No don't worry, we have Macaroons...

What can one say about the French Riviera? I pick up my travels as I make my way via train from Milan to Nice on the Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t exactly planning on going to Nice however I was meeting and staying with Ryan and Jean-Yves (see previous posts from Dusseldorf and Berlin); as such the invitation was too good and I boarded the train happy to be getting more chances to eat beautiful French sweets whilst sitting in the sun on the crystal blue water’s edge.

Nice

The train ride itself was marvellous; not only were the views spectacular but the company was fantastic. I walked onto the train and found that I was sharing the cabin with 3 young Italian girls, an Italian grandmother and an Iraqi girl called Dalia. Contrary to every train I’ve taken before (with the exception of the Czech Republic), this carriage was very talkative and friendly.





The boardwalk

Dalia spoke fluent English, the Italian girls were relatively competent and the grandmother none, so as such the girls played translator for the grandmother and we had lovely conversations. However, after the three younger girls left it was just I, Dalia and the grandmother left and the fun really began. I have always found that some of the funniest conversations are those with a serious language barrier, and we giggled as we tried to translate the grandmother’s conversations. We know that she spoke about her family (9 children-or grandchildren we couldn’t tell), taking a very quick scooter ride from Milan to the doctors, the mountains, and fashion. We managed to work out that she said that Dalia’s pants were beautiful and that she liked my Doc Marten’s very much, but then she said something about “not in Milan” and I couldn’t tell if that was "no-one wears them in Milan" or that "you can’t buy them in Milan". Considering neither Dalia nor I spoke a word of Italian we were pretty pleased with our translation efforts and as the grandmother bid us farewell and safe travels as she departed from the carriage in San Remo we did the same and giggled in amazement as soon as the door was shut. Something so small absolutely made my day and made the train trip genuinely enjoyable and the time fly.

Monaco Marina-these aren't even the big boats.

The train arrived late in the afternoon at Gare de Nice and I sat on the main street as I waited for Ryan to come and show me around. An hour or so later we walked up the stairs to the guy’s new apartment and put my stuff down whilst being careful not to mess up JY’s neat row of shoes (don’t ask). After a quick rest we went for a walk down to the foreshore and through the surrounds before heading back to the apartment to rest as both of us were exhausted (mine due to still being hung-over and full day or travelling and Ryan’s due to work). Jean-Yves returned home from work a little while later and we had a quick catch-up and decided what I was going to do the next day before he went to an open-mic night down at the hostel and we stayed in to eat dinner and finish watching “In Bruges” (I had left Dusseldorf before we could finish it there).


Monaco

The next morning we awoke early and I set off. My plan while the boys were at work was to explore some of Nice before heading to Monaco for the afternoon. I set off. My first stop was to find the internet café where I could print my boarding pass and flight details for my flight the next day and check Facebook. Normally I’m not addicted to Facebook, but I was waiting on details of whether I was meeting with James in Dublin or Galway and spending a few days with him and his Irish friend Andrea. After a quick organisational session, I one again set off. Since the weather was stunning (think clear skies, clearer, bluer water and warm, brilliant sunshine) I was planning on soaking it up with a long walk along the foreshore towards the markets before winding my way back through the Old Town and Port area and then grabbing lunch before heading for the train to Monaco.

The Casino

Before I go on I need to note that people watching along the board-walk is actually incredibly entertaining. You get all types and some just make you giggle and shake your head while you try to work out what they were thinking when they decided to do or wear THAT *giggles*.

Moving on.

After my internet catch-up I made my way to the markets. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but spent a good hour and a half wandering along the alleyway looking at vintage records, prints, all manner of knick-knacks and jewellery as well as furniture and just general antique goodness. After looking at my watch and being mildly surprised how much time I had spent just looking at goods I made my way along the boardwalk for an hour or so before making my way into the small streets of the old town to find myself some lunch. I hadn’t really indulged in French pastries before this point in my trip, and so relished the chance to try some new sweets. After a “pain au chocolat” (chocolate croissant) and an apple, walnut and raisin tart in the sun I set off for the train station.

View over Monaco

Now, a tip for anyone planning on using self-serve ticket machines in Nice: they don’t take monetary notes and cards which need signatures don’t work either. As you can imagine this is an absolute pain in the arse any time your ticket is over 4 euros and as such I missed the first train to Monaco and had to wait an extra twenty minutes until the next. Brilliant.

I arrived in Monaco in the early afternoon and had no idea where to start. As I left the train station walking through the marbled tunnels I wasn’t sure what to think. Incredible, showy wealth is quite intimidating, but I set off anyway and as I walked across the road I was passed by a beautiful red Ferrari. This set the tone for my entire afternoon as I did more people watching and allowed my jaw to drop at the boats sitting in the harbour. Admittedly I found this part of my trip difficult; having lived in North Africa I’ve seen how much a dollar is worth, and (in my humble opinion) no-one needs as much wealth as this place has. I walked up the hill passing the marina and heading towards the Monte Carlo Casino. As I found my way to the front, I was greeted by the sight of about 50 luxury cars; Bentleys, Ferraris, Aston Martins and more. Tourists were simply sitting around watching people arriving and departing the Casino. I kept moving. I wasn’t under time constraints however I the walk had taken longer than expected and I wanted to get the 4 o’clock train back to Nice. I made my way back past the station and up into the hills towards the Palace.

The Palace

As I arrived I caught the end of the change of guards (not the main change, but a small intermediate change) and then continued walking back down the hill back towards the train station. I had passed a cute gelato store and so stopped in on my way back to the train. I was made rather nervous by a random, dodgy character watching me eat (and it wasn’t anything special so this was un-nerving to say the least) so moved on quite quickly.

I arrived back in Nice at around 4:30 and decided that I would track down some phone credit. This was easier said than done. Vodafone don’t actually operate in France, so I had to find their partner carrier and see if I could recharge my phone. After a hour of chasing store locations down, being pointed in other directions and helping a French Woman to translate the Portuguese instructions on the voice recording (and I don’t speak any Portuguese) I had my credit and so decided to keep wandering for a while as the boys were going to be late. I found myself back in the old town and as I walked past another boulangerie I ducked in and bought a batch of macaroons. I took them back to the apartment and met the boys and as Jean-Yves cooked Ryan and I sat and ate macaroons and laughed at for what I can’t remember. We had a lovely dinner of Pork Steaks and vegetables after which we got a little bit dressed up and went out for a walk through the town to have a drink or two and get some “world-famous” gelato. Now I’m not sure if it was worthy of the world famous title, but it was still exceptionally good and we wandered back to the apartment feeling rather satisfied about the night

View from the apartment

The next morning we all awoke, the boys to go to work and myself to go to the airport. I was to catch my flight to Dublin later that day and since the guys were working early I decided to go to the airport and sit and wait. My flight was delayed by a full half-hour (unimpressed Ryan Air) and as such I managed to use the airport Wi-Fi and keep myself occupied trying to book accommodation in Galway and making sure that the plans James and I had decided on were still in motion.

The plane ride went well after we actually boarded, and we touched down to cold, grey skies in Dublin two hours later. As my time in Nice ends so does this blog, and once again,

Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem xx

That's what Lee said!

The journey continues as I left Paris and flew into Milan, arriving in the early afternoon of the 3rd of June. Now I understand some of those reading this from home will be going "Milan? I didn't know you were planning to go to Itlay?" Well, in truth I wasn't. However, after talking to Eliza and James we decided against Scandinavia (very expensive!) and decided on Northern Italy instead. The plan was to fly into Milan and head straight out of the city and stay on the Cinque Terre. I was to fly in on the 3rd, a day before Eliza and James (due to cheap flights) and then meet them at the station to catch a train to Riomaggiore via  La Spezia.

The Duomo in Milan

James and Eliza arrived with James in full “Kodak kid” mode documenting every moment of our reunion with some shaky camera work, and we made our way into the station to find some food before boarding the train to La Spezia. We decided on Burger King, as we were in the mood for something cheap and nasty before our 4 hour train ride. Whilst sitting in the “restaurant” (let’s call it a glorified diner) we made friends with an older Australian couple, who then proceeded to pay out not only each other but at times us, and couldn’t’ believe that my mother not only knew that I was wearing Doc Martens boots but had bought them for me. I love that people don’t expect certain things of me and I can go on to surprise them.

The Castle

We boarded the train late after it was delayed for around 50 minutes (we still don’t quite know why) and were on our way, complete with snacks and good natured joking around.

As such we arrived in La Spezia late and missed our connecting train. Cue nerves. We check the timetable and it looked as if there weren’t any more trains to Riomaggiore for 3 hours (after midnight) but after checking the ticket machines discovered that there was a train at 11, and were incredibly relieved to know that we would be able to get in to Riomaggiore after only a short wait.

Riomaggiore by night

We finally arrived in the Cinque Terre exhausted (we had been travelling all day) and ready to meet our lovely Couchsurfing host Marco (and his friend Claudia) and then head to bed. However, after meeting him it was decided hat we would go out for drinks and a chat instead. Marco had been lovely enough to give us his apartment for the 3 nights we were staying as he was staying at a different house so we dropped off our luggage and headed out. We met Marco’s friends and after a little while moved down to the Port to sit and relax, after a while heading back up the hill to the apartment to sleep. The town of Riomaggiore is perched on the hillsides of a little valley running down to the water and as such, when lit up at night, looked like something out of the guidebooks; perfectly picturesque and romantic, so needless to say we were made more tired but constantly walking up and down the cute maze of little cobbled alleyways and staircases.

Having a coffee before our walk

The next day we awoke relatively early; James played housemother and went and bought breakfast whilst Eliza and I slept in, after which we set off. We had planned to catch the train to the final village of the five (“Cinque Terre” meaning five villages in Italian) called Monterosso, and walk the trail down to the next village of Vernazza, and then take the train back to Riomaggiore before once again walking the trail to another village. We had wanted to walk the entire length of the track, however the trail between the second and third and third and fourth villages was closed due to maintenance. As such when we got to Monterossso we took our time starting out, grabbing a quick pizza and coffee to start our morning before making our way through the village and up into the hills.

One spectacular view

The views were spectacular. The weather had been kind and the day was beautiful; the water was an intense shade of blue sparkling under the mid-morning sun and the hills seemed to be alive in all shades of green. As we walked we passed vineyards and cute little walled gardens before coming across scenery that wouldn’t have looked out f place in Morialta National Park back in Adelaide. It always surprises me how many times I have seen scenery on my travels that strongly remind me of home.

More views

We finished our walk in the cute little town of Vernazza and set about finding a nice place to have lunch. The town itself was once again perched inside a little valley running down to the water’s edge, but was not as steep or picturesque as Riomaggiore (in my humble touristic opinion *giggles*).

We had a lovely lunch of home-made pizza and beer (when in Italy) and then walked around the village for a while, taking in the small tourist shops before making our way back to the train sation for our return tip to Riomaggiore, where we arrived in the late afternoon.

Riomaggiore at sunset

We were supposed to have lunch and spend the afternoon with Marco  however we were late and so after sitting at the beach in the sun went looking for him to get the keys to the apartment so we could leave our bags there before walking the last leg of the trail between Riomaggiore and Manarola The search was unsuccessful and so we began walking in the sunset down towards the next village. As we went we walked through the Gallery, a semi-enclosed tunnel, the walls of which were covered in graffiti by love-struck locals and travellers. We then came upon the rock walls, covered in chicken wire and padlocks reminiscent of the Hohenzollern Bridge in Koln.

Just a beautiful sunset to top it all off

Arriving in the Village we found a little pub in which to have dinner, and it was decided that we would settle in for a while. The pub itself was warm, cosy and lively, as there was a small space for musicians set up in the corner who then played country and roots music for the rest f the night. The food was incredible; tasty bruschetta and amazing cold beef salad with wine topped of a fantastic night.

The next morning we had decided that we would do a day trip to Pisa and Eliza and I hadn’t seen the Leaning Tower before. We set off early after James once again played housemother and bought us breakfast, and boarded the train for the quick trip to Pisa.

PISA

Once there we made our way through the town reaching the tower around lunchtime, and quickly setting about amusing ourselves by “pose stalking” other tourists, and seeing how many great poses that were supposed to be with the tower we could get on photo without the tower. This provided the background for many fantastic laughs as we tried to capture the silliest looking people on camera. After doing this for far too long (it was quite amusing) we made our way to a restaurant to use the free wifi and grab a bite to eat before making our way back towards the train station to return to Riomaggiore for the night.

We had planned to eat dinner out at the restaurant where Marco worked, however had no clue what we were in for. We boarded the bus that would take us to the restaurant Burgadicampi, and as we went were met with stunning vies back over the coastline towards the Village and out over the water. We arrived at the restaurant to see only a bar, but as we walked down the hill our jaws dropped. The restaurant was perched on the hillside with amazing coastal views and we drank wine ate amazing food as the sun set over the water. The night went late and Marco ended up driving us home in the restaurant van after which we went out for more drinks with Marco and friends.

The four of us at dinner

The next morning we packed up and headed off; the plan was to go to Reggio Emilia and spend the night before heading back to Milan for the weekend. James thought he had found gold with cheap student accommodation in Reggio Emilia; it turned out all he had found was the centre of the previous week’s earthquake and we arrived slightly nervous about sending the night in an Earthquake zone. We ended up having a lovely time in the city (there was a lot of wealth concentrated there) and the accommodation was quite lovely in the end.

A bit arty-the view from dinner.

The next day we boarded the train to Milan excited about the weekend. James had a friend flying in to meet us from Hungary and we were planning to party it up once he had arrived and settled in. 

Needless to say we spent the next 48 hours in Milan drinking wine, exploring the city and just generally enjoying the lovely weather than we had landed in. We went to a fashion and costume museum, walked around the gardens, saw the castle and ended our trip with a night of karaoke and cocktails; however only James and I took part in the former of the two (and I even then only after some stroong convincing!And a mojito...)

The next day we parted ways. Eliza and Lee (James’ friend) flew out;; Eliza back to Durham and Lee to Hungary, whilst I had to catch a train on the next part of my journey and James stayed in Milan an extra night before flying to Dublin (but that’s another story!). As this part of my journey ends so does this blog post, however I'll have my next destination up very, very soon (going through a big "public transport blogging" phase *giggles*).

Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem xx

PARIS

Once again I play catch up with my blogging. I warn you that this is mammoth compared to my last few postings, but stay with me on this one.

There is no witty (or semi-witty or attempted witty) title for this blog. Enough is said by just the city. Paris, city of amazing monuments, famous red-light districts, incredible art, and stairs; many, many stairs.

Plaza San-Michel

I arrived in Paris on the afternoon of the 30th of May to nice but overcast weather. As I disembarked the train my jaw dropped just a little as the Gare du Nord set the tone for the entire 4 days of my Parisian immersion. I made my way down the to underground where I managed to buy myself a ticket and work out where I needed to go. I arrived at my accommodation, the Caulaincourt Square Hostel tired (there were about 5 flights of stairs from the underground platform to the exit and then again to the hostel) and ready for bed, however being early I decided to set out and quickly explore and find myself some dinner. After walking past 3 boulangeries (bakeries/patisseries) which I mentally prepared myself to continue to walk past for the duration of my stay (I have a weakness for cakes and all things sweet and I do like my waistline the way it currently is *giggles*). I returned to the hostel more than ready to work out my plans for tomorrow and head to bed early. I had already figured out that Paris was going to exhaust me both physically and mentally, so needed as much sleep as possible.

One of the Louis'...

The next morning I awoke with a plan of action. Today was to be my tour day. I would do the walking tours of both Paris and Montmartre to try to see as much as possible in a short time, and then work out what else to go back and see later.

After a quick breakfast I left and started to walk. Having looked at a map I had decided that the distance from my hostel to the walking tour start point wasn't that long and I could walk it easily in an hour. Not only was this a complete under-estimation of the distance required it did not make sense given my days plan. I ended up (after walking nine-tenths of the way) hopping on a quick subway ride so as not to miss the start of the tour and to save a bit of energy.

The Louvre from the Road

I arrived in Plaza Saint-Michael just in time to get my ticket and join a tour. My tour guide was absolutely lovely and started by giving us a history of the beautiful building and fountain we were standing in front of, before moving us over onto a bridge to see a statue of Louis XVI before walking us through the Ile-de-Cite, past the Notre Dame.

From the Ile-de-Cite we continued the tour past the Louvre, stopping in the courtyard for a spot of history, tips about visiting and skipping the major lines, and then made our way into the downtown shopping area of the Champs Elysees.

Me at the Louvre

After a quick coffee and bathroom break we continued on the second half of the tour, making our way towards the Jardin de Tuileries. We walked the length of the gardens, cutting through the middle to find ourselves at the major fountain and then stopped in Place de la Concorde to have a quick chat (yeah, right) about the French Revolution and The Bastille whilst taking photos of the Egyptian Luxor Obelisk. Such a nice light-hearted topic of conversation for a walking tour!

Napoleon's tomb

After this short history lesson we continued walking towards what our tour guide affectionately introduced to us as "the boys museum", which actually turned out to be the War Museum containing Napoleon's tomb. The tour ended shortly afterwards as we sat on the stairs of the tomb and listened to more history, before moving off towards the restaurant where we were to have a typical "French lunch", and I finished the afternoon by sitting with a lovely Singaporean couple for a meal before starting out on my own once again.

The restaurant was in full view of the Eiffel Tower, so I decided that I would make my way home via there and then the Arc de Triomph. I had known my first day would be packed and would exhaust me-I was incredibly correct!

The Tragic Lamp-post

I approached the Eiffel Tower and was stunned. It was one of those "Bloody hell...I'm in Paris" (imagine with a Ron Weasley accent) moments. Sometimes when travelling on your own you get lost with your own thoughts and forget where you are; then someone speaks to you assuming you speak French or the language of wherever you are, and you are bought crashing back to reality in a haze of warm and fuzzy realisations that you're actually half way around the world. I love that feeling.

I didn't end up climbing the tower; I didn't feel the need to wait in a tourist line for hours on end. I was planning the tour of Montmartre that evening anyway and had heard that there were better views of the city from the Sacre Coeur. As such, I took my photos and got some taken of me (thank you once again random Australian travellers) before making my way through the 'burbs and towards the metro station. My next stop was the Arc de Triomph; something I'd seen from a distance on the walking tour but hadn't actually visited as such.

Arc de Triomph

As I emerged from the underground I was greeted by more memories from home as I heard the sweet sounds of the John Butler Trio (Funky Tonight-good song) being played by two young French guys on guitar and kahun. They were quite talented, but by the time I returned from the Arc they were being move on by approximately 5 policemen and women which I thought a shame as they had created quite a nice atmosphere (they also had QUITE an audience).

After my time at the Arc de Triomph I made my way to the Moulin Rouge district, famous for its red wind-mills and dancing girls. Thanks to my pre-walking tour-walk that morning I knew exactly where we were meeting for the Montmartre Tour, and as it was a Starbucks I took the opportunity to recharge before heading off to tick off a few more boxes of "sights-to-see" in Paris.

The Moulin Rouge

The tour started. My guide was quite inappropriately hilarious; attempting to demonstrate the Moulin Rouge Can-Can whilst in tight jeans (disaster) and then walking off before we could laugh any more, with us following like sheep.

We made our way up the Montmartre Hill, stopping briefly outside the Cafe used in "Amelie" and then continuing up to the former house of Van Gogh. We saw the statue of Saint Denis with his head being held in his hands, and then continued on for a quick stop this time of a Swedish Disco/house artist whose statue was apparently lucky if you rubbed it in the right place (I didn't try-dignity was kept in tact).

The White Rabbit Restaurant

After this quick stop to her her story, we continued on up the hill to the White Rabbit restaurant and were told of how Pablo Picasso drew portraits of the waitresses as his way out of paying the bills as a struggling artist. We then made our way further up the Montmartre Hill, marvelling at some random people on the street who were apparently well known actors (though the guide could have told us anything and we would've believed him).

The Sacre-Coeur

We arrived at the Sacre Coeur and once again I was lost for words. We approached the cathedral from the rear, and it was a stunning view of the building which apparently not many tourists got to see as you had to walk a different way up the hill to reach it. We entered and walked around the inside, viewing the most amazing mosaic work I have ever seen and then left and walked the gauntlet of sellers of everything from model train sets with the alphabet that you could connect into different words to little Eiffel Tower key rings. My parents will be interested to know that I stuck to my word and didn't buy any of the damn things. I tend to steer clear of the disgustingly touristy souvenirs; this was no exception.

View from the top

After taking in the stunning city views from the base o the Cathedral (I went into my "cold hearted bitch" mode and the sellers didn't come near me-I WIN) we made our way down to the artist square where I resisted the urge to have my portrait sketched (vanity at it's finest *giggles*) and then walked down the the artists house where Pablo Picasso had lived as a young artist. We then finished the tour with a "free" (aka: included in the price) glass of wine at the Amelie restaurant bar, listening to some OK (it was live and free so I won't complain) jazz music, after which I made my way back to the hostel to have a quick dinner and fall exhausted into bed.

The Napoleonic Apartments

The next morning I made my way to the Louvre. I had planned to spend the better part of half a day there, taking in some amazing art-works and acting incredibly cultured. After being told "Don't forget me" by the young French man selling me an entrance ticket who wanted to sneak into my luggage back to Australia (I'm not sure why, Paris is a pretty cool place to live) I made my way through the non-existent line (thank you inside knowledge of the metro station entrance) into the Louvre to spend the next four hours of my life battling a bad sense of directions and lack of signs to find the Mona Lisa (amongst other things).

I started with the Antiquities. I have always enjoyed actual artifacts rather than paintings, and as such the Ancient Egyptian, Greek and Middle Eastern exhibitions were absolutely fascinating. After spending a good deal of time marvelling at how advanced these societies were I moved on to the Napoleonic Apartments. I had been told that these would make me motivated to work hard for my goals in life; after seeing the opulence and wealth oozing from every corner of the apartments and with the guides comments from the day before that one day I too could "have all this and more" (ahh optimists)  ringing in my ears, I moved on to the painting galleries. After wandering for a good hour and a bit looking for it, in finally stumbled across one of the most famous paintings in the world; the Mona Lisa.

I want a dining room like this when I'm older.

Now, I really mean no offence to any art-buff reading this post, but I do not understand why the Mona Lisa is so a) fascinating, b) famous or c) incredible. I didn't have high hopes for her after speaking to others who had seen her and come away disappointed, and after having to elbow my way in between Japanese tourists and young children (no prisoners were taken) to get to the front, I decided that I was going to be apathetic and move on to some other galleries before heading to the nearest Starbucks for my daily caffeine fix. I have developed a startling habit of drinking coffee whilst in Europe; I never would at home. I'm not sure, maybe that's just the musings of a young Australian woman who doen'st know much about art; correct me if I'm wrong.

I made my way home via the Notre Dame, the infamous cathedral, apparently home to a hunchback and immortalised by Victor Hugo in 1831. I joined the hundreds of tourists sitting around the side taking photos before heading back to the hostel once again exhausted and ready for a good night's sleep. I had actually changed hostels that morning due to hostels being full and expensive, and a such got a nice room in the Vintage Hostel for the night.

The Notre Dame

The next day I awoke ready for a MASSIVE day of sight-seeing. Today I was to conquer Versailles, the summer residence of Louis XVI and Marie Antoniette. The weather was bright and warm and I was in high spirits, setting off early for the train and arriving around 10 am.

I bought my ticket and entered the palace. Audio guide in hand I set off, awkwardly placing my water-bottle in my pocket as I tried to juggle too many belongings with a not-big-enough handbag.

Versailles

The Palace was over-the-top opulence; everything that looked like gold was actually gold, no corner left untouched or unfinished. I took the self-guided tour of the Palace before making my way into the Gardens. Due to the nice weather I managed to spend the better part of 3 hours walking amongst the tall hedges, finding little spots out of the sun and view of other tourists to rest and just enjoy the beautiful day. I made my way through the fountains towards the Grande and Petit Trianons, more examples of extreme wealth, however not as much grandeur. After touring the tow residences, I managed to find my way back to the train station through the gardens; slightly sun-burnt, tired, sore however incredibly pleased with my day.

Amazing.

I made my way back to the hostel to pick up my luggage, quickly stopping to make sure that I could actually catch the train I had planned for; I was to make my way to Beauvais that night as I had an early flight the next morning. I caught the train no problems and once there was adopted by two young French teenagers who walked me to my hostel out of pure kindness and then left me to my own devices. Beauvais it pretty much a small country town, however it had the most unexpectedly gorgeous cathedral (although that is pretty much it). I stopped to buy dinner (chocolate crepes) and managed to fool the waiter at a restaurant into thinking I spoke fluent French with my amazing food ordering skills (and a few quick smiles) before heading back to the hotel ready to polish off a half bottle of white wine I had been carrying around for too long and getting some sleep. I had printed off my boarding pass and was all packed so that the next morning I could leave without a hitch.

Grande Trianon

HOWEVER. It turns out that I am the sort of girl that will move to a different city for a single night  paying extra for a hotel room, so she can leave later for a flight and get more sleep and take all every possible precaution so that she makes her flight with plenty of time to spare; only to leave her boarding pass in her hotel room and have to run through the pouring rain (leaving her bags with strangers on the street) back to the hotel to get her pass; hoping like hell that it's still open and the key is still on the desk and almost missing the only bus that would get her to the airport in time for her flight. IDIOT.

The Gardens

I made it to the airport, drenched and after walking between terminals (once again in the rain) to check in my bags, buy some breakfast and collapse onto my plane seat for my quick flight to Milan.

The next part of my journey proved quite eventful as I met up with Eliza Howland and James Bird (who is also blogging his travels; check out "From Smiley Fritz to Santiago" if you fancy a good read) and as such I will leave my posts here. Still playing catch up, but coming much closer to being up-to date now I have the monster recap of Paris finished.

More Gardens

Until next time my dears,

Love Love!

Clem xx

In Bruges

As I sit in a hostel in Galway, Ireland, I once again play catch up with my blogs. So much has happened in the last few weeks and I am so behind on blogging. My apologies; I’m making the most of my one short life (my reference to a quote by Lorna Jane; it will make you rethink certain decisions as it did me). So now that I have Internet and I'm sitting waiting to go out and find food, here is my blog on my time "In Bruges".

Streetscape

I arrived in Bruges in the early afternoon of the 28^th, ready to go out and explore this quaint little town which I had been advised to go to rather than Brussels as it was more picturesque, laid-back and just generally more enjoyable (whilst also being safer). I had also seen a little of the movie “In Bruges” and decided it looked absolutely stunning. Furthermore the accommodation in Bruges was much cheaper than in Brussels making my decision rather easy. I was looking forward to a smaller town that ran at a slower pace; I was readying myself for the next part of my adventure in Paris.

The Provinciaal Hof

I left Koln at around midday and disembarked the train in Bruges (after changing trains in Brussels) and found my way to the bus station, boarding the bus with about 4 other travellers all headed in the same direction; St Christopher’s Bauhaus Hostel. The hostel was a small way out of the centre of town on a lovely little cobbled street. It was more like a hostel complex; it had two or three buildings, a bar, restaurant and laundry facilities, though no kitchen (which would’ve iced the already impressive cake). I made my way to my dorm room and then back downstairs and onto the street. I was up for a good wander and explore having gotten a good map and some suggested sites to see, most of them involving chocolate or beer, the two Belgium staples.

The Belfry

I made my way down to the main square passing the Provinciaal Hof and then arriving around the back of the infamous Belfry that I didn’t actually end up climbing. I took some photos, dodging the hundreds of tourist doing the same thing and then made my way down to a different square. I was aiming for a place called “The Chocolate Line”, which according to the hostel was the only chocolate shop in Bruges worth a taste. I can assure that this is indeed the case, and I managed to befriend the girl behind the counter and she gave me a selection of the most interesting but delicious chocolates I had ever tasted. You don’t think that Lemongrass chocolate or chocolate with sun dried tomatoes and avocado would work, but amazingly it does in the best way possible. However it is a bit of a mind bender when you pick up a chocolate, knowing that you have both a coffee flavour and a sun-dried tomato flavour, expecting the coffee but getting sun dried tomato. Cue confused/shocked look, giggles from onlookers and me shrugging my shoulders and continuing walking and eating as I decided that it was still quite nice.

Cute church

I made my way from “The Chocolate Line” down a different street towards the other side of town, which I soon found was actually back towards the hostel but on a different side of the canals. I wasn’t lost but I was confused for a little while. I had decided that I was aiming for “The Chocolate Story”, a chocolate museum that apparently gave you chocolate on entry, the start of the tour and the end of the tour. I was in. However, I arrived shortly after closing time so put it on the (never completed) list for the next day and decided to wander through the back streets towards the hostel. I had put my name down for a beer tasting that evening. I figured what better way to meet people than over Belgium Beer?

Streetscape #2.

It was possibly the best move I had made in the last few days. As we sat down at the table the group quickly sorted itself out. There were more Australians along with some American travellers from the Bus-about tour and the atmosphere once we warmed up was great. Over the next few hours I go to know the other Australians; Tom and Justine, Pat and Sam and we continued the fun into the bar later on after the tasting. The young American running the tasting had enough energy that had he been able to, he would’ve been bouncing off the walls and with his expert guidance we became very merry and the group ended up on the other side of town at a bar later on.

Canals

The next day I met Justine and Tom at breakfast as we had decided that we would go and explore the town a bit more. Justine and I wanted to see the windmills and Tom (and later Pat who we met whilst wandering) wanted to do a brewery tour as apparently they gave you another free beer tasting. We never actually made it to the brewery however as we decided instead to walk around the outside of the city back towards the hostel and sit under the windmills. Tom felt like wine and chocolate, and after stocking up at the supermarket we fell about under a windmill in the sun for the rest of the afternoon, listening to music, chatting and having a generally relaxed time. The afternoon ended as we made our way back to the bar as we all wanted to use the Internet and do some planning for the next few days as most of us were moving in our own directions in the next few days (in my case the next morning). Happy hour started at 5 and we decided to use the Internet until then after which we would find dinner and continue the party. The night got well under way and once again we continued the party well into the hours of the morning.

Beer!

The next morning after a quick packing session I had breakfast and headed on my way to the train station. I was heading to Paris and wanted to get there with some time to spare in the afternoon so that I could begin my sight-seeing and exploring. I was fully prepared for the next 3 days to absolutely  destroy any energy reserves I had left so was looking forward to a few hours on the train to rest and relax. I made my way from Bruges back to Brussels, and then into the international ticket office where I met the most charming salesman of my trip so far, explaining that “he wouldn’t normally tell people but first class was only 2Euro extra” after I definitively said I wanted second class. Sometimes I really love being tall and blonde and my appreciation for last night’s makeup has gone up incredibly *giggles*. He told me that for those 2 Euros I would get food and drink and more leg room. I was sold. As such, the train trip to Paris was incredibly comfortable and I arrived in the afternoon ready to find my hostel, ditch the pack and start seeing the city.

Windmill

Thus ends my time “In Bruges” and as such this blog entry. Prepare yourselves; my Parisian adventure is next!

Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem xx

My time with the Geisler's part 5: Welcome to the weekend.

After my day in Dusseldorf  I had decided to have the Friday at home resting and trying to work out what my next move was going to be. The weather was fantastic; brilliantly sunny and warm, and so I figured why not be “lazy for a day?” and just catch up on some blogs and do some much needed planning (this was the day from which my self-portrait came from in one of my previous blogs). My travels are now holiday time, so in beautiful weather and surrounds I find this perfectly acceptable *giggles*.

Needless to say I awoke late, had a lovely breakfast and then went back to sleep for a while. In the afternoon I moved out onto the back patio with some food and my computer and got down to business. After sitting in the sun for a while, my attitude was less than motivated and as such I found concentrating to be rather difficult. However, I managed to finish one blog and look up more train timetables for Brussels and Bruges, which I had decided would be my next stop.

Parade horses!

I knew that the evening would get interesting; Matthew was having friends over for beers and a “barbeque” so I was planning to be done and back upstairs before then so I wouldn’t a) interrupt and become a feature of conversation and b) get dragged into anything. My plan=major failure.

At about 8:30 or so I got a knock on my door. It was someone I’d never actually met before; one of Matthew’s friends, and he invited me to join them for a few beers. “A few” in this instance meaning four cases between 8 or so people over 4 hours. We ended up going out later than night to a club but heading home at around 2 as the club was empty and neither Matthew or I fancied going to Dusseldorf to continue to party until the wee hours of the morning.

Cutest. Kids. Ever.

Needless to say Saturday was labelled my “hang-over recovery” day, and I was feeling very fragile for a good 24 hours. I had planned to leave the next day for Bruges, however after that night I changed my plans and decided to leave on the Monday (a German public holiday) instead. ­I spoke with Ron and Elisabeth and it was decided that as I was leaving on the Monday, we would go on the Sunday to Shutzenfest, a traditional German festival of marching, music, costume, carnival and of course, beer, in Neusser Furth (the town to the north of Neuss). 

As such, on the Sunday morning I awoke relatively early to go with Ron and Elisabeth and find a park so that we could be in prime position for the parade and marching. It was fantastic. The parade consisted of mainly men (some women were in the marching bands but they were a very small number) marching in small “platoons” in traditional costume holding ceremonial rifles (sometimes swords), up and down the main street to be inspected by “the King”. “The King” was a man chosen to be the best marksman in the village. He held the title for (I think) as long as he was able to/wanted to, as to hold the position meant spending a fair amount of money on ceremonial badges and (for his wife) clothes, so that she never wore the same dress twice. The day went splendidly; we sat at a little Italian Ice-cream store and watched the platoons go by to marching bands before wandering through the carnival/fun fair on the other side of the street and eating some Kartoffelpuffer; after a while heading home to a large Sunday lunch, my last with the family.

A platoon. Apparently this one is exclusive.

After an amazing big, family lunch, I spent the afternoon packing whilst listening to pop music and dancing around my room (you know, as you do...). Later that evening I was once again invited to go and join Matthew and friends for beers; after hearing some of their opinions on politics and historical events I had to excuse myself. It's not about being "a left-wing girl" (yes, I was thoroughly impressed when I was called that *glares*), it's about being able to have a reasoned discussion where points are substantiated rather than being just open opinion.

This photo is deliberate-I wanted a picture of a ceremonial glockenspiel.

The next morning I awoke saddened to be leaving the Geisler’s as I had thoroughly enjoyed my time with them and they had been so lovely and hospitable; incredibly kind, welcoming and generous to a young woman who was travelling on her own. I would like to reiterate how grateful I am to them for having me for so long and being such amazing people. Thankyou so, so much. You really enriched my time in Germany and made my travels all the more enjoyable! Hopefully I will see you all again soon whether that be in Germany or Australia!

So, as I set off on the next part of my solo travels I was both excited and saddened. Goodbyes are a n inescapable fact when you are travelling but that doesn’t make them at all enjoyable! I hopped on the ICE train (fast trains-they just make so much sense!) to Brussels, with another train lined up afterwards to take me to my next stop, Bruges. As such and, like always, I will leave this post here before the continuation of my journey in my next posting!

Until next time,

Love Love,

Clem xx