Category Archives: Travel 2010

Which language are we speaking?!

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When: 28/12/10

Where: Interlaken, Switzerland

Stayed: Sunny Days Bed & Breakfast

The most challenging part of our trip to Interlaken involved navigating the languages. Yes, plural. Believing that German was the dominant language we were equipped with our basic German phrases. Sitting next to a large table of locals at Cita Vecchia on the first night we heard the waitress speak in 4 different languages – and we became paralysed with fear. As the waitress approach our table we  froze with indecision over which language to attempt. So we did what every other ignorant tourist does – resorted to English. It turns out that even the locals get a bit confused by the language as not only is German, Italian, French and English spoken but different Swiss – German dialects are spoken in the villages. Language minefield for us unsuspecting tourists!

We stayed in a bed and breakfast called ‘Sunny Days’. A simple but friendly place where Tanja and Dave our hosts made us feel welcome. It was conveniently located for the train station which turned out to be a blessing given everyone just walked the streets to the station in their ski boots. Apparently lockers don’t really exist in the area (or on the mountain) and the standard play is to just wear your boots all day. We felt a bit like robots marching along staccato style with skis and stocks in hand on the way to the station. It was quite comical to see the locals descend on the station from all directions doing the same thing. At least we know the locals weren’t having a lend of us!

Nestled between two lakes ‘Thurnersee’ and ‘Brienzersee’, Interlaken is a transport hub for access to multiple mountain ranges. The train ride in from Luczern to Interlaken taking in a portion of the Golden pass, is simply beautiful. The town itself is a bit of a mixed bag with the ‘old town’ quaint and full of character but other sections quite touristy and a little tacky. Nevertheless, Interlaken had a good range of restaurants and provided relatively easy access to the Jungfrau region which suited us to a tee.

Skiing in the Jungfrau region proved to be both a battle and a dream. On arrival in Wengen, we promptly stood in line for the gondola for 45mins. Ever wondered what it’s like to have snow boards and stocks wedged in your back? Pay the line in Wengen a visit around 10am.
The good news for us was that the region catered for a much larger range of skiing abilities. All of a sudden we weren’t the worst skiers on the mountain – hurrah!! The blue runs were also significantly easier (than in Engelberg) which meant we upgraded ourselves to red fairly quickly. Justin battled with his skis on day 1 but it was pretty hard to feel bad about yourself when you were surrounded by casualties left, right and centre on the blue runs. Is it wrong that we took great delight in watching people stacking on the easy runs from our ivory tower in the chair lifts?!

The weather was sensational on the mountain with a balmy 5 degrees on day 1 and clear blue skies. Sitting outside in Mannlichen drinking a coffee in the sun and gazing out over the mountains we wondered if life got any better! Day 2 turned up much the same weather and we took great advantage of it by exploring the mountain. A spectacular run down to Grindelwald which took around an hour was breathtaking. There was a temperature difference of 10 degrees between Mannlichen and Grindelwald and 1000m drop in altitude to give you an idea of how long it was. Even the wind burn we received from a 5 year old roaring head first down the mountain couldn’t dampen our spirits. (We could hear his Italian dad behind us muttering to himself hoy hoy hoy hoy as he watched his son embark on a death defying plummet down an icy section. Fearless!) With very few people on the run we took our time and lapped up the surreal surroundings. Absolute peace aside from the swooshing of the skis, the sun peaking through the dense Fir trees and hitting the mountain tops, ivory white snow as far as the eye can see and tiny log houses dotting the plains – just magical.

We pronounced day 2 of skiing our best ever and headed down the mountain to welcome in the new year. After a fantastic Italian meal at Teppe and a bottle of red wine we made it to 10.30pm before the body packed in and we tucked ourselves into bed. Couple of happy old women you might say.

Top 10 for Interlaken:
1. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself switching languages mid sentence
2. The Swiss have set an unrealistic benchmark in public transport timing precision for the rest of the world
3. Repeating yourself louder in another language doesn’t help with comprehension
4. It’s possible to wear ski boots for 10hrs straight – on and off the snow
5. Chivalry doesn’t exist on the ski slopes
6. Contrary to most other things, you never get used to falling on ice
7. If in doubt ‘Sprechen sie Englisch’ (as per Engelberg)
8. Regardless of the marketing spiel, your thermals will start to smell after 3 days…
9. Your balcony can double as a fridge (as per Engelberg)
10. Benacus restaurant in the old town will provide you with the best food in Switzerland!

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A Swedish Christmas in Switzerland

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When: 24/12/10

Where: Engelberg, Switzerland

Stayed: Ski Lodge Engelberg

 

Who knew that a mere 2 hours south of Zurich exists a wonderland straight out of the pages of a fairy-tale?! Streets lined with gingerbread houses, postcard mountainous backdrops, Fir trees dotted with fairy lights and powder snow so soft that you could drop your camera and never see it again. Completely surreal and the novelty didn’t wear off for the entire trip.

As if to welcome us, it started snowing the day we arrived in Engelberg. Not sure what it is about the snow but it always seems to add a little magic – a lovely little touch on Christmas eve in particular. The temperature gauge at the train station indicated it was a cool -5 degrees in the village which was somewhat comforting given how cold we felt. We were greeted at the station by our friends, Fi and Greg, who led us approximately 25 meters to our accommodation. With a view of Mr Titlis which could’ve passed as a painting out our window, the accommodation was nothing short of spectacular.

Being a Swedish run ski lodge, our Christmas eve played out in a traditional fashion. Herring 6 ways, cured meat of every description, enough cheese to harden your arteries, pickles, potatoes, cabbage, meatballs….the list goes on. Importantly, we kick started the night with Gluhwein. This was the first taste of a copious amount of Gluhwein to be consumed over the next few days. A shot of schnapps and we were right into the groove of a Swedish Christmas. A cracking way to start our trip.

Some say that skiing in Engelberg is akin to skiing some of the most difficult slopes in Switzerland. Information which would’ve been handy for Justin and I before we donned our skis and headed out onto the mountain. It had been around 5 years since we’d been skiing and unfortunately Mt Buller doesn’t really prepare you for the slopes of Mt Titlis. With visibility down to around 20 meters, snow steadily falling all day and the temperature dropping to around -10 degrees, by lunch time we’d well and truly set up camp in struggle town. The appointment with our ski instructor was the incentive for sticking around in the afternoon. Unfortunately his prowess as an instructor didn’t extend much beyond the snow plough (or wedge as he called it) so we resorted to skiing the only way we knew how – badly. The run home was incredible taking around 45 mins and capturing the beauty of Engelberg. We would do this run around 6 times over the next few days.

Day 2 brought perfect blue skies and sunshine and we ventured up the mountain with Greg and Fi a little higher to explore the blue runs. We quickly decided that the Swiss use the term ‘blue run’ very loosely in Engelberg (blue runs being the easiest runs). Taking around 20mins to get down one run and having to stop every few minutes to navigate the safest route down steep sections does not an easy run make in my book. Having said that, these runs were probably easy for those who were born on skis – as is the case for most Swiss people.

As such, Justin likened our skiing style down the slopes to that of a Tractor vs the Audi’s of our fellow skiers. Snow ploughing your way down the mountain while everyone else ‘joohzes’ around you doesn’t do much for the confidence. Add in the occasional fall on a blue run and it makes you start to query whether should just acknowledge your limitations and call it a day. We tried not to take the spraying of snow in our faces from the cruising Audi’s personally – although we were well aware of our potentially hazardous skiing on some parts of the slopes.

Despite our struggles we persisted and were quite pleased to upgrade to the red slopes on day 2. Unfortunately this coincided with the snow turning icy following another cold snap where the temperature plummeted to – 21 degrees… The saintly patience of Greg and Fi helped me down one section of the red slope. Justin wasn’t quite so fortunate in his efforts. The loud scraping noise of skis sliding across the ice, unable to get any traction is the stuff of nightmares for us amateurs. Fi and I turned back up the mountain just in time to see Justin careening down on his back, sideways, at a great rate of knots. My stomach lurched as I realized he was actually gaining speed and heading straight for another skier. We could only watch and wait for the pace to wash away while the tangle of arms, legs and skis free wheeled in the air. Over several Gluhweins that night the move was patented ‘The Jilla’. As Justin said, ‘there’s definitely more than one way to get down a red run!’ We also acknowledged that we were probably the only 2 people on the entire mountain who were capable of the The Jilla…

For 4 days we ate like kings, drank an obscene amount of Gluhwein to warm up, laughed at our inadequacies on the slopes and then did it all over again the next day. The food everywhere we went was outstanding including an introduction to fondue three ways at the Alpen Club – meat, cheese and chocolate. Pretty hard to go wrong eating in Engelberg – the only downside being the cost. We learnt pretty quickly not to do the math and just hand over the card.

All in all, an unfortgetable trip with great company and plenty of war stories to keep us going until the next ski trip.

Top 10 for Engelberg:
1. Skiing 3 days in a row when you haven’t skied for 5+ years will introduce you to new muscles
2. Further to point 1, try to avoid skiing the most difficult resort in Switzerland
3. Gwein doesn’t necessarily mean Gluhwein
4. If in doubt, ‘Sprechen sie Englisch?’
5. Don’t go to Engelberg expecting cheap food and wine
6. Wear thermals at all times
7. If all else fails, use your back as a sled to get down the mountain
8. Expect to be overtaken by 4 year olds on skis – leave your ego in the lodge
9. The balcony can double as a fridge
10. Doonas in Switzerland are exceptionally warm

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Drinking tea at Le Stade de France

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When: 26/11/10

Where: Paris, France

Stayed: Bastille de Launay Hotel Paris

There was never any doubt that speaking the local language can make a huge difference to your experience in a new city. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Paris. This was our second trip to the city of romance and after feeling a bit ripped off by the lack of ‘love in the air’ on our last visit, we weren’t filled with high expectations. However we were very pleasantly surprised.

We travelled with four other Aussies, all with varying degrees of language proficiency. Fi had the food translations down pat while Greg became our resident translator on almost everything else. Stef and Sarah fumbled along in a similar vein to Justin and I, calling on high school french when absolutely necessary. Having a companion who was able to converse with the locals gave us access to those closely guarded local quarters – and completely changed our Parisian experience. An incredible meal on the Friday night at Chez Janou only possible after some hankering (in french) with the maitre d’ got us off to a cracking start. This was closely followed the next day by a table in a popular local haunt, Le Loir Dans La Theiere, with a line of 20 deep out the front – we were practically old cushions in the Parisian scene by this stage. This was the Paris that we’d heard so much about but simply didn’t find on our last visit. Unfortunately a most tourists won’t find the real Paris behind the quaint doors in the cobblestoned back streets – mainly because you need a little more than ‘bonjour’ up your sleeve to get by (which till now, we didn’t have).

Justin and I were pretty pleased with our relative acceptance into this exclusive culture thanks to Greg and Fi. However there was this undercurrent of fear that we may be extradicted to the tourist trail at any moment… Justin put his cover to the ultimate test when he asked ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ to a gentleman who had queried in english whether he would like assistance…classic. Fortunately he was a frenchman with a sense of humour.

Of course there’s a level of mandatory box ticking which must be completed on any trip to Paris and we were happy to oblige. This included:

  • photographing the Tour Eiffel from 200 different angles and remarking at the fact that it’s visible accross most of Paris.
  • taking more photos of the Tour Eiffel from the Champs Elysees and the Place de La Concorde simply because you can still see it
  • standing in front of the Notre Dame for a picture because the line’s too long to go in
  • sprinting towards the Mona Lisa in Le Louvre and then doubling back to get the heck out of there before you ‘accidentally’ take down a tourist
  • walking along the river Seine and breathing in the ‘frenchness’ of it all
  • climbing the gazzilion steps to La Sacre Coeur and having a crepe in Montmartre…then taking another picture of the Tour Eiffel because you can

The main item on the agenda for this trip was the Australia v France rugby match being held at Stade de France. With the temperature plummeting below zero that night we rugged up in our gawdy green and gold and boarded the metro en-route to the stadium.
A quick pit stop at the Christmas markets where we stood around like stunned mullets overwhelmed by the enormity of it all and we were on our way. Geared for a big night of patriotism fuelled by some serious beer drinking we were bitterly disappointed to discover the stadium had been declared a dry zone. It’s impossible to articulate the disappointment amongst the group so I won’t even try. We did what every other red blooded Aussie would do – figured they must be joking and went in search of the pub. Needless to say it was a fruitless search made all the more painful by the cup of tea required to help thaw out before the start of the match. Happy to report that the convincing Australian victory helped to ease some of the pain however.

The trip home was interesting. After missing the last metro and no cabs in sight we jumped on a bus – quite pleased with ourselves for being so resourceful. 30mins later and the scenery had taken an abrupt turn. The next two hours played out like an item on the news. “Five Australian’s survived a frightening encounter with the dark side of the Paris suburbs on Saturday night. A bus driver held the tourists captive on the 373 bus as he endevoured to set up a kidnapping around 2am. Several failed attempts to contact the police were reported. Fortunately the tourists got away by exiting the vehicle at a major intersection. Anyone who saw the panicking tourists decorated in bright yellow should come forward”. The actual chain of events and true level of danger will be forever debated amongst the group…

Top 10 for Paris:
1. Find out the emergency phone number in a new country before you’re required to use it
2. Take a french speaking friend with you to Paris – pay them if you have to
3. It’s possible to eat crepes with every meal and not feel sick
4. A dry stadium is very un-Australian
5. Parlez-vous anglais is not always appropriate
6. Macaroons taste better in Paris
7. Multiple suburbs in Paris carry the same name…check before you travel
8. A little 2 star gem of a hotel exists in the 4th arrondissement – Hotel Bastille
9. No matter how good you think your picture of the Tour Eiffel is – someone elses will be better
10. Always wash woollen hats and gloves before use

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Speaking Italian badly in Florence

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When: 21/10/2010
Where: Florence, Italy
Stayed: Hotel Giglio Florence
The start of our trip to Florence was filled with drama. Arriving at Liverpool Street station we discovered the ticket machines weren’t working and had 10mins to make our train. A line 20 deep at the ticket office, two arguments with a staff
member (first me and then Justin), 1 blatant pull down of the blinds at the ticket window, some serious hand gestures, 1 missed train and some hardcore sprinting later we managed to get ourselves to the airport. Some more skid marks left in the departure lounge at Pisa airport to make the train to Florence followed by one hell of a slow train ride we finally arrived around midnight – completely exhausted. Fortunately it wasn’t a sign of things to come.
The funniest memories we have from our trip to Florence revolve around our inadequate grasp of the local language. Having done several months of Italian speaking classes I fancied myself as a bit of an aficionado with the language (albeit to a basic level). Justin whole heartedly supported this theory and promptly gave me the esteemed title of ‘master linguistic’ for the trip. And so I embarked on our visit to Florence with a level of confidence that turned out to be just a little bit misplaced.
Our first mishap with the language came shortly after exiting our hotel at 10am when Justin greeted the local shop keeper with an enthusiastic ‘Bounasera!’ (good evening). I admired the conviction in his greeting but couldn’t stop the tears of laughter as the shop assistant looked down his nose at us and snorted ‘stupid American tourists’… actually he said ‘Buongiorno’ but I’m pretty sure the former is what he meant. From that moment on, Justin’s confidence took a beating and he opted for staccato English with tit-bits of Italian thrown in (generally at inappropriate intervals) just to show he was trying.  That’s my boy. Confusion reigned when Justin was met with a ‘Bounasera’ the next day by a local at 11am…we think word had spread…just to show the girl he was no fool he loudly responded with ‘Buongiorno!’.

My laughter was short-lived however as I ran into problems of my own with the menu at a locals favourite haunt; ‘Il Magazzino’. After feeling quietly smug about my ability to order in Italian, I was quickly brought back to reality by the appearance of a plate of calamari. Most people will recall that I don’t eat seafood, sniffing it out a mile away, and would never knowingly order this dish. Justin took great delight in my oversight which I’m sure is a huge surprise to most of you. I spent the rest of the meal pushing food around trying to figure out how best to disguise my untouched plate from the host. As suspected he was hugely offended despite strategically placed napkins and cutlery and remnants sprayed across the table Pro Hart style.

In between stumbling over the language, we spent a lot of time in the shops near Ponte Vecchio and around the city. We were determined to come home with some genuine Florentine clothing and accessories and dedicated ourselves to this task with vengeance. We quickly established how Florence earned the title of ‘best shopping in Europe’ – if we hadn’t been hamstrung by the Ryan Air luggage allowance our spending may have rivalled that of a small African nation. Nevertheless, a good bout of retail therapy worked wonders.

Despite being relatively ‘anti’ most tourist activities, we were pleasantly surprised by  The Cathedral of Santa Maria Del Fiore (Il Duomo). The violent and somewhat confronting images depicted in a representation of the ‘last judgment’ on the roof of Il Duomo steadily increased in impact as we climbed higher. Being a mere few metres from the incredible painting which spans 3600sq metres of surface was quite surreal. The view from the top of the building also made the claustrophobic ascent worthwhile. It really captured the essence of Florence for both of us with the endless terra cotta roof tops framed by hills that looked as though a rock had skimmed over the surface creating waves of greenery. You know something truly is beautiful when you don’t notice the elbows in your back from eager Japenese tourists attempting to capture the view from 389 different angles.

The other tourist attraction we gave a tick of approval too was Giardini di Boboli. Some incredibly well manicured gardens, dozens of naked men looking manly (otherwise known as a distinguished collection of sculptures from the 16th Century) and more expansive views of the city; all with the sun shutting up shop for the day in the background. Ahhhhhhh.
Among the many highlights of our trip, undoubtedly the most outstanding was the food. We were fortunate enough to meet a local who was particularly keen to impart her knowledge of the best places to rub shoulders with the locals. Armed with a ‘key eateries’ map, most of our days revolved around where we would eat next and deciding whether 2 hours between meals was acceptable. Especially if you weren’t hungry and might actually throw up if you even so much as looked at another tomato. Needless to say we didn’t go hungry.

Here is our top 10 from Florence:

  1. The train station attendant is always right. No exceptions.
  2. Finding a bad coffee in Italy is like trying to find a good coffee in London.
  3. Those with good turn of speed and sharp elbows will triumph in the RARUS (Ryan Air Race for Unallocated Seats).
  4. Florence can be a navigational nightmare – apparently maps are indicative only.
  5. Don’t go to Mercato Centrale on an empty stomach
  6. If you see the same leather shop 2 doors up rest assured you’re not goingaround in circles. You’ll see it again in another few metres.
  7. The Italian men never stood a chance of being modest – they’ve been taught for decades that it’s ok to pose in all your glory.
  8.  Trying to catch a bus to the airport on a Sunday requires gathering clues from the station staff to solve the mystery of the missing bus stop.
  9. Always follow the locals when looking for somewhere to eat – even if it means you end up ordering spaghetti bolognaise because you can’t read the menu.
  10. Look before you cross the road. The cars aren’t interested in your plight and the 1970’s bikes are lucky to be in motion; stopping is a luxury.

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Taking on the Steins at Oktoberfest

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When: 16/09/2010

Where: Munich, Germany

Stayed: The Holiday Inn Munich

The easiest way to sum up our trip to Oktoberfest is to paint a picture of the day after. ‘Don’t turn the light on…don’t speak so loudly…I have to get off this train…I can’t talk for the next few hours…no seriously, where are the bathrooms…’ just a snapshot of the conversations that took place while bearing the weight of a hangover from hell. A 7 hour delayed flight compounded the carnage at the airport and I’m still surprised we managed to make it home without calling the paramedics. But oh the party was more than worth the pain!

Never have we felt more ignorant as travellers than when we arrived in Munich. Despite 99% of the locals having almost perfect English, being unable to say more than ‘hello’ and ‘cheers’ in the native language was actually quite embarrassing. A shop keeper made sure I knew just how culturally insensitive I was by responding to my question in German before demanding in English ‘what do you want’. I’m pretty sure he told me to stick the book where the sun don’t shine but despite my ruffled feathers, I wasn’t exactly in a position of power to argue with him. Mental note, always learn some basic conversation in the native language before travelling.

We found the city of Munich to be interesting, upbeat and extremely friendly. Food markets stocking all kinds of bavarian food, tales of earlier evil times ringing out accross the city (despite obvious attempts from many tour guides to avoid the topic), more beer halls than I’ve seen in my life and a mandate that you must eat pastry for breakfast. Amazing how quickly you adapt to your surroundings – between the pastries, sausages, potatoes and beer I’m pretty sure we came home with considerably more luggage than we arrived with.

The lowlight was the much hyped ‘Glockenspiel’. Literally thousands of tourists stood around waiting for the excitement to start… I’ll spare you the details but essentially we (together with our friends Carly and Mark) lasted all of 3 minutes before we headed off in search of a beer hall.
Of course the beer hall we found was the iconic ‘Hofbrauhaus’. After joining a young group of friendly pommies we proceeded to engross ourselves in the local ritual of drinking steins. It’s amazing how quickly you forget that each stein contains 1 litre of beer. 35 repetitions of ‘Ein Prosit’ with our steins in the air and we headed home to prepare for Weisen.

We arrived at Theresienwiese around 8.30am thinking we’d beat the majority of the crowds. We quickly discovered that 20,000 other people thought the same thing. After selecting a beer tent at random, we stood in a packed line before being hearded at a great rate of knots inside where we jumped onto a table. The beer tent we joined was called Augustiner Brau and the host informed us that around 10,000 litres were drunk in this tent everyday of the festival. We of course did our best to ensure they hit that target. The photos fairly accurately (or frighteningly) depict how our day played out but here’s a summary:

  1. Absolutely everyone’s your friend, especially if you have a table to share
  2. The only exception to point 1 may be certain groups of Aussies – we nearly came to blows with a group who were intent on sticking their elbows into our back. Some colourful conversations ensued!
  3. Always remember that a stein contains 1litre of beer
  4. Some of the best relationship advice can be imparted in stacato English to the locals after 3 Steins
  5. Learn the words to ‘Ein Prosit’ because you’ll sing it at least 80 times
  6. Always carry plastic bags with you the day after Oktoberfest…try and avoid travel if possible
  7. The hosts in the beer halls can carry up to 14 steins in one go – stay out of the way!
  8. The locals visit the festival in sittings; the tourists plough on through 12 hours of drinking. Say no more.
  9. Don’t wait till your busting to use the toilet as the line will push your bladder to the point of explosion
  10. Regardless of how appealing a sausage seems after 12 hours of drinking – it most certainly is not a good idea
  11. The dark beer has a laxative affect, some of us who got a bit excited learnt that the hard way
  12. Don’t attempt to buy the Lederhosen (men) or Dirndl (women) in munich as you’ll pay in excess of 200 Euro for it

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The Guinness tastes better in Dublin

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When: 29/07/2010
Where: Dublin, Ireland
Stayed: The Conrad
Our esteemed bus driver Kevin, captured the essence of Dublin beautifully; “Who’s hungover today?!” This was met with an awkward silence from the packed bus. “Oh well, the weekend for the locals begins on Wensdy night…and finishes around about the followin’ Wensdy morning.” This assertion was later confirmed by a shiny, red faced, middle aged local as he staggered out of a pub; “Geez it’s pretty ard to stay sober on any noight isn’t it?!” We nodded in agreement. Yes, apparently it is.Those who’ve been to Dublin will know that in addition to the poetic merging of drinking holes accross generations, Dublin offers ‘foreigner friendly’ people, locals frothing at the mouth to give you their 2 cents worth, more Guinness than you can poke a stick at and potatoes coming out your ears. Love it! But the true beauty for us lay in the country-side just outside the city.
Prior to our trip, thoughts of Ireland had conjured up rolling hills, masses of greenery and lush fields dotted with flowers. Wicklow, about an hour south of Dublin embodied all that and more. Apparently numerous films have been shot in this particular county including ‘P.S I love you’ and ‘Brave-Heart’. Kevin, our bus driving fountain of knowledge proudly informed us, “I was an extra in Brave-Heart but I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me. You might see the resemblance if I show you my ass though!” We laughed at his reference to the kilt lifting scene with Mel Gibson. Wasn’t a bad delivery either considering the daily recital it surely gets!One of the highlights of any trip to Dublin involves the Guinness Storehouse. We weren’t disappointed. Seven storeys and a wealth of information about the world famous beer stemming from 1759 and I couldn’t wait to tuck in. Unfortunately the reality was a little different and my pint from the 360 degree panoramic bar became an exercise in ‘when in Rome’ more than anything. Justin was beside himself however and took great delight in photographing his pint from every conceivable angle. This was the continuation of a beautiful friendship between the two, with a pint of Guinness consumed at every opportunity. “It tastes different over here!” was hard for me to believe but easy to run with given my limited beer knowledge.

We discovered a number of interesting yet somewhat depressing points about the history of Ireland on our trip. The Irish have clearly done it tough over the years through famines and Viking and Roman take-overs. Through what seems to be a build up of frustration on multiple levels, most people are feeling pretty angry and a bit down trodden. The result is an unleashing of furry about the current Government on unsuspecting tourists. We listened patiently to several locals venting and were shocked to discover that nearly 50% of the Irish population have migrated overseas (to St Kilda and Bondi?) Seventy years ago there were nearly 8 million people living in Ireland. Today there are around 4.5 million. Brutal statistic which doesn’t say much for the opportunities and faith people have in their own country. The names of a few local heroes the country has produced are trawled out by the locals time and time again. U2, Maeve Binchy, Sinead O’Connor, Oscar Wilde to name a few. Perhaps as a reminder of what such a small country has managed to achieve despite the rough ride over the years.

Nearly every local we came into contact with appeared to be very well educated on the points of interest in their city. By the time we left, we’d been told on no less than 4 occasions about the window tax which prevented the House of Lords from having any windows when it was re-built. Fascinating stuff – the first time we head it. Clearly a city heavily reliant on tourism. The sheer volume of Gift Shops with ‘luck of the Irish’ printed on anything and everything that will fit the words suggests the same thing. Chocolate Leprechaun anyone?

On our last night we attended an Irish music and dancing dinner show at the Arlington pub right on Liffey river. We had a friendly, non English speaking group of middle aged Germans sitting next to us which made for some interesting charades. Ten minutes of wild hand gestures and staccato speech and we discovered they were from Berlin. Exhausting stuff. Justin and I discussed whether we could find some common ground in the World Cup given Germany’s performance – there was no room to back out our chairs to mimmick kicking a football past us 4 times so we gave up.

The traditional food was hearty and tasty but unfortunately I had reached my limit of potatoes by that point. I struggled through my meal as I felt my stomach congealing and my colon pulling up stumps in protest. The entertainment was fantastic however. The dancing was dramatic and full of energy and I wondered how it was possible to dance for such a long period of time without moving your arms. Just as I was contemplating whether London housed Irish dancing schools, I was pulled out of the audience to partake in a ‘demonstration’ session. Feeling a bit like a gumby, I clutched the arm of the sweaty instructor, dodging pellets of perspiration as they flew off his forehead while he swung me around at a ferocious pace. I lost my shoe half way through resulting in something that more closely resembled hopping. Out of breath at the end, I decided there was no need to find a school as I could tick that box and confidently conclude  that ‘yes, it’s more difficult than it looks’.  It was good of them to give me a certificate for my hopping efforts on stage.

The diddly-dee music started again after the dancing and we watched with amazement as the tourists started filing out of the pub. We wondered whether this early departure would be infuriating for the locals who put their heart and soul into each performance. At one stage we noticed the drummer lean across to his mate and comment “the room’s empty!”  Leaving early is definitely not the Irish way – a cultural point lost on most tourists.

We stayed in a hotel on the perimeter of Saint Stephen’s Green called The Conrad. A short walk from Grafton Street but far enough to be removed from the Chaos. The Chaos being Temple Bar. An interesting spot to visit with its cobblestone streets and lively atmosphere but probably not for those of us bordering on sober. Perhaps the two 65 year old females dressed up as Superman as part of a hen’s night might’ve given us that impression… Justin commented ‘I’m at least 10 pints away from most of these people’.

Three days and 285km of side walk pounding later we farewelled Dublin city to sit at the airport for 4 hours waiting for a delayed flight. We pondered what we’d learnt on our trip:

1.        The Guinness really does tast better in Dublin.                                                           2.        3 Euro buys 2 packets of chips, a Snickers bar and a bottle of water at the airport.                                                                                                                                    3.        Don’t get an Irishman started on politics.                                                                    4.        A pint of Guinness can in fact count as a meal.                                                          5.        There’s a limit to how much potato the female human digestive system can process.  6.       Irish music (despite being beautiful) starts to sound much the same after a while.     7.       Irish dancers aren’t wearing straight-jackets to keep their arms down.                      8.       It’s completely reasonable to have shots of whiskey as a bus driver                                             9.       According to Kevin, if you want to know what the weather is going to be in Dublin just wait 5 minutes…                                                                                                             10.     Further to point 9, always assume it’s going to rain.

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100 Singas and counting

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When: 13/06/2010

Where: Phuket, Thailand

Stayed: Burasari Resort

Our trip to Thailand was truly unforgettable. Good friends, a continual flow of singas and cocktails and one of the most moving weddings you could imagine.
It’s not often that you get to spend a big chunk of time with a group of friends and the novelty of this was not lost on us. The romantic setting of Phuket, the gentle natured Thai people, the morish Thai food, the criminally cheap massages and the unbelievable shopping all coupled with a week of talking rubbish to old and new friends – it just worked.
Patong beach is a great base to explore and experience Thailand. Patong doesn’t hide from the fact that it’s a bit dirty, a bit seedy and just waiting for predictable tourists to pull out their wallets. Fortunately we were all very happy to oblige. It’s important to quickly get over the guilty feeling of ripping off the locals when shopping, as equally, they will take as much money from you as they possibly can. (And they will have a good hard crack at it – full credit to them!) A trip to Phi Phi island gaves us a glimpse into the heart of Thailand; despite being a well worn tourist trail. After discovering the simplistic beauty of the island we resolved to go back and spend some money to help the struggling community along (following the Tsunami).
The highlight of the trip was without doubt Sash and Tiff’s wedding. A breathtaking backdrop, touching ceremoney and emotion that was almost palpable, moved even the toughest of cynics. Incredible food, heartfelt speeches and some serious dance floor carving rounded out a day that will stay with all of us forever.
Thank you Sash and Tiff for letting us be a part of such an incredible milestone!!

Thailand top tips:

1. Singa never tastes better than when you’re on holidays
2. A fake watch is exactly that, anything else is a bonus
3. A wedding overseas is so much more than just one amazing day
4. There’s nothing wrong with having chili on every meal
5. Beware of the 6 year old husslers; they’re cute but ruthless
6. The only time it’s ok to pee on your hand is after a sea urchin sting
7. Jimmy will hold your sick bag if you get sea sick
8. Tuk tuk’s finish service at 1am. Start walking after this time…
9. Some of the world’s best sales people are in Thai backstreet markets
10. When you see the same item you just purchased elsewhere, don’t ask how much it costs. No one likes post-purchase disappointment.

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The bigger the better?

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When: 25/04/2010
Where: Dubai, UAE
Stayed: Atlantis Palm
We arrived suitably jet lagged in Dubai and as predicted it was roasting hot getting up to 40+ degrees each day. The hotel where Justin’s conference was being held was ridiculous. It was massive, lavish and extravagant and I felt as though I should be wearing a cocktail dress just to walk through the lobby. To give you an idea, there was a full acquarium inside the hotel as one of the many hotel features and a complete water theme park. There were staff seemingly coming out of the walls wherever you went and every time we walked into the lobby felt a bit like entering the Colosseum. I found myself holding back on doing a ‘Coooooweeee’ as I didn’t think it’d go down too well…probably good decision.
We did the usual touristy things: saw the world’s largest Shopping Mall (1200 shops), the world’s tallest building (Burj Dubai – they simply kept adding layers to make it the tallest) and the world’s only indoor ski centre which is inside a shopping centre and sits at a cool minus 3 degrees. The slope is 400m long and 85m high.
However despite the enormity of everything, there was so much empty space and so few people around that it felt a little lacking in atmosphere. Walking through the Mall we were sure we’d missed a fire alarm or something – it was so empty that we felt as though we should say hello to the people we walked past! The culture also seemed to be quite confused with some women in full burkas and others in little skimpy western outfits. I found it kind of sad and very hard to understand the traditional customs as a foreigner. I hiked over to ‘old Dubai’ to get a better feel for the origins, just so I could leave with a clearer picture of the UAE culture – was interesting but a mistake to go on my own. I was a bit rattled by the time I got back to the hotel after being stared at and spoken to rudely; especially by the cabbies. I stuck to being poolside with a book after that – figured I’d have to appreciate the true culture from a plate (food was fantastic by the way!) and a distance.

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