And the music goes round my head

So… hmm..

So I am currently staying at a friends in france. He lives in on campus accommodation, this seems to mean that the majority of people who are at the door speak Norwegian. Which is somewhat confusing, but Norwegains are cool, and its Europe so you have to expect it I guess.

Anyway. I am currently here by myself, it has been an odd afternoon, someone asking about bread and then the latest. A bloke only speaking French came to the door babbling away. I gathered, correctly, that he wanted to drill a hole in my friends door and put one of those peep hole things in. I don’t know why. What is one supposed to do in these circumstances? I let him drill the hole.. whilst rather worried that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Well not rather worried.. very worried. It was all very odd.. but it didn’t seem like a likely evil person thing to come and put a spy hole thing in the door.

There was some confusion when my friend came back.. i was contemplating just not telling him and seeing if he noticed. But he did.. I opened the door (forgetting to look through the little hole) to find him staring rather bemusedly at the door trying to work out how and when this thing had happened. But all is well.. the town is nice.. a uni town, slightly industrial etc. has an awesome canal thing that actually runs on a bridge over the road.

I think this is going to be a rather short blog.. mainly ive just been reading and working out whos music will be played. We did come across the most awesome quote though:

“Of course it’s a classic symptom of teenage narcissism to believe that the end of history coincides with you’re arrival on earth.”

I think its gold, and somewhat true.. well very true.

Not that I would say we are narcissistic but.. well.. I think history has a higher probability of ending for us than everyone else.. obviously.

It is common teenage narcissism to believe that the end of the world perfectly coincides with your being on it.

A couple of days ago there was the coolest thing.. a bunch of kids were having a ‘dance off’ on the main square. From back a bit it looked like a fight.. but turned out it was a bunch of guys having an awesome time showing off sans music, beats me what they were rating the dancing on. Didn’t expect to see that kind of thing in France. But that’s what MTV and globalisation is all about.. least it’s a friendly kind.

The leaves are still falling.. its quite an awesome season aside from the cold, it has different sounds, smells everything.. im quite glad ive go to experience it a bit.. not soo sure about a winter Christmas though.. I prefer our system of warm chrissie then Christmas in July. Either way it will be something I will have to experience at some point, a proper snowy Christmas.

My life seems to oscillate between extreme isolation and constant companionship.. I do rather wonder why.. although it does make for an interesting life.. which is always good. I have found myself in music recitals in German Churches and playing pool with people discussing potato pizza (pomme de terre lit. apple of the Earth). Of all things to understand it was somewhat out of the blue. I guess it makes as much sense as a ‘Pine apple’, sure it looks like a pine.. but the apple?.. sure.. That it was on pizza is still somewhat of a mystery.

And that’s it for the night..

Bjnos.. and ciao

let me fly, far away from here... fun fun fun

There are a lot of enjoyable things about travel, less so as well.. of course, but I’m just thinking about what I like.

Things changing all the time is good, and not having to answer to anything except the bank and the cold, that’s cool too. There is a bit of me that’s designed to be on the road and to live out of a pack.. I think that lives in conflict with the bit of me that wants to stay still and drink tea whenever I want. Tea can come later.

But I’m loving having both the time and the inspiration to write and take photos too. There is so much richness in everything, and variety, and that mixed with time is so rare. There is time to spend a day taking photos, maybe you only get 10 good ones in a day, but then you can edit them and muck with them on photoshop and end up with something quite cool. And I know if I don’t do it now it’ll never happen, cause no matter how much time you have at home its so rare to actually make something happen.

And rediscovering the enjoyment in writing is fab too.. and its something that doesn’t seem to happen as much at home. I can rarely write more than a page at a time at home, and im on my 5^th page now. I wonder if I could do my y12 folio by correspondence, its so much easier and more interesting to write when there is so much to write about. Not that there isn’t stuff at home.. its just a different kind.. and sitting at a kitchen table its harder to imagine the situations that are actually reality when you are wandering around. So it’s a very different type of writing, created from consistent stimuli and the kind of thought process that wonders why trees are called trees.. you don’t have to worry about that at home.. they are just trees. Why the bloody hell would you actually wonder about that at home? At home you KNOW that everyone thinks English, everyone drinks milo and knows what ‘The Boyz’ is. (It’s THE café to people out there who don’t know.. the capitals are there for a reason)

I think the people you meet as well.. they are well. In a million cases it would be impossible to actually make up people like that, no one would believe you. Reality is a lot stranger than fiction, we all know that. I could never invent someone who didn’t think they need a passport to get to Australia. A Kiwi/American? That messes with my mind more than a Norwegian/American.

I could never have so perfectly said that you will never meet a ‘real’ American o/s because a real American would never have a passport, let alone take the time off to go overseas. You cant be American if you do that. (I didn’t say that.. it was a guy with a US passport)

I never would have thought of a mother who backpacked across Indonesia with her baby on her back or a Norwegian who spoke such good American English I thought he was an American who had learnt Norwegian (I was impressed for a moment). The world is full of the kind of characters writers only wish they could capture. Some do, I think Pratchett got it working well, I think ive seen Nobby, Captain Carrot (that was amusing.. he did smell of polish and he gleamed.. I think he was a parking inspector), the odd Agnes and a million and one Two Flowers and of course everyone knows a Nanny Ogg. But I think there are characters out their odder than B S Johnson.. and they scream out to be written about.. they are just such good stories to let them go to waste.

Then there is developing interest in less solid things.. like advertising, language, body language, similarity, difference and of course brands.

So my interest in brands, in logos and advertising has been intensified with being away. Brands can and have created a product that is sold anywhere, that is the same. They can sell normality, a dream, an idea, a safe choice.

It was when I actually went out and brought a bottle of coke that I started to worry. I have come to the conclusion that I brought it for two reasons, a subconscious one and conscious, in a sense they are rather in conflict. Subconsciously I would guess I was buying something ‘normal’ something ‘safe’ (within limits of the meaning of safe) something of home, even though I don’t drink it, perhaps the logo itself is reassuring that home and normality still exist. Consciously I have brought coke as a kill or cure idea, specifically in Peru. We came to the conclusion that if coke can rot teeth, steaks and nails then there's a high probability it will also be murder to any bugs currently giving you gyp. It worked too.. although whether or not that was just good timing its hard to tell. Could have just been a spike in blood sugar and caffeine.

Later I came back from a shopping trip and actually looked at the products id brought (pretty much everything was based on price) and realised that I had brought almost all ‘home brand’ stuff, something I would never do at home. I think (again thought in process) this was mainly because I didn’t recognise the home brand logo (it was ‘Casino’ the name of the supermarket I was at) and the products were too foreign in some cases to recognise brands. So instead of basing my purchases on familiarity, or branding it was totally on price (or in the case of the cheese if it looked like it could be cut by a plastic knife AND not go off without refrigeration) and size. I found it curious, at home I would always go for the yellow brand milk (cause that’s just what we drink..), the easy presliced unplastic cheese.. I might get homebrand flour.. if its cheapest (beware homebrand is not always cheapest.. thats just a rumour they spread) but stigmas I guess cant exist if you don’t know what to be biased against. And if you haven’t seen the advertisements.. then its harder to be influenced.

This of course led to thoughts about money, which led to the concept that money doesn’t actually exist. And how often we are sold things that don’t actually exist, people out there buy Air Guitars. I remember when I was little thinking learning about shares, and being told that say shares in ColesMyer mean you own a little bit of ColesMyer.. I had a lot of trouble understanding that although one may own a little bit of ColesMyer that DOES NOT mean that you may go into a store and take a bottle of milk. Its logical, a bottle of milk looks like a small enough percentage of ColesMyer for one person to own for $1.50. I think its interesting how long it took me to understand the idea that you could buy something that doesn’t actually exist, yet as we get older and more ‘worldly’ that seems more natural. We deal in levels of money that do not exist in gold or jewels, we sell dreams and lifestyles. We sell products that are not a thing, but a symbol of an ideal. Coke is sunny days at the beach with good looking friends, a Pandora charm bracelet is not just gold and silver but solidified memories, Kathmandu is the clothes you wear when you want to be somewhere else. As we get older we get used to the idea that we are told, that we can buy something to make our lives better. Something ephemeral, something impossible, and it’s a concept that I could never have understood when I was young. I wanted barbies because I was told to by society, not because I actually thought they might make my life better. I liked pink because I was told to, not because I found it aesthetically pleasing. As we get older it gets harder to just tell someone ‘want this’, unless of course you are living in a dictatorship, in which case you could just tell everyone to like pink.. and the world would tun to hell even quicker. But we need to be sneakier as advertisers as audiences get older, we need to sell something that doesn’t exist so that consumers continue to buy in the hope of someday actually managing to buy impossibility.

Now I want a mini because of the image associated with it, I use a pack and not a wheelie bag again because of the image, because of the lifestyle associated with it. Because people with packs are always going somewhere more interesting. (also because they are more practical with stairs and dull things like that.. but we can ignore that for the point of this exercise)

I think its all fantastic.. and I have the time to write it down too.. which is cool. What more could you ask for? Inspiration and time.

Maybe not the best writing.. but meh.. that’s all relative.

There is something from a long time ago that still worries me a bit, I do worry about our countries reputation somewhat. It is very random and not in the slightest related to the rest of this blog. Some time ago I was at a café at home listening to a conversation happening at the next table. I do rather regret eaves dropping now, as what I heard still haunts me. The man at the table referred to one of his employees as ‘not an Einstein’ and his daughter than asked him what he meant. He said something along the lines that Einstein was a very smart man, who invented things, but was rather mad and spent a few years in a mental institution. Now as far as I know, this is not true, Einstein was very focused etc. for sure but he wasn’t locked away for that as far as im aware. What I do know is that we have a movie starring Yahoo Serious called Young Einstein where we claim that Einstein was Australian (Tasmanian specifically) that he split the beer atom, did e=mc^2 etc. and invented surfing. He also invented rock and roll (well.. roll and rock he calls it) and was locked away in a mental asylum with Marie Curie for a while. Considering some of the other references this bloke used to Einstein I became a bit worried that he thought this movie was actually a historic representation and haven’t shaken that fear for a long time. It’s a scary thought that some of my country men may actually believe Einstein was Australian, let alone that you need to split a beer atom to get carbonated beer. Its also rather frightening to think that they are spreading this fallacy. We could create a war with the Germans over something like that. And all we could do in defence is bubble beer at them, dear dear me. The movie does have some good music though.

And I am still in France, progressively getting more attatched to my music.. which is some weird lynk to home. Also wondering why some euro countries only have UHT milk when they have cows.. its odd.

And that’s all folks.. the world is just as mad as we all thought it was.. admittedly possibly more interesting too.. take notes.. you never know when there will be a surprise test..

Smile™

I’m all alone, more or less…

I’m all alone, more or less…

So I was planning on being social and writing this blog in some ‘communal room’ sadly they didn’t have power points, and the other room apparently was being over taken by weird relaxation music. So im in my room, the girl above me was trying unsuccessful to explain why she is upbraiding her hair, and the lady to my right was complaining about the French universities which have just changed from mac to windows or something, I do know she uses a mac and has been living here since september. She was having a bit of trouble thinking in german and trying to speak English, why when she is native French.. im not sure.. but she knew what she meant. Ultimately that’s all that really matters. So viol la..
Youth Hostels are such interesting places, in a study of humanity kind of way. This one seems to be set on redecoration at the moment, its interesting, I was trying to pay attention to a conversation last night, it was a bit tricky with light balls, new tool sets, powerpoints, blow up corona bottles and cardboard palm trees going past behind the speaker. It was like watching a cheap film set get organised, I have the feeling someone has just got a bee in their bonnet recently. A bee with some very odd taste in décor. They also seemed to get a bit confused about what a bar mat is for.. they are currently nailed to the wall.. meh.. what can you say? It’s the French :P I thought youth hostels sort of grew with all that stuff like a kind of fungi.. it never occurred to me you could sit there and actually watch someone nail a bar mat to a wall.. well.. it never would have occurred to me to nail a bar mat to the wall.. but if anything I would have expected it to actually be part of the building.. not an add on as such.
But.. yes.. Youth Hostels are good if you are looking for a little bit of theatre (ie. Bar mats on walls), amusing awkwardness (other peoples awkwardness is always amusing.. just watch someone at the reception while they are waiting for their credit card to be cleared.. while they know there are like 20 other people in the room) and to watch this strange kind of fraternity that is developed in exceedingly short periods of time. Whilst simultaneously no one trusts the next person in the mildest, they were talking about how people keep their wallets safe (after the credit card incident I am differently careful about my wallet and cards), passport, pack, etc. One guy had chained his pack to his bed. Now in perfect theory im sure this could be a good idea, but to me that suggests there's something interesting in it. Something more interesting than a whole pile of dirty junk. Add to that there is one exit to the place, in a very obvious spot. So, for sure it could get nicked, anything could. My socks (which we all know about) are worth a mint, but possibly only to me, you would have to be a certain type of person to take them. I have doubts about their worth on the black market, although they do have L and R on them, talk about tech. I worry more about my little nessie.. that’s got to be worth.. oh… at least one euro on the streets.
Its an interesting concept of worth. To me all my gear is worth everything, obviously it currently is everything. Things like shoes, rain coats, packs, sleeping bags all cost A LOT but really they are of limited worth to someone else. You cant really resell them, defiantly not for their original value. And they are only useful if you are the same size as me, and happen to be into wearing boots (in which case they might take the socks as well) that smell like a kind of war fare.
So although its possible, I have come to the conclusion that its not worth caring round my bags all day just in case someone really wants trashed jeans. Plus in comparison to what else im carrying it isn’t worth it, digital cameras, mobile phones (quad band thanks), mp3 players, lap tops. I use the plural because back packers carry serious money in tech, im not the only person ive met with a lap top (there are at least 8 here currently, 2 macs.. id go for them personally). Backpackers! With lap tops! WTF? As dad said back packers used to be the bottom of every food chain in the world. Now they carry macs. They all have some form of iPod (iPod being the main one still.. sigh), no one uses film.. film pah! (my brother recently reminded me that 4 years ago you couldn’t get me to touch a digital camera with a long pole-they were the ultimate in evil technology that was going to kill photography, and you could only get 12 pics to a $200 card-.. now I cant imagine leaving the house without it) so there are various levels of camera from basic, to hard core DSLR.
Worth really is in the eye of the beholder, I think the thing that shows this most to me is my jeans. They aren’t really that swish, they aren’t branded, nada, but they fit.. they still look ok after 2 weeks no washing.. to me they are worth much more than the $60 I paid for them. Static worth is not.
So ANYWAYS.. these places attract a certain kind of mad clientele. Currently there are about 30 (seems like that anyway there's probably only 7) small children here, who have taken to running down the corridors at 8am screaming. SIGH.. the world has changed when 11yr olds stay in hostels. I guess that’s a good sign, I don’t know. It does mean that there is no such thing as cheap travel anymore, pah there's no such thing as cheap. But it does mean there is a place for small children and mad people to congregate, and its clean too.. so I guess its all good. Aside from that fact that they are allowed to run around late at night, and early in the morning screaming, and taking photos of each other leaving the toilets.. that bit is not good (this is the children, the mad men are much better behaved)
I was very excited to discover one of my French stereotypes is accurate, think of that an accurate stereotype, the smoking one. No one (so far.. I hold hope though) wears striped shirts, red scarves, and black berets.. everyone does carry a baguette though.. and a cheese.. I shouldn’t have got rid of mine eh? Its recently illegal to smoke in here.. but I was quite happy that one of my stereotypes lived up to what it should. a lot of roll your owns.. which I still find fascinating.. (to me they are something older men, and characters in books smoke) I never quite worked out how they work.. and why the whole thing doesn’t just whoosh up in flames like a tea bag. I guess because its not made from a tea bag.. or tea... that could be it now I think of it.
I am assuming that they don’t go whoosh because no one seems to be wandering around with burnt noses and lacking eye brows. would be a good discouragement from smoking.. (fumar tua.. yep.. same ‘smoking kills’ slogans world wide)
But.. the best thing is that this hostel has a million dollar view, this piece of real estate must be worth a mint. Right back out over the city, I can see the path I had to walk yester day to get here. But the thing I noticed with this somewhat different view is that the buildings actually look like buildings in a city that you draw as a child, it is a mary poppins city. With all the windows long and rectangular, and lined up perfectly (a stark contrast to the UK where houses we stayed had no windows were on the same level at all, let alone a straight roof) in square buildings that are only one or two stores higher than the ones next to them.
They are the Buildings we imagine a city to be made out of. Its quite cool. And only one really noticeable highrise .. thankyou SAS.

So today was cold. According to dad (again a sign of the times.. my father knows the weather where I am, and I don’t.. I knew it was overcast, he didn’t believe me until he checked the internet and it agreed with me) it was 3 degrees with wind chill. For the first time in my life im thinking that $250 for an ice breaker jacket isn’t too expensive. I was wearing 5 layers and still couldn’t last the whole day.. everyone else was wearing hard core jackets.. im thinking if the locals are wearing such things.. that might be a hint to the little aussie. I don’t know how people don’t turn into little frozen bundles of carbon… some genetic thing.
What else?.. There is also a miniature museum.. ie. A museum of miniatures.. not a miniature museum. Although looking in the window I got enough miniature ness for the day. And indeed in the window was a minature museum.. little skeletons of dinosaurs and everything.. im not quite sure I see the point.. very compact.. easy to get in one photo.
So.. because of the cold.. I ended up in a few fascinating shops. I found an English language books shop.. which was quite cool.. I got a book (mum and dad both wince.. not more weight they say) about global branding.. which looks interesting although did nothing to defrost me. Various art supply shops, delicatessens, bakeries and super markets.
I also got one of my friends (who is attempting to learn French) a kids book it appears to be about a pirate called arsenic who, judging by the cover, is a blue ant. So it sounds.. interesting at the least.. and could keep me entertained for a little while.
But yes.. I got the brand book because my interest in brands has increased with time away.. and more exposure to which brands are global, which logos etc. And the power brand names have over me and other people. Roxy and Billabong noticeably, and Pringles.
But what we know, and others don’t is interesting. For example you could say the word ‘Safeways’ over and over to whomever you like.. and get no where. Ergo safewas is not universal.. considering its not even national, probably should have guessed. (both safeways and Coles are supermarkets, Safeways is also known as Woolworths in other states)
You cannot say to someone ‘where is the nearest coles?’ I have tried.. it doesn’t work. They don’t seem to have anything comparable, there are shops slightly larger than a 7/11 (also not so international as I would have guessed) then huge barn places like Bunnings for food. Nothing sort of in between.. normal coles/safeways sized. So perhaps supermarket sizes aren’t universal either.
I found it interesting what we refer to as brands, and what is reffered to as the actually product. Ie. The difference between Panadol and paracetamol, its not really Phenergan its anti histamines.. Blu Tac.. and well try explaining that one. Its blue and you use it to stick stuff to a wall.. no no its yellow here (and no its not yellow tac either.. its yellow blu tac but made by the same people.. talk about confusing).
Things that change names are also interesting.
Kodak, Body Shop, United Colours of Benneton, Apple, Microsoft, ESPRIT, Coke and Pringles are all the same so far. Same colours, same logo, same name. Where as Peters (the ice cream) is Ola (lit. hi or hello) in Portugal, and Pauls in the UK I don’t know if its here. Haven’t been looking for icecream. Same font and swoosh around the word though. Also a brand I cant for the life of me remember, but they make lip gloss.. here its called ‘labello’ same font and logo though.. same product as well.
Its weird, you see all most everything the same.. and then just the name is out.. and its very mirror world.. very odd.
Our attraction to brands is interesting.. or our repulsion and the ability to be affected by them seems international. Its curious.. but moving right along..

I was told last night 30% of the English language is French.. I have no idea if that’s true.. but I wouldn’t be surprised. Im better at following conversations in French.. and whether this is similarity or exposure im not sure. But a lot of the words on mums make up.. ‘nior’ and other ones I obviously cant think of now, are all just French cause it sounds cool (go wine knowledge as well.. for example Pinot Nior- black.. umm Pinot.. for an interesting fact it is often drunk by people heading down the goth path and people wearing darker clothes- from working weddings-.. where as Merlot is often chosen by ‘lighter’ looking people). Working in fancy restaurants works too, they seem to think its cool to say jus instead of Juice.. and fancy ways of saying ‘mashed potato’ and although it was annoying at the time (WHY would you bother if the clientel don’t know what it means, I don’t know what it means, and the owner has to look it up in a book.. all it does is make people feel ignorant) its useful now. And champignons means mushrooms in general.. not the specific type of mushroom.. I was proud of getting that. (spell checker even has it)

Then there's the difference in native English between Candies, lollies and sweets. I still get confused. In the states I think its candies (and as such that’s what a lot of people learn), I think of candy as a person.. and that just leads to confusion. ‘Do you want a candy?’ ‘They come in packs?’ To us everything is lollies, except lolly pops.. which are what they are. To the British they are Sweets (I would more think of hard boiled lollies) except a lolly which is a lolly pop. I never expected such a simple thing to be so mind bending.

And with that I shall leave you.. forewarned it forearmed.. no more candie troubles. Or lollie as the case might be, no more sweet troubles doenst really sound right.
Ciao.
And apologies for the scatterness.

Ah.. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank my sponsor.. umm.. that car company.. they have generously decided to share the goodness of the internet and put an unsigned hot spot nearish the hostel. Very good people, citroen I think.. with the dots.

theres no kind of atmosphere

Well I am sitting in my room drinking my first decent cup of tea in over a week. The last attempt ended up with milo cereal in it, and the ones made by other people were decidedly weak. So, I have tea, I have this room to myself, and the new waifs album. I also have a view out the window over some unidentified autmny trees and some stunning mountains.
As they say, this is the life.
I am actually relaxed for the first time.. well in a long time. Relaxed being a very different state to happy, having fun etc. So although I have had some awesome times in the last age, I haven’t been relaxed as such. Its quite nice, and rather addictive I have to say. Lol
The last times I can remember being relaxed (I am not counting the tiems doing nothing feeling guilty for not doing anything.. they are many) were ages ago. In y9 on great vic I remember lying under the trees at Cerbrus.. probably an unconventional place to feel relaxed (it’s a miliary base, and great vic involves riding great distances with 3,500 other people). The other time was at the prom, sitting on my surf board in Oberon bay.. considering that was at least 2 years ago (due to the fires last year) I think I am well due some nothing time. And I have to say I am appreciating it, you never know when the normal madness of life is going to take over, although I don’t think id really want to live all my life like this, maybe just a month a year. Lol
So.. I was thinking a little of things that I would like to have here. If they didn’t weigh anything, weren’t impossible etc. I haven’t included people.. duh.
So.. we have:
-ice cream.. it is very expensive to buy in small amounts, and impossible to transport thus illuminating the possibility of buying larger amounts. It is also cold to eat outdoors.
-Milo and milk.. ahh good old milo.. none of this tea/milo crap
-kettles.. very rare buggers leading into the next point
-consistent tea supplies… well actually there are at least 6 tea emporiums here (I didn’t think a town could sustain so much tea) but that’s not the same as milk, tea, a mug, and hot water all in the same place.
-Toast.. now why the Europeans don’t eat toast I will never understand.. it is one of their few failings.. cold bread for breakkie isn’t the same
-Consistent internet.. preferably that doesn’t involve sitting outside in the cold..
-Clean clothes.. yes.. that would be good.. I think other people would like that too.
-My car.. (yes.. right hand drive.. that would NOT be a good idea) car=freedom from public transport.. and strikes
-A good shower.. not one where you press the button and water runs for 10secs.. I don’t know who decided that saves water..
-cheap phone calls.. damn Telstra.. I say that very publicly..
-easy to use electric plugs.. English ones are the worst.. you need a crow bar to get the plug back.
-and the worst.. and girliest.. my hair straightener.. sigh.. how technologically dependant I have become. Well not me.. my hair.. anyway’s that’s not to worry.. moving right along.. actually moving along in a second. I find it interesting that although I may desire all that crap.. I am surviving quite well without.. we are very adaptable things.. I think mostly we choose not to adapt. Much as I know I can survive sans hair straightener, con hat, I don’t plan on it when I get home. Im sure that makes me a bad non greenie.. if I buy a hybrid does that make up for it? lol

I was not disappointed yesterday. I got my obligatory European show. I was wandering around, slightly locationally displaced, I think in the tourist area of town, which was the laziest tourist area I have ever seen, I think all the touters had the weekend off, that or they are in Grenoble. Anyway walking along as I was, looking at 300 euro bags, I found the event of the day. A bunch of people, I suspect they were actors but the sign was slightly incomprehensible, were dressed up in ski gear from the 80’s (shudder) sitting around in deck chairs taking photos of each other. One was trying to smoke a salami. I don’t know why. I doubt I ever will. Its one of those mysteries.

But, moving along from smoking salamis (from what I saw he was unsuccessful.. probably a good thing really) there's something I cant work out about Europeans. They look stylish ALL the time, I don’t know why, or how. They even look stylish when rollerblading in lycra. That takes skill.
As far as im concerned it stands out from miles away that I am Australian. We are not known for suave, and I defiantly am not, especially when washing clothes in a sink..
Like, there are backpackers wearing white pants, and yes they are white, not grey. My new blue jeans are a kind of browny grey and would possibly walk if struck by enough juice to give them a bit more life, currently they try to slunk off.
In my normal circles I would look scruffy, but here I feel like a big ball of scruff, in comparison to the locals.
I don’t know why they are so slick. It cannot be genetic, genetically I am after all European and British. And it cant be in the water cause I would have caught it by now. Perhaps its some vitamin supplement. I don’t know, man they can make a polar fleece look like an acceptable item to wear down the street, not rain coats though. I have got a ‘look’ for wearing a rain coat down the street (as such for the next few rainy days I didn’t take anything water proof, and was attacked by multiple umbrellas) the guy I was with was highly embarrassed to be seen with me. ;) It was all very amusing.
That said the trend of shorts and boots and stockings has taken hold here, (and to anyone reading this please don’t take offence if you are in the habit of wearing this particular outfit) im not quite sure why.. im sure skirts exist for a reason.. but maybe its cool. Still they make that look slick.
Perhaps all this is emphasized by the fact that I have been wearing the same clothes (with some washing.. its ok.. don’t panic) fairly consistently for the last 2 weeks because I cant be bothered to totally unpack to find other clothes. As such everything is slightly crumpled, some is shrunk due to bad experiences with washing and drying machines and some colours are a bit patchy due to bad experiments with washing powders. And my hair seems to have decided that the world is going to end, and as such has gone into a frizzed panic trying to warn other people by jumping out at them. My hair has a little too much spirit, as mentioned earlier.
About the only bit of me that fully fits in is the jewellery, I think Pandora has become as, if not more so, universal than Fossil. Possibly more so, there was a girl in Northern Norway who had a bracelet.
I am wondering how there can be such a differenece between Europeans and Australians in the suave stakes. Fashion is nigh universal, so it has to be in the wearer not the clothes. Although perhaps they have more access to the clothes.
I am in a town with three different ESPRIT shops (womens, mens, and something called EDC) a united colours of Bentton and Lacloste. (you know what I mean, spell checker doesn’t) and I am defintlay not in the city, I am in a town built around a lake and skiing, its like Omeo or Baw Baw village having those shops.
In one shopping centre in Portugal there were 3 united colours of benneton stores. I was proud of knowing the name, I even own a shirt from them (go DJ’s sales). So perhaps it is the clothes, or the vitamin supplements. Who knows, I shall ask someone when I get the chance. Or maybe something else.
I come from a land down under. Of rugged mountain ranges and dusty red soil planes. Now I have the suspicion that I just mixed and mutilated two very well known famous poems.. BUT I also come from a land where a bonds chesty (other wise known as a beater –pronounced Bee-da) is considered fashionable. That could be the problem, not that I can blame Bonds.. but it is tempting. I only just realised what a hold they have on our market. Sigh. And what a hold beaters have on our market. Maybe this is something to do with it all.

I was wondering how much globalised communications such as this have affected our views on travel. If I wasn’t writing this blog, well its possible I would have lost touch with more people than I have and they would have even less of an idea of where I am. And possibly I wouldn’t remember as much. When I got home all people would have heard was maybe one or two tales, and none of the bad stuff would have been communicated. I am wondering if things like this ruin some of the blind romantic ideas we have of travel. When we talk about the travels in past tense only the good bits get discussed, and they get amplified, thus people end up with a more positive impression. Whereas with this warts and all get aired (hopefully in a balanced fashion). I haven’t yet decided if this is a good or bad thing, perhaps its just different.

And with that the world goes on.. I gradually turn into a little amelia shaped icicle and get rambled at by mad men because im sitting on a park bench with a lap top.. yay for the world.

its cold out there

Today kiddies we are going to discuss a few things.
Psychology, a reoccurring theme I know, of myself (a topic on which I consider myself an expert), of Europeans(in a mass generalisation sense) and different tourists. And other stuff that comes into my head as I type.
Typing I notice is physically a lot easier than writing with pen and paper.. as such I tend to write better and more when im typing.. maybe lugging around a laptop is worth it.
For free internet it defiantly is. (better than an euro for 10mins.. ouch!)

So.. I spent a lot of time on busses yesterday. Busses are not specifically my forte.. for some reason I prefer trains, less air con I think. Anyway.. the scenery was spekkie.. and aside from a bung back it was all pretty groovy. (apparently not adjusting my pack to my back was unwise.. I now spend quite a bit of my time either wincing at apparently invisible demons to passers by.. or very flat on my back.. I feel about 60 lol) The reason for the buses (and a 5hr journey, instead of a 1.5hr one) was because of a very inconvenient train driver strike. I am all for better conditions for French Train Drivers.. but not so much when im trying to get somewhere.
So, thinking along, I realised im in France. No Shit… that may seem like a bloody obvious statement.. but sometimes im a little slow on the uptake. The fact that it took a week probably means im processing a little slower than normal.. but I got there in the end. It sort of sunk in that of all the places I have ended up in.. im in France.
This may not seem like an illogical place to end up in to most people.. it’s THE tourist route.. but I have secretly hated France for years. For no particular reason. Up until last week my total of French people met was at total of one. My knowledge of France stretched to Paris, The Champs Ellesays, Mont Blanc, le Tour and one Top Gear episode. And that its vaguely star shaped. I think with nothing other to base a like/dislike on, I went with the very old English view.
So I was somewhat confused as to WHY I came here. I have a friend here, I know a few people who came on exchange here, and other people I know go paragliding here. That’s it. But for some reason it seemed logical.
Im quite glad I came here actually. The foods pretty good, and not break the bank. The people are entertaining at the least (although that comes later) and its very beautiful. And I seem to be able to mostly get around ok without French.
But yes.. I also realised that my view of the world has become curiously insular. I think this has something to do with the events of the last week or so and being alone in a non English speaking country.
It’s a very simple world.
There's me.
There's the rest of the world.
And such is the world divided.
There's my little bubble with English thoughts, music and my little views on the world.
These views are being constantly proved wrong, but still they are mine. I accept that they are, or can be, wrong.. but they are valid, least I reckon.
So the world is either older younger, more or less normal than me. Etc.
So when I get asked little questions like ‘how old are you?’ I get rather stumped, I had to think for some time. I seem to be assuming that I know.. therefore everyone else does too.
Not so.
Its interesting, ‘the psychology of Amelia wandering the world’. Lol..
I think its this insular ness that leads to circular thinking.. very annoying.
I also seem to be emitting a field that puts me at, on average, 3-7 years older than I actually am. That’s possibly more annoying than the circular thinking. Although I don’t think ive got it that bad.. one 17yr old I met had a girl guess his age at 28. That was a bit devastating for him.

I think there is some part of the EU that states every European must do something unbelievably mind bogglingly odd in front of a tourist daily. I quite enjoy this little bylaw. And think it should be encouraged.
Yesterdays was good, taxi drivers in a rank in front of a train station would move up the rank as one taxi was used (you know the general drill). So instead of actually going to all the effort of turning on the ignition and putting the car into gear, one guy got out of his car and pushed it the next 10m to fill the gap. Very fuel efficient.
Actualy yesterdays was two. A whole bunch of teenagers were running around with packs of flour and breaking them on each other. I don’t know why we didn’t think of that for muckup day.
Todays was even odder. I thought id missed my oddity of the day, and was feeling very disappointed when walking back to the hostel I saw a group of people who thought they were hippies sitting in a circle in a park. There was the juggler.. guitar player and two, count them, TWO didgeridoos. I don’t know why. They probably don’t realise exactly how weird that is. They thought they were cool though. (no, they weren’t aboriginal.. nor Australian to boot.)

I met some French Canadians the other night. I was quite excited, I discovered I can actually understand Canadian French a lot easier than French French, I don’t know why, but if they talk slow, or are explaining something I can get it almost no worries. I understood ‘The French Prime minister has broken up with his wife’ and ‘dinner tonight is 3 courses, Salad, some main thing, and dessert, and cheese’. Im on the up and up.

What else? I was eating lunch today.. sitting enjoying the sun and the view. When I had a crow decided that he was going to save me from the effort of eating my lunch myself, I assume by eating it for me.
I did not appreciate this.. and I spent most of lunch in a kind of invisible tug of war with this crow. But it got worse. As I was trying to work out how to turn a lap top, pair of gloves and note book into a deadly projectile weapon to skewer afore mentioned avian creature, a tourist (asian.. what is it with Asians and annoying birds? SeaGulls aren’t cute.. crows attempting to steal my lunch are also not cute.. nor photogenic.) decided to do a little photo shoot with said creature.. which had just developed the gall to jump onto the back rest of the seat.
I was not impressed.. in the interests of international peace I stayed still, seething, waiting for the ego stroking to finish so that I could go back to working out if I was fast enough to grab and strangle the bird just enough to discourage it from lunch napping again.
It did make me wonder about the different types of tourists though, it would be sort of nice to be that enamoured by everything you saw. Very easy to please, and I don’t think that would be a bad thing. Oh.. the bird survived, the war continues.

I then spent the afternoon attempting, futilely, to document Autumn. Autumn here is somewhat of a different one to that at home. Its different when all the trees loose their leaves.. the colours are stunning.. some resemble so strongly the fire in opals. Its cool.. different to evergreens. And I think I got a few ok pics. Not as many as I would have liked.. but the good ones are good.

And now.. European psychology.
This theory is a work in progress.. I don’t think it could actually ever be totally finished without bias.
But obviously Europeans have a very Europe centred view of the world. (This is a gross generalisation, I do know people who know about the IR laws, Pauline Hanson and who aren’t shocked to find that Indonesia has its own language, so this is my perceived average) I had vaguely thought this might be the case, but I don’t think I realised exactly to what extent this is.
I also didn’t realise to what extent our view is Australasia centred.
There were some small tips, like people not having any idea about Australia, not knowing that there was an Indonesian language. I also found it very confusing to find their idea of Asia. We describe Asia culturally, ie. China, Japan, SE Asia, with India in its own category (probably the sub continent), then the middle east.
To them, I think, everything to the east of Turkey is Asia. There are some mountains that denote the border, it involves cutting Russia (hear that Russia is now Asia.. )
Its weird, it never occurred to me to describe it so technically. It also makes it hard to differentiate between the Middle East and Asia, and I do think its important to be able to easily differentiate. There are some huge cultural differences between the Japanese, Mongols and say Malays BUT I don’t think they are quite as big as those between people in the left and right of ‘Asia’.
Either way im obviously biased, and you could pick almost any European out of a crowd and they will emphatically tell you that you are wrong. It does mean that organisations can say they cover Asia when they say go out to Iran and Kazakhstan and that’s it. (this pisses me off a little.. my personal belief is that you ignore asia at your peril.. there are organisations that are ‘world wide’ and hit nowhere near the borders of India let alone Australia or New Zealand)
I think, again as a generalisation, we have a similar understanding of Eastern Europe as the average European has of Asia (ahh.. our Asia..)
Ie. Did you know that there is two countries? Slovenia and Slovakia.. they are different places. I must have known this because I knew that the language of Slovenia is Slovene, but it wasn’t a conscious knowledge. So I can hardly say we are better (although of course we are :P) but just very very different.
But this whole thing actually gets to me a lot. Not just because I am sick of being told that im wrong. (I am wrong in a geographical sense… not in a cultural one.. its like the difference between sex and gender) Also not just because it can appear that Asia doesn’t really count (im sure that’s not how its meant.. but just how it can seem) we after all have 2.5 (technically) of the BRIC countries. Brazil, Russia, India, China, from my understanding, they are the biggest economical developing countries-not the best way of saying it-. Ie. The places multinationals need to have a finger in to satisfy shareholders. Huge spenders.
It was because I have met a notable number of people who don’t know about the Bali Bombings. And they didn’t care, and perhaps its this indifference. (this mainly arose in Portugal, as such it could be a cultural thing, or just individual and as such generalising is rather incriminating for many innocent people)
Our school was affected by the bombings, and since then I have seen lectures by the AFP (Australian Federal Police) about the whole thing, including pictures of the Torso of one of the bombers.
And the thought that people could just not give a shit, its very emotive.
Perhaps if it hadn’t affected our school, if it hadn’t hit Australia so hard, if it hadn’t been the beginning of more hits on Bali. Perhaps then I wouldn’t care, which I think shows how hard it is to shake something once it becomes ‘personal’. I think also travelling makes it a bit realer, that there were attacks planned for the airport I used in Germany, for Heathrow (which I have used 3 times to date).
And im sure that there are similar horrible things that I am similarly unaware of, thus making me rather hypocritical, which I am well aware of.
But it doesn’t change how simple a thing, area definition, can create such a divide. Lol so to speak. Its not the thing you would have expected.

On the good news front, Canadians use toasters, they also cannot understand the lack of them in Europe.
I found a wifi spot.. on wonderful French person was so kind as to not lock his network.
I believe two things should be permanently free, Parking and Internet. Currently Parking isn’t quite at the top of my list, possibly because I don’t currently have a car.

That reminds me slightly, just, of a radio play I grew up listening to.
I blame this particular Radio Play for my tendency to hit things against tables to make them work, and my distrust of the media.
There is a character, Nikola Tesla, who runs the Digital Circus, whose big blessing is ‘free electricity for everyone’ .. I think we need something similar for Internet.
I think ‘Ruby’ has a certain responsibility for my growing up. Probably not the most typical hero to have as a kid. She was a Galactic Gumshoe (or bounty hunter) she sounds like shes simultaneously stoned, distracted, sexy and about to attack something. Its awesome.. Her job (in the play) is to work out who is manipulating reality through the media. I think that’s just as relevant now.
After all we call Big Brother reality TV.. and I cant think of anyone for whom that life is reality. Perhaps if we believe Big Brother actually is reality, reality will become Big Brother. What a horribly scary thought.

And on that note I will leave you.. perhaps next time ill think of something more interesting to discuss.


‘to know your enemy is to enter combat and appear to be no threat by losing, then pass on the information to others.’

there are not that many pears in the world...

The last few days I have spent at some what of a loss. Not sure what to do next etc. I do think that this is just part of the human condition (beware people who do know what to do next.. high probability they aren’t as carbon based as the rest of us..lol) that’s not very helpful.

So, today I spent lunch (a rather late lunch due to an endemic lack of foresight and leaving my food in my room which is locked 10am-2pm) sitting in a garden in patchy sun listening to little birds twittering (I have come to the conclusion the Kookaburra is THE coolest bird.. its years since I saw one) and sharing attention between pate and crispy bread and watching little kiddies attempt to play rugby.
Personally I think they should stick to soccer.. these little kids are ace at it. I think I spent my childhood on the beach, attempting to break into my friends neighbours (we never succeded), doing strange things to pine cones and making various weapons. Ah.. the days before water restrictions when you could run around like a madman with a water pistol..
Actually it may not be pate.. its ‘Mousse de FOIE’. In most cases I would be worried about not knowing what im eating. But as I cant think of many things worse than mooshed up liver, its all good. Why I can handle the thought of mushed liver and not a chickens head in my soup (see Portugal blogs) or sushi and not whole cooked fish.. I don’t know.. it’s a mystery.
ANYWAY (having a little trouble with focus today… how rare ..lol)
But as I sat there my thoughts went in their normal mediocre annoying loops. Basically circulating around ‘by god this costs a lot of money’ – im actually living of half the amount it cost in Peru.. im in France for gods sake.. living costs are half of a developing country?! ‘am I spending my money properly?’-some might say accommodation and food is a good use of this resource and ‘am I spending my time well?’
I am sitting in a park in France eating Pate on biscuits with no one demanding anything of me. There are a million people who would kill for this situation.
Sometimes my pointless questioning annoys me.
The problem is that no matter how logical the answers are they just don’t seem to satisfy the questions. (its rather like wondering why we call a tree a tree and not a bush.. or Floogle horn.. you are NEVER going to find a satisfactory answer)
Hence the annoying repetition..
Why this is.. im not sure.. but I have a few theories (as if I could have a dilemma I haven’t analysed)
a) This is just an annoying blip in my personality. Theoretically there has to be one somewhere.. this could be it.
b) This is just a remanent from my education system where it is not enough to simply satisfy myself but where I have to get a grade from someone somewhere.
c) This is my subconscious trying to stop me worring bout that pate not having been refrigerated for 2 days.
Well.. c) isn’t working. And since im perfect obviously its cant be a) therefore it must be b) using the famous process of elimination. Damn school.
For some reason its societally acceptable to spend a whole day inside studying to be a politician, but spending it outside eating pate (off though it may have been.. its hard to tell with pate.. it always looks and smells a bit weird.. which does of course raise the question of why I eat it) just isnt.
The world is mad.

Perhaps I will just have to force myself to enjoy the sun, and the little birdies and just contributing to the prosperity of France by contributing minorly to the economy.

Next think you know ill be eating Tiramisu with a long handled spoon.

Its possible I may actually learn to enjoy leisure time, instead of feeling guilty about it.

Ok.. well its improbable due to genetics.. but the impossible can happen.

Also my current reading material is the Financial Times (admittedly I get about half of it.. but I get the gist.. ) and a book called ‘Critical Mass’ –How one thing leads to another., about the physics of society (yep, we all just act like little gas molecules in a balloon.. damn.. guess I don’t need to feel guilty after all).

Good news is I discovered that the coalition and opposition are posting videos on youtube. They even infiltrated Facebook to remind young people to register to vote. Its nice to know that the government is keen on everyone voting even though they wont all vote for them. Go democracy!

In other news:
- I am running low on hot chocolate sachets.. its not good
- I am contemplating getting ‘I don’t speak french’ tattooed on my forehead, that or a barcode (parents go white.. lol)
- I threw away my connies.. they were too heavy to travel with *sniff*
- There is a new type of creature.. called a desk dog.. they are a bit smaller than my foot and they sit on your desk apparently bonelessly (think the cat in Charlie Brown) and stare balefully at any customers. Just shows how much we have screwed with evoloution.
- There are 6 types of pear available in the supermarket down the road.. small, small and dark green, long and skinny, normal, long and skinny, and weird
- The milo I have been hording carefully is apparently in a container that used to have tea in it. This has left my very rare milo with a tea esque taste.. its weird to say the least.
- I am proud of todays shopping.. a whole 3 euros went on food today.. and everything was chosen for nutritional content.. and ability to buy in small amounts.. do you know how many things come in incredibly large amounts.. ? sigh..

And id say that’s the world according to me today.
Now I have to go find a place to sleep tomorrow (look.. planning a whole 24hrs ahead! wowzer)
Ciao

Kor-getties beware

Infectious viruses that seep through humanity slowly slowly taking a hold. It’s a horrible sentence isn’t it? One that sort of encourages you to get a blanket, curl up in it and avoid anyone with a sniff. But I saw something today that made me wonder if brands can be a kind of virus, that travels through us, infecting other people around and spreading.. probably not the nicest way of saying it though.. meh.. although it is a very pattern recognition idea..
So.. Tin Tin.. its over here en masse.. I have seen a tin tin shop in every city ive been in (admittedly that’s only Brugge, Brussles, Paris and here) BUT.. there is merchandise.. for tin tin for goodness sake.. you can buy a watch, little (very expensive) figurines, comics.. of course, a whole line of boys to mens clothes, and diaries.. one of which I brought today.. both to my joy and dismay.. sadly its no where near as cool as a Mao watch.. nothing can be.. little mao waving away the seconds.. that really is sick kitch.. and yet for some reason appealing.. probably some human way of dealing with these catastrophies.. making them into kitch..BUT..
I never really got that into tin tin.. its cool.. but I grew up with Asterix and Obelix (of which there is a theme park near Paris… sooo going), Calvin and Hobbes (translated as Tommi/(y) and Tigren –spelling optional- for the Norwegains) and Footrot flats… it never occurred to me that cartoons could be big.. and so capitalised upon.. if they ever make a ‘dog’ key ring though.. im there.. or ’horse’ probably wouldn’t go for ‘Major’ though.. or ‘Prince Charles’. (to everyone else.. they are characters from Footrot flats, a Kiwi cartoon, they are all dogs, ‘dog’ being the main character/ narrator... except horse who is, obviously, a cat.. it all makes more sense if you read it.. and it’s a VERY good introduction to New Zealand)
Speaking of New Zealand.. I was given some very grave news recently.. apparentliy they lost to France.. to FRANCE people.. for some indescribable reason I find this more upsetting than us loosing to the poms.. its terribly sad.. I was inconsolable for moments after discovering this.. the fact that I was informed by a Norwegian did nothing to help my general globalisation confusion.
I was more interested to hear that an election has been called.. I am still quite upset to be missing my first federal election (damn those who got me interested in politics.. you know who you are..) all the ads and everything.. although I am told Johnny Babe put something on YouTube so we shall have to check that out.. attempting to get to the net surfing masses.. hah.. soo subtle..
Speaking of YouTube.. a word to the wise. When you have to access internet in a public place.. do not ‘accidentally’ watch any chaser clip.. well maybe other people don’t have the problem of laughing out loud.. whilst trying to hold back the ‘they’re not, they’re not..’ although it did put me in a good mood, everyone around thought I was a bit mad.. but hey its worth it. As I missed all the APEC(?) stuff I caught up a bit watching them pretend to be security randomly testing etc. people in Melbourne! on a tram.. for APEC… sigh.. it was cool.. and yet doesn’t translate in the world of blogs.. I recommend it..
Ah yes.. I’m in France. And as many of you know.. I don’t speak French. I speak Indonesian.. which we have ascertained is quite useless on the continent. And I have always been under the impression that the French will meet you with a rather chilly welcome, and in some cases will refuse to look at you, serve you, etc. if you don’t speak French. Now maybe its just me, or maybe ive been very lucky with the people ive met, not eating in restaraunts might help, but so far people don’t see to view it as anything other than an annoyingly amiable trait. Its frustrating.. and obviously I wish I spoke French.. but im kinda glad I can live anyways.. and im still successfully getting by on body language and context. Its when someone stands in front of me doing a monologue with no hand gestures that I get lost.
Ah.. but I did recognise one new word today (aside from calzone.. ka zing.. got that one..) courgette.. ok well I happened to have read a few cook books that used this one.. but I was still proud. The mental monologue went something like ‘ah hah.. I know that one.. it’s the fancy name for zucchini.. don’t think you can get me there French people..’. I imagine if I had only ever used cookery the autralian way and not watched our dear Stephanie alexander.. the throughts would have been something more like. ‘kor-getti.. wtf is a kor-getti? It sounds like some type of Japanese motorcycle.. or possibly ammunition for a hardcore machine gun.. oh look there's a zucchini, I wonder how much it costs.’
I also went to an Irish shop today. As if I couldn’t, as soon as I saw it I started wondering what on earth the French think of as Irish. The answer.. everything Scottish, or British in general. There were a few leprechauns.. and some green stuff.. and werid pre-made jelly.. but there was defiantly a lot of scottish memorabilia.. which was a bit odd.. and skittles.. I could have sat down for hours thinking of irish things.. and never would have got to skittles.. I have to say I hope some random irish guy doesn’t walk in there looking for a nice taste of home.. it might not go down too well.. its like finding Vegemite or Kangaroos in a Kiwi shop..
Anyway that’s the world as it stands through my eyes today.. im hoping msn is back up and running.. and I hope all is well with the universe..
Take care
And smile™

Oh and I found another quote floating around in music…
‘people don’t hunger only for food..
How easy that would be, so basic and crude
There's so much more you need..
To help nourish you..’
I thought that was nice.. and somehow needs remembering more often..

p.p.s for some reason i find the word kor-getties very amusing.. in a very un-worldly australian way..

Stale Pringles just dont taste the same

They don’t.. and yet one tube of Pringles is just that little too much to eat by oneself in one day. It’s a cruel catch 22. The reason I mention this is because Pringles is one of the worlds base lines, one of the things around which everything is built. No matter where, who or what.. Pringles taste the same. Same as with Coke, both wonderful things of normality. But the point is not to strengthen a brands hold on the market place through viral marketing. Instead…

I officially deem this year a success.

Considering I didn’t know what I wanted to achieve from this year, and had no goals (aside from the rather boring and repetitive survive one) im pretty proud that its been a success.

I have managed to shake the torture chamber that was year 12. Ive got my interest in the world back, the desire to poke the world to see if it pokes back. So far yes indeed it does, it is strangely reassuring to find that cause and effect are still working. And that you cant move through the world effortlessly, it is constantly creating impressions on you.. and even more reassuringly us on it. But yes.. despite the fact that there have been times that I would rather spend the day hiding under a blanket in bed (ill admit this did happen on one occasion or so :P) the world is a much nicer place than VCE, even the less good places in reality are better, they are not so impossible to handle. (note. This is no reflection on teachers who try to make VCE ok, they do a damn good job.. the good ones at any rate)

It was also cool to realise im looking forward to uni, much better than the alternative. Well maybe not the exams.. I seem to only talk to my friends when its exam time.. either that’s bad timing or the exams are happening all the time (I think it’s the latter)
But meeting people ill spend 4 years with (not just one week! Wow.. incomprehensible), the subtle excitement of book lists, of subject choices, and new textbooks (which always look interesting until you actually open them and discover that a physics text book isn’t full of formulas that do interesting things.. rather ones that describe why a lever works.. and then the 100 questions to fill on that exciting repitition.)
I think mainly uni look like as good a way as any to spend 4 years working out what I actually want to do. That said I don’t think there's actually any rush. Very few of my cousins have actually settled on a career. One 30+ wants to change from Banking to Psych, another when from media to tourism (working on rich peoples boats in between), one of my parents friends went from art teacher, to professional writer to writing teacher in her late 50’s, one of my teachers trained as a molecular biologist and now teaches English (I do not know why). And then there's my favourite example, my dad, who trained as a Medical Photographer, is now working as the ‘Marketing Director for the Aisa Pacific region’ for a company I don’t remember the current name of and is still waiting to grow up so he can work out what he wants to do. :D
So with all that in mind I think the phrase ‘no worries’ fits perfectly, and it all worked out for them.
Speaking of which, on another topic totally. I will never cease to be surprised at how deeply Douglas Adams’ Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy has permeated the world. I grew up with the assumption (I am learning not to trust these assumptions.. they are after all from a child who thought that the world was black and white before they invented colour photography.. I stand by my belief that it was a logical assumption.. the fact that I only worked I was wrong when I was reading calvin and hobbes isn’t the point) that it was a mildly obscure sci-fi known of in shall specialist anglo circles. Not so. Last year at ESC the phrase ’42’ was quoted. The three of us talking (a Welshman, German and myself) all suddenly realised that we had read the book, could quote it and as such all looked suitably embarrassed. Since then ‘42’ or ‘Don’t panic’ as arisen a few times (42 was our ESC head quarters this year) with Germans, Norwegians, American-Norwegians, Swedes, Danes, Australians and of course Britons. (admittedly I was more surprised by a German mentioning “Feegles’ in context.. don’t ask about what context) I wonder if Douglas Adams actually reaslised how much of a cult following his books would develop world wide. How outcast someone can be either for reading it, or worse.. for not. That 42 has become a code to some secret universal club, of which the members can quite work out how or why they joined. Or that it would be so fully accepted that the meaning to life the universe and everything is 42, I cant say I know many people who would actually disagree.

Anyway.. the last few weeks have been interesting, wandering around for a bit on my Robinson, trying to work out what next. I picked up my devil sticks today, the first time since their purchase, and it was fantastic to rediscover an old love as they say. Sadly I don’t think I can live off my devil sticks.. or poi.. or general philosophical rantings.. so I might have to think of something better. And I have some lyrics to share.. which I like to think work quite well for backpackers.. well just maybe me..


‘…I swear im gonna blow this town, im gonna pack my suit case
Where you gonna go, when you gonna go, how you gonna get there?
With your blue jeans on and no idea…
All hopes and dreams, no money no means
No permanent address
Look At you, you got holes in your shoes and holes in your pockets
And your hearts in a mess…’

Take care.. and enjoy the sunshine as it comes

Where the Poppies Grow

Now other typing is out of the way I’ll attempt to do justice to Flanders Fields. Writing this I wish I had the same way with the written word as William Gibson, he is a true wordsmith and the detail in his writing is fine whilst not being boring, so I’m going to do another re-edit to see if we can get something decent.

We went with a tour, it was probably the only way to do it. The Flanders Fields region is so spread out, (as wars tend to be) and there is so much history behind small farms and hills that to do it by yourself you would miss a lot of the experience. Doing anything with a tour group is risky, it could have been really tacky, and it wouldn’t really have been a surprise if they had capitalised on the war. But the guide was very good, the whole experience was, it was as tasteful as possible.

I still don’t really have a handle on the whole WWI politics, and events. From what I understand the Germans and some of their allies were getting edgy and wanted a little more land. As such they took an assassination as their chance and began their expansion. The reason it got so big seemed to be because the countries that were being invaded were friends with other countries and everyone joined in because someone else did. And for some reason Flanders was one of the main battle fields, because it was the best way into France from what I could tell (Switzerland was too mountainous for them), and the Flanders region was vital to the Germans, and the Allies. I gathered that if Flanders had fallen the war itself may have had a different outcome. So that’s my attempt at Background without any research.

We were on a bus with a whole bunch of Australians, and a few English. To side track a little, it was the first time id heard ‘Australian’ spoken for about 2 months, it was fantastic to hear the accent again. Theres something relaxing and natural about your own accent. There was one American we saw the whole time, I have the suspicion that they have a very different attitude to the war to us.

Most of the morning was spent in thick fog, so we missed the geography and seeing where everything was. But Flanders is such a flat area that a hill 60m high was actually a vital strategic position and as such changed hands 4 times during the war. And there was a ridge that was also very important. A ridge I will proudly state that Australians did a damn good job of blowing up from underneath.

We visited many memorials, all with a solemn beauty. There was a certain hush over all the areas we visited, sounds were somehow muted, and there was a great deal of respect that emanated from the visitors and everything in the areas. Although there was a lot of sadness, to that had been added a very soft beauty that felt like it was saying: although this was such a waste, we shall make beauty from loss whilst praying that this loss is never repeated. As I say doing justice in words is hard.

There was a memorial to the 10s of thousands of Canadians who had been killed in gas attacks, attacks that still have repercussions today because of the horrific nature of the stuff they used.

There were some lovely memorials to the Kiwis, and it was only seeing some of the memorials that I realised how far the war had reached into the Commonwealth. How strong the sense of duty to Queen and Country was, and I don’t know that it is such a strong force anymore. If another war like it came would the response be the same that it was then? I cant imagine John Howard saying ‘The Queens says we have to come, so lets rock’, shame really I think she might just have a little more sense than Bush.

We also of course visited the graveyards. I think the saddest thing is all the graves marked ‘A Soldier of the Great War, Known Unto God’. These are the soldiers who have no name, no regiment, no country, they were never identified and their parents died not knowing if their son was found. But although unknown they are all awarded a full military funeral. The others, if known, have the country crest on them. The Kiwis have the fern, and the Aussies have the rising sun, and on some the families have added a motto. Whether RIP or ‘He died that we might live’. There are green fields filled with these white Head Stones. How the defenders are treaded differently to the attackers is interesting though, for the Allies every soilder found is awarded a milatry funeral. For the attackers, or Germans, they are in 4 mass graves, which to me seems such a cold thing to do, but that’s the strength of the war, the hatred that was borne of it.

We happened to be at one of the Graveyards when there was a burial of 5 Australian Soldiers. Two named, three unknown. It happened to be quite a big deal, with pollies from home coming and representatives from the families and press.
We happened to see the soldiers practicing, and then carrying two of the coffins. It wasn’t quite the solemnity one would quite have expected during the practice. They were not exactly the best of the best, there was some trouble marching together, in time which was strangely comical, I was just sooo proud of our armed forces, we cant even march. And the comment ‘see how difficult it is in these bloody uniforms?’ drifted across the field, but the actual procession itself was more ‘proper’. It was nice to see these men, 90 years gone, but still deserving and receiving a dignified burial.

The strongest thing we saw was the memorial where almost all the names of the unidentified soldiers of the commonwealth, the ones who were never found, are engraved. It is a huge white arch over a road. This indeed would have been a sobering thing, because of the shear number of names, and the familiarity of the names, aside from one point. An amazing infestation of ladybugs. It is rather hard to be solemn when you are being attacked on all fronts by ladybugs. On your socks, under the shoe, in your hair and all over your clothes, its just not proper, I always thought that there was something suspicious about lady bugs, they just look sinister. Being attacked by them at a memorial did nothing to alleviate this belief.

It was sad to see the horrible number of deaths, but simultaneously the world may have turned out a much more unstable place if the war had not been fought. Its hard to balance the futility of war with the pride that we did fight even though it was so far away. Sadly it was not the war to end war, and it also showed how commanders think. “the details are not important”. So often we are shown numbers that are incomprehensible, ‘a quarter of a million men died within x no. of hrs’ in one battle the allies lost 36 men for every meter they gained on the Germans. “the details are not important” we can just think of it as numbers as opposed to as individual lives that were just wiped out. Its probably the only way we can comprehend it though, and possibly comprehending it wouldn’t actually be a good thing.

“For want of a nail the horseshoe was lost
For want of a horse shoe the horse was lost
For want of a horse the messenger was lost
For want of a messenger the message was lost
For want of a message a battle was lost
For want of a battle the war was lost
For want of a war a kingdom was lost
And all for the want of a horse shoe nail”

So maybe the details are important.

It was beautiful, and sad, and old, and in many cases incomprehensible as these men who died were my age. My friends age. And they died for ideals. For a concept that didn’t exist. For dignity and honor, and duty. “He died that we might live” They died so that war never happened again.

‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.’

Beer, Waffles Chocolate and War

Currently im trying to convince myself that going outside to the bus stop with my lap top and logging into somones unsecured wireless is worth it.
If I actually write a whole blog ill probably try because having writing just stitting on your computer for days inst really worth it.
So.. the goss
Im in Belgium, brussles kinda area. Near Waterloo. *cough* I thought waterloo was in England, and I knew nothing about the whole Napoleon thing, im still rather hazy but in essence, I think: Napelon was a quintessential megalomaniac who didn’t let anything get in his way. France was occupying a few places, everyone got sick of them, and as such beat the crap out of them at Waterloo. I think that’s the general idea.
I am convinced that everyone working for any of the transport authorities are employed because they are particularly stupid, will sell you the wrong ticket, will tell you you are somewhere you aren’t when faced with a map, wont tell you when the next train is and will also refuse to give out train timetables. Then there’s the trains themselves which skip random stations, don’t tell you which station you’re at etc. It all did not make for a good first few days on public transport.. and has left the world with a very stressed amelia. Aside from LaPaz this is the worst ive come across (you can make your own mind up about how much that actually means). WHY the world cant just make grid cities and run off trams, or second best is a decent subway, I don’t know. I have come to the conclusion that I love our trams, I love that met owns everything so you only need one ticket, and I love our Zones. (2, talk about a breeze).
So I went to check out expo2pi which is celebrating 50 years of the young scientists org in Belgium and where im supposed to be working. From what I can gather though they cant gaurntee shifts and only have two 1hr jobs for me in the next fortnight. Which funnily enough I cant live off, I cant live off ‘maybe’, and that didn’t seem to really sink in. So im trying to think of my options, feel free to add some if you like, helpful ones please, not ‘join the circus’ ive thought of that.
So we have:
a) stick around and see if it works, doing nothing for the next fortnight
b) try and get a job at a pub that wants english speaking staff
c) go to the UK, get a job in a pub, and stick to the semi original plan
d) (my fav) rent a hut in some mountains somewhere, chill, listen to music and write for a week till another solution arises
e) Get the next train to Paris and worry about what ill do when I get there, this also rather appeals as the irrational and expensive solution.
f) Join the circus, juggle devil sticks and spin poi for a living. Less appealing.
The world will of course be informed as to my decision.

So that’s the problem at the moment. Im somewhat stressed for a variety of reasons, to the point that I was feeling sorry for myself last night. (I missed the bus, and got lost walking back to my accommodation, it was getting dark and cold) So doing the normal sulky teenager thing, I thought of what some of my friends would think if they knew I was sulking, suffice to say they wouldn’t be impressed, for sure they would be sympatetic (they are wonderful after all) but simultaneously.. well it would be something along the lines of ‘swap’. Rather good reminder not to get too carried away with the sulking. So specifically thankyou to my dear Marna, and dearest Daniel, both of whom I wish were here.
Speaking of which I was picked up on my spelling, particularly my spelling of Steve **rwin (I still don’t know which order the E&I are in) so I have some more ways to spell it: Eirwin, Erwin, Irwin, Irywin, Eirywn and Irwyn. As far as im concerned they are all perfectly legible and as such satisfactory. :P –nice to know you read my blogs though-

Oh, I brought a Belgain sim, pretty obvious thing to do. But, because all the instructions were in Dutch or French I couldnlt activate it. So I went into one of the shops and bravely asked. I coudnt believe the response I got “First you put the sim in a phone” WTF? I showed amazing self control and did not respond “no shit Sherlock”. I hope I don’t normally look dumb enough to warrant this kind of answer, god knows what he thought I was doing with it. Holding the Sim up to my ear and speaking probably. Ummm.. people don’t do that do they?

We went to the daVinci exhibition, ie. Mum and I before she left. That was cool, although totally mad and eccentric to the max DaVinci was an amazaing artist. There were hundreds of books full of sketches, so lightly drawn and with such detail. The horses he drew actually looked like horses. There was also a blow up of the last supper, which was really cool. Theres all the suss stuff about an extra hand or something, which we couldn’t find, and then the chick to the left of Jesus. And for sure Da Vinci’s rendition of it does make her look feminine, but.. well I think one of the other guys has a bit of a chick thing going on too. Reminded me a bit of a physics teacher I had once, commonly reffered to as ‘The Heat’- told my parents off for talking once, she only ever came to school when it was overcast, raising suspicion that she was actually a vampier. Beats me why a vampier would teach physics though, wouldn’t have thought it was their cup of tea, I would more have thought bio.. maybe . But, anyway, the exhibition was good. Pratchetts Leonard of Quirm just seems such a good interpretation of DaVinci.. the books all do look like someone who was cursed with a brain that attracts all the ideas that are sleeting through the universe. The rapid desire to convey ideas to paper.. and the feeling that if you didn’t get them down they would be gone forever. Some of the models of the inventions were pretty cool, obvious that they woudnt work, but still brilliant ideas. And like they say such a dangerous mind to have in the wrong hands.

Also went to the movies, first time since Oslo I think. I saw the Borne Ultimatum (I loved the way I went with two guys, neither of whom asked if I minded seeing an action movie.. lol.. but I actually happen to like the Borne series) it was pretty good. It was cool seeing all the stuff at Waterloo station.. I was sitting there going ‘ive just been there!!!’ of course Borne survives –despite being shot and falling from a 10 storey building. Umm. They wrapped up a lot of his history, and they avoided a potential love story. It was nice, but well.. that’s the joy of the word nice, it can be so flexible. The day emphasised my current belief that its people who make an event a lot of the time, not just the event itself. So yeah.. its what id call satisfactory, not uber duper super fabulose. Lol. Although it was good seeing a Borne film on the Big Screen, it did make a difference to it, but I cant say I was a fan of the ‘cam quarter’ style filming.

And that’s all for the moments.. hopefully the bus stop will close enough to the wireless for it not to drop off. And hopefully a good solution presents itself.

Take care as ever.

Royally Smegged.

We (my mother and i) are on a ship, boat thing. Cruise liner is probably a better word. From Scotland to Belgium.
So far it has not sunk.. this I see as a good thing.
What it has done is prove to be truly dull, juttery and in the habit of playing elevator music, EVERYWHERE. This is probably better than the alternative, being elevator music mixed with a horrible gurgling sound.
We also made the mistake of coming on board with no cash.. (when I say no cash, it actually means about 3.44 pounds, and 2.32 Euros.. yes I counted) and there is no way of getting money from here to Brussles. No one takes travellers checks, credit or debit card, and there aren’t any of those nifty ‘holes in the wall’ (Trade marked by Barclays).
We do have food, very good food, in abundance.. which is good.. and I have a plan.
No one has been helpful with the challenge of the no money situation.. they don’t seem to believe its actually true (you mean you don’t carry hundreds of pounds in cash all the time?).
I have had four plans actually. –in order that they occurred to me
1. Create a mini ebay on board and auction all my stuff off, leaving us with money and no stuff.
2. When we get to the other end ask a taxi driver to take us to the nearest atm/bank and then pay him.
3. Pick pocket (this was not met with much approval from my mother).. I think it would have been a fun challenge though ;) –and they are all rich.. so its not like a morally bad thing.. haha lol
4. Go to the casino. Hopefully purchase some ‘chips’ on credit card, then change the chips back into real money.
This is the plan we are currently in the process of.. I shall be back with the story.
Ok…well brilliant idea though it was.. it didn’t work. The casino doesn’t take credit card, id like to think that this is to discourage addictive gambling.. but somehow I doubt that it’s a moral reason.
We then tried suggesting that we could purchase something in the shop and return it for a cash refund.. also a failed idea. In our own way we created some what of a fuss.. this is becoming a bad habit.. lol
I also made a discovery, whilst furtively attempting to disassociate myself from my penniless mother, this ship is RUN BY GERMANS. Now, I have no problem with germans, but I didn’t specifically know of them as a hospitable race per se. But it works, a ship between Scotland and Brussles is run by Germans, its obscure but does rather represent the normal madness that the world seems to run on.

So.. after much ado (and hysterical laughter on behalf of an Estonian lass).. we have a very muddy map of Zebrugge from which I am under instruction to make my way through freeways and bushes to a post office to obtain cash. Yay.. the fun things I get up to. Aren’t you all jealous? (to think I actually get people saying ‘I wish I was where you are’ I spend most of my time trying to work out why im not where I should be, how not to spend money, whether that white container contains milk or something worse.. and if the veritable pharmacy im carrying has anything im likely to get arrested for.. I have antibiotics for everything, anti nausea, anti altitude, anti histamine, a cream that fixes everything.. I even have Panadol!)

Yay.. first thing this morning I got the exciting job of running across highways in Zebrugge to stand in a que and get some money.
It all worked, we got a bus, we got a hotel, and I even got internet for a bit. That has all been condensed somewhat.. but fill in the gaps with some low clouds, scottish folk deciding to quiz us on Gaelic and mud.

So.. I have two stories from home.
Ill start with my brother’s.
Being as I am, and not as im not, I have a tendancy to ask everyone who reads my blogs what they think of them. Ie. Boring? Irratic? Amusing? Informative? Self indulgent? Dogmatic? Bigmotic (not sure it’s a word, but I like it-yet to think of a meaning)? Etc.
So I asked my brother. (you have to be desperate if you are asking a sibling for constructive criticism).
And I didn’t get the expected, ‘myneh.. pretty crap’.
I got a ‘Yeah’
‘Yeah what?’
‘Well I wouldn’t write a Medical Textbook like that’ –totally deadpan
‘Umm.. this may surprise you but I never had intentions of writing a textbook, medical or otherwise’ –deadpan and confused
‘oh, theres a lot of money in it’ –thoughtful deadpan

The odd thing about it was that he wasn’t putting it on. For some reason he had come to the conclusion that I was going to write a medical textbook (god knows how.. I have shown the same inclination towards that as I do to extreme ironing-again google it). Possibly that I was also going to write a book in this tone.
It was such an odd thing for my brother to come out with.. I think ill forever be bemused..

And the second..
I got an email from my aunt, with one of the best statements in it, quoted from one of my cousins, who has spent much of her time exploring the world also with a pack but a slightly different slant and somehow I think more adventure. But apparently:
‘Still as Emma says its more about what you see and learn on the way, than where you think you are wanting to go, that I think is the difference between a traveler and a tourist.’
‘Than where you think you are wanting to go’
Hahaha.. sooo true.. I don’t think ive quite conveyed how lost, off track, off target, off deadline and schedule we have gone in the last two weeks. Its been good.. but it can get frustrating.
I’m only beginning to get the idea that there are people out there who have two weeks, a budget and a list of things they want to see. They then stick within the time, the budget (although we mainly did that) and they see the things they want to.
Can you imagine that? Starting a trip with tangible goals and sticking to them? Taking pictures of all the Monoply streets, or visiting 101 stone circles, or doing all the typical London things (changing of the guard, black taxi etc.).
I thought I was doing well sticking to my goals.
a) survive –so far so good.. I will appoint myself a little gold star sticker
b) eat a pizza in each country –this is more a ‘by accident’ thing, pizza seems to be safe most places.. and I can generally translate the toppings.. best was china, weirdest was Portugal, they didn’t use tomato paste.
c) survive more sans scars, physical or otherwise- see a) (no blood so far.. that’s got to be a record for me)
I think I didn’t have more than that when I left home, I couldn’t see past peru, It never occurred to me id get to do a tour of the UK, let alone that I might get to Belgium. (I wasn’t 100% that Belgium was actually real until Wednesday, until then it had just been a swear word in Hitch Hikers.)
Beyond tomorrow I have nothing set in concrete.. technically im flying home on the 4th of January but that’s not going to happen, as in it will probably be later.. not that I wont come home. Theres things I want to do and people id love to see again, and ive decided I want to see the Champs Eleesays (in Paris, sounds like Chan de lesay) cant spell it. Im also rather excited about the idea of being in Europe for Halloween, there is some seriously classy paraphernalia here for it.

And whilst im still being irratically chatty.. I have three educational, well regrets is the wrong word.. but things I wish id learnt as a kid.
a) Learnt French.. much as I love Pak, Indo just hasn’t been useful (aside from Apotek and Ananas) it’s a great language but not the best for people spending time in Europe. That said if Indo was safe id go there, and it would be useful. But I think for the next little while, or at least till SE asia settles I’ll try and learn French.
b) Learnt Guitar, I really have no excuse for not doing this, but it is the most awesomely cool transportable talent, and very social.
c) Learnt to play soccer. What can I say? It’s the world game, and when they say that they mean it.

One of the things I’m most glad I learnt as a kid was how to swim, its also cool to know I’ve had some of the best teachers in the world and as such you can get in a pool anywhere and no matter what, you have a high probability of kicking ass in a race. Also lowers your likelihood of drowning, which is also pretty cool.

I am currently imagining the conversation my father will have with Luke when he reads the conversation.
Dad ‘WHY did you tell you sister not to write a medical textbook?’
Luke ‘Cause she shouldn’t’
D ‘ok… but HOW did that come up?’
L ‘I just thought she needed some discouragement from writing a textbook’
D ‘But WHY?’
L ‘Dunno… dad you do realise you need to add an external hard drive to the computer to make the firewall… *techno babble*’
And that would be the end of it.. and the mystery still remains.

Note: I am now currently thinking of writing a medical textbook.. or at the least a medical paper.. I think ill base it on the psychology of sibling relationships over great distances.

Today we went to Flanders fields, as in where the Poppies grow.
To those that that doesn’t ring a bell for. It was one of the major sites for battle in WWI and where a lot of aussie soldiers fought.
I might go into it later, but it was really good, tastefully done, as an Australian I recommend it, and I think we should be proud of our involvement.

But as they say ‘the world spins on and we must spin with it’ so ciao and take care.

The Secret Life of Sea Monkies

I thought I knew about stingrays. Well not in an indepth biological sense, but in the general Stingrayish sense. What I did not know was that some have FEET!! Feets? On a stingray? Weird.. lol.. before that the most id really had to do with stingrays was at the beach just avoiding standing on them as they vamoose at speed into the distance.
We went to the Scottish sea life centre, mainly because mum had never seen an otter before (I had on the other hand spent a good half hr with my brother watching them at Australia Zoo, before Erwin died at the hand of afore mentioned sea creatures.. stingrays.. not otters..) and because I happen to think otters are pretty groovoid I went along with it.
This place was full of uber weird animals I’ve never seen before. Including a weird blob of slime attached to a piece of seaweed, and a well I guess it was a crustation sans eyes apparently built out of Kevlar that swam around like a maniac banging into everything. (Horseshoe crab?)
I also discovered sea monkies are actually plankton (whale food) serious disappointment there..not that I thought they were really underwater monkies *cough*.. but well I was expecting something more exciting than plankton..
What else? Seals.. flatheads.. oh, and eels.. I have a slight dislike of eels.. I had a rather close encounter one day with an eel about 5cm from my nose in a river (we both had the crap scared out of us.. id say the eel now has a similar aversion to amelias as I do to eels-I was probably only 10ish when this happened-).. since then ive rather avoided them. Although this wasn’t quite as possible as I would have liked in Portugal, I was taken to a fishmarket and there were trays and trays of live eels. I was actually asked if id ever seen an eel before.. I refrained from the ‘yes, and the bloody thing scared the crap out of me and tried to bite off my nose’ I think that would rather have spoiled their desire to expose me to new things.

So that was the sea life centre. Woot, exciting and rather out of chronological order, although I think readers might go into a state of shock if things were actually ordered logically.. neatly even.

Currently we are near Edinburgh, today’s activity was an excursion into this tourist Mecca, and to return the car.
We saw the castle, where the Tattoo is preformed, and a hundred million tourists mainly from Japan and Germany far as I could tell. The world truly has become multicultural.
Not so multicultural as to fruit a decent coffee though.. that is still proving an enigma to the Scottish people...
Although I did see ‘Coffee Nior’ which is a lovely way to say ‘Black Coffee’, normally just referred to as American Coffee.
We also went sock shopping.. this is up there with THE most boring activities in the world as far as im concerned.. its on par with.. hmm.. well cable hunting (for computer cables) is pretty bad.. currently I cant actually think of something quite as dreary and mind numbing and overly complicated. There has to be a limit to the amount of socks on the market, logically a finite number of feet can only have a finite number of socks.. and a finite number of activities to undertake whilst encompassed in said socks.. noooo apparently there doesn’t. Theres over socks, under socks, coolmax socks, thermal socks, silk socks, wool socks, cashmere socks (talk about swanky) etc. etc. then they come in different thicknesses, and of course sizes and colours.
Funnily enough I lost interest within about 15 seconds of the conversation with the lovely, and copiously informed, sales lass.. and as such went off in search of much more expensive and as such interesting items that I in no way, shape or form actually need.
I was ultimately bullied cruelly into paying attention.. sort of.. in a sense.. and managed to choose socks. I think I ended up choosing them on a mix of colour and the most obscure, yet relevant, question I could think of which was ‘Do they dry quickly?’ As you may have guessed I was rather on a different planet.. probably trying to work out how to convince mum to get me something that I don’t really need.. but could be incredibly useful one day.. like when I end up in the swiss alps abandoned by… as of course happens every day.
I did get a backpack, that was more exciting than the socks.. as you can tell it was a riveting day.

Yesterday was pretty cool though.. we went to a castle.. called……. Cawdor Castle. This actually meant nothing to me, but they say its Macbeths castle.
My knowledge of Macbeth is somewhat limited to ‘Wyrd Sisters’, a programme I happened to see when I was home sick one day (about Lady Macbeth going totally mad and washing her hands a lot), and my neighbour being tutored by mum.
Somehow I feel I haven’t really done such a hardcore play justice, I know its about death, possibly ghosts, murder and guilt as the undoing. I also know some quotes (‘is this a dagger I see before me?’ – the next line I know ‘no it’s a carrot’ must have been added on by some satire.. it doesn’t sound very Shakespeare… oh and of course “when shall we three meet again, in thunder lightening or in rain?” –again “no need to shout, well I can do next Tuesday” I think were also added on by a satire.. but I know the quotes.. so that should count)
But the castle was cool.. the gardens were more ‘Much ado about nothing’ –see I have some culture- the castle is actually lived in. There was the cute juxtaposition of really old books in a book shelf next to the Da Vinci Code. The people living there were naturally messy.. but I think they had ‘people’ come in and tidy every day for them.. so that we could pay to have a gawp at the various rooms, mainly tapestries.
I did like the little captions for each room, they were beautifully written. Hidden in one of them was the statement ‘I’m not boring you am I? Of course not’, I didn’t actually read the rest of the page, it was detailed descriptions of tapestries.. and I was somewhat distracted by the big fluffy toy cat thing under the table.
There was a book shop, which is cruel. There is nothing worse than hundreds of wonderful books when you are a backpacker and already carrying the upper baggage weight. And mum has a terrible, unhealthy in my opinion, habit of picking up everything and weighing it in her hand.. generally giving her opinion of ‘much too heavy’ or ‘very bulky’ or something horribly practical of that nature. (my mother on reading this has burst into rather hysterical laughter.. partially because of the injustice of me so horribly alleging such things about her.. but also because deep deep in her heart she knows its true.. and much worth the comical value)
But I got a mini book of Shakespeare’s insults, compromise. I just need some people who wont mind being eloquently insulted now.
So now im going to flick through and share them.. I figure shakesperes been dead long enough not to worry about copy right.. although someone out there for sure would get miffed.. just think about it as publicity.
‘Thou smell of mountain goat’ Henry V.. that’s nice and simple.. better than ‘you smell of cheese’.. which was popular for a while.
‘Scratching could not make it worse… such a face as yours’ Beatrice, Much ado about nothing. Possibly helps to know the context, but its such a brilliant quick firing set of insults that she lays at.. thingo.. her ultimate husband, and sparring partner.
“more of your converstation would infect my brain”, Coriolanus. Again nice and simple.. and very true in the case of socks, although not at the fault of the sales lass.
And thatll do cause otherwise it could get repetitive and dull.. I might just work from the quotations. Decide which insults I like and then read the play.. that’s a nicely obscure thought.

Tommorow we head to Belguim.. we knowest not yet what we shalt find. Who knows.. we are going by ferry though.. which will be.. interesting..well hopefully, I quite like boats (not whale safaris though.. never whale safaris) a week on the Young Endeavour did that for me. Sleeping on a ship in calm seas is nice.. sleeping on a ship when all you can hear is the booming of the hull as it hits the water is not (especially when you get the double thunder.. that tends to mean it’s a little rougher up there) also worse when you know you have to get up at 4am for Watch.
But.. well this was supposed to be a blog about edinbrugh.. and well.. wasn’t really. Hopefully it was entertaining anyways.

Ok.. well so that was supposed to be the sign off.. but then.. well we went shopping for things other than just socks in Edinbrugh. And what we did manage to get was.. well I got it as a chrissie present for someone cause I love the title. Its two Cds called “Music for Creative Cooks” –how can you NOT get that..lol- anyways it’s the most.. boppy? I don’t know.. very old fashioned Dixie Land style Grammaphone music. And very light hearted and fun to listen to.. so I thought id share that all with you.
I also got presents for paretns but what with them reading this sharing the surprise would rather ruin it.. suffice to say its yellow.
Which reminds me of a joke I grew up with.. two actually:
Q. Whats yellow and dangerous?
A. 1. Shark infested Custard
A. 2. A canary with a machine gun

Classic eh? I would like to think that I have a slightly better way with humor than that.. but it would be hard.. they are gold jokes ;)

Oh.. and one more thing (because this blog isn’t nearly long enough yet) credit cards. I warn you to be ware of these things, not because as some will tell you they make it easy to spend more money than you have (although for sure that’s possible.. but it’s a problem with enough publicity) no.. its their habit of getting ‘lost’. Well.. habit is probably a bit strong, I think if its just me it happens to I can hardly call it a habit. And lost is also the wrong word, it’s the same lost that my glasses are, technically I know where they are, I could take you right to the lake.. they just aren’t currently accessible (until they get dug up on some archaeological dig, fingers crossed).
So.. to begin.. as you know I went to Peru. And peru has a bad reputation for pickpockets etc. so I was warned to have a safe guard.. plan B.. whatever you want to call it. This was a credit card, underwhich I am second signatry. And there was enough limit to get to wherever (Melbourne, London, Stockholm, my three main places to nick off to in times of turmoil.. maybe Oslo.. but the details aren’t important right this second.. ill beg a safe place off someone in oslo someday).
So.. this card was special (note that ‘was’) there was a normal size card, and a mini one..- you would have seen them advertised about a year ago-. So.. I put the mini one in my shoe.. which was at the time about 2 years old and as such rather chemically hazardous-the shoe.. not the card. Anyone going through the sole of my shoe would have had to have SERIOUS mental problems.. and possibly no nose, or sense of self preservation. Plus there was a high probability that the shoe, and card, would be on my foot.. thus making card excavation somewhat more dangerous.
I then, of course, forgot about the damn thing. I walked across the Andes in these shoes (with the card), up a mountain in Norway, through Puddles in Stockholm, up another mountain in Portugal.. and generally around and about. To the point that I wore the shoes to death –in erratic patches-, got a new pair, and threw the old pair out.
About a week later I was sitting in the car staring out the window day dreaming, and my shoes drifted into my mind, because I had no blisters.. closely accompanied by the concept of money, again because I have none.. then the two drifted together while I was mumbling along to rocky horror. ‘you’re space out on sensation, like you’re under sedation…’ interrupted by a rather concerned ‘Oh, Shit’ that filled the car followed closely by ‘Bloody hell.. I did not just do that.. I am not that blonde.. bloody hell’. Funnily enough this somewhat caught the attention of my mother, who wanted to know the cause of my concern. A lesson I was taught when young was DO NOT, under any circumstances upset the driver. As I told my mother in the lightest way possible the car did not swerve off the road and kill us both, and a collection of the local wildlife, but it was a bit tense there for a moment.
But anyway.. apparently I am that blonde.. and the card is still in my shoe out there.. cancelled because anyone mad enough to go through my shoes would be mad enough to try using a well trodden, on slightly smelly credit card, mini though it may be.
I’m glad the lady cancelling the card didn’t ask for the details of losing it, trying to tell the story without bursting into fits of maniacal giggles at my own absent mindedness would have been rather tricky.

Look forward to your comments.
Take care

p.s I imagine it would help if you have a very clear understanding of how I speak to get this blog.. ideally it wouldn’t be necessary but I tend to write how I would say something.. and of course you guys miss all the inflections.. which could leave the reader with rather the wrong impression about.. well everything really..
sooo.. (just realised you’re missing out one the eyebrow movements as well.. and the hand movements.. and the meandering accents.. boy you guys miss out on everything.. lol) ummm deal with it? Lol.. that’s about as good as I can think of.. sorry kiddoes.. lol