With A Capital 'N'

Yes, I've neglected my blogging duties. I'm going to hammer out my last few weeks in France and then get on to more recent UK adventures. All on a keyboard that hardly works (forgive me if there are any missing vowels) and sitting next to someone chewing with their mouth open. If I've learnt anything on this trip, it's that half the worlds hostel goers haven't been taught table manners.

Once in Nice I had a conversation with brother Tristan that went something along the lines of:

Tris: So where are you now?
Me: Nice. It's so beautiful. Love it.
Tris: Cool... So where are you?
Me: Nice. With a capital N. In France.
Tris: Oh. Fuck I'm dumb.

No Tris, you aren't dumb. English and/or French is.

The bus trip from Barcelona was a long one. I can't remember how long, but let's go with 9-12 hours. After much fitful sleep and attempts to find comfortable positions, we arrived at about two in the morning, probably with upholstery prints and drool on our faces. It's always weird arriving somewhere at night. Everything looks completely different. I remember, as we were driving into Nice, seeing lots of landmarks, like a funky little two story carousel, only to spot them again a few days later and be surprised by where they were. For example, the carousel was across the road from the sea... I somehow managed to miss the sea the night we drove in.

We were staying in 'THE BEST HOSTEL IN EUROPE' (it was pretty good... I've had better. The resident cat was a knob head) but we had no idea how to get there, and so rang reception to be told that they would come and pick us up and take us to the hostel. It was a good start. The guy who picked us up, Shen, also told us not to talk to anyone because 'it's a pretty dodgy area.' Eek. I blame it on the time of the night and the lack of sleep, but Courtney and I also had a conversation when she got off the phone that went something like this:

Court: He had a really nice British accent.
Bron: Ooh... did he sound hot?
Court: He sounded hot.
Bron: I hope he's hot.

Yeah... he was hot. And he could manhandle both of our now very heavy packs at the same time, which was greatly unnecessary, yet appreciated. Hurrah! We had an equally dumb conversation with him where he told us that the hostel staff "Heart Throb"'s mum was called Bronwyn and was nick-named B-Dog. 'Heart Throb' will make a heroic appearance later on in this blog too...

The hostel was up in the hills of Nice and had a gorgeous view out to the sea over the city. Thankfully Nice, infuriating strike and all (a great many people in our hostel were stranded due to cancelled flights) had a really good tram system, so it was a piece of cake to get around. One day Courtney, as a tram was arriving, decided we'd be OK getting on without tickets. We pulled up to a stop and I noticed the terrifying Gendarme-like beret-ed and booted ticket fascists bearing down on the tram. Seriously, they're terrifying. They look like they're more likely to shoot you than issue you with a fine, and they flank every door of the train to stop anyone from getting off without a ticket. Thankfully we never throw anything out and produced two tickets we had from a previous day which, bizarrely, worked. I think we probably should have realised that Nice was not one of the cities you can get away with fare dodging in. Apparently in Prague the ticket inspectors like nothing more than fining cocky tourists, and in Berlin we got booted off the metro for carrying tickets that we about five minutes (literally) out of date. Italy was incredibly lax though. One night in Rome we waited in line for ages only for the only working ticket machine to break. We solved this by Courtney hugging close to me as we went through the turn styles on my ticket without anyone batting an eyelid. In Paris every second person seems to vault over the turn styles and in London there are so many members of staff, not to mention CCTV everywhere, that you'd never get through without a ticket or an Oyster card. If you do end up in Italy or Germany at any point, I have figured out how to spot them. They all seem to sport denim-on-denim ensembles and fetching black bum bags. Far less intimidating than their French counterparts.

A couple of days in Nice we went to a food and flower market that paled in comparison to the giant market in Barcelona, but still had yummy bread and spice stalls that smelt incredible. It was also right next to the sea. The main beach in Nice is pebbles. Just pebbles. Big ones. Every single beach I've seen on this trip has made me feel spoilt to have such magnificent beaches all over the place in Australia. The residents of Nice, on sunny days, didn't seem to be letting the pebbles get them down though, and lay out on towels (ow) and swam. There's a steep stairway up to a lookout over the beach that has the most stunning views of the city and the sea. Such lovely shades of blue.

The beach is incredibly unpleasant on rainy days though, as we probably should have guessed. The day after we met up with Timo we went to the contemporary art gallery in Nice, which was nice, and mercifully small. I like a bit of art as much as the next person, but there is only so much I can take of rooms full of installations of pools full of foetid water and maimed dolls stuck to canvas. Later we went for a walk along the beach, despite the fact that it was rainy and windy and we hadn't thought to bring rain coats. By the end we were considerably soggy and Courtney's hands felt like they'd been in a freezer for a good two hours.

The weather did clear up though and we went on a day drip to Monaco, a good three quarter hour bus trip from Nice. A day trip is all you need to experience Monaco if you are a backpacker. I'm sure if you have a whole lot of disposable income and the urge to gamble it would be easier to spend more time there.



The Casino





All above: The Expensive Views of Monaco...


It was lovely to wander around for a few hours and we climbed up a ridge in the middle of the city that had some stunning views, though fearing the price of food we had nothing to eat but a few peices of fruit. We were also stranded in traffic on a hot, crowded bus on the way back. When I saw Timo in London the other day he recalled that when he got off the bus he basically stumbled out and curled up on the pavement. It wasn't quite that bad, but it was pretty unpleasant.

Whilst in Nice there were a number of protests going on. The one we witnessed was just students (high school age) but it was enough to have the Gendarme out in force and cause many of the shops on the main street to pull down shutters and stick security outside. Official as the cops look, the ones on little scooters we less than menacing.

Our main threatening encounter in Nice had nothing to do with French anger at raising of retirement age and Little Sarkozy though. Our hostel was very near a soccer stadium (yes, soccer, not football) and one day coming back on the tram from the city we got off at our stop to police vans and cops kitted in riot gear. Big sheilds, helmets, batons, helicopter buzzing around, the whole lot. There was also a mob of people heading up the street, but we wanted to go to the supermarket to get the makings of dinner, so walked towards them. A bit stupid seeing as my every sense usually tells me to steer clear of yelling mobs. We all realised this was a stupid idea at the same time and Timo vocalised that we should probably turn around just as the mob fired a flare at the police and the police whipped out their batons (snigger...) We then couldn't go down the only road to our hostel because the stadium was on it and it was blocked by police vans, so were led on a wild goose chase up a different road where we met another six or so people from the hostel who were equally lost, and learnt that one of the trams behind us had had it's window smashed by the mob. We milled around briefly, wondering what to do when with a screech of rubber (I'm not kidding) the hostel heart-throb comes around the corner in the hostel van. Courtney and I even screamed 'Heart Throb' and burst out laughing. All in all it was actually a pretty exciting way to end the day. We got to say dramatic things like 'Chill out. Just keep walking', and further cemented the truth that soccer is the root of all evil.

I really liked Nice. It was incredibly pretty, the Old Town was cool to walk around and the food was good. Even though it wasn't really hot and it rained a fair bit while we were there, I just recall it being ridiculously sunny, with very blue seas, orange and yellow buildings and red tiled roofs. Also, dangerously brown sun bathers. I think it's my favourite experience of France. The people were all nice too, including a hilarious old lady who slapped me on the back of my bare legs, said something in French and then walked away chuckling what sounded like a dirty chuckle.

Next: Marseilles (shudder...)

Now I'm going to go smash, then burn this key board!!

Merry Christmas!!

Bron xoxox

Irish Pub?

It seemed that Barcelona was on a mission to make us hate it. Well Barcelona, you failed. Barcelona is actually incredibly rad. Convincing fake beach and all.

Turns out the only things I took photo's of were in the giant amazing food market. Shows where my priorities lie I think. It was magnificent though. Why can't every city have something like it every day? Or at least Canberra.

Razor Clams. They may not look tasty, but they are the best seafood I've ever had. Except maybe dad's barbecued baby octopus... but that isn't in a market in Barcelona.

Where I ate my Razor Clams. Such a cool concept.

Where a beardy Spanish guy cooked the clams (they were really good OK?!)

Heeere fishy fishy fishy

My main, somewhat lunatic fantasy in this market involved me walking around browsing the fish stalls (as you do) running into Rick Stein, and having an involved conversation about the quality of Spanish fish. It wasn't until I went to this market that I realised the extent of my celebrity chef obsessions. In a more detailed fantasy Rick Stein then dumps his woman and runs off with me. Yes, It's odd, and I'm only half joking.

The whole centre ring of the market was made up of seafood stalls. It was so cool. They all looked and smelt so fresh and there was such a staggering, intriguing range of stuff. I admit I have no idea what three quarters of it was. I half wish I lived in Barcelona so that I could go to the market and get fresh food to cook with every day.

It took every ounce of self control I had not to buy the little marzipan mushroom guy and give him a name.

One day, thanks to a helpful little map, I found a narrow street that was lined with vintage clothing and antique stores. I didn't really find anything that cool or buy anything, but it was an enjoyable day of foraging. There was also a very cool record shop on the same street which I spent about an hour rummaging through. I like that after a session of flicking through thousands of second hand records you always end up with disgusting black fingers from the dust and grime on them. I didn't buy anything there either but the most tempting were Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' (one of the greatest albums ever) and The Beatle Barkers: covers of Beatles songs sung by dogs. Oh, yes.

OK, I lied. I took a photo of Yoda too. He was on the street with all the rad shops.

I brought this pair of flats from Australia, where they were already looking a little on the worse for wear side. Cracked soles and holes in the side. None the less, I thought "Well you need to have something to wear with dresses, don't you?" and folded them (literally. The soles have hinges now...) into my bag. I was walking along in Munich one day when it finally went tits up. I took a step, heard a very conspicuous tearing sound... and kept walking as if nothing had happened. I might as well have been whistling in my attempt at nonchalance. Believe it or not, they're still OK to wear (if it isn't raining...) and they're still my dressy shoes. Unless you count Doc Martens, thongs or All Stars as dressy. Which I do not.

My 'dressy' shoes... Ick.

Courtney and I spent a delirious morning trekking up to Gaudi's park, at the top of a hill so steep that there were outdoor escalators to get to the top... most of them weren't working though. Slick. It was a nice park, save the same old wankers trying to flog the same old touristy trash to trashy tourists, and bus loads of sightseers left, right and centre. On top of that, pleasant as it was it didn't look like Gaudi's park so much as any old Tom, Dick or Harry's park. There really wasn't that much in it to immediately link it to him. Lot's of cacti though.

We then sat down to the most stressful lunch of our lives. We decided to splash out for once and have some Paella, what with being in Spain, and I have never been more aware of the location of Courtney's epipen in her handbag. However, Courtney didn't explode or die when she ate the prawn, so all of the nervous glances and silent freaking out was unnecessary. Tasty paella too.

I was told that Barcelona was damn cool, but was somewhat sceptical after the first night we had (dickhead gypsy etc.) Fortunately Barcelona was cool enough to make me forget that piece of unpleasantness. It was a lovely city to stroll around, had a very laid back vibe and many a funky little shop, and THE greatest food market ever. It was also such lovely weather most of the time and it was great to sit on the roof top terrace at the end of the day with a cup of tea and chill out. Every single smell of cooking seemed to waft up to that terrace, it was divine. I spent a fair few nights in Barcelona, but it is one of the cities we've vistited that I would like to return to some day.

Oh, and 'Irish pub?'... Every single city we've been in has had an Irish pub. Even if it's tucked away in the back streets I always seem to see one. In Barcelona there was a guy on the main street who just stood there with pamphlets saying 'Irish Pub?' in a Spanish accent as if it was question. It made me giggle every time.

Miss y'all!!

Love Bron xoxox

Where the Streets Have No Names

Well, they do... but not that it helps... Here are some photo's of Venice. Not that interesting I suppose. It's really just canals and sunny coloured buildings. But first! Some sparkling views of the road from Munich to Venice. Also, unfortunately, the car park of one of our pit stops.


Highest McDonalds in Europe, fact fans. Just over the Europa Bridge on the Brenner pass, a big ol' road going through the Alps along the border between Italy and Austria. A stunning way to get through the Alps, but does it spoil them a bit?





Traffic Jam





Some fishy chaps who wanted to share my lunch



Rialto Bridge: Not quite as impressive as I'd expected, but still pretty cool.



Cutie, cutie, cutie, cutie!!



A local

Yeah... I just walked around the water.



Yeah... That's not quite right, is it?



Market Boat!!



"How you doin'?"

 Sorry I've been somewhat neglecting my bloggy duties. I'll try to catch up in the next week or so.

Love Bron xoxoxox

The Happiest Place on Earth.

I am in love with Paris. I never want to leave! I only have one day left here, but am not too sad as I will be back in just three weeks to spend four amazing days with Zoya and Melissa. Yay.

Yesterday Timo and I spent the day at the happiest place on Earth...Disneyland Paris - it was the best! Timo's a Disneyland veteran, having been to every Disneyland bar one, I had never been before though and was, therefore, incredibly excited. I kept doing a little "OhmygodImgoingtoDisneyland" dance on the street... Timo was kind enough not to ditch me despite his embarrassment.

We went on rides all day and ate a disgusting amount of candy and watched the Disney "Once upon a dream" parade. By the end of the day my face hurt from smiling so much. Have I mentioned that it was the best?

The castle. I possibly jumped up
and down when I saw this...

The expression that was on
my face all day...

 

Trying to spin us faster than all the other
kids on The Mad Hatters Teacups...

No hands!

Fairy floss...the worst idea of the day!

In our first week we hit up most of the sites in Paris. Notre Dame, The Eiffel Tower, The Champs-Elysees, The Pompidou Centre, Versailles, Pere Lachaise Cemetery, etc. Then I got lazy...I have taken to spending my days wandering around the streets of Montmartre and The Latin Quarter. They are by far the coolest areas in Paris. Timo and I found the most amazing boulangerie ever in Montmartre the other day (that's right, ever!) It always has a queue out the door and sells the most amazing baked goods I've ever tasted. It also won best baguette in Paris last year! We now have three favourite boulangeries - one in Montmartre, one in The Latin Quarter and one down the street from our hostel, so we're never far from an amazing jambon et fromage sandwhich.

The Latin Quarter is full of amazing things. On one little strip there is a boulangerie, a fromagerie, a charcuterie AND a wine shop all next to each other. It is also home to the Shakespeare and Co. bookstore, and amazing English bookstore. And a fabulous jazz club called Caveau des Oubliettes. We went there one night as it had been recommended by Tomas (our cool Parisian tourguide). It may have cost 9 euros for a pint, but it was totally worth it!

I'm off to Edinburgh on Friday which I am incredibly excited for! Except that I'm slightly concerned about freezing to death...I'll try to get another post up before then though.

Love to you all,

<3 Courtney xx

P.S: If you'd like to see some photos that are actually quality you should look at Timo's blog  http://monochromaticandhappy.tumblr.com/



UGG.

UGG by Jimmy Choo...the ugliest line of shoes ever made. I had this idea that everyone in Paris would be incredibly well dressed and stylin' - I was so wrong. I see people wearing these everywhere! 

They're just so hideous, I had to blog about them...

We've been having a lovely time in Paris. Timo found a brochure for a company called Discover Walks which runs three different free tours. We've done two so far and they've both been fabulous. The guides are all true blue Parisians which is great, and the two guys we've had have been totally adorable. Our tour guide for the left bank and the Latin Quarter was named Tomas, that's him in the middle...

Our guide for Notre Dame was named Bertrand and he was a really cool guy. He actually founded the company...rad. He hasn't put our group photo up yet though so he doesn't get to go on the blog.

A few weeks ago I posted a blog about friends of mine who are coming to Europe who I'm really excited to see. Timo is here now and I'm seeing Zo and Melissa in 29 days! I missed one though! Dearest Jo! This slammin' hottie...

I cant wait to see her in Krakow/London/Istanbul! Love you babe!

....and this is the end of yet another moderately pointless post...

Love to you all, 

Courtney <3 

The musk of Marseille...

Sorry it's been so long peeps. If you've been watching the international news lately you probably already know that France has been having a few issues lately...these issues didn't stop me from accessing the internet, but I didn't want to write another post until I had something nice to say again!

Nice is a lovely little town. It's actually not that little, it's the fifth largest city in France...but I always thought it was little and will therefore continue to refer to it as a little town. We arrived at 4am from Barcelona...not the comfiest bus trip I've ever had! It was freezing, the bus station was closed and we had no idea where we were. Luckily, when I called the hostel to ask them to call us a cab, the receptionist said he'd come and pick us up. Shen was his name and he was a babe. Probably the biggest babe I've met on this trip...more babin' than Berlin Adam and Roman Alex put together. He was British and when I saw him the next day wearing glasses and a coat I nearly died. Enough of that though...

Nice is great. It has a lovely fruit and flower market, beautiful blue water (shame about the giant rock pile that they call a beach), lovely buildings and really friendly people. They also have a soccer team...whose fans like to riot and shoot flares at the riot police...nearly getting caught in the middle of a soccer riot was one of the scarier moments I've had on this trip! But a good story to tell later.

Nice is also a mere forty minutes from Monaco. Timo, Bron and I spent a lovely day there. We went to the casino...well....we stood outside the casino and looked at the really expensive cars...We also went to the palace which was cool and went the whole day without food because Monaco is stupid expensive! Great day though.

After Nice we went to Marseille...it seemed like a good idea at the time...I mean, Marseille - it sounds cool, right? Wrong. Really, really wrong. Here's why...

Giant mounds of festering rubbish on every street. Disgusting! The garbage men had been on strike for 5 days when we got there. I read on the BBC site that there were 8,000 tonnes of rubbish in the streets by the time the army got called in to start moving it away! We saw the trucks...and that was probably the coolest thing I saw in Marseille. I aslo read that some locals got so annoyed about having giant piles of rubbish outside their houses that they set the piles on fire...I'm not sure how this would have helped though...French people are crazy!

We also saw a couple of protests in both Nice and Marseille. However, the ones we saw weren't quite as hectic as this one...



This looks more like the soccer riot we nearly got caught in in Nice (well...maybe not quite)



We were going to go to Bordeaux, but we'd really had enough of trying to get around during a national strike, so we came to Paris instead. Paris is 'the shit' as the cool kids say. It feels so different to last time I was here. I think because it was one of our first stops it felt really intimidating, now it just feels rad. Yesterday Timo and I walked about 16km...I dont think I've ever walked that much in a day! We went to Notre Dame and The Eiffel Tower at night when they were lit up - gorgeous!

Well that's all for now! I'll put up photos next time!

Love to you all,

Courtney <3

If I hear One More Person Say "When In Rome..."

In Rome I was staying in yet another camping village, albeit a coinsiderably less shit camping village. It was a little way out of the city though, so I was required to get the hang of the Rome bus system and get my first taste of Roman traffic. First up, scooter riders are crazy. Secondly, people just love their car horns in Europe. It seems that the main driving 'ettiquette' is... to be rude. Unless you're in France, in which case driving ettiquette requires you running into as many things as humanly possible. They're good at it too. The most fun thing in Rome is crossing the roads though. If you hover at a pedestrian crossing, no one will stop for you, so you just have to walk into the street and hope you don't get mown down. They do always stop for you though. Courtney said that one day she was crossing a road in the usual way and she overheard a couple of middle aged American ladies conversing on how to cross the road. They saw Courtney cross and said 'Maybe you just do that...' to which the other said 'No, I think she's a local. It's probably different.' Huh? It seems many people do mistake us for locals though. There hasn't been a city yet where someone hasn't come up to me and started to ask me something in another language, only for me to stare blankly and say 'Sorry, I'm English.'

I loved Rome. However, lovely as Rome is, I was just about ready to swing punches by the time we left. The men are almost all disgusting. If one more person had wolf whistled, hissed or called out to us on the street by the time we left, they were going to get my boot in their face. My boot may or may not have been attached to my foot at the time. What happened to make the men of Rome think that this was appropriate or desirable behaviour?! EW!!! EWWWW!!!!!

Even with a map, Rome is a bit of a maze. Courtney, having been there before, was better at finding her way around that I was, and so on the first day suggested we meet at the Pantheon. Easier said than done. I wandered around in alleyways and back streets for about an hour before I found it. Considering it's a bloody big dome, you think it would be easy, but it's nestled in the middle of a block of taller buildings. Every now and then I'd see something big and old and think 'That's it!' only for it to be some other big old thing. Rome is good at big and old. Just about everywhere in Europe is incredibly half-hearted when it comes to sign posting too. They will erect a sign pointing into a big maze of buildings... and then not put up any other signs, leaving you more lost than you were to begin with. I suppose it's all part of the adventure. And in the end, the Pantheon was pretty swell. Those kids know their architecture!

Trevi Fountain

Spanish Steps. I thought they'd be bigger... One of the Busabout guides said that gypsy ladies hang around there with dolls wrapped up like babies and throw them at tourists. When the tourists catch them they stick their hands in your pockets and steal your junk. He said this happened to him once, so he headbutted the baby back at the lady, who proceeded to put a curse on him. Ha!

Next we hit up the Colosseum. As you do. I know it's been pillage of all it's good bit and half of it's gone, but it has more character that way. It all seems to be very well documented too, so it's not like we're really left wondering what it was like in its glory days. There isn't much to do once in there but soak up the fact that you're in the Colosseum. I sometimes think it's a little odd that it was a place where hundreds of thousands of people and animals were slaughtered, and yet it isn't treated as a tragic memorial, as would be done with other similar places. I suppose everyone over looks it because it all occurred so long ago. We then went to Palantine Hill in the sweltering heat and wandered around the olive trees looking at old stuff. Courtney has already told you about the lovely Alex, so I won't elaborate.

There is an old ruin in Rome that has been taken over by cats and was subsequently turned into a cat sanctuary. I dubbed it 'Cat Ghetto' only to find out that it is affectionately called 'The Catacombs.'

Catacombs.

A couple of days later we waited in line for a good two hours to get into The Vatican. It also chose to rain this day of all days. It was pretty half hearted rain fortunately. I did get sick of gypsies coming up and waving umbrella's and my face saying 'Umbrelli?' NO UMBRELLI!!! I'd rather get soaked than buy and umbrella from you. Once inside we walked through countless elaborate halls filled with countless elaborate artifacts. Courtney told me that there was a crazy Pope who went around and has all of the male statues in the place castrated. Loco... We entered the Sistine Chapel and discovered the Swiss Guard 'Shushers'. They stand in the chapel and constantly 'Shhh!' the crowd, who constantly ignore them. Every now and then they yell 'No talking!' or 'No pictures!' and then clap really loudly only for people to pipe down briefly... and then start talking again. I wonder if all the guargs draw straws and the ones with the short straws get the shushing job. The Chapel was magnificent of course...  don't know where I got it in my head, but I thought it would be bigger and dome-ier. It was sort of rectangular though. The paintings on the ceiling all looked three dimensional, which was pretty impressive. My favourite part was the giant wall that is completely painted with one scene. Apparently they cleaned the chapel in the 80's as it had become covered with soot from all the candles lit in there. There is a small patch that they left which is almost black. I heard there was a bit of a debate as to whether they should leave it as it was, but I'm glad they didn't. Face it, if the chapel was in France, they'd still be debating it.
We then snaked our way to St Peter's Cathedral. We'd forgotten to wear sleeves, so our heathen shoulders were showing. Courtney attempted to get in and was told to leave by one guy... so we melted into a crowd and snuck in anyway. It was gorgeous. We made it most of the way around before we were apprehended and escorted out. Bad ass.

Cat friend at the camp ground. I witnessed another cat chasing a grasshopper. Cats are stupid.

My hostel was rubbish, but Courtney's had a kitchen so I went there every night to cook and eat dinner with her. It was so nice to be able to cook properly again after so long. We made some dangerously awesome risotto and pasta and vegie stir fry. The best thing about risotto, other than that it tastes boss, is that everyone thinks it's really impressive and fancy. It's so not. Stand at a stove long enough though, and everyone thinks you're a masterful chef (not to be confused with Master Chef) Which of course, we are. Cafe's in Rome are lame too. I just won't ever get my head around the idea of having to pay in order to sit down. Pangs of pub culture nostalgia ensued. Every city I've been in has had an Irish pub though, so I suppose you can get it if you want it.

Courtney's hostel had a little patio sort of thing that we sat on (with the lovely girls we met from Canberra) most nights, chillin' and watching the sun set on the nice warm coloured buildings. In Rome, five stories up from the street, I realised that I really like the sound of traffic now. In the same way that I love doing laundry over here, I'll probably return to Australia and realise I actually hate it. Also, most of the traffic is made up of little beaten up Fiats. I want a Fiat!!! Damn you Australia!!

All the Vatican photo's I took are on Courtney's camera, but I'll try to put some up with my Venice ones.

Loved Rome, and I'm currently loving France. Miss you all lots.

Love Bron xoxox