sure)!!!!!!!!!

So I should pop some piccies from home up here too. I didn't do anything monumentally huge when I was there but I did have a fabulous time. I got to see my kids from St Martin's and attend their End of year Mass.

I caught up with Brett and Lisa McCallum, Horse and Christie, Simon, Tegan, Mel, Scotty, Matty D, Erin, Hoover, Cam etc at Pittwater RSL for a beer or two as well.

Simon and I went to the beach and soaked up a few rays of sun. Wish I could have swam but in all honesty IT WAS COLD! And I am a big fat chicken! Also built some sandcastles with Lachie and Ashleigh Grimshaw too.

Christmas was relatively quiet. I saw Dad a few days before hand and then spent the actual day with Mum and Cleland before heading up the hill to see the Cook/Portelli/Berrell family. Cleland's girlfriend Belle got a new dog and it is so small it fits in the palm of your hand. Cleo, the dog, is the one on the left!

I was really looking forward to seeing my friend Christine as she and her husband Greg are expecting their first child in April/May. I've known Christine since we were 3 so I was very excited to see her in her new role as "Mum-to-be". We spent a wonderful day having lunch and then again caught up at the Doyle's Annual Boxing Day BBQ too!

Also saw Alex and the soon to be Mrs Heathers, Lisa. Big congratulations to them both (Alex popped the question a couple of days later during their NYE camping trip). Plus Paul and Trinette Robinson and Robyn and John Zampa-Howe.

A surprising but awesome thing too was being able to meet my friend Kevin's new baby boy William. I say new baby even though he was born at Easter last year. William is such a bright and giggly baby and I loved getting some cuddles.

Speaking of babies... Next time I am home there will be not 1, not 2, not 3 but 4 new bundles of joy waiting for some Aunty Alex cuddles! What are you people drinking over there?!?

So that was my Christmas trip home. I had the best time just hanging out with my Mum and watching her mash potatoes so I could finally master the trick of how to make them taste the right way (psst, it's all in the salt!) and seeing my friends. And now I am back and about to leave school to see yet another house off Gumtree. Wish me luck!

Back in London UK Adventure Part 2

2007-12-31T07:05:00.000-08:00

After a fantastic trip home to Sydney (have stuff to write and pictures to post but will do that next time) I arrived back in London last night. It was brilliant to go home and anyone I spoke to (cheers Vic, Anthony, Jo and Jonathon) in my last week in London before leaving will attest to this - I needed to go. I needed to touch base with Sydney, sun and my family to find my bearings. I realise now that I kind of lost my way a bit and certainly the level of excitement at undertaking this adventure was dwindling. Going home filled up the tanks again and I am looking forward to 2008 and finishing off my UK time with a smile and lots of memories to take home.

Unfortunately though I have to do that without Vic, who went home for good just after I left (but not according to her blog which has us still in Scotland. Update your blog woman!). Her not being here is kind of weird and I keep expecting to hear her key turning in the lock at the flat.

But 2008 is another beginning and I am very much looking forward to meeting new people, not yelling at different kids everyday (I will yell at the same ones everyday now) and seeing a bit more of the English countryside and Wales.

I've never been a good one for keeping New Year's Resolutions. The best I managed to do was give up ice cream for Lent once. Instead of a resolution for 2008 I just have a plan, to take one day at a time and to keep everything a simple as possible!

Fingers crossed! Happy New Year!

Going home for Christmas

2007-12-08T04:46:00.001-08:00

I am going home for Christmas. If you could see me now you would see I am jumping for joy.

Goodbye annoying children who yell at me with such attitude and vocabulary that is unnatural for 5 year olds. Goodbye yucky cold weather. Goodbye evil tube commuters who think it is acceptable to elbow me every 2 minutes.

And a big Goodbye to the woman in Primark who tripped me over on purpose by sticking her foot out. You didn't see Karen walking behind me with an arm full of clothes with coathangers and you got one in your face! As Karen said "That's feng shui for you!" Karma got you, b***h!

HELLO SYDNEY!!!!!!

Davina and I at her housewarming party last month. Martin and I cheated at drunken Scrabble and we still came last!

Foxes make good walking companions

2007-11-24T06:09:00.000-08:00

I went to dinner last night with Shannon and Mary from my old school here in London and had a fantastic time catching up over marvellous food and drinks, but something has really got me freaked out. Mary was telling me how November is considered winter here. Sure, the weather sure feels like it but November at home is Spring. Shouldn’t that then mean that November over here should be Autumn since it should be the opposite? Mary then said that May 1st (May Day) was officially the first day of Summer here. That’s odd, as May is the last month of Autumn at home. I am well and truly confused. Probably not as confused as my English Year 1 class from last year, who I spent a term teaching the seasons to!

Photo - Mary, Shannon and I in Richmond, London.

P.S: It is so cold at the moment. I swear I think that the ice caps aren’t melting; they’re just migrating to London!

P.P.S: I was walking home last night and got the fright of my life when I glanced down and saw a fox walking beside me. Obviously thought I might like some company.

P.P.P.S: I learnt this week that the best way to do a job interview is by phone. Because you can do it in your PJs and Ugg Boots! Wasn’t the greatest interview I’ve ever done (I could hear myself echo back through the phone) but was certainly the most comfortable!

Davina Diary Blog

2007-11-15T04:59:00.000-08:00

Last week Davina, Rachel, Michelle and I were talking about blogs at Davina’s new Shepherd’s Bush house whilst she served pancakes and champagne for brunch (yes, I know I lead a privileged existence). We decided that Davina writes her blog as an eccentric diary which, knowing Davina, suits her very much. I tend to write my blog as an account of things that happen that are interesting (or at least I think so). This time, I thought I would give the eccentric diatribe a go…

Things in London have been full steam ahead for a month now. We moved out of the Village in September and I am living in Tooting in South London. I’ve been working pretty steadily at a handful of schools and even got employed at a school for a day to put paper on display boards! That has been my favourite day working in London.

Karen moved to Oxford with Richard as he studies for his MBA at Oxford University. I don’t know how she survives the daily 4 hour commute but she does seem really happy. Adriaan moved to Stanford Brook not that far from Chiswick.

I woke up one morning with the decision made that I wanted to come home. Working at a new school everyday was starting to get me down. I was sick of arguing with 9 year olds who thought that they knew everything (except what they were supposed to be doing in their learning task). Lo and behold, as soon as I made the mental decision to go home, I was offered a wonderful job at Balham. The times that I had taught there before I found it had taken me a long time to get there by bus, but I finally figured out that I could walk through the park opposite the Common and it would spit me out in front of the school. It is a Year 5 class and they seem like a decent bunch of kids. By this stage I had applied for some jobs at home and had heard nothing. But as is the way with life, I got a message asking me for a phone interview. So now I am back in limbo land. I feel like I am the rope in a very aggressive and close game of tug of war,

I’ve been keeping busy regardless and find myself smiling and laughing at the strangest things. Like the day I walked home from the school in Balham through the park. It started pouring with rain, my umbrella was useless so I just pulled it down and walked through the streams of water with my iPod singing in my ears, I couldn’t physically get any more drenched so I just kept walking. As I neared the end, there was a couple sheltering under a tree. They had been riding their bikes through the park when the skies had opened. There was only room for one of them to be dry so the man stood over the woman covering her with his coat. It was such a lovely scene.

Last Saturday Vic moved out of her house. She is staying with me until she heads over to Ireland for her last trip before flying home. Instead of letting her sit at home feeling sad and sorry we went into Embankment to see the Lord Mayor’s fireworks display. Since that finished at 5:30pm, we then headed to the London Eye. I had been on the London Eye the last time I was here but had never been up at night time. It was even better as there were virtually no lines either. The skyline was littered with small bursts of fireworks displays left over from the previous week’s Guy Fawkes celebrations. The lights from London’s landmark buildings shone bright and the air was clear, mild yet crisp. You couldn’t have asked for a better night even if you ordered one from a catalogue 2 months in advance.

London for me is a happy place at the moment. I can’t lose on the job front as if I get the job at home I will be excited to start something new. If I don’t then the job here in Balham will offer me the experience I need to teach in America (my next frontier to be conquered). Either way would be a blessing. As a result, I am a very happy young lady.

Scottish Soil

2007-11-15T04:42:00.000-08:00

I read somewhere recently that if you have any Scot in your blood you will feel instantly at home when your feet touch the soils of Scotland. Without better words to describe the feeling I would totally and utterly agree with this statement. Australia is my birthplace, England my home, Austria my favourite travel destination but it is Scotland that has my heart. Another week of school holidays meant that I finally had some time to head north and visit Scotland again. It had been 4 long years (to the day actually) since I last had the pleasure of travelling through Scotland and I had missed it deeply.

Instead of flying I decided to drive instead. That decision had little to do with enjoying the English countryside and more to do with having not driven since 2006 and feeling the need to get behind the wheel again. I even managed to drag Vic along too.

A while ago my parents had travelled to John O’Groats and my dad had spoken highly of it so I decided that that would be my intended destination. We stopped along the way whenever the urge took us and as a result, Vic and I stayed at some very interesting places. My favourite was the Royal Highland Hotel in Inverness with its tartan carpeted grand staircase and most amazing shower ever! I also loved “The Tickled Trout” hotel in Preston. I kid you not. Got to love a hotel that pays homage to a ticklish fish, but you do have to ask what kind of person thinks to tickle a fish. We were also strangely haunted by broken and lopsided lampshades. At no less than 3 different hotels the lampshades were broken and lopsided in our room.

The Highlands of Scotland were exactly the same as I had left them 4 years earlier, peaceful and calm, filled to the brim with history and the souls of Scotsmen and women from years past. Out of all the wonderful scenery we saw this time my favourite day was driving the entire length of the north side of the Loch Ness. With the autumn weather turning the leaves magnificent shades of gold, rust and copper I felt like I was wrapped warm and cosy by nature’s own hearth.

Vic and I took turns in driving. We put in an impressive 1768 miles all up. I found it slightly odd though, that fates dealt me all of the single lane width, unmarked and low visibility roads, whilst Vic got the double or more lanes with easy to see oncoming traffic and lovely new markings. The potholes shared themselves around evenly though. :P

(Photos - 1. Me at John O'Groats, 2. Our car on the side of one of the many highland hills, 3. Some Highland cows, 4. Inverness)

Random London Happenings

2007-11-04T08:10:00.000-08:00

Last night saw London light up the night sky with a huge array of fireworks celebrating Guy Fawkes Night. I had been hanging out for Guy Fawkes Night after reading a book that had the characters watching the fireworks at a south London park. For some reason the imagery described stuck in my head and I wanted to be a part of the experience as well. After a little bit of research (I read the TNT magazine) I settled on Battersea Park and managed to get Nicola to come along to and she brought some of her friends. The £5 entry charge was well worth it with the fireworks going for a little over 30 minutes and the music that they were timed to was funky and fun. And you can't have fireworks without your own sparklers!

Other random things that have happened to me this week are:

** On Thursday I raced a man up the stairs at Tooting Broadway tube station. Well, I ran up the stairs and he ran up the escalator. I am pleased to announce that I won.

** I am was in trouble on Friday because I taught a class their entire term's history work in one lesson and they are getting an Ofsted inspection this week. The teacher was not happy at all.

** A lady rammed me with her trolley in Sainsbury's because apparently I was walking too slow. Have a sneaking suspicion that it was the woman with the walking frame in front of me that was holding the line up but I could be wrong.

** The bus driver I had yesterday on my way to Shepherd's Bush yelled at everyone and all the traffic in very loud Polish. Was rather scary.

And that's about it. :)

The Love Boat

2007-10-19T08:24:00.000-07:00

The Love Boat is a cruise ship that takes you on an overnight journey from Helsinki to Denmark. It is pretty much a smaller version of the Pacific Sky. Budget tours being what they are our cabin was at the bottom of the boat with no windows. It was darker in there at midday than the inside of a coffin six feet under. Unfortunately there was a bit of an incident before boarding the cruise ship which grated my cheese involving a couple of people on the tour. I’m not going to go into it because it would cause some problems for those concerned but will say two things.
1) I am very proud that I found my voice and stood up for someone and something I believed in, even if it cost me the friendship of another person.
2) I am very disappointed that the end of a fabulous time in Scandinavia was marred by the events.
Before you start wildly guessing away. I didn’t start anything or participate in anything, just managed to say some things that finished it.

Moving on…as with most cruise ships, once you had toured the gym, swimming pool and kids area, toyed with the idea of playing games in the kid’s area and settled in for a drink I one of the bars, there is not much else to do. So the girls decided to get dressed up for an evening of all you can eat buffet dinner and a cabaret show. The food was plentiful, even if the prawns were all pregnant (have you seen a pregnant prawn? Very yicky and off-putting), and the desserts to die for. The show was an array of dancing centred on movie themes, James Bond, Hairspray, Dirty Dancing etc. Not sure how the dancers managed to get through their choreography with the boat rocking. Photo - Bridget, Bree, Sarah and Barbara on board the Love Boat.

Driving the next day was a sombre experience. We had lost half of our fellow travellers back in Helsinki before we boarded the boat as they were meeting their new Russian friends. The bus felt more than empty. For the first time on tour Mick “I can’t sleep on moving vehicles” managed to get some shut out stretched out across the back seat. Each of us had our own space and there was little chatter. I borrow Dirk’s book about Asperger’s children called “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night” by Mark Haddon (awesome book) and managed to read it cover to cover in just over 3 hours. Sarah took over from Andy for a while as tour manager so she could practise her microphone skills (she has a Contiki interview back home this month) and Google (Peter from New Zealand) felt compelled to give it a whirl as well and had us all in stitches. Google got the name Google simply because the boys wanted to call him Britannica because he is a walking encyclopaedia but it was too long and Google was snappier. He could tell us distances to upcoming destinations, random facts and history of areas at the drop of his hat. Peter packed a wireless radio and a topographical map of Scandinavia the same way I packed a toothbrush and underpants. It was a natural thing. And although strange to get my head around to start with, his daily updates made me laugh without fail every day. Without Google our travelling experience would have lacked a vital ingredient. Photos - (top) Mick finally catching some shut eye and (bottom) Google managing the tour.

Arriving in Copenhagen was bittersweet. Dinner was made even more difficult by the fact that it was a Saturday night and it was the Gay Pride Festival that weekend. There was not a table to be had in the city and so we had to abandon plans to have a final meal together. As many people were leaving at the crack of dawn the next morning to catch trains, planes and well, no-one drove so I can’t really say automobiles, we said our goodbyes the night before. The following day ticked slowly by (my plane was at 3pm) scarred each time we said another farewell. I waved 7 taxis off before I caught my own with Wellsey and Dirk and after hugging them goodbye sank back into the thick crowd to find my way to customs and eventually my plane.

Travelling by myself is the scariest thing I have ever done (including jumping off that cliff in Austria). But with some guts and a “you only live once” attitude you might just be lucky enough to get a trip of a lifetime, like me. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt if you put your hand up for Team Tent either! :)

P.S: I just figured out that a taxi is an automobile so I could have written that anyway. Photo - (l-r) Bridgetm Barbara, Sarah, Me, Dirk, Disappearing Tom, Google and Craig.

Happy times in Helsinki

2007-10-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

Eventually we arrived in Helsinki. And it was here that we would part ways. Some people were headed for the Russian part of their trip whilst the rest of us would be taking the cruise ship (affectionately dubbed “The Love Boat”) back to Denmark. But we couldn’t split without first farewelling our friends in style. What better place to do that than an Australian bar? Truly a fantastic night had by all, but most especially the girls who were able to get very cheap cocktails because apparently it was Ladies’ night. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that every night was Ladies Night. It never ceased to amaze me that I was sitting in a bar in the middle of Helsinki in Finland and I knew people. It sounds really stupid to write it now, but at the time I was fascinated that every time I turned around I knew someone. It wasn’t just in the bar (although when you are inebriated it does tend to become interesting to you) but even in the street. I would be walking down an “off the beaten track” street and happen upon a familiar face. Photo - Bridget and Vikki in the Aussie Bar in Helsinki.

Helsinki itself is more European than Scandinavian. A feeling that is echoed in the fact that they are members of the European Union and embraced the Euro as their currency instead of holding out like Norway, Sweden and Denmark with their Kroners. It may have something to do with the fact that poor Finland has been invaded and jostled about like the only child in a messy divorce. Between being taken over by Russia, commandeered by Norway and seized by Sweden at various points of time during history, you can hardly blame the country for having something of an identity crisis. They are also the only Scandinavian country to have done away with Kings and Queens so there would be no more palace visiting for me. Photo - The old Orthodox church in Helsinki.

I was surprised by the cosmopolitan feel of the harbour and squares that flank the marina area. The markets are old school, with elderly ladies selling crocheted doilies and silver merchants setting up shop next to the men who hung clothing made from furs and skins. But old school is not necessarily old. The ladies crocheting doilies were also selling intricately stitched headdresses for young girls to wear with their ball gowns or horse race attire. The silver merchants also carried items with swirling pearl designs and the fur traders had hung a sign saying that they also stocked faux items as well. I am a market freak, loving the experience of meandering up and down the haphazard aisles, soaking in more than the sights, smells and sounds but the history and general feel of the place. I am flying back to Helsinki in December and am eagerly anticipating a return to those wharf side markets. If nothing else than to smell the coffee from the little coffee stand that marks the centre of the small world that exists on that boardwalk. Photo - The boys in the Aussie Bar in Helsinki.

Santa's Big Let Down

2007-10-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

From Hammerfest it was literally a downhill run through Sweden, into Finland and down into Helsinki. Lots of driving again but some interesting stops along the way. Like Santa’s Kingdom in Lappland. Did you know that Santa doesn’t wear shoes when he is at home? He wears really long stripy woollen socks to keep his tootsies warm! I searched that kingdom high and low and couldn’t find one Christmas tree decoration. What is world coming to if you can’t buy a Christmas tree decoration in the only place on earth where is it Christmas for 365 days of the year? Sure, I could have bought Swarovski crystal, flashing reindeer ears or a very crude troll t-shirt but there were no tree decorations to be had! In all honesty (and don’t tell the kiddies) Santa’s Kingdom was a bit of a disappointment. More so because it is one of the main places I was keen to visit in Finland. I had even contemplated making the journey to Lappland for the sole purpose of visiting Santa at his house. Am very glad I didn’t now. It left me with the same feeling that you get when you go and see an eagerly anticipated movie at the cinema only to decide that you should probably have just rented it on DVD. Maybe if there was snow it would have been better? Photo - Matt, Sarah and Michael.

We got to see Santa’s office where all the letters that children address to “Santa - North Pole” go to. Australia’s inbox was a little empty but I suppose it would overflow closer to Christmas though.

Thinking positively, the best part of visiting Lappland was the Contiki Christmas party that we had. Wellsey cooked up a brilliant roast chicken dinner (not as good as Mum’s though) and we had a secret Santa present swap. I managed to pull out a Viking puzzle and some clever detective work led me to my secret Santa - Dirk from Holland.

One poor girl from the Asian group that was travelling with us pulled out her gift only to discover that her secret Santa (Nigel from New Zealand) had thoughtfully provided her with a porn magazine.

Hammerfest finally

2007-10-09T05:03:00.001-07:00

It took us nearly 4 days of solid driving, but we finally made it to Hammerfest. In all honesty, there is absolutely nothing worth writing about with regards to Hammerfest. It would have to be the most boring place on the face of the planet. There is nothing to do there except sit in the library and read your book (did that), have a chat for 3 hours over a luke warm coffee (did that), walk the 500m of main street (did that), and have your photo taken with the polar bear (photographic evidence speaks for itself). Truly, I challenge anyone to go up there and not get bored. And we had to spend 2 days there!

The bright light during this depressing and dreary (can’t say dark because it never was dark, even at 2am in the morning) time was getting back on the bus - never thought I would say that - and travelling a further 3 hours north to Nordkapp. Nordkapp is the furthermost point in Europe and standing there was another tick against my “Things to do before I die list”. Singing at the front of the bus because I needed to use the toilet on board was not on the list so I made sure to hold until we arrived. Others, like Ryan, Lee, Sarah and Bridget were not so lucky. Photo - Andy and Canadian Dave singing Summer Lovin' from Grease.

Despite the fact that what winter clothes I had brought with me were not helpful in warding off the biting wind and that we had missed the midnight sun by a mere 8 days, Nordkapp was amazing. You stand at the edge of the cliff face and see…nothing. Nothing but open sea and an amazing array of colours that splash across the sky like an artist’s mural. A sunset that never ends, and never begins as the sun just simply loops the small platform that is Nordkapp. You feel like time doesn’t just stand still, it ceases to exist and for a few moments, the beats of your own heart are the only measure that the world continues to turn.

Go there. It’s all I am going to say about what it meant to me. It’s a personal thing and one that I will never forget, nor be able to find again. And I was lucky enough to share it with some pretty amazing people.

Oh and some pretty outrageous people, namely Andy (tour manager), Lee (driver) and Wellsey (cook), who decided that climbing the monument marking the edge of the world would make for a great story. They were damn lucky not to fall off as the steel began to frost over.

The Arctic Circle

2007-10-09T04:36:00.000-07:00

Crossing the Arctic Circle has been on my “Things to do before I die” list for a very long time, and travelling to Hammerfest in Norway provided me with this long sought after opportunity. It wasn’t as grand as I had built it up in my mind, but it did not disappoint. When our bus pulled up to the line marking the beginning of the circle, all you can see is a tourism store and a vast expanse of almost barren land. As it was summer there was no snow, something my visions hadn’t counted on, so it kind of took a little of the atmosphere away, but the wind that whipped at my face made up for it. I spent most of my time at the tourism store queuing up in order to get Wellsey and my passports stamped. It took the best part of 30 minutes but at least now I can spend the time I waste lining up at airport customs queues looking at the stamp and remembering the time I actually achieved something I set out to instead of accidentally on purpose.

Progressing further and further north you notice that the green nature of the scenery begins to make way for brown low riding shrubs and you scratch your head trying to think about how anything, flora or fauna could survive a winter here. There is a marking by the side of the only highway to go to Hammerfest that shows how high the snow gets in winter and when standing next to it you see that it stretches high above your own head. Survival here in winter is not a matter of life or death, it’s just death. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

We stopped off at a small campsite nestled at the bottom of mountains that the word majestic does nothing to describe. I shared a cabin with Vikki, Nina, Annie and Sarah that backed onto a small bubbling brook. I never really knew what a brook was until I saw this place. I knew that it was a medium of water, but until I saw this place I had never had occasion to use the word when describing anything I had ever seen. Bigger than a stream, smaller than a river. It made the most wonderful sound that no cheesy meditation tape could ever emulate. Almost like it was singing. Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps. The campsite might not have come with accessible showering facilities, but it did come with its own tepee, complete with reindeer skin covered seats and wooden tables ready for us to sit around and ward off the biting chill. Emerging from that tepee into the cold, black expanse of night, listening to the brook serenading you makes you feel alive. Alive, with all of your senses, from one to six, on alert.

Vodka has no language barrier, as I found out in that tepee. There was a Swedish lady of about 60 years of age making gestures to Matt’s vodka Smirnoff and asking another lady to translate “Where on earth did you get that from?” Seems not only does the Norwegian government hit the consumer with a 95% tax on alcohol but they also regular what alcohol can come into the country. Vodka Smirnoff’s are not on the green light list. We had an abundance of bottles in our Contiki bar so I went and bought one and gave it to her. She spoke no English. I spoke no Swedish, but we got the point across and for the rest of the evening she kept offering me cigarettes.

Contiki, for those who have not had the illustrious pleasure of travelling with them, is a budget 18-35yr travel company. This was my second trip with them having done a western European trip back in 2003. Seems that on this particular journey they took the whole budget concept to a new level and we ended up having to push start our bus in the mornings because the battery was not charging. I did manage to win €5 by guessing it was the alternator as the problem (don’t tell anyone but my little blue Corolla suffered the same problem back in 1998). This morning however we couldn’t push start the bus as it was parked on a dodgy incline so we waited for the equivalent of bus AA or NRMA. To pass the time away most of us slept.

Legend has it that trolls walk the hills of Norway in the dark of night but when the sun comes up they turn to stone. Littering the sides of the road are literally millions of little stone clusters where people have stopped to add their own little man to the legends. Pity Mick, Mark and some of the other Aussie boys didn’t see them as legends, but rather targets to go troll bowling. Or as it affectionately became known, trollicide! Thousands of the little stone clusters were brought crashing down by these boys and their well aimed rocks. To appease the trolls though, Mark and Mick spent a good 20 minutes building their own mega troll at a pit stop, whilst the rest of us were taking in the now common breath taking view. Or buying reindeer skins from the man who could give you a good discount on antlers in a 2-for-1 deal.

Pit stop

2007-10-06T02:41:00.000-07:00

I still have to write about Hammerfest, Lapland and Helsinki but I am taking a pit stop because lots has happened since then.

I have moved! No longer residing at Weevil Village in Chiswick. Karen has planned to move in with Richard once he started his MBA at Oxford University so I decided to jump ship as well. In the end Adriaan moved too so we had the arduous task of trying to deal with our estate agents, Townends, again. We still haven't sorted it out! They would have to be the most inept estate agents on the face of the planet. Or maybe it is all estate agents and I am just too trusting. Either way it is costing us a fortune to tie up loose ends. But enough about that.

I am now living in a one bedroom flat in Tooting which is fabulous fun. I love Tooting. It is a cosmopolitan mix of races, cultures, religions, foods and smells (mostly yicky ones that consist of rotting meat from the meat markets and fish). It is good to get away from the district tube line too. The Northern one is a lot ore reliable and can get me into the West End a lot quicker.

There is a bus I can catch right out the front of my house - the G1. It is the bus with no bus stops. You just stand on the side of the road and wave it down. It will take my all the way up to Battersea or down to Streatham Hill which is good because I can get pretty much anywhere from those two places.

3 things happened to me this week that kind of weirded me out in good and bad ways. The first was teaching at a school on Monday. The Teaching Assistant (TA) said to me that it was lovely to have an English supply teacher for a change instead of "all those Australians". WHAT THE???? Geez, that's scary. So I said I wasn't English. And she asked me where in America I was from. DOUBLE WHAT THE??????

The second was working at a different school on Thursday. I was teaching Year 3 and after lunch there was a knock at the door and a tea lady (yes, you read it correctly, a tea lady) came in and offered me a cup of tea in front of the whole class! How awesome is that?!? Now I can say I have truly experienced the English way! A tea lady! I'm still shaking my head in amazement.

And the third is not as fun. I was travelling home on the bus with no bus stops last night and a young white girl and a young black guy were sitting and standing just in front of me. There child was sitting on his mother's lap. A white man of perhaps eastern European nature started saying things under this breath and then when he got off he hurled abuse at the young family. Telling the black guy that he was a .... well you get the drift. Then he started yelling at him to get off the bus and he will teach the young guy a lesson he wont forget. The whole bus got really angry and started yelling abuse back at the European guy. I was so mortified that someone could say such nasty things about a stranger for no other reason than he was black and had a mixed race child. Guess the European guy didn't look at the people on the bus before he opened his big mouth because it was full of every race, colour, and culture you can think of. An the loudest people yelling back at the European guy? The white guys up the back. Defending the black guy at the front.

Humanity, huh?

Has anyone seen Tom? Tom, are you there? Where the **** is Tom? (part 4c of 5)

2007-09-26T12:25:00.000-07:00

We drove a couple of 8 ½ hours days and we felt every single one of those hours. The main difference between this Contiki tour and my last one was that in Scandinavia you don’t stop in cities and towns everyday. On the Western Europe tours you usually see a different major city each day. On the Scandinavian ones you see a lot of trees, rocks and hills. Our campsite in Mo I Rana was by the side of the major E6 highway. There was a lake, a couple of camping cabins, a service station and a shop selling ski-dos and that’s all! It’s pretty boring and mundane, until you look at the lake. Not just glance at it, but really look at it. The water is like glass. You can see the reflection of life on planet earth staring straight back at you.

The days started to get longer with the sun travelling with us as we moved further north. It wasn’t unusual to have the sun up until 11pm and rise again at 3am. Whilst Wellsey (our camp cook) cooked dinner in the wonderfully erected tent, Andy, Mick, Mark and Matt threw a McDonald’s Happy Meal toy Frisbee around and there was a group of people playing cards at a nearby picnic table. After this stop, my fingers started to become increasingly number as the cold set in, and the names of places started to mesh together in my brain as individual ones begin to get lost in the connection between my brain and my mouth.

When you do a Contiki trip you get a list of optional extras and one of the ones I was looking forward to the most was climbing the Svartisen Glacier. It took over 1 ¼ hours to climb up rocky terrain and cliff face to it but it was worth every single moment. You know how you have those moments in your life that you feel so proud to be alive and to be exactly where you are at that moment in time. That glacier was life affirming for me.

To get to it you catch a small ferry boat 20 minutes up river where it pulls into a dock flanked by a rusty tin shed and a thunderous waterfall. The only clue that there is even a glacier there is a combination of the obvious (huge waterfall) and not so obvious (small hand sketched sign reading “this way”). My hiking boots at this point became the best investment I had ever made because weaving, almost haphazardly, behind the shed is the trail that signifies the beginning of your journey. The first part of the trail heads up the hill beside the waterfall. It is loose underfoot, and your feet flex over the oddly shaped rocks easily with a few hiccups where my trousers kept getting snagged on my heels. But it’s not too hard going, especially for American Matt (Army doctor currently serving in Germany) who powers up the track at lightning speed. For the rest of us mere mortals it doesn’t take long before you reach the next stage of the trek - the cliff face. To navigate along the cliff you need to follow the orange flags waving in the cool breeze. Problem with that is I am currently blind as a bat without glasses and couldn’t see an orange weather worn flag on a makeshift flag pole anywhere. Luckily Lee (tour driver) and Sarah were just in front of me and my very intelligent theory was to just follow them. I wasn’t a very graceful climber either and provided much entertainment as I stumbled, slid and stacked it towards each of the markers. Despite the many avalanche and falling ice warning signs most people continue past the “Stop Here” sign and continue their climb up to the actual glacier itself.

It kind of sneaks up at you. There are a few indicators that it’s coming, signs being one and huge chunks of ice floating in the lake another, but when it finally pops up over the next cliff platform it steals the breath right from your throat. Just like in a cyclone, hurricane or twister, you get the feeling of being inside the eye of a storm. There is an almost reverent silence. You can no longer hear the waterfall tumbling down towards the river system in the background. People’s voices seem hushed and the silence envelops you. Silence is, I now believe, nature’s version of the drumroll. Just before I saw it, I lost my footing and blindly grabbed onto the rock and looked up to find my next hand hold and instead I saw…

Actually touching it defies all words associated with feeling. Anything I attempt to write here will not do it justice, or describe it accurately. The colour is a thick, gluggy blue with splits in the ice that look as if a bear has clawed at it and scratched deep into its core. Touching it is, as you’d expect, cold but you can hear the ice crackling under the heat of your hand as the top layers melt away. I’ve climbed to the top of the world before (Jungfraujoch, 2003) but this is something different. Awe inspiring maybe… but so much more than that. Sitting there looking at this creation of nature you start to think about how it would have been so much bigger in just as little as 10 years ago. You also start to look at yourself and realise what a huge accomplishment it is for a kindy teacher from Sydney is climbing on, touching and yes, I licked it, a glacier that was formed when dinosaurs roamed the earth. It’s very easy to get lost in your own thoughts up there.

It’s also easy to get lost if you are a Japanese tourist on our tour too apparently. Instead of meeting back at 2pm as we were all supposed to, a quick head count revealed Tom and Jessica (both travelling Asian tourists) were missing). With the ferry coming only every 2 hours we realised that this was serious. Never can it be said that we left someone behind as 8 of us volunteered to stay back to start a search team. I have scribbled in the pages of my notebook times or departure, names of people in teams and what people were wearing as we set off up the track again. Wish I could drag it out for you but it was a fizzer really as one of the teams found Tom and Jessica within 25 minutes. Was very exciting though and I think we missed our callings with mountain rescue! It’s also good to see that the age old fire fighting tradition of “Hurry Up and Wait” is traversable into glacier rescue work. We got to sit on our butts for 1½ hours until the next ferry turned up.

Hurtling towards Hell (part 4b of 5)

2007-09-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

Many of the days I spent in Norway were travel days as there were so many kilometres to cover to get up to Hammerfest but along the way we made some absolutely amazing stops. One of those stops was the Winter Olympic Bobsled track where we were offered the opportunity to hurtle down the course at speeds that caused my head to smash quite violently and unladylike against the metal cage. It was very scary but great fun. They strap special braces to your stomach and back so that the g-forces don’t do permanent damage to your spine and guts. You have to hold onto the smallest handles I have ever seen and just before they push your sled off at the start line you get an attack of the panics and want to scream “Let me out!” I am very pleased to announce though that my sledding team won third place. We were even awarded bronze medals at a mini award ceremony on the bus afterwards too. Photo - my bobsled team preparing for take off. I'm the scared one at the back.

We also stopped at Trondheim which is a beautiful and quaint little city located about midway up the side of Norway. I loved the feel of this place. It is home to only about 145,000 people and it certainly makes a difference to the 7.4 million people I fight with every day to get a seat on the tube in London. Most of the Trondheim townspeople are actually students studying at the local university. It was slightly chilly and I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like in the middle of winter as snow would cover the city like a big, fat, fluffy doona. I bet that they celebrate Christmas in style there! I could just see them hanging fairy lights and decorations through the trees and the snow lining the pavement.

Another stop was at the Geiranger Fjord which is an amazing valley and river system nestled in the crevasses of mountains. We took a boat cruise down the river and the scenes were simply stunning - beautiful, shimmering water at the base of monstrous mountains. Waterfalls cascaded down the rock faces, racing to meet the river like a lost child might race to its mother. Breath taking doesn’t do the fjord justice. It is a magical place where your imagination can run wild. It sounds clichéd to say that you almost expect dreams to come true there, and for one couple on our tour it did - Andrew asked Bree to marry him. Photo - Standing just above the Geiranger Fjord.

We pit stopped at Hell, a small dot on the map not that far from the Geiranger Fjord. Many people spend their faithful lives questioning the meaning life, of the existence of heaven and hell and I can safely assure you that yes, there is a place called Hell and it is in the “Middle-of-Nowhere, Norway”. What is in Hell, I can hear you asking? Well, as disappointed as I was not to meet the red horned little fellow carrying a pitchfork, he just wasn’t waiting for a train that day. The only thing in Hell is a train station, with a post box! That’s all. The station has only one platform. Trains come in, trains go out. And that’s about it. Hell was a strange experience for most, but more so for poor Ryan, who spent the night before becoming acquainted with some local ladies and reacquainted with the bottom of a few beer bottles, promptly overslept and was woken by his room mate 3 minutes before the bus was to depart. He grabbed his unpacked suitcase (I’m sure that the next hostel patron will love Ryan’s towel, undies and Aussie green and gold socks) and hauled his butt onto the coach. Sleep was all he could think about and didn’t seem to mind that the only part of Hell he saw was the flat top of the garbage bin! To add insult to his already fragile head, we decided that for his own safety Ryan needed to be tied into his coach seat. He was swaying dangerously from side to side in his slumber and as his seat with directly opposite the back door, we could see him tumbling out of his seat and down the back stairs at any moment. Imagine his surprise however, when he woke up at lunchtime and couldn’t get himself out of his seat. Photos above - The train station in Hell. Photo below - Ryan having a kip on a skip in Hell.

Oslo and the Viking games that will never be (part 4a of 5)

2007-09-24T13:16:00.000-07:00

Norway is without any doubt, the most expensive country on the face of this planet. I knew that I would be financially hard up for this leg of my journey because Norway has notoriously high taxes but I was not prepared for the reality of paying the equivalent of $AU7.00 for a 300ml bottle of Coke! Plus as I was spending a great big chunk of tour time in Norway being frugal was the only way I was going to survive. Photo - Wellsey in the cook tent next to the girl's cabin.

We spent all of Saturday driving and arrived at our campsite in Oslo, Norway around dinner time. After Team Tent got to work putting the cook tent up and Canadian Dave purchased a wheelbarrow of dry wood, we settled down for the evening in front of the fire with some soup and pork chops for dinner. Andy, our tour manager, had been organising us into Viking Clans for a special Viking Games Tournament he had been talking about since Copenhagen. He even managed to locate a bag of goodies - helmets with horns, swords, axes and the odd looking blonde plaited wig. Sarah, a high school drama teacher, was in absolute heaven and declared that she would remain in Viking character for the evening. Unfortunately for the Viking Games, there was a dog show also scheduled at the same campsite that we were staying at, and the grounds were already full of dogs, their trainers and the officials. So the games were postponed...

That’s okay though, we found ways to entertain ourselves, usually at the bottom of a bottle. It was certainly amusing to watch people declaring themselves camp fire experts and then set about building only a flicker of flame. Kept you entertained for hours! Especially when Andy decided the best way to break a log in half was to get Canadian Dave to grab the other end and then they both ran at a tree trunk to smash their log against it so that it would snap in two. Probably could have worked, except that they had mistaken a metal flag pole for their “tree trunk” and only discovered their drunken mistake when the flag pole made a huge “ding” sound when the log collided with it and they left a massive black mark and dent in the base of it. Don’t think the caretaker and his wife were too impressed! Photo - Vikki and Barbara sitting next to the fire at our Oslo campsite wearing their viking helmets.

The next morning we got our first real glimpse of Oslo city. Unlike the sea side feel of Stockholm and the random nature of Copenhagen, Oslo actually feels like a city with structure, age and romantic tendencies. A prime example of this is the royal palace, where Yes, I did see another changing of the guard ceremony. The palace in Stockholm is right on the water, accessible by sea and land. It is surrounded by the city and can easily be mistaken for just another museum. The palace in Copenhagen is located on the fringe of the city centre, surrounded by the infrastructure of the economy and the embassies of its neighbours. Both palaces in Denmark and Sweden are functional, hiding their opulence and grandeur behind large and imposing stone buildings. The palace in Oslo is situated in a slight incline, nestled in what Jane Austen’s Catherine de Berg (Pride and Prejudice) would call “a pretty-ish kind of woods”, looking down the main street of the city. It gives you the impression of implied wealth rather than flaunting it in your face. The changing the guard ceremony feels the same way too. Instead of the grandeur we saw in Stockholm, it was rather simple, straight forward and classic.

I’m not a fan of galleries and museums but I am glad that didn’t pass up with opportunity to see “The Scream” at the National Gallery. There were lots of other artworks in there but really, art is art to me and nothing jumped out and grabbed me as fabulous. I’d much rather go and see the beautiful stained glass windows of cathedrals or the sparkling jewels in the treasury vaults.

The end of my day in Oslo was spent at the Kon-tiki Museum, which wasn’t a really a museum, more like a journey of discovery. It was all about Thor Heyerdahl and his expeditions as he tried to prove that the Egyptians could have sailed across the oceans to South Amercia to begin colonisation there. He did this by attempting to sail the same route in a papyrus boat, just as the ancient Egyptians would have. Heyerdahl also used the opportunity to do a social experiment and crewed the boat with people from different continents, backgrounds and races. He wanted to see if people with nothing in common could live and work harmoniously together. It took him three tries to cross the Atlantic Ocean but eventually he succeeded. Thor Heyerdahl also researched primitive colonies. He even took his new wife on her honeymoon to live for a year on a semi-deserted island with a tribe of pygmy people. They eventually had to leave because the tribe had discovered a substance like alcohol and were becoming violent whilst under the influence! Reading about his journeys is very inspiring and makes you think about what you plan to contribute to the world.

Stunning Sweden (part 3 of 5)

2007-09-10T09:14:00.000-07:00

Arriving in Stockholm we went to the Nobel Prize Hall and Swedish Parliamentary Building. With all the hoopla that surrounds the Nobel Prizes, especially the peace prize, you would think that the official hall would have been magnificent and grand but in reality it is a brown brick building that has creaky floors when you walk down the corridors. The official room where they present the prize isn't even a room! It's a boring looking courtyard that they had to pop a roof on (there wasn't one in the original design of the building) because the snow build up in winter was too much to bear! The parliament rooms are old and maroon. Everything is in a shade of maroon. The tour was rather boring (I guess it is the word I would use to sum up the Nobel Prize Hall experience really) but I did enjoy learning about how the rafters and beams in the ceiling of main parliament room were exposed to represent the underside of a viking boat, where the first parliament meetings of Sweden actually took place.

There is also a Golden Room which is a reception room made up completely of small gold tiles. I am not sure what the designer was smoking when he came up with idea but even the Nobel Hall tour guide said that the Swedish people were ashamed of it and thought that it was an eye saw. Eventually the room gives you a headache and you are very glad to walk out of it to be faced with the mundane brown brick.

Most people travel overseas to see museums, art galleries, monuments. I travelled Scandinavia to see changing of the guard ceremonies! Not really, but it sure felt like it as I ended up seeing one at every royal palace I went to. None matched the pomp and circumstance of the Swedish Royal Changing of the Guard ceremony. And I include the English one in that group too. We were told that the ceremony would take about 40 minutes and is a lavish affair with horses and a band. True with the lavish affair and band bit, not so true with the 40 minutes part. I think it actually was closer to an hour and a half in the end. The ceremony itself is a awesome spectacle with horses, mounted guards, guards in training (all complete with Steve Urkell glasses - must have the same dodgy army optician) and canons. Unfortunately it bucketed down half way through the ceremony and the guards must have been extremely uncomfortable in their blue and white woollen uniforms. The horses didn't seem to mind though. I can't believe that the band were playing their instruments on the back on those horses in the pouring rain. Very skillful.

As grand and impressive as the changing of the guard ceremony was, it was actually more entertaining to watch the poor guard stationed in front of us who was in charge of keeping the crowd out of the way so that the horses could come through. He was tall, buff, had a rifle and a bayonet and still, he didn't stand a chance against a bus load of middle age Mediterranean women who were determined to get closer to the action. Even if that meant standing in the no standing zone when a platoon of cavalry were streaming toward them. The guard tried his hardest but he just couldn't fight them all off. They were coming at him from all directions. He had to call for back up 5 times. They were ruthless! When the back up arrived, they all lined up, removed their bayonets and then used their guns to push people back out of the square. They were yelling at people in a manner that, had I not have been standing behind the barrier, would have made me pee my pants. Very scary, but not scary enough to move the Mediterranean "mafia".

My favourite moment was actually a quintessential Aussie moment. Sarah and I were standing with a bunch of the guys off our tour. We had a good position right at the front of the barriers. We were all set to watch the action but a problem soon became apparent when the guard tried to get the Mediterranean masses to move on - they just stepped to the side in front of us. Which was still in the way of the guard, who by this stage has resorted to repeating his "No. You can't stand there. Move on!" speech in all 4 of the languages that he was no doubt fluent in. Still, they did not move. So, in the Australian spirit of lending a hand Dezzie, Mark and Mick lent over us, tapped the offending males in the group on the shoulders and told them to move. When they still didn't budge, a resounding (and loud) "Listen here mate, F*** O**" and a thumb in the desired direction was quickly issued. Now, I didn't see the face that went with the command, but Mick is a pretty big guy (6ft 4 at least - he's the guy in the red shirt kneeling down in the photo at the end of my last post) and not a skinny mini. I tell you, I have not see people move that fast before, ever! And I've seen people running from burning buildings!

We had a Contiki dinner that night which comprised of traditional Swedish food. Can't really recall what each of the pieces of food were that was on my plate, but I can tell you that it all was delicious. I got to talk to Wellsey, our camp cook, and Lee, our driver, which was really good. Last time I didn't get much of a chance to talk to our Contiki driver and tour manager. But maybe that was because I was too shy or I wasn't 18 and blonde! :)

As is the deal with budget Contiki adventures, everyone has to pitch in. At the beginning of the trip you are asked to put your name down next to a job that will be your responsibility for the tour. I had already been a cookie and a dishie (cook helper and dish washer) on my last trip so I put my name down next to the job listed simply as "tent" and thought nothing of it as I passed the clipboard behind me to the next person. Ha! "Tent" was actually putting up and pulling down the marquee style cook tent at each of our stops. It was also the most difficult job to have and as it turns out, the only job that no other female put her hand up for! So, for the entire tour I spent my job time working at 'erecting' and 'making flaccid' (the boys words, obviously not mine) that tent on "Team Tent" with 6 guys. And it was the most laughs I have had in a very long time. Can't tell you how chuffed I was when 10 days into the tour and 10 days into putting up and pulling down that white marquee Mick turns to Mark and says "Hey, there's a chick on Team Tent!". Yep, we had one hell of a switched on team!

Next stop, Oslo and then straight to Hell. No joke, I actually went to Hell which is conveniently masquerading as a town in Norway.

Scandinavian Traveller (part 2 of 5)

2007-08-30T04:18:00.000-07:00

After my marathon 4 hour interview I caught the bus home with just enough time to pick up my bag, forget my travel insurance information and my Euros, and head to the airport. Within two hours I found myself sitting in Terminal 3 of Heathrow airport about to board a plane to Copenhagen to embark on my second Contiki trip. I wish I could say that I was eager and excited to be going, but in truth I was so scared. Spending 3 weeks travelling around in a bus with 40 unknown people is a daunting experience. I was really lucky last time I went on a Contiki trip because I made 7 wonderful friends (huge hello to Mel, Craig, Sarah, Dave, Lulu, Jess and Jezza) that I still keep in contact with. What if this time I wasn't so lucky? I needn't have worried. The Scandi crew were great and I loved every minute of it.

My first impression of Copenhagen was....dark. That might have something to do with the fact that my plane was late and I didn't get the the Contiki compound until midnight. My poor tour manager Andy had to wait up for me. Got to my room and met Bree, Jess and Nicole. Nicole (21) was from Melbourne and travelling for the first time. Bree and Jess were from Dee Why (15 mins up the road from Mum's place in Sydney). Mad how you travel to Copenhagen to meet people who shop at Warringah Mall too! :) Bree and Jess were 19 and I felt so old compared to them. Maybe not old exactly, more like world weary. They hadn't seen anything yet and were so eager. Also so over each other's company too. They whinged a lot that first night!

I had missed the first day of the tour due to my interviews so at breakie the next morning I made sure to sit next to random people so I could get to know some other people on the tour. I ended up sitting next to Vikki (32, nanny) who lives in Chiswick too. Again with the small world! Also met Sarah (pronounced Sara, 23, Brisbane), Annie (21, English, PhD student), Barbara (18, Italian, High school kid) and Michael (31, lawyer, Brisbane). This was fabulous because I found some friends to spend the day touring Copenhagen with.

After our quick coach tour of the city sights I opted out of visiting the Carlsberg brewery (seen one seen them all really) and instead decided to go to the Rosenberg Castle and gardens on Vic the man's recommendation. This is where they keep the royal jewels. Vic had said that she had seen them when she visited Copenhagen with her parents and that I would like them too. Always a sucker for sparkling things I was keen to see the ruby and diamond necklace and tiara set that Mary wears all the time. Unfortunately they were not in the vault (she must have been out there wearing them somewhere) but I did get to see Queen Margarethe's spectacular emerald version and some absolutely beautiful pearl and diamond necklace and earring sets. The ceremonial crowns were also on display. The king's crown was strange to look at because the gems were so big they looked fake. I reckon I could have swapped them with something I had brought in from a costume jewellery shop and they'd be none the wiser.

After viewing of the dark and depressing rooms of Rosenberg Castle we walked through the castle gardens and sat for half an hour people watching. Everyone was blonde! And riding a bike. But mostly I noticed how blonde everyone was. It was strange to see.

Then we wandered up to Amalienborg Palace which is the Royal Family's official residence although I am told that Mary, Fred and the kids live outside of town. I had hoped to go inside and see the State rooms but unfortunately they were only open on the weekends (and it was Wednesday) so instead I went in and saw an exhibition on Queen Ingrid (Fredrik's grandmother). There was a whole section on her style and they had on display a selection of her evening gowns from when she became Queen right up until her death. Some of the earlier ones were amazing and I loved the black tulle ball gown with slightly gathered capped sleeves. So subtle and elegant. It was really fascinating to she how much she had shrunk over her lifetime. The mannequins kept getting smaller and smaller.

At the top of the main staircase was picture of Mary and Fredrik's wedding day with all the European royals in the background. We had a competition to see who could name the most royals and I am happy/sad to report that I won!

I got busted by a guard yelling at me in Danish for sitting down on the palace steps and tying my shoelace. Apparently this is a national disaster so if you go to the palace and have a shoelace blowout, wait until you have left the compound before tying it back up again. I call it a compound because there are four palace buildings built in a circle fashion around a statue of a previous king in the middle. There are four roads in and four roads out. All of the palace buildings face into the centre and it gives you the impression of being enclosed, or wrapped around. I kept thinking I was being held in the middle of cupped hands. You can tell which is the current monarch's residence because there is a glittering necklace type ornament on top of one of the palace buildings, just underneath the flagpole. Apparently when Fredrik becomes king they will move the ornament over to his and Mary's residence.

When you read articles in Woman's Day and New Idea about Denmark they always show a picture of the Inner Harbour with it's colourful buildings and boats moored alongside them. I thought that all of Copenhagen was like this but no, it is just the Inner Harbour which would only be about 500m long if that. It was a little disappointing because those coloured buildings are so charming and the rest of the port areas are rather dull in comparison. We took a boat cruise around the harbour areas and saw Christiannia, a hippie commune that is located in old Army barracks. We were told that the hippies denounced the Queen and her laws and live there free of laws, taxes and apparently health care.

My evening in Copenhagen was spent in Tivoli Gardens which is a large amusement park. What separates in from normal amusement parks is that it has been built into the original garden area so you walk through canopies of trees and around ponds and water features. It is a very beautiful place and Vikki could be heard screaming from atop of the ride she chose. It was a mega version of the swinging chairs. It went up so high and then as you were swinging around it dropped you fast and then rose you back up again.

By this stage I had met a lot more people on the tour and was pleased to see that there was a large group of older people (by older I mean 25-35). Plus it felt easier this time around introducing myself and making friends. I had a good feeling about the tour and was eager to get on the road the following morning to Sweden.

Filling in the blanks... (part 1 of 5)

2007-08-28T08:56:00.000-07:00

You'll have to bear with me as I try and recollect all my thoughts, experiences and memories from my Scandi trip. Man, there is so much I want to type. So many places I visited and people I met that I want to tell you about I am struggling to find a place to start. So I will start at the beginning and to understand the beginning you need to understand my state of mind. And to understand that, you need to know the bigger picture ... This photo is of Kay (my teaching assistant) and me at Book Week. The teacher's theme was Dalmatians. I had an advantage of living with the world's most Dalmatian obsessed person, so it was easy for me. There is a jacket that goes with my outfit too.

I ended my English 2006/07 school year on a bittersweet note. The sweet part - I had a fabulous time teaching the Year 1 class and learnt heaps about the curriculum and planning process which was the main professional reason for me moving to England. The staff at the school were lovely and I am really pleased to say that I will keep in contact with quite a few of them, especially Shannon, Karen, Mary and Kay. My kids were beautiful souls who, whilst they will never match my awesome St Martin's kiddies, brought me many laughs and smiles (and a strange trip to Birdworld). The bitter part - When I went for my initial interview with the headteacher he said that I should treat the term's supply work as a trial for a full time temp job in the 2007/08 academic year as they would have two vacancies. He said that if I could meet the goals he set then there would be no reason why I wouldn't be asked back next year. So I started work, redid all the things that he said were a problem with my planning and programming and tried to make sure that I was on top of all of the special classroom requirements he set for me. A good example of what it was like is that I was reprimanded for having too many bibles on the prayer table at one point. At this time I begun to suspect that something wasn't right. However, with the support of Shannon and Kay we kept going. I got in my weekly program review saying thanks for trying really hard and he appreciated me going the extra mile so to speak. Then at about 3 weeks before school ended, just after I had written all of the reports, I noticed some young women sitting in the foyer of the school looking spiffy in their best duds. Didn't think much of it until I was called into the H/T's office and told that there was no longer a position available for me for 2007/08 even though I had fulfilled all of the requirements he had set for me because he wanted to "restructure" his teaching team to include an early years teacher. My reply was that I understood but that I would like the opportunity to apply because I have and Early Years major. This was met with the response "No you don't". He maintained that he didn't know even though we had discussed it in my initial interview. But I bet you've guessed who those well dressed women were by now huh? Long story short, he had already filled the position before telling me. From that point on he made teaching there an even more difficult task. My favourite point was on the last day when, in front of the whole school at mass, he stood up on the altar in church and made me be the representative of the teaching staff in the ceremony right before announcing to everyone that I had fulfilled all his set requirements and it was a shame I couldn't stay. It was an excrutiatingly embarassing moment.

I'm not always the most positive person, my new friend Sarah will attest to that (another story for another time). I believe in fairness over kindness. So I spent many days frustrated, angry, hurt and generally p***ed off. I couldn't believe that he had lied to me. I much prefer someone to be up front and honest. Tell me to my face is my motto. Looking back I was angry at myself for letting myself be fooled. The English school system and it's subsequent parts (teaching agencies, head teachers, local authorities, national curriculum council etc) has never been kind to anyone I know so why I thought this time would be different I don't know.

Anyways, when school ended I was emotional jelly. I needed a change. Which brings me to part two...

I applied for a change of pace. I applied for two jobs with the London Fire Brigade. I was over teaching and over being treated like dirt. With massive help from the magnificent Andrew Veitch and my brother, I wrote my applications for the jobs. I was really surprised to get an interview for not one, but both. To be accepted to the London Fire Brigade you need to go through a 4 step interview process. The first one is the application. That is a task and a half and involves providing a lot of evidence on what skills you have. The second is a written formal exam. The third is a presentation that you have to give to a panel on a subject of their choice (complete with PowerPoint slides) and the fourth is the actual interview itself. I like interviews. I am good at the face to face stuff but even this was daunting to me. One of my written exams was 2 hours long. In one interview I was asked 37 questions. It was a tough process. Had to laugh when I realised half way through one of the interviews that the buttons on my pants were undone! I reckon it was God telling me this wasn't for me.

During the exam of my last interview I realised that I didn't want these jobs. I wanted the jobs, but not here. I wanted it at home in Australia where I knew the government legislation and other governing bodies. Looking back I probably could have just stood up, thanked them and withdrawn my application. Ah well. When I found out I didn't get the jobs (one I was under qualified for and the other had a problem with my VISA for 2009) a huge wave of relief washed over me. I was actually happy. Would you believe it? Ha! How's that! I might not have got the jobs but I got something else - my passion and drive back.

Which brings me to Scandinavia. I picked the trip because it left the day of my interview so I could be in London for my interview and still fly out that night to Copenhagen. Strange how things make you choose a certain path. Being on that trip has changed my life. Now is that dramatic or what? :)

Since this entry is a million miles too long already I'll stop here. Tomorrow I will write about Copenhagen, complete with pictures.

The pictures in this blog (after the one of Kay and me) are of what my classroom looked like. The first three are from my first day there. Please keep in mind that this was at the beginning of the last term. For those of you who aren't in teaching, haven't seen my classroom or haven't seen other classrooms then these photos show an unusually bare classroom. The last three are of the classroom at the exhibition evening in the last week of school. Slight difference huh? I hope that this gives you a picture of what I started with and what the school ended with.

Scandinavia... update soon

2007-08-24T02:04:00.000-07:00

So much Scandinavian travelling adventures to write about, so little time at a computer in a Finnish hotel with 12 German backpackers stragetically coughing behind you to hurry you up.

Having a fantastic time. Met and made lots of new friends.

Will write about it all when I finally reach English speaking soil again.

Watering Cans

2007-08-05T13:29:00.000-07:00

I found out something today...

A watering can holds 10 and a half pints of Snake Bites!

P.S: A Snake Bite is half beer, half Strongbow with a liberal dose of blackcurrant cordial.

How much can one person fit in her handbag?

2007-08-02T06:01:00.000-07:00

Karen has a new handbag. Beautiful NineWest black leather one with silver accents.

And this is what is inside the handbag...

Now I am pretty up with Karen's handbags, even affectionately naming one "The Handbag of Death" (you should read that with the appropriate sound effects in your head), but truly, this had to be seen to be believed. Especially when she was searching for something at the bottom.

I should also add that Karen must have been wearing her cardigan. Usually that would have been in the pile as well.

The next plan...

2007-07-30T02:41:00.000-07:00

Wish I had something exciting to blog about but I haven't really done much lately. I did go to London Dungeon with Stuart on Thursday which was an eye opening experience. We lined up with the hoards of school kids (school hols, you see) to see what life was like in the middle ages. It focuses on the disgusting and torturous elements of 17th and 18th century London. Bit grossed out by the smell in there. One girl actually fainted in our group and they had to stop the show to revive her.

Last time I was over here I went to an exhibition called "Dublinia" in Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin, Ireland. A lot of the information about middle ages was the same at the Dungeon but I think I must be showing my late 20s age, because the "gross out" factor of the Dungeon didn't really appeal to me. I don't regret going. It was a fun thing to do and I hadn't been before, but I think that it is probably something best done with school aged children (preferably about 10 or 11 years of age as the little ones get too spooked).

Friday night I went out for Spanish with Karen, Courteney and Rebecca. Courteney has been running around Western Europe on a couple of Contiki trips. It sounds like she has been having a blast.

Speaking of trips I am headed off the Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Finland next Tuesday for 3 weeks. Not sure what to expect having never ventured further north than Holland but am very keen to experience life in the Arctic Circle. Top of the list of things to do is standing on the northern most part of Hammerfest.

Am also really looking forward to going to Copenhagen. As is much of Australia, I love Princess Mary. So going to the Palace for a tour is top on the priority list. I'm in Denmark for 3 days so I'm sure I can squeeze it in. Then after Denmark I spend 5 days in Norway before heading over Sweden and then working my way back down to Helsinki in Finland and then last stop is Copenhagen again. I'm a little nervous, but very excited.

The weekend that was. Farewell Blue School.

2007-07-23T02:03:00.000-07:00

I finished teaching at The Blue School on Friday afternoon. I'm not a fan of goodbyes and I always hate the last day of school because it is a mess of a day and nothing ever gets done. So when you leave a school on the last day it sucks twice over. I had a great time teaching Year 1. Kay, my teaching assistant, was wonderful and made every day a lot easier. I love the fact that neither of us were English (Kay's Irish) and neither of us were C of E (we're both Catholic) but there we were teaching in the oldest C of E school in England (The Blue School was founded in 1630)! It's a strange feeling teaching in a school that is older than the country that you were born in! Photo - Stuart, Karen and Davina.

Luckily, I had lots on this weekend to keep my mind occupied from the fact that I am now, once again, unemployed. Friday night I went to the end of school staff night down in Middlesex. Ended up drinking up a storm with Shannon (Aussie Reception teacher) and Mary (Irish Year 3 teacher) as well as Kay, Jim (caretaker) and a bunch of the dinner ladies. Then headed out for Chinese with Mary, Shannon and Kate (English Year 5 teaching assistant), Caroline (Cockney Year 3 teaching assistant) and Shelia (English Year 2 teaching assistant).

On Saturday Karen offered to take me to her library in Victoria because I am trying to curb my addiction to buying books here. We set off up Chiswick High Street to get some brunch first (yummy pancakes and awesome pineapple juice) and then walked to Turnham Green train station. At this point I think I should reiterate my "passion" for op-shops. I stopped at 6 on the way to the train station and you'll never guess what I bought?????? That's right, books! I ended up buying 6 books before I even stepped foot on the train to get to Victoria. I blame Karen really. It is all her fault for not dragging me along the pavement and forbidding me to enter the op-shops in the first place! Photo - Davina, Matt and Rachael.

Finally made it to Victoria library where I borrowed a few books. Visited the NEXT (clothing store like Sussans) sale and then headed home before going to Davina's farewell 62MG party. Davina is moving to Spain for a month to keep learning her Spanish language skills and is then finding a new place to live because she has been having flatmate issues. Although it was sad to know that this was the last 62MG party we would be going to, it's the best decision for Davina. Photo - Karen, Tom, (haven't a clue who is behind us), Barry and Me.

Also managed to catch up with my god-brother (his parents are my godparents), Stuart, which was really cool. He came along to Davina's party and it was such a good blast from the past. I hadn't seen Stuart for 11 years or so. Funny how you have this image of someone in your head from the last time you saw them and they are still that person just all grown up. I sound like a Nana I know. Stuart missed the last train home after we had made it to the Shepherd's Bush Walkabout so he crashed on our couch and then came to the World Music Festival on Sunday with us too.

The World Music Festival was held at Ealing Broadway and featured bands from around the globe. A lot of the music I heard was drumming sounds from Africa but when it's played by pigmys you've just got to get up and bop about with everyone else! Karen's school buddy Lisa P ran the marketing campaign for the Ealing Summer Festival which was what the World Music Day was for. We had already gone to a comedy night for it the previous Sunday which was a great night too.

And so here I am. Monday morning and I'm chatting to Simon on MSN. He is a medic in the Australian Army station in the back end of Malaysia somewhere. Apart from reading some of the millions of books I have accumulated and heading up to the post office to send some of the ones I've already read to Vic in Canada, I'm pretty free this week. That's not a bad thing though because I have to figure out what my next job is going to be when school goes back in September. Photo - Me, Stuart and Karen.

Birdworld

2007-07-19T09:28:00.000-07:00

It's school trip time here in England. Basically it is when the teachers have to take their kids on an excursion before the end of the school year. I realised too late that the excursion, or "school journey" as it is called here, does not have to have any educational purpose of relevance. I could have loaded my 30 five year olds into a bus and taken them to see Shrek 3 at the local cinema. Or gone bowling. Or gone to a water theme park. Why take them somewhere educational? That would be logical and make sense and we all know that the English education system is neither of those 2 things!

Unfortunately for me I figured this out too late and had already booked a trip to Birdworld on the advice of some suspect staff members at school. Am beginning to think that they might have been having a laugh behind my back at this one.

The excursion was plagued with problems from the get go. Money, ballet exams, peanut allergies, parents with "issues" and miscommunication with another member of staff. But when you strip all that away, my kids had a ball. They were so excited to actually get out and see stuff. I don't think that they do enough of it over here. One of things I will remember the most abut teaching in London was when I first taught my class a PE lesson and we got changed (they aren't allowed to wear a PE uniform to and from school) and went outside and they all froze at the door. One of my boys turned to me and said "But we do PE in the Hall. We don't go outside".

Back to Birdworld. We got to see the penguin feeding, visit the education centre for a lesson and go through Underwater World. The park is especially proud that they have these most fantastic exotic birds. It is a huge draw card for them. You'll never guess where their "prize exotic birds" came from...Australia. Yep, I went all the way there to see a kookaburra in a cage! It was sooooooooooo exciting (I can't really type sarcasm, can I?). One of the boys in my class loved it though and was really excited to tell me that he had found another Australian animal to show me which was really sweet.

There were even magpies in a cage. Wow! (Again with the sarcasm, sorry). I told the kids about magpie season where they swoop at you and you have to walk to school with an empty ice cream bucket on your head with texta eyes on the back. They didn't believe me! Even the parent helpers thought I was pulling their leg. No matter how much I swore on it, they thought I was full of it.

But I went to Davina's for dinner that night and was talking with Barry (flatmate), Helen and Rachael (friends) about the whole not being believed part and they were aghast and started telling me stories of how they walked to school with ice-cream buckets on their head too! See England, I told you so!!!

I purposefully picked Birdworld because there were no slithery animals. Birds. Animals with feathers and wings. Happy with that. But as always, the best laid plans... of course there was a snake in the education centre. And of course the children wanted to pat it. And of course I was so close to the door that we could have been Siamese twins. Just thinking about that snake gives me the creeps.

All in all I'd give bird world one thumb up. I would have given it two except for the snake. I would have given it one and a half but I had a little girl who was petrified of owls. I finally managed to talk her into looking at the owls in an attempt to help her get over her fear. This was great until we looked down and saw that they had sacrificed baby chickens as food for the owls and the chicks with their broken necks were left in plain sight for all to see. Not the best idea and I'm sure the poor girl is now scarred for the rest of her life.

Tour De France

2007-07-16T09:59:00.000-07:00

Who says that you have to go away to "go away" for the weekend?

First stop on my "stay in England" weekend was Hyde Park to watch the start of the Tour de France. This year they started in London. It wasn't really that exciting to be honest, more of a thing to do to say you've done it. Taking photos of the riders was a bit difficult as they were going so fast and this huge Japanese dude was standing in front of us and we couldn't tell when a rider was coming except that the cheers got louder. I got lots of the video guys on the motor bikes or the front or back wheel of the bike. It was fun to squish in with everyone else and cheer the guys on though. Wish I could have seen an Aussie rider but after about 45 riders I got a bit bored and remembered the pub Karen and I passed on the way in...

On Sunday I made a return trip to Oxford for the day with Karen, Rebecca and Courteney. It always amazes me how leaving London leaves you so refreshed and renewed. I loved sitting in the meadows of Christ Church soaking up the sun. Oxford is definitely my city of choice.

I wish I had more exciting news for you. But I am just cruising along at the moment. Enjoying doing little things in and out of London.

This is my last week at school. The million dollar question is "What will you do in September (after school holidays)?" and if another person asks me it I'm going to scream! We had the school Exhibition Evening (like Open Day) last week and everyone who walked past me asked me. I know they are interested and that's nice and I appreciate it but enough is enough. Fingers crossed I figure it out by September 1!

Loos are worth every penny!

2007-07-11T10:16:00.000-07:00

My flatmate and good friend Karen writes on her blog (link to it is on the right hand side of my page here) about touring the globe and rating countries by their toilet facilities. We've seen pictures of Asian and Viennese toilets in recent posts.

In all honesty I thought she had gone completely mad until I read this article on ninemsn.com earlier today. I think she may just be onto something....

Money found in toilets across Japan
Thursday Jul 12 00:11 AEST

AP - Envelopes containing Y10,000 ($A95.65) bills and well-wishing notes have been discovered in municipal toilets across Japan, media reports said, baffling civil servants and triggering a nationwide hunt.

Local media have estimated that over Y2 million ($A19,131) worth of bills were found at men's rooms in city halls in at least 15 prefectures (states) in recent weeks.

Each package of 10,000-yen bills, some wrapped in traditional Japanese washi paper, was accompanied by handwritten letters that read "Please make use of this money for your self-enrichment," and "One per person," according to reports.

Officials are baffled over the identity of the benefactor or any motives, the reports said. Packages turned over to police were to be kept for some time in case someone claimed them.

©AAP 2007

Pointy things in Portugal

2007-07-07T00:57:00.001-07:00

Last weekend Karen and I headed out of cold, wet and windy London in search of this unknown thing called sun and it's partner in crime, warmth in Lisbon, the capital of Portugal.

Our story starts on Thursday though with the discovery of two car bombs in Hyde Park and Piccadilly Circus which was reported all over the papers. Great, I thought. An excellent time to be heading out of London for a while. I caught the bus and tube to Heathrow after a long Friday at work and made it as far as the BA check in desk where I waited in line for 50 minutes. Then off to the customs line where I waited again for 30 minutes. All the while I am thinking that this is not too bad. Lucky that I had left an extra hour early. Karen and I met in the duty free section of the departures area and we waited for our "delayed" flight. Not unusual in itself either. Then the fun started...

They hadn't allocated our plane a gate. It was already half and hour behind time coming into Heathrow anyway so when they popped up Gate 28 on the screen we excitedly headed off in that direction of the terminal eager to board and head for sunshine. Famous last thoughts actually.

Gate 28 is at the other end of the terminal. We were met with the largest queue I have ever seen in my life. I am confident in saying that it was longer than the "Aliens" line at Passport control at JFK airport in New York. This thing was about 20 people wide by at least 70 metres long. Plus it was complete with irate Americans who wanted "information". Didn't they know that they were in London? There's no information for the public here, mate. Just stand in line and wait until you get to the front. Which, when we did, was quite amusing because at the front of the line was a rope which closed off the line and provided a little walk way for arriving passengers to cross through our line. On the other side of the walk way was the other half of our line. When Karen and I finally emerged at the front of the second half of our line we were met by another customs screening area. Back to taking off our shoes and jackets and going through scanners etc. The mega line was just for additional security checks. Finally we board the plane and wait for all of our fellow passengers to embark when they realise that they can't find one lady passenger. Where is she? Did she get sucked into the mega line not to reemerge at the end? Did she take one look at the line and say "Toss that!" and walk away like any sane person would? All I know is it took them 40 additional minutes to figure out that they couldn't wait any longer and shut the doors. At this stage we are 90 minutes behind our already delayed departure time. Then...we get stuck in a plane queue to take off.

The poor woman next to me was beside herself. She was a Canadian flying into Portugal to meet friends she hadn't seen for 10 years. They were coming from 5 different countries to have dinner and she was going to miss it because of the delays. We took off after our planned arrival time in Lisbon.

But planes are planes and Heathrow is Heathrow and it is to be expected.

Lisbon is a quiet town. I want to say city but it is surprisingly small. Karen and I woke up on Saturday morning and after our hotel breakfast we went to find a tube station to take us into the city centre. We couldn't find one so we walked down one of the streets. It was beautifully lined with trees. Not just the ones that stand tall next to the road, but these trees had grown to form a canopy over the walkways and road. It was a very relaxing stroll down towards the "pointy thing" (Karen speak for monument to famous people). The early morning sun poked through the leaves and made patterns on the sidewalk. The sidewalks themselves were covered in light and dark stones to create patterns too. It reminded me of a dance, the way that the two (sunlight through trees and patterns on sidewalk) worked together.

When we came to an Information Centre we found out that we had actually walked from the top of Lisbon city to almost the bottom of it. The tube station had been behind our hotel and we had walked out of the front! But the walk was worth it. So was the discovery of the tiny Portuguese bakeries that served pastries and other delights. Can't say I would be buying their specialty - sardine croissant - anytime soon, but Karen loved their egg tarts.

The streets of Lisbon are small and cobble stoned. They stretch like long fingers up from the main piazza type street in the middle to the tips of the hills. Each area in Lisbon was a province a long time ago. The streets are like gateways into each province. You can tell where each one starts and finishes by the type of shop or building in it. There is a huge lift that was built in the 1800s that is made from steel. It's job was to ferry the people from the main piazza street into the next province which was on top of the hill. The lift box can still only take 15 people and is more of a tourist attraction than anything else but it is gorgeous. It is lines with old mahogany wood and has carved bench seats for passengers to sit. At the top of the lift is a steel walk way taking you over to the next province. Meeting you at the entrance of the province is an old, weathered and broken church which looks older than God. The roof has long gone and the windows shattered and removed. But in the spirit of recycling and reuse, the Portuguese people use it as a type of Opera House. Whilst we were there they were hosting a black tie ball inside the church complete with orchestra. I'd hate to think what would happen if it rained!

If you climbed the steel spiral staircases of the lift you get to the very top. Where, again - not to let space go to waste - there is a small cafe. It was so windy up there though that the table and chairs are bolted to the floor and the table clothes frequently whip up and kiss your cheeks. But the view is amazing. Beyond amazing actually. Spectacular. You can almost see forever up there.

We had dinner in a small cafe in one of the side streets. I'd love to tell you that we embraced the Portuguese culture and spent the evening sampling their fine wine and food but to be honest, the only thing I think makes Portuguese food Portuguese is that they always add a fried egg with it. Want pancakes? Have a fried egg too. Want soup? Have a fried egg too. Want steak? Have a fried egg too. Want ice-cream? Have a fried egg too. I like eggs, but not that much so we had Indian. And it was the best Indian I have had since I've been away. Words can't describe how great it was except that I had to walk around for an hour after the meal because I had eaten so much.

With the natural thermostat set at 26 degrees all the time we went to Costa da Capricia on Sunday which is the main beach area of Lisbon. We had to catch a very dodgy bus from an even dodgier bus depot (sand and dirt everywhere as it was outside complete with rickerty old shed as ticket booth). The 153 to Costa da Capricia took 20 minutes to get to the beach and 45 to get back and we have no idea why. The beach was lined with market stalls (read shopping for us) but we only quickly went through them before hitting the sand. And what glorious sand it was. Fine, white and soft. It's been so long since my feet have touched sand. I hate the beach at home, funnily enough. But I miss it so much over here. There were people everywhere but I wouldn't say that it was overcrowded. Lots of pot bellies on old dudes with brown weathered skin and nannas wearing one pieces with wobbly bits. But they don't care. And I love that they don't care. They are there for one thing - sun and sand. Okay, that's two things. I never claimed that I could count.

I can honestly say, that if I stuck my feet into an esky full of ice on Australia Day (c'mon we all know and have experienced beer burn from stick our hand in the ice esky to find that last bottle of your favourite beverage) they would still have been warmer than they were in that water! I fully expected to see penguins on an iceberg floating past me. It was beyond cold! But with the sun and the sand it was still a successful trip to the beach and worth every single one of those 150 pounds the trip cost us (flights + accom + breakfast).

The only thing that topped us getting to lay on the beach was our time at Lisbon airport. On Saturday a suicide bomber drove a flaming Jeep into Glasgow airport in a terrorist attack. This then put the entire UK onto critical alert. Karen and I allowed extra time to get through security at Lisbon since we had had a rough time getting out of Heathrow in the first place. Turned out that we had to wait 90 minutes before we were allowed to queue up to check in. Hopelessly we looked around the airport only to see the wonderful sign of "SPA CENTRE". So instead of sitting on uncomfortable chairs watching the minutes ticking by, we went upstairs and had manicures! Awesome. Turns out getting through customs was a breeze (Karen's record for getting frisked at every airport still holds) for the UK but the poor Americans heading to Boston were put through their paces at every turn!

Portugal marks six months in the UK for me. It has actually gone pretty fast and when I went to change my return flight date I realised that I have so much more to do. The school holidays begin here in 2 weeks so I am going to have to start deciding on my next adventure pretty soon.

Here's to the next six months!

P.S: The Cheeseburger challenge lives on. We can cross Portugal off the list now too!

Count down is on...

2007-06-27T09:44:00.001-07:00

Have finally finished off the end of year reports for the class that I am teaching at the moment. I thought reports were painful at home, but having to write reports on 30 children that I hardly know is much worse. I won't say that I will never complain again, because we all know that as soon as I go home and write my first batch of Aussie reports I will be whinging at top note again. I'm just going to have to say that ALL REPORTS ARE EVIL and leave it at that.

3 weeks and 2 days left of school and then it is holidays. Thank goodness. I am very keen to finally have the summer holidays my brain keeps telling me we should have had by now. Even though it is currently colder here in London than it is in Sydney.

Karen and I are off to Portugal on Friday for the weekend. We got some wonderfully cheap tickets on British Airways and a good deal on a hotel that is right next to a shopping mall and 5 minutes from the beach. My mission this weekend is to sit on the beach and read a book only leaving the sand in order to browse the shop windows. Not very cultural I know, but it's all my mushy brain can cope with right now.

Hope all is well in the far flung places you all reside.

I found Santa!

2007-06-24T14:26:00.000-07:00

He was hiding out in the Egyptian pyramid at Legoland with Mrs Claus in between the sarcophagus and the polar bears!

Legoland

2007-06-24T04:14:00.000-07:00

This entry dedicated to David Sgangarella. David was in my class last year at St Martin's. He is obsessed with Lego and would often talk about it, write about it and I believe, dream about it...

It's Rebecca's birthday and for her birthday she wished for a trip to Legoland. So on a cool and windy summer's day we met up at Legoland which is located just outside of Windsor. I didn't know what to expect except that it would be a whole heap of Lego but I was in awe of just how much they could do with the small coloured bricks. It wasn't a cheap outing but it was worth every penny just to see the Minilands area where they had replicas of many European cities.

The mini-London was so life like and you couldn't help yourself laughing out loud as you recognised all of the places that you have been to and now know so well. The Lego Big Ben was amazing and there was even a Lego Queen watching over the Lego Trouping of the Colours. The little Lego troops marched around in front of Her Royal Legoness and played little instruments. The vehicles in the cities moved around and you could see the underground and overground trains stopping at the stations.

Lego France was pretty cool too with the Lego Moulin Rouge twisting it's windmill around. There were little Lego men and women wandering around the streets in front of it.

I could go on for ages about Lego Minilands. My favourites were the ABBA concert in Sweden, Stonehenge, Eilean Donan Castle and the NASA space station.

Duplo land sucked though. I wasn't a fan at all. Might have had something to do with the fact that it was pouring down with rain but I'm thinking it had more to do with the fact that there were about 1,000,000 children running around screaming their heads off.

Courteney, Karen and I went on the spinning chairs ride as a homage to our childhoods. We were the only adults on it mind you, but still we didn't care. Courteney wasn't too impressed with one kid who stole her seat on the first ride and we had to wait for the next one. I think she would have "taken him on" if not for Karen and I holding her back.

My least favourite thing was the train. I enjoyed going on train, don't get me wrong. I enjoyed seeing the animals made out of Lego as you went on the Lego Safari. I did not, however, enjoy getting sprayed with water. I know this makes me a Nana but I am okay with that. They should not spray you with water! At least now I know why they have "human dryers" strategically placed around the park.

I'd have to say that the mini Lego tube train was my equal favourite with the Lego Egyptian tomb. I'm not so sure what Santa and Mrs Claus were doing in the Egyptian pyramid, but the bit with the sarcophagus and the hieroglyphics was really impressive.

The rain didn't put a dampener on our day and I had a wonderful time. I have a new appreciation for the little coloured bricks now as well. I think that the "model designers" have a wicked sense of humour too. The mini-protesters at Stonehenge being arrested by a bunch of bobbies was great and the Doctor Who Daliks hidden in key London landmarks was cool too. But it is the mini-Lego Gordon Brown with the removal truck outside a mini-Lego No.10 Downing Street helping Cherie Blair with some boxes that was a genuine highlight.

Two thumbs up for Legoland!

And Happy Birthday Rebecca!

The Lego Tube.

Karen, Rebecca and Courteney with the Talking Heads.

Mount Lego-more.

Lego Fire Brigade to the rescue.

Me in Lego London.

Lego Brighton Pier.

Polar Bear in Santa's Egyptian Pyramid.

The Lego Rouge!

NASA's Lego Space Station.

Lego Buckingham Palace complete with Queen Victoria monument.

Eilean Donan Castle

The Egyptian Lego Tomb. The pyramid was also home to Santa and Mrs Claus.

Go figure on that one!

And finally ABBA in Concert!

Searching for Santa

2007-06-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

I putting out an S.O.S for one Santa Claus. Also known as Saint Nicholas and Father Christmas. Usually found wearing at a red suit with white fur trim. Distinguishing features include a white bushy beard, sparkling blue eyes and a jolly laugh. Last seen sometime on or around the 25th December.

Why am I looking for him?

It is hot weather.
It is officially summer (or so they tell me).
There are only 4 weeks left of school.
I am writing reports.
I have parent interviews scheduled next week.

And I'm wondering where Santa is. Usually he is around here somewhere.

Have you ever...?

2007-06-19T13:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever got on a bus and ridden it all the way to the end of the line just because you can? I did that today after my interview. I am pleased to announce that the end of the line was actually not as far from home as I originally thought. Got a bit of a numb bum after an hour though. Turns out that you end up finding some great shops and cafes that are off the beaten track and hidden from the High Streets.

Yes, I am weird. I know it.

And I am only classing them as ducks if they honk and I didn't hear them honk!

(see Karen's Blog)

Coffee with Mary

2007-06-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

Was very excited to be able to catch up with my Assistant Principal from my old school St Martin's Catholic School, Mary Hor, last Monday night for a coffee. Mary was over here visiting her son in the country where he is working as a teacher's assistant for a gap year.

Goodbye, Farewell and I'm still here.

2007-06-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a rather sad time this weekend. I not only had to say goodbye to Cleland and Belle but also to Vic who heads off to Canada to begin her 11 week camp for kids over the summer. But before we get into that here's what I've been up to...

Cleland and Belle rocked up at the Village on Saturday afternoon after their wonderful tour of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales a little weary and down to their last pair of clean underpants. First stop was pretty much a given, the laundromat. We don't have a drier at the Village so usually we wash and then walk down to the laundromat with a big IKEA bag full of wet clothes etc to use the drier for the princely sum of 20p for 5 mins. I think Cleland loved the novelty of it all. Belle just loved the trashy magazines that litter the waiting bench! :)

As promised I took them up to Camden markets for the day for a wander through the stalls. As much as Cleland grumbles about "more shopping" he possesses a good eye for a bargain. He managed to find me a great travel skirt with cargo pockets. Only £6 too! I was a good girl and only bought a £5 cardigan ( I know I am a Nana!) and some gumboots for Karen with hearts all over them. It is festival season over here anybody who is anybody has funky gumboots. Cleland didn't buy anything but Belle managed to clean up. She has a pretty good eye for retro pieces that she can put together with new stuff. Plus she eats goat meat. So my hat is off to her. After we'd scoured the markets Cleland and Belle went on to the London Eye and I attempted to get home. Stupid London transport let me down again and they ended up getting home before me. Anthony and Matthew came over for dinner and I cooked satay chicken with rice, salad and garlic bread. Yes Mum, I cooked! And Cleland can vouch for me on this one too.

Unfortunately I had to work last week but managed get blood from the stone and got Friday off to spend with Cleland. In the meantime I did have daylight hours after work to kick about in London so we went on the Sinister London tour which took us through the story of Jack the Ripper. As there was not enough people for our tour we ended up being combined with the Pubs of London (who was I to complain?). In was really fun and low key as the guy who operates it is a sole owner/operator. He did everything - driving, talking, singing, dancing. All throughout the tour he kept saying "Okay my friends" after everything. Reminded me a lot of my tour guide in Pompeii who kept saying "Clicky, clicky" when he wanted us to take photos.

On Thursday night Cleland, Belle, Karen and I made the pilgrimage to Jo and Jonathon's place for dinner. As always the food was wonderful and I always love patting Pod. He was very friendly that night and even let Cleland have a cuddle too. Very unusual for Pod. But secretly I think he just loved being the centre of attention. Jo hadn't seen Cleland for 6 years and Jonathon hadn't seen him since he was 4 years old. To mark the occasion Jonathon introduced Karen, Cleland and Belle to Extreme Ironing. I'd already seen it, but thought that it had been one of those spoof shows until it appeared in the London papers last week as a report on an actual sport as silly as it is. If you are unfamiliar with the sport, check it out at http://www.youtube.com/. Just type in "Extreme Ironing" and off you go.

With my wonderful free Friday we had planned to go to Brighton for the day but a combination of dark clouds and last minute "must dos" lead us instead to spend the morning at Harrods for Cleland and The Globe Theatre for Belle. Cleland and I went to Harrods to visit the Egyptian Hall and the Dodi/Diana memorial. I'd never been and Cleland had wanted to wander around inside so we headed that way while Belle took in as much Zara time as she could.

Afterwards we went to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre to see an amazing production of Othello. In all honesty I am not a fan of Shakespeare's tragedies. Would much rather see a comedy (Much Ado About Nothing is my personal favourite) but the actors made the performance so compelling. The guy who played Othello just lived the part but it was Desdemona that took all of my attention every time she stepped on stage. Iago was played by the guy out of Notting Hill (Max, the character with the paraplegic wife) and he was also superb.

And after our last night together and a dinner at the Thai place at the local pub (Cleland's choice not mine) we had to say goodbye. And it was hard...

Then Sunday I spent the day having lunch and seeing the Fantastic 4 sequel with Vic and a curly Karen to say goodbye to Vic too.

And I am still stuck in London! Frustration is now defined as going to Heathrow airport and not getting on an aeroplane!

The kids are back in town!

2007-06-10T01:03:00.000-07:00

Cleland and Belle are back in London after their 12 day tour of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. I'm sure that they will have lots to say about all the places they've seen on Belle's blog page (link over to the right of this page). But for my Mum, I have stolen some of their photos and posted them up here.

Here's a photo of Cleland and Belle on their first tube ride when I picked them up at the airport 2 weeks ago. Cleland wrote a itinerary of everywhere they are going etc and on the day he was scheduled to arrive he had put "Alex to drive" under their transport heading. Haven't laughed that hard in ages. I think the tube was a much better option!

I think this is a photo of them in Ireland somewhere. Not sure of where exactly but I'm sure he'll explain later.

NOTE FROM CLELAND:

It was actually Blarney Castle where we kissed the Blarney Stone.

This is his favourite photo. There is another one before it of Belle standing with the bear. Apparently Cleland reckons the bear tried to cop of feel so he called him on it!

Here's one of Belle on the coast of what I think is Scotland, but I'll have to ask her when they get home. She and Cleland are out on a tour of London at the moment. Adriaan's mum and sister were staying here last week and now C and B are here. I am having a very unusual half hour without anyone else in the house.

NOTE FROM CLELAND:

It is Dingal Bay in the Lake District of Ireland.

And the lucky last two, Cleland had a go at holding a golden eagle when they were in Scotland (?). Probably should have asked for some explanations before just swiping their photos huh? Oh well. The thought was there.

Video

2007-06-06T14:00:00.000-07:00

Apparently the first video link for my school tour is not working properly. Not sure why. The wonderful world of technology! Have had a go at fixing it, so hopefully it should work now.

Try double clicking on this link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YoEMmvjxS7k

Cheers,

A

P.S: It is pretty long so it might take a while to upload. Try back again later if it doesn't work the first time. In the meantime, check out Karen and Lachie in Acton Green...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxgOWoXXKuY

New Job?????????

2007-06-05T12:57:00.002-07:00

Went for a job interview today at a school in West Acton. Get this, they offered me... a house! Yep, you read it right, a house! If I was successful in getting the position the "school house" would be available to me!

Beats the usual $$$ package doesn't it?

A great weekend.

2007-06-04T09:52:00.000-07:00

Everyone deserted me this weekend and choofed off to Denmark, Germany, Ireland, Wales and Austria. Suffering from cabin fever after a school holiday week stuck in rainy London I gave Shannon a call and she very kindly let me tag along to her Friday afternoon drinks in Covent Garden. Turned out to be a fantastic night as we went made an impromptu visit to a comedy club. You know the guys who stand on the street holding a big sign say "Comedy Club this way", well we followed the sign. Expecting dodgy, we actually got a great evening. Can't say I would have taken my children there though, as one tourist family did, and was certainly not surprised when they didn't come back for the second half.

Saturday is now dubbed "big Tesco day" forevermore. We've all heard great things about "big Tesco" and Karen found one in Wembley which she proudly introduced me to when I arrived in London. Sure enough, I fell in love with it too. Big Tesco is like a combination of Woolworths, Big W, Kmart and Best & Less all rolled into one. Well, I found a Tesco magazine on the bus a couple of weeks ago which listed another big Tesco (there are smaller ones that just stock food, and ones called Tesco Express which only have corner store stuff) at Osterley, which half way between us and Heathrow. Since I didn't have other plans, I set out in order to find the Holy Grail of Tescos. And boy, was it worth it! Oh my goodness me. It puts Wembley big Tesco to shame. This thing is huge! 2 floors of absolutely anything and everything you could ever need. And in multiple colours!

I met up with Nicola for a few drinks in the sun at the Oldship in Hammersmith. A last minute arrangement, but I had a great time up until the bit where I lost my lunch/dinner. Turns out my first real bout of sunshine + $AU45 bottles of wine + my weak drinking ability = a bad experience. Very, very disappointed in myself and feel completely un-Australian.

Actually managed to do some school planning work on Sunday morning before meeting Brendan and Michelle in the Barley Mow for non-alcoholic beverages and lunch.

For a weekend completely deserted by my usual posse of people, I had a great time (except for 12:10am on Sunday morning). I hope you all had a great weekend too.

Cambridge - Home of Scarecrows and Beer

2007-05-30T02:44:00.000-07:00

Karen's boyfriend Richard has been applying to colleges and universities over here in order to do his MBA. One of the places he applied to was Cambridge University. If he gets in, Karen will be moving up there so we thought we would spend a day wandering around getting a feel for the place that may one day be her home.

Okay, so I lie. We really went to see the scarecrow festival, but it sounded convincing right? And to a certain extent it is true, it just wasn't our main reason for going.

The train ride out to Cambridge was really easy and relatively cheap which was a nice surprise considering that the ATM at the train station stole £50 of my hard earned Aussie dollars. Turns out it also stole £50 of Karen's as well. So after a slight delay where I called Tasmania to lodge a complaint, we were off.

Cambridge is completely different to Oxford. I think I was expecting the same type of atmosphere but I didn't get it. Where Oxford is "antique" Cambridge is "up and coming". I know that sounds strange considering that it is still over 700 years old but Cambridge lacks that small country town feel that Oxford has. Oxford oozes history and if I close my eyes I can see the scholars wandering down the cobblestone streets in their 18th century garb. If I do the same thing in Cambridge I see 1950s men in their boat shoes and straw hats cycling down the streets laughing with women in full skirts and white button down blouses.

Before we had even exited the train station we were lost. To add insult to injury I put £1 into the map machine and I got no map. So far, no good. I was down £51 and we hadn't seen anything yet. Karen's pound coins seemed more amenable to the map machine and we managed to at least get a piece of paper that would give us a clue as to which direction to head in. We needed to get our bearings and what better way than finding the biggest church you can and going from there. Then we came up with the most brilliant and original idea of going to the Tourist Information Centre to find out where the scarecrow festival was. Finding the Tourist Information Centre wasn't easy either. But Karen was intrigued by the fact that you can exchange corn. We wanted to know what you exchanged corn with. And more importantly, could you exchange other vegetables as well or was it just corn?

Finally found the T/I/C and were perturbed to find out that we had missed the last morning bus to the Scarecrow festival. My question of "Can we walk there?" was met with strange sideways glances and I swear I heard a giggle and the word "Aussies!" slip from the ladies mouth. Apparently the Scarecrow festival was being held in a paddock in a "nearby" town. "Nearby" being a 35 minute bus journey. So, no more scarecrows on our itinerary.

You know that you should never underestimate my powers of finding markets anywhere, anytime, anyplace. But you should also never underestimate Karen's ability to find Fluff (marshmallow/fairy floss mixture) anywhere, anytime, anyplace. That's right, in the middle of our wandering Karen finds a man selling fluff in a pot.

Having given up on the whole map premise, Karen and I decided to just wander in the general direction of the University's houses. I can't believe how many there are. Certainly beats good old Mac Uni where it takes you 6.5 minutes to get from X5B to C4A (one end of the campus to the other). Here in Cambridge you can get lost in one university house let alone to 20 odd they have there.

We also managed to find the Judge School of Business Management where, should all go well, Richard would be studying at. "The Judge" as it is apparently known is a newer type of building and have very manicured lawns and a big burly security guard at the entrance way. It looks like a good place to study, but doesn't have any of the "age" of the other buildings that surround it.

I'm not one for stereotypes, you should know that now. But sometimes they really can not be helped. I mean, is it really our fault that we are Australian, or that Australian's are known for their beer consumption, or that we just happened upon the Cambridge Beer Festival in Jesus park? We can not be held responsible for fate like that! Nor can you be held responsible for anything that happens at a beer festival. Which is what I reckon the poor guy who was arrested for climbing up onto the tent roof in just a t-shirt and shorts is thinking right now as he tries to explain both his bail and the fact that he no longer has shoes! Not being the best beer drinker I quickly switched to the red wines and was pleasantly surprised at the fact that you could fit 75% of a bottle of wine into a pint glass. Considering my glass was empty by the time we had eaten cinnamon donuts (now there's a classy combination) and Karen had patted some Swedish people's dog, I am going to go out on a limb here and blame it for the fact that we found ourselves back at the train station bound for London having devoured a tub of Ben and Jerry's Fossil Fuel ice-cream and me clutching a hand held 99p fan whilst Karen harassed some American tourists who were also on our train.

I'm sorry Cambridge, but whilst I had a great time visiting you, I am still an Oxford girl. But at least now I know who to barrack for next year the the Head of the River Rowing Race!

Take a tour of my school

2007-05-29T10:00:00.000-07:00

A combination of recent emails asking about school and the fact that today is the first day of Summer term holidays and it is raining has resulted in me writing about school. The last 5 weeks have flown by and I am now half way through my contract at The Blue School.

I teach Year 1 at The Blue School which is located in Isleworth in London. In fact I think it is actually Surrey on the other side of the road. There is one class per grade but the classes begin at Nursery which is for 3 year olds. My class has 30 students in it.

I could sit here and type away about how there are many security doors and there are 2 recesses (one in the morning and another in the afternoon) and how my lunch hour is actually 1hr and 15min, but I thought I would be technologically savvy and make a video. This is my first attempt at MovieMaker so don't roast me too badly okay? :)

In the video I talk about Shannon, my Aussie next classroom neighbour. Here's a piccie of her too.

Enjoy!

VIDEO LINK:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2xvS3ZH-4E

Cleland and Belle have arrived!

2007-05-25T09:39:00.000-07:00

My brother Cleland and his girlfriend Belle have arrived in London. Over the past month I have been counting down to their arrival and was a bunch of nerves waiting at Heathrow Terminal 4 for them. Of course, my luck was that their plane was an hour and a half late. I started to get worried when people began coming through the arrivals doors crying and without luggage. Apparently some of the planes were not offloading luggage due to a baggage handling dispute. Luckily, Cleland and Belle emerged a little travel weary but with all of their luggage.

Yesterday I met them for a quick stroll down Oxford and Regent Streets before taking a few photos in Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square. Now they are off on a 12 day tour of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales which has been affectionately dubbed "The Nana Tour". They will be back in freezing cold London on the 9/6 (could someone please send a memo to mother nature explaining that it is supposed to be summer on Friday?).

Belle has a blog of their travels. You can find it at http://euroadventure07.livejournal.com or in the links at the side of this page. She's been busy with Photoshop to produce the photo to the left. Loving that trendy mo' mate!

Pissing in the wind and living with a blog hog.

2007-05-22T10:16:00.000-07:00

Karen has been giving me crap about my lack of blog. But it is a bit hard to write a blog when you live with a BLOG HOG! No names, *cough,cough* Kaddy!

The weeks here in London since Spain have sucked weather wise. It has been cold, gloomy and rainy. I read about Seasonal Affect Disorder at home and thought "Pansies" but now living through the seasonal changes I can feel how much the sun does change my mood. Today it is a beautiful sunny afternoon. And I have been happy and chatty and laughing all day. Yesterday it was dark, grey, rainy and I was a big fat grump all day. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I have Seasonal Affect Disorder or anything, but I no longer see it as an excuse. The weather over here does play a huge part in your mood.

Last Wednesday night I cooked up a storm for Davina when she came over. I thought I would get all "Jamie Oliver" and consulted the cookbooks. Even wrote down the ingredients I needed and was very proud of myself when I remembered to take the list with me in the morning so I could go shopping after school. All well and good in theory but I then left the list at school, didn't I? So I wandered around Sainsbury's plucking things off the shelf that might have been on the piece of paper. To add to the problem I had written 3 different sets of ingredients on the piece of paper because I hadn't fully decided what I was going to make. In the end I guessed and brought home what I remembered. Then I sat down with the book and picked a recipe that matched what ingredients I had bought home. The end result was a spicy tomato chicken and rice concoction that I am pleased to report, did not kill anyone who ate it. We fashioned a table out of my computer work desk and brought in the camper chairs that our skanky landlord left behind. It was slap-dash, but it worked a treat!

To say that Davina is a character is to say the least. I love her sense of humour and her view of the world around her. She has this scattered feel about her but in reality she has her finger on the pulse of many projects. She feeds the homeless, learns Spanish, belongs to church groups, teaches special needs kids and beyond all that, she's a classic. And she proved this at dinner. When Karen went back to Oz she picked up an Aussie slang dictionary to prove to Adriaan that we weren't just making up words. The dictionary became Davina's sidekick for the evening and we ended up having to put Aussie slang into each of our conversations. Unbeknown to Kaddy and I, Davina had taught Adriaan a few "Aussieisms" so he could participate but didn't tell him what they meant . Unfortunately the one that he chose to share was probably not the best choice. I'll let you be the judge...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09tqfs3IUbU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPWH2PVfGzY

P.S: Unless you want to explain to your child what the sayings mean, it might be wise to skip the videos.

On Thursday we headed into Holborn to see Nicola for her birthday. Nicola, Karen and I met 10 years ago in Sydney when Nicola came over to visit her friend Rachel. Rachel and Karen went to school together and Rachel and I knew each other through the fire brigade. Six degrees of separation.

Directions are no longer my strength (just talk to Rebecca about Tarragona in Spain) and Karen is queen of Google maps so it should not surprise anyone that we spent an hour walking in 3 different but all completely wrong directions before hoping in a cab only to find out that the pub was around the corner from where we were. ARRRGGGHHH! Had a great time eating the ultimate burger at "The Ultimate Burger" and sipping on a few glasses of a lovely rosè.

I was very concerned though when I went to the bathroom. What's with the two toilets in the one cubicle? I love my friends but not enough to pee in front of them! There are some things that should not occur in life and this is quite clearly one of them! By the way Kaddy, I see your Japanese loo blog picture and raise you a London loo blog picture! :)

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a market floosy. I love markets. All markets really, although food ones do tend to bore me. I'd already scoured Notting Hill markets and found some bargain antiques to take home, but had never managed to get up to Camden markets so I made the trek North East and was definitely not disappointed. There is nothing like shopping with Muslim ladies in full burkas on one side and goth witches on the other! Only in London! The markets were awesome and I am keen to take Cleland's girlfriend, Belle, up there to keep the search going. Because no matter how many stalls you visit, how many purchases you make or how many corners you turn those markets just keep on going! They never, ever end. Karen was in search of some gumboots (see link to her blog) but ended up picking up some awesome vintage clothes in a goth shop. Check out the skeleton in the coffin up in the left hand corner!

Davina's flatmate had a birthday party on Saturday night so we decided to attempt to make Christie's famous cheesy spinach cob loaf dip. Only problem was we couldn't buy any cobb loaf, couldn't remember what was in the dip and couldn't figure out how we were going to transport it to Davina's house. Never to be undone by logic and reason, we overcame this problem by buying an ordinary long loaf and guessing that it had spinach, cheese and sour cream in it. Then we added a few other things we had in the cupboard and voila! We had the dip! My job was to figure out transportation. Never fear! I had a Play School craft box moment and used the cardboard box from my Special K and shoved last week's copy of the TNT magazine inside before wrapping it all in Simon and Richard's dodgy Italian cling wrap. Again, voila! Transportation sorted! And they say that those who can't do, teach! Ha! I can do and teach! So there!

Parents and The Country Fair

2007-05-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

I got up really early on Saturday morning to accompany Vic out to Heathrow to meet her parents who flew in from Brisbane. She was so excited and it made me realise how much I am looking forward to seeing my brother and his girlfriend when they come over in 2 weeks. As usual the Piccadilly line was "undergoing maintenance works" and we had to change and get a bus to get to the airport on the final part of the journey. Nothing is ever simple here. Vic was taking the mickey out of me for my New York video moment where I make a fake crown out of my fingers at Liberty Island. So, she decided to reenact the whole thing for me on the tube to keep us occupied at 6:30am.

After leaving the Sadleir family at Clapham Junction I went to Victoria to take back some library books. As I turned the corner near the church I heard some bells and accordion music. There, standing in the middle of the courtyard, were a bunch of men waving handkerchiefs and tapping sticks with the bells that were strapped to their ankles jingling away. Was a sight to be seen I tell you. After having a chat with one of the members of the red, white and blue team I found out that they were "Morris Dancing" which is an old, traditional English dance that dates back to the early 15th Century. The yellow and black team were from Westminster and had invited the red, white and blue team down to London (they were from some country area and I have no clue where it is) to put on a show for people. Was very spirit uplifting and put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

When I got home it was still only 12pm so Karen and I headed into Richmond to wander around the Richmond Fair. Ate fairy floss, had a lucky dip, bought some scarves to ward off nits at the white elephant stall, got tomato sauce on my nose from my sausage sandwich - all in all, a great way to spend a drizzly Saturday afternoon.

Am off this evening to try Salsa dancing. Shannon from my school has been trying to get me to go and try it for a few weeks now and so I thought I would give it a go. Wish me luck!

Hola Amigos! Espanol e'fantastica.

2007-05-10T12:16:00.000-07:00

Had an "Amazing Race" moment last Friday as I had to make a mad dash to the airport to board my plane to Spain. My plane booked for 5:05pm and I finish work at 3:30pm. Hmmm, difficult to achieve, yes. Impossible? Never! With some help from lovely Lynn in our school office I managed to get a cabbie with a lead foot to take me from school to Heathrow in just under 35 minutes. Not bad considering it was an hour trip! I made the flight with 5 minutes to spare but the District Tube line failed Rebecca and she only just scraped on board at the last minute. Last weekend was a long weekend for the Bank holiday. I love the fact that everyone gets to have the Bank Holidays off too. Kind of makes up for the fact that I had to work on ANZAC Day.

Karen has choofed off to Japan to yell at Asushi in person and Adriaan took off to Paris after finally getting a visa. Being South African, Adriaan has to get visa's for the European countries. Am very grateful that I am Australian and we have open entry into the European Union and the States. So with KD and Adriaan headed off to other parts of the world, who was I to not follow suit, and went to Spain.

We had a stop over at Frankfurt and I would have to say that it has to be the most useless airport on the face of the planet. Customs have to clear you inside their own quarantine area. Got an extra stamp for the passport but it wasn't worth the hassle. As I had finished my book on the first leg of my journey I needed a new one and went looking for the English language section of the newsagent. I picked up a book and randomly opened a page where the first thing I read was a quote by William Rushton "German is the most extravagantly ugly language. It sounds like someone using a sick bag on a 747". Got a giggle from me, especially after listening to the customs guards yelling at each other. Turns out the book was "The Funniest Things You Never Said" by Rosemarie Jareski and was filled with quotes and sayings etc. 10 Euros later and it was coming on our journey with us. Proved quite useful too. But more on that later...

Getting off the plane in Spain was awesome. Instantly I loved it. The air was sweeter, thicker and definitely warmer than London. Reminded me a bit of Australia but not of Sydney. Not sure where in Oz though.

I'll admit it. I tend to travel via McDonalds'. I love going in and seeing what is the same and what is different. Did you know that you can't get pancakes for breakfast in New York? But you can get an egg and bacon McBagel. Tastes as good as it sounds. Yick. You can get pancakes in Spain though. Yes, I'm lovin' it!

On Saturday Rebecca and I took a bus tour of the city, one of those hop-on, hop-off numbers. Here's a word of warning. Normal rules of logic do not apply to weird, angry Spanish ladies. Like the one who decided that I had stolen her seat (she had got off the bus and decided to get back on). Well, did I hear about it! Man, I think that you probably could have heard her in Australia if you hadn't all been asleep. She then went and got the guide who tried her best to translate for me but in the end just shrugged and asked me if I would mind moving to keep the peace.

One of the stops that we got off at was at the Marina. Here there were some street markets, which is always a winner with me. We also ambled up through the main street of Barcelona where the stalls and Tapas bars meet together like the horizon meeting the sky. It is an eclectic mix of tourist glare and old fashioned Spanish culture. In between the modern buildings an aged, brightly coloured building will poke through. Down small alley ways you get a glimpse of the fountain in the middle of secret piazzas.

The sun has a healing quality to it. I was very pleased to stick my toothpaste white legs out in it as much as possible over the weekend. I was also the only person wearing a hat and sunscreen though. Some habits die hard. I felt like I could rest in Spain. When I think about it, I haven't really stopped for ages. Sure, I've been here, there and everywhere, but I haven't had a chance to stop moving and just relax and breathe. Spain offers that opportunity.

On Sunday I took a boat ride up past the beaches of Barcelona. Afterwards I went for a wander past the Museum of History. I swear there seems to be a recurring pattern here but an old dude walked straight past me and everyone else on the boardwalk wearing nothing but some painted on Speedos. That's right, starkers! Was not a pretty sight. Not sure if he or the guy in New York freaked me out more. At least the Spanish guy was a little bit more artistic with his nudity.

In search of a good meal and something other that Tapas, I stumbled across an Irish pub. After ordering a drink and asking about their food the bartender gives me a Spanish menu and asks "How's your Spanish?" to which I replied "Dude, I'm an Australian in an Irish Bar in Spain. How do you think it is?" Needless to say he ordered for me. Whilst sitting there in the pub listening to the slow, droll sounds of the snooker championship commentary in the background I had this flashback to being a kid on a hot summer's day between Chrissy and New Years and listening to the sounds of the TV as the cricket is played. It was really relaxing and for a moment I dreamed of opening a bar on the coast of some hot weather country and spending days hanging out in the sun with a cold beverage and listening to the cricket (yes, that is as strange as it sounds since I hate cricket) and feeling warm and happy. The hat head and sticky sunscreen sensation go hand in hand with that feeling too.

On Sunday night Rebecca and I went for a walk through the main street again where we stumbled across a hen's night/weekend. The ladies were all dressed up as fairies. But in the midst of it all was the most marvellous and magnificent fairy of all - the Aussie fairy. her wings were adorned with XXXX signs, Uluru pictures, corks, lolly crocodiles and much more. It was such a weird thing to see but strangely did not seem out of place in Spain. Also saw a guy dressed up as plunger man. I instantly thought of Vic as she is our resident plumbing fix-it chick. She unblocks sinks in a single plunge!

The end of our adventure is actually where the real adventure begins. When attempting to buy tickets for the Metro or trains I ended up speaking Italian. Who knew I knew as much as I did huh? Sylvana Toia from St Martin's should be very proud. Only trouble is that on our way to the airport to come home we got the right tickets, went to the right platform only to get on the wrong train. We ended up in Tarragona! You can see from the map that we were way off of where we were supposed to be. At this point we could only try and laugh and pull out the quotes book from Frankfurt. The one that really appealed to us was by Jonathon Winters - "If God had intended for us to fly, he would have made it easier to get to the airport". Very appropriate whilst we stood trying to figure out how we were going to get back to Barcelona let alone London. 4 hours behind schedule and 53 pounds lighter for the charge of changing our ticket we finally made it home again.

You learn so much from the people that you travel with. From Vic I learnt how to jump queues and from Karen I learnt how to duck Molotov cocktails. With Rebecca I learn how to get an airline to change your already missed flight tickets to another flight with a minimal charge. Claiming there was a fire alarm going off at our hotel and we couldn't get back in the get our bags was a fabulous move! Well done.

An advert for being a teacher.

2007-05-08T11:02:00.000-07:00

You've got to love being teacher. Here I am sitting at home at my computer and I have a shower cap firmly secured to my head. Showering? Nope. Anticipating a leak from upstairs? Nope, although we have had two major leaks from upstairs in the past month so maybe this isn't so unexpected. No, my class have given me nits. Yep, you heard it here first people. NITS! Argggggggggghhhhhhhhhh! Just what I need! Anyone want to swap jobs because mine isn't looking too crash hot right now?

My New York Adventure (finally)

2007-04-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

So, I woke up this morning and realised that it is May. When did that happen? What happened to April? Why didn't anyone tell me? Once you read on you'll realise why I have procrastinated about writing this for so long. But now I am supposed to be doing my school planning for next week so I have bigger things to procrastinate about so I've finally put fingers to keyboard...

The thing about New York is, you think you know it, but in reality you have no idea. It's kind of like judging a book by its cover. You've seen so many television shows and movies set in the Big Apple that when you are headed there you think you've already seen the sights. In truth, I am one of those people. I thought I'd hate it too. Too many brassy, pushy Yanks for my liking. But in all honesty I was wrong on both counts. And just like I learnt to look closer at the real Manhattan, I also looked closer at the real New Yorker. And I was pleasantly surprised that I liked both.

Getting to New York should have been simple. You go to Heathrow, check in, go through security, wait for your plane to be called and board your plane. Then it flies to New York, you get off, go through security and you walk out onto the sidewalk of the city. Not quite the way it happened for Vic and I though. Sure, we made it all the way up to the bit where your plan is called. Ours didn't get called. At all. For more than 3 hours after the scheduled departure time. So our grand plan of being there 3 hours before boarding actually ended up being a 6 and a half hour wait. Even I couldn't shop for that long. And that is saying something!

After sweet talking a security lady she let slip that our plane would be arriving at Gate 20. It had been delayed in Kuwait because the Indian airport was running behind schedule. Vic and I were not only the first people into the gate lounge we were also the first people on the plane. That's where 6 hours of waiting gets you. Plus we were lucky to get emergency exit seats. Not sure the steward liked my dramatic rendition of what would happen if we had to open the emergency door. I keep getting strange looks all flight.

Arriving in New York, we got the shuttle bus from hell to our hotel, Astor on the Park on Central Park West. The shuttle bus driver was a "stopstartstopstartstopstart" kind of driver who left us sitting in the bus outside for 20mins while he went and had a smoke whilst waiting for a mystery passenger. I should also mention that at this point we discovered that 0 degree temperatures would be the norm. Our hotel was great however, and if you ever find yourself in the Big Apple searching for a place to lay your weary head then the Astor on the Park is an affordable and clean place to do it.

The Easter Bunny found me on Sunday morning and we had to have some chocolate for breakie (don't read that bit Mum)! I had read an article in a travel magazine not long ago about the Abyssinian Church which is a huge church in Harlem which specialises in Southern style black gospel music. This quickly became the top item on my "Must See" list. Unfortunately though, the minister met us at our cab and explained that they were closed to the public on Easter Sunday due to the high number of families coming to church. I am not sure what surprised me more, being turned away from God's house on Easter Sunday or being turned away immediately because we were white. That's not a negative racist comment, rather an observation based on the fact that no white person was granted entry into the church in the time that we were there. Instead of going to church as planned, Vic and I celebrated Easter Sunday in style... a window seat at the McDonald's across the road. Far from being completely disappointed, it was fun to window watch all the black families coming to church in their Sunday best. I loved watching the grannys wearing their pastel dresses with sparkling and shiny brooches on their lapels with matching pastel heels. Their hats brought a smile to my face as they had as much netting, flowers and pearls as a bride's tiara on her wedding day.

I got to ride the subway for the first time too at 135st and even though it was a mess with dirt and grime the decor, I never once felt unsafe. I'd even go so far as to say that during my whole time in New York I felt safer there than I do in London some days.

By accident we got off the subway/train/tube/whatever you call it (thank you Vic) at the World Trade Centre site. I wasn't a happy person at this point because I wasn't completely convinced that I wanted to see it. The whole 9/11 thing sits funny with me. I think it has to do with the fact that firefighters, people who have the same basic training as me, died there. New York's backbone is now fused with 9/11 and it almost seems that you can't have one without the other. In the end I am glad that I went there by mistake and right at the beginning because if I had had time to think about it I would have over analyzed it. It is an extremely moving place and you reflect a lot on the human spirit rather than the actual tragedy. There is a photo plaque on one of the fences and one photo shows a policeman saluting at one of the processions that would have lined the streets during the months following the collapse of the buildings. There is a single stream of tears that etch a line across his cheek. Even as I type this I have goosebumps. I can't really tell you what I was thinking or what it was like. In some ways I think it might cheapen the experience. All I can say is "Go" and feel it for yourself.

Vic decided that we should have a look at where the Statue of Liberty was so we began to walk down to the piers. If I had been standing naked at the North Pole for 100 years I would not be as cold as I was during that walk. Between the wind and the actual temperature my eyelashes began to fuse together. In a combination of needing to get out of the cold and me vowing never to walk there again we caught the Circle Line ferry service out to Liberty Island and Ellis Island. Going to Ellis Island was like going on a school excursion. You're all excited because you don't have to be in class but when you get there you realise that you have been tricked and it is as boring as ever. I was only interested in going because I had heard that most people don't visit it when they go to New York and I felt sorry for it. There you go. I've said it and yes, I do realise what a loser I am, thank you very much.

Liberty Island is a must see on anyone's list and I had the biggest blonde moment on our walking tour. I didn't realise that the Statue of Liberty was made of copper sheeting. Der! And that it originally wasn't green. I, for some reason, thought that the green was representative of the "greenback" or something similar. Despite being sub zero temperatures Vic and I changed our original plans at the last minute and waited for the 3pm walking tour. It turned out that we were the only ones brave enough to face the snow (yes, snow!!!) and we had the tour guide all to ourselves. He did like to waffle on though. I now know far to much about some chick who wrote a poem about the Statue but was left off the invite list for the unveiling party. It didn't matter though because the guy in charge of pulling the cord that unveiled the statue forgot his cue and dropped the sheeting a good 15 mins early. The Statue itself is unimpressive. I actually thought it would be much bigger. Especially since it squashed the marshmallow man in Ghost Busters 1. But the feat of building it and erecting it on the island is very worthy of note and when you see the small crinks in the sheeting that make the arm extend upwards you have to take your hat off to the guys who not only built the thing but designed it in the first place.

Vic had an even bigger blonde moment than me on Liberty Island when she asked where the flagpole was. I will let you see for yourself the answer in the photo. Had a huge cackle when the guide actually answered her. Note - flagpole next to information booth. She followed this fine effort up with another pearler...asking the policeman where Times Square was only to be told that she was standing in it! Don't let her persuade you that this wasn't the case either. She still denies it to everyone but we know the truth. :)

Times Square is again, smaller than you think it is. I do like the fact that you can come out of your restaurant at 11pm and think it is 11am since the electronic billboards make it so bright. Really wish it had been a blackout as the guy in the g-string leotard jogged past us. Some people should really learn that "private parts" should stay private for the benefit of all mankind. He obviously missed that memo though as he jogged past us not once but twice.

My 27th birthday was spent on top of the Empire State Building. For the pricely sum of $US50 you can go all the way up to the 102nd floor. Even though the 102nd floor is about the size of my living room it is worth it just to say "I've been there". Plus, it has only just recently been re-opened to the public since 9/11. Vic and I only really did it because you got to jump the queue. Jumping the queue is a Vic specialty. She managed to get us out of 2 hours of lining up just by asking the doorman where the line actually started. What he didn't see we didn't see and we were allowed to by pass the outside line and head straight into the inside one. The view is pretty spectacular but I preferred the one from Rockefeller Centre better. You feel a bit caged in on the Empire State Building and every man, his family and the dog are up on the Empire State Building. I did like being able to see all the way down to the end of Lower Manhattan. I also listened to a audio tour from some Italian cab driver. That was worth the money paid three fold because I found out where the Titanic docked and how the skyline used to look at the turn of the 19th & 20th centuries.

Vic and I split up on Tuesday and I went to the Woodbury Common Factory Outlet Shopping Centre. Got to take the bus out through New Jersey and see a little bit of what lies beyond the Hudson River. Had a fabulous time wandering around the centre which is built as a village. Picked up a few bargains but none better than the Samsonite luggage that worked out to be less than £150. My suitcase was torn on the trip over by customs and I had to replace it. Am very pleased that I replaced it with not only affordable but excellent quality Samsonite. The Canal Street markets were on Karen's "Go and See" list that she gave me so we wandered up and down the street looking at all the handbags and jewellery available. Vic picked up some great perfume. I will say that if one more person comes up to me and stage whispers "Handbag? Handbag? Gucci? Prada? Chanel? Chloe?" I am going to hit them with a big, fat, knobbly stick. It gets very tiresome after awhile.

Our last full day in the city was spent at Rockefeller Centre. I wasn't keen on going but Vic persuaded me and I am very glad that she did. It was actually my favourite place in the city and by far my most fond memory. The view from the top is more spectacular than the Empire State Building and the atmosphere is electric. The elevator ride up to the top is great fun because the roof is glass and as you enter you can't tell but then the lift begins to move and lights draw your attention upwards and with your head tilted back you ascend 68 floors in less than 9 seconds. Great fun for me, not so much for Vic, who isn't the greatest fan of heights. I will give her "snaps" though for stomaching it and looking up too. Another great reason to favour the Rockefeller Centre is that it is more of a rounded experience. There are the television studios to visit, the Radio City music hall and the ice-rink in the middle of it all. Plus it is only $US17.50 to go to the top.

Thought I'd better see Grand Central Station before we went home and take a few photos as well as visit Central Park. We walked through the Park for two hours and managed to cover much more than we originally anticipated. It is very easy to get lost in not only your thoughts but also in general. There are some videos of Vic and I in the park in my first New York posting. Just scroll down to take a squizz.

Our last dinner was at Serendipity, the restaurant made famous by the movie of the same name. Words don't do justice to the Frozen Hot Chocolate. I won't spoil it. Just go and eat one. But a word of warning. There is a wait for a table and ours was an hour and cost Vic $US200. Okay, so that was more for the outfit she bought at Bloomingdale's while we were waiting the hour but still... :)

We had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the airport on Thursday so Vic and I decided to fulfill one of her dreams and go to Staten Island on the ferry. The weather didn't help as it was raining but I think that the rain actually warmed the temperature up. I loved watching the different people who used the free ferry service. My favourite was the policeman who took his gloves off and placed them on the heater so as to dry them out. He stood watching the world go by out of the frosted window as he waited for the gloves to dry.

Considering that Vic and I only met in mid January I am really pleased that we got on so well during our time away. One of my fondest memories I will take home to Sydney when I finally head "home" is the way that we would always have songs playing in our head and one of us would just ask "Song?" and we would share and always have a laugh. Thanks Vic for a great trip!

Not really home, but back in London...

2007-04-13T09:31:00.000-07:00

Vic and I flew in from New York this morning and as I type this I realise that I have been awake for 29 and a half hours straight. I'm trying to make it to 8pm this evening but have begun to realise that I am running on empty. Fingers crossed that I get there.

There is so much I want to do/say/write about New York but my brain isn't working properly. I thought I would try and keep myself awake by downloading my photos and popping some up here.

Simply put, I loved New York. It wasn't love at first sight but slowly and bit by bit I began to see beyond the concrete jungle and yellow blurs as they screeched by me on the street. I began to see a city that wears its heart on it's sleeve and it's pride flying on every second or third building on top of a flag pole.

Until tomorrow when I can actually function on all four cylinders (I think I may have watched one too many episodes of Top Gear), here are some of my photos from my birthday trip to New York City.

P.S: Not sure if this will work but I've posted some videos of Vic and me in New York on YouTube. Click on the links below to check them out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvpGm12v6Nc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w6BLbGsLmE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZSiLVqxaU8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5_1zovqQsw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfIba4wwWvk

Last day of supply teaching

2007-04-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is my last day of supply teaching. I am so very, very, very, very, very, very happy. I know I have learnt a lot over the past 4 months of teaching day to day supply but I am keen to see the inside of just one classroom for a while.

And school finishes early tomorrow too. Hip hip hooray!

C'est notre partie, aucun Australien permis.

2007-04-01T01:53:00.000-07:00

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving in 6 days. I've got to...be a part of it. New York, New York! That's right, I'm off to New York next week for my birthday. So excited I'm breaking out into song (or at least in my head). Never been to the US before and, to be honest, what a place to start!

Davina had a house party on Friday night at her "crib" - 62MG. I got lost on the way there, but in my defensive, I was not paying attention the last time I went to her house as Simon was in charge of directions. And it turns out, we entered her street from the opposite end last time so I can not be responsible for turning up at the wrong house this time. Stupid London streets. They all have the same name, but with different endings e.g. Minford Gardens, Minford Street, Minford Avenue, Minford Mews...

Photo - Matt, Adriaan, Barry and Nick.

As we walked into the right house we were met with a cacophony of French. It felt like a tidal wave washing over you. I couldn't hear one word of English. Deevs lives with 4 French people and 1 Aussie guy. As a result, the majority of people at the party were speaking very quick and fluent French. My French is slow, limited and dodgy at best so I was way out of my league. Quickly found Barry (Deevs' flatmate) and ended up chatting to him and her friends Matt, Matt and Matt. :P We were an island of English in a sea of French. And I can hear what you are thinking, I should have made an effort to extend myself and speak French and meet new people yadda, yadda, yadda. But, and I have Adriaan and Davina and Barry to back me up here, the people at the party were not very welcoming to unknown people and made no effort to speak any English at all. So even though I tried to speak to French with some people I met on the stairs, I am sure that the laughs that came from them were solely for me when I turned and walked to the kitchen. And it wasn't just me. Davina is really upset about the whole thing because her flatmates and their friends were extremely rude to her and chastised her in French when they argued at 3am over the noise. Barry, being a typical Aussie male, was pissed off but didn't really care in the long run and went to bed.
Photo - Stu, Me and Mark

Regardless of the French invasion of 62MG I had a great time meeting up with Nick, Mark and Stu, who I met at Cat Empire about a month ago and Jeff and the other guy whose name I can't remember from St Patrick's Day. Also met Barry and Matt and Matt which was great. So I didn't just sit in a corner and hide! Oh, and you should know that it was an alcohol free night for me. Just thought I should mention that...

About a month ago Karen and I went for a walk one Sunday night and discovered that our house is a street away from the river Thames. Never realised that as I always walk the opposite way in order to catch the tube. Anyways, one of the things on my "Must Do" list is to see the Oxford vs. Cambridge University Rowing Race. Unfortunately I will be in New York next weekend when that is run but there are also 2 other races called the Head of the River Race. One is for females and the other for males. The race is a huge deal for the rowing community and is open to all rowing houses. This year they had to cap the entries at 65 teams because the river just isn't big enough. It also turns out that the course is actually the part of the river that runs behind our house. So I decided to head down to the river and watch the boats row past and then sit in one of the river side pubs for lunch. Adriaan, Vic, Rebecca and Davina all thought it sounded good and came along for the day as well.
Photo - Rowing boats lining up for heats.

There weren't as many spectators as I thought there would be so we managed to get a great position on top of Chiswick Bridge. It wasn't very exciting, but it was interesting to watch 65 row boats try and fight the current as it pushed and shoved them into the banks of the river as they waited for their heats. You couldn't have asked for more sunshine (although the photos don't show it) however, the wind was ripping across the water and eventually they had to can the race. Would really annoy those international teams who had travelled all the way here. Glad all I had to do was walk down the street and over the train line.
Photo - Vic and Adriaan trying to make Rebecca feel better about being the shortest one in the photo.

We stopped and had lunch at the City Barge pub which sits right on the river. I hadn't been to that one before and it was beautiful. The food was great and I got talking to the lady behind me who was walking her brother's dog and had stopped for a drink. She lives in Kew and Rosie (the dog) likes to chase the geese. I was very surprised at how much the Thames drops in tide. It almost empties at low tide and at high tide the walkway disappears under water. Very strange.
Photo - Davina and Adriaan kicking back at the City Barge.

It's my last three days of supply teaching this week. Luckily I am heading back to the stabbing school (never thought I would say that when I left Sydney) for all three days. I am looking forward to starting at my new school on 19/4. It is going to be lovely going to the same place and seeing the same faces. I went down there last Wednesday to meet the kids and parents and they seem really lovely.

Oh and before I go, the heading for today's entry is "It's our party, no Australians allowed" in French. Or at least that's what I hope it says. My French is very dodgy.