promised blackpool

Well the hotel in blackpool wasn’t that bad, well I mean apart from the hair on the unchanged sheets, and the previous occupants toothpaste/shampoos etc still in the bathroom, or yeah and the fact that the room reeked of smoke, and I swear that I went to bed less smoky than I woke up despite spending the night in clubs.

Lets see, the evening began in the Blue Room, called so because, I’m assuming, the walls were blue. There we meet some more of Kate’s friends and had a chat while Eirin and I dodged the she-man on our way to the bar/toilet. I think she liked us… shudder… anyway interestingly enough I ordered a Vodka, Lime, Soda (I know at this point you’re going ‘and why would we care Ingrid?’) but you have to understand me, this was no ordinary lime, I do not know if it was radioactive, but it was flurescent, in fact it was not lime, but LIMMMMMMMEE!

We moved on to ‘Bar Red’, yes with Red walls, and I understood a little something more about English North-West culture. Despite their creative naming conventions, I can’t understand a drunk Blookpoolian to save my life. Honestly the amount of times I said ‘pardon’ you woud’ve thought I had a flatulence problem.

But the crowning moment for blackpool was the Karoke bar we ventured to afterwards. I know, I know, when it’s two am that’s probably not a good time to be hanging around with people you don’t understand but who are trying to convince you to do a solo act of ‘Do you come from a land down-under?’. But Alas, the Karoke had finished, but before we discovered this, and while everyone was looking in the song selection list for something more convincing than ‘Hey Mickey’ I saw:

1) one girl so drunk she fell over, flashed EVERYTHING and get up and start dancing
2) one domestic argument – beginning with the man abusing the woman until she cried, then the woman proceding to hit the man, scream and slap him so hard in the face his nose bled.
3) Same girl on the dance floor get so into ‘Sexual Healing’ that she pops out the other end of her dress too.
4) An awful lot of white lyra

Needless to say my estimation of Blackpool went up significantly. In case you can’t tell I’m being sarcastic.

But at least it makes a good story, and in a scary kind of way I had fun. Burgers on the way back to the hotel made everything better, and it wasn’t until next day when we were treated to a full English breakfast (Eirin had a hair in hers) that I remembered what made this place so special. The water glasses with our breakfast had a different ‘prefered position’ for each of the signs of the zodiac… Classy… oh and the guy at the table next to us, black eyed and bloody faced, downed another pint with his breakfast.

We headed of to the local amusement park, called ‘Paradise Beach’ and were approached by a man yelling strange things at us (I had to remind myself that I was catching a train to London that afternoon). He was the third person with blood caked on their face to try and talk to us. Nice.

The amusement park was fun though, and I was sad to leave Eirin and Kate, and Kate’s friends (my new friends) Kerry and Dean. I was back in London for the evening and Kristen made a fantastic lamb roast with veggies. I was also sad to leave her and Mike (that’s the thing with traveling you keep having to leave people) but I was heading back to France, and to Montpellier, and finally some warmer weather!

Beautiful Lakes District

Well I’m on the train back from the beautiful Lakes District and the last 5 days have just flown by…. Where to begin?! I Know! Spadge! Spadge is one of the dogs of Eirin’s family in Whitbeck (teeny village near Bootle, near Whitehaven on Cumbria, England’s Lakes District, North West). We had an instant affiliation, he was black Labrador and Collie, and so was his mum, Tipsy, and another, Tosca, was half Alsatian and half Labrador… there was also a cat, Cleo, black, and wormy... just felt I had to mention them - didn't know where to start really...

So anyway, Eirin’s Aunty, Gina, and cousins, Kate and Dominic, along with Eirin came to pick me up from the station. I knew straight away that these were just the nicest kind of people and I’d have no problems in the next few days. We drove back to their place and I met Ed, Eirin’s uncle, and all the pets for a curry dinner. It was cold, out there in North-West England but I’m moving past complaining about the weather, or trying too at least.

The next day we all went to Wast Water. Home of four superlatives; the deepest lake in England – where the Loch Ness Monster takes her vacations, it’s also next to the tallest mountain in England and the smallest church in England. The final superlative is the “biggest liar”, a competition for which is held at the nearby pub – where apparently, contestants compete to tell the tallest tale.

I should tell you something more about where I was. The Cooksons’ house was an old stone country house; with the deeds dating back to the 1700s at the bottom of Black Mound Fell. Apparently a fell is taller than a hill, but not as tall as a mountain (though some fells are mountains?!) It’s a regional term... anyway… and on the opposite side there are low rolling hills, which lead down to the sea shore at Bootle beach, opposite the Isle of Man. It was nice, and the Cooksons were unfailingly generous and kind.

The next day, we went to Whitehaven, a gorgeous little seaside village where we learned all about boggles, ghosts and Wraiths… ah!! A Boggle (differing from J.K Rowling’s description) is a sea creature who can take the form of a man or hideous beast, and a few days after seeing one, the witness is said to go mad and die. A Wraith is just a more terrifying version of a ghost (I guess J.R.R Tolkien was more on the money).

After that we headed for Carlisle Castle. The keep there, originally built in about 1120 or so, was nice and old, with not too many changes over the last 9 centuries or so. There was also an interesting military museum there, and really, really good ‘oatie cookies’. Best of all though was that the sun was shining, one of the very few days since I had left the Australia, and in all places, the English border with Scotland!

We still had some time left so we went to Gretna Green, just over the border in Scotland. Did I mention I bought tartan tights in London?!?! Well Kristen wasn’t too impressed with my purchase in London, but I was very proud at this day of my decision to wear my tartan tights – who knew I’d be in Scotland with them – tartan in Scotland! Apparently Gretna Green was where all the couples in love ran away to elope. There was no need for an official permission, all you needed was two Scots to witness, and a black smith to marry you. There was an ‘Anvil of the Marriages’ and as the blacksmith would forge two metals together so he would two people. Ahhhh.

We stopped off in the hotel there too for a late lunch – where Eirin and I saw the real groundskeeper Willie!!! We figured he must have been – being a groundskeeper and all – and being in Scotland! In the hotel was the only one brave enough to try the traditional Scottish fish soup – Killen Skink. And yes, I was hoping that there would be no lizards in the soup. The fact that as the waiter brought it out and all the Cooksons covered their noses was not an accurate reflection of the taste. Once you get past the fishy smell I would recommend Killen Skink to anyone! It’s right up there with the garlic butter and vegemite.

In the gift store we avoided the haggis and made for the kissing gate where Eirin and I got some nice pictures (of kissing the gate, not each other!). In the store I discovered that my tartan stockings were in fact ‘Royal Stuart’ tartan – so there you go you learn something new everyday!!

So Spadge and I were closer than ever as I continued to be willing to play ‘Wrestle the Frisbee’ and ‘Fetch the Teddy Bear with Many Holes’. The teddy bear was also known as he who must not be touched due the layers of dog saliva that had become engrained on the bear as each layer dried and Spadge created a new one… I’m not entirely sure that bear had long to live either. But yes, we certainly bonded.

As it was raining on the Thursday – and we got to avoid climbing trees – can’t say I was too disappointed about that! Eirin and I got to go with Gina into Barrow-in-Furness to check out the shops and try to be sneaky and buy a present for her. Gina had probably determined we were shoplifters or something equally as dubious seeing how we saw her in the supermarket and ran away screaming with a box of chocolates in hand.Luckily when we gave them all the chocolates Gina still acted surprised.

Eirin and I were both sad to leave on Friday afternoon to head for our night of fun with Kate in Blackpool. We’d heard some interesting things about that place – and no, not the that they burst into song all the time, but it was in fact the town home to Hen’s and Buck’s nights from across the country, it was the ‘English Gold Coast’, and we were staying in a hotel called ‘Cumforth’ in the gay district…

thanks for reading this far and stay turned for the blackpool spectacular...

Olde London Town

ok this was written over two days, and only put up now...

Saturday 18 March
Well it’s been almost a week here in London and I really haven’t done much. As Kristen says, "hey you’re on holidays". Yes, I am, and it’s super freezing here. Forget anything I said about France being cold (well except maybe that day in the queue at Musee d’Orsay) here’s the wind chill factor just takes down that -2 to 2 day about -10 degrees or something, I dunno, but enough about the weather. It’s green, it’s cold, it’s England, hooray!

So I left France on another beautiful day (why is the weather always good when you’re leaving!). The Eurostar was well, a train, and sitting next to me was a wacky Brazilian. Who was talking, and talking the whole trip. Which was ok, because after limited human interaction for the last 5 days (my French really isn’t great – neither is my Portuguese but hey the Brazilian spoke English) I was willing to listen.

20 March 2006
Ok so because I am now on a train to Oxenholme (who ever heard of that before?!) and trains are great places for writing... it’s been a while since I got to London, and I didn’t really do that much, so, like me at the British Museum, you guys kind of get the highlights tour.

Also typing on the train is actually making me feel a little sick, so I apologise if at any stage I have to stop and puke all over my nice white keyboard.

I got to London, Waterloo (damn ABBA forever for creating that song I swear – once it’s in my head... Waterloo doop di dooo) and the Brazilian was still following me, under the guise of asking my cousin for directions…sure... So there was the lovely Kristen coming towards me, with Mike (her newish fiancé). I was in London, and best of all seeing my cousin.

Apparently I had forgotten how to talk English. I had to order my ticket (I don’t know – do you order tickets? Or only order fries at Maccas?) Anyway, here’s me: "single to Shepard’s Bush please"
Ticket man: "Where you bound?"
Me: "Shepard’s Bush"
TM: "Where you bound?"
Me: "I dunno, it’s like the stop after Notting Hill"
TM: "Yes, I know, three pounds please!!"
Meanwhile Kristen was standing behind me absolutely wetting her pants at me. Nice. I have discovered since that in fact most Londoners don’t speak English at all, and I am reminded of yet another musical theatre moment i.e. Rex Harrison in ‘My Fair Lady’- "Why can’t the English, learn to speak English!?!".

Oh and by the way, somehow the Brazilian was still there?! Anyway managed to lose the Brazilian by promising to "do lunch" the next day and went home to some Stir-fry (hooray for vegetables) and Krispy Kremes (evil nemesis of vegetables).

Next morning was what I’d like to term the start of ‘my holidays’ also known as lazy around. So I decided to be true to my Australian roots and seeing how I was in an (almost) English speaking country what better way to celebrate than with American TV and vegemite on toast. That would have been great if I hadn’t made the toast with the secret stash of garlic butter in the fridge! (What? It just looked like someone had mashed up the normal butter)... the disturbing thing is I didn’t even smell it. It wasn‘t until I had that first bite that I even realized I was eating something unusual.

Right here I would like to stand by my choice of putting garlic butter on my vegemite and toast. It was the best decision I ever made. Try it, it’s quite delicious. Well, it’s ok, anyway.

So I went out with the Brazilian and ate Italian food and got to learn some Brazilian dancing. It was a little too hilarious however when the marriage proposal came. Oh yes, I am not joking, please let me take you through the conversation:
Brazilian: "That’s a nice old church isn’t it?"
Me: "Yes, do you want to confess something?"
B: "No, do you want to get married?"
Me: "Er, pft, no I’m too young"
But what I should have said was "what are you serious (he looked serious) I have known you 2 days you’re completely freaking me out, freak, and I’m going home now, ah!!!". Somehow I held back, and luckily I have the understanding that the Brazilian is now in Brazil.
Phhheewwwww

Now what else happened during my stay in London…? Ah yes, bridal shopping with Kristen. This involved going to a traditional English pub for some stodgy food before hand – possibly not the best idea when you’re going to try on dresses, but what the hey. Kristen tried on I think about 7 gowns and we came out with a clear favourite, which was absolutely gorgeous, she looked great, and I can’t wait until the actual day when she’s there with Uncy Pete, walking down the aisle… aw tear, and Mike’s there.. It was a bit like that this wedding dress shopping. Sentimental.

I would just like to say here that it’s true – there is such a thing as the Heathrow injection, though in my case, it was the Waterloo station injection… on top of those Krispy Kremes there was KFC, quiche, numerous bottles of wine, chocolates, so much bread, and cheese, delicious cheese, that I had missed all year... well except in France cheese eating capital... ok I'm a little obsessed with cheese.

Hmmm, what else of London, well there was the miserable weather, but I think I’ve covered that. There was the piercing wind… oh yes; there was the standing in line, in said weather and wind for hours at ticket booths around Piccadilly Circus hoping to get some cheap tickets to the circus… I mean theatre… well anything actually. But unfortunately unable to justify 37 pounds (cheapest ticket) on 2 hours entertainment, I gave up. I might regret it, but I hope not, anyway there was DVDs and Thai food to be had instead.

I went to the British Museum, and was reminded how annoyed I was last time I went to the British Museum that all this stuff is stolen from everywhere. No wonder the Greeks want their Pantheon back, no wonder the National Museums in Lebanon and Syria are so sparse. Grrr, for Queen and Empire my bum, for self glorification more like it. Especially depressing was the giant gate guardians to the Capital of the Assyrian Empire, one entire piece of Granite carved into a benevolent lion-man, 4 metres tall. Which having survived 2000 years and numerous hostile takeovers and extreme weather conditions and finally it was the British who decided it was a good idea to chop it into pieces to be brought to the motherland. Well, they say, it weighed 8 tonnes… there’s a reason it weighed 8 tons, so you couldn’t move it!

So that was my little whinge of the day and I should have gone to the Tate Modern instead so I could whinge about all the things they try and pass off as art these days.

Ah, so I was at Euston station, and waiting to catch the train to Oxenholme, Lakes District. When I see two disturbing things:
1) Small terrier type dog dressed in a pink sweater and doted on by it’s parents, woman and man, who even had a pram and stuff for this dog. It was highly disturbing.

2) Small terrier type of woman taking surveys on England’s rail system. It was also highly disturbing, because I always get asked to fill in surveys; they obviously don’t ever have enough of the young blond woman demographic.

This woman, ever so thoughtfully, has even graced Canberra with her presence. Most disturbingly the conversation, forced upon me after the rail survey introduction went like this:
Old survey woman: "Can you tell, I’m actually 71?!?!"
Me: (ok, act surprised, she doesn’t need to know you thought she was 90, had lost her mind and should be feeding the pigeons)… "Oh really great…"
OSW: "Yes it’s the sea kelp, keeps my hair blond"
Me: (ok, no need to tell her hair is definitely white, and also that she is spitting on your eyelids, mouth and cheeks with her sea-kelpy breath) … "oh really…"
OSW: "Yes, and it’s especially good if you dye your hair"
Me: I don’t die my hair"
OSW: "Oh good, y’know I’m doing this to help me daughter!"
Me: (where’s your daughter, why doesn’t she come and take you away and stop you from bothering innocent passengers as they try and make their way to small towns named after cattle or something like that?!) oh really…
OSW: "Yes, she calls me her number one invester, if you don’t give money to your children, then what do you spend it on, I mean I used to give it to the hungry African children, but what good is that?? I mean it’s been going on 20 years now!! And all this AIDS stuff, let me tell you I saw that coming, I keep telling my daughter this is what happens if you sleep around, and if those guys are with someone other than their wives, well what do you expect?!
Me: (Oh dear god, please beam me up Scottie right now! I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re an old loon, the people in Africa have been poorer a lot longer than 20 years, and the whole world saw aids coming, because without education or health care there’s not a lot you can do to stop it spreading really?!?! Oh and you really don’t need to share with me the fact that your daughter is a loose woman) ... so naturally what I said was… "hhmmmm"
OSW: "Yes, I know, that’s why I never took the pill when I was younger"
Me: (Was it invented when you were pre-menopausal?) "hmmmmm"
OSW: Yes, I thought, we don’t know what this is doing to our kids?! I mean look at all these women in their 30s having fertility problems – they don’t have fertility problems in poor countries!?
Me: (No, but they have AIDS, right. Or is it something to do with the fact that they’re married at 14, and having babies the next year, and women in the first world aren’t trying to even have kids until they’re 35).. "right yeah"…
OSW: something about the labour government being in debt… blah blah blah
Me: "ok, well, thanks, right, ok, bye"
OSW: "have a safe trip back to Canberra?!?!"
Me: (I’m going to Oxenholme… unless there’s some sort of transcontinental, submarine train Australia now!) Thanks, bye, good luck.

Did I mention I was in Paris?

Versailles was amazing. Well the castle there, I guess I didn’t see the city at all, but you know what I mean. I enjoyed it so much, it was so freezing, and the wind when I went outside almost killed me. It was how I remember it (or how the video we’d recently watched at home reminded me of it). The only disappointment was that the Hall of Mirrors was only half open for repairs. Oh and my shoes, which coupled with my multicoloured toe socks got quite a few stares as I gingerly stepped from individual cobblestone to individual cobble stone, or piece of gravel.

Anyway, all that opulence before lunch was really trying, so at about 3 I gave up and decided to head back to the station.
Weak! I’m so weak! I passed MacDonalds on the way and actually went in – justification:
1) the toilets there are free
2) and usually clean
3) I was starving
4) I got to try the French equivalent of McOz which was basically soft cheese, mayonnaise, and beef... how bad for you is that!

I know that’s not really true to traveling form, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Right?
So that evening I went back to Paris, and the hotel and had baguette, salami, and more cheese.

It’s France, and thus my diet was becoming cheese based.

So the next day I was completely able to devote myself to the Louvre, it was Friday – so it was open late – and I had the whole day. Of course it was the first sunny day in Paris. Good planning by me. Anyway I got to the Louvre about 10am and didn’t leave until 6.15pm. I loved it, and the audio-guide and I had a great day. I still only saw about a quarter of what the museum had to offer.

Afterwards I decided to go in search of a traditional French restaurant to try some well, traditional French food. I wondered around for a while and found a cosy little place with fondue etc. It seemed nice enough, no one spoke English and there was no English menu so I thought, ok, that’s pretty damn traditional.

So I ordered from the set menu and chose the ‘mixed’ main. Which I imagined was a mix of things to put in fondue, like meats, bread etc. Well I was right, except that it was raw meat and I had to melt the cheese myself. I found this all rather hilarious and started laughing (I must have looked super freaky sitting in a restaurant by myself laughing at the raw meat) and trying to cook it. So the waiter came to explain and this made me more hysterical as I tried to explain that I didn’t know what I was doing. Luckily the waiter was born Algerian and I could revert to Arabic and explain better.

So I cooked my strips of raw meat and melted my cheese ate my pickles and mayonnaise, got my chocolate mousse, which was the must delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in extreme chocolate flavour. I could only eat about a quarter (I’ve got to stop doing things by quarters!)
Where are we up to? Saturday the 11th. I got up and hadn’t decided exactly what to do, it was my last whole day in Paris and I still hadn’t revisited the Eiffel Tower, Arc du Triumph, Musee d’Orsay and so much more. Upon leaving the hotel my mind was made up it was absolutely freezing. So cold and windy that I couldn’t consider not being inside, let alone 300 metres up a metal structure being blown around. Ergh.

So Musee d’Orsay it was. Obviously the whole of Paris thought this was the best idea, as the queue was enormous and involved standing an hour in said freezing weather. Once I was in the queue though I thought it was worth it, and remained. I only managed a 5 hour date with the audio-guide this time, and yes I’m a nerd.

‘Twas an early night of MTV and packing for me because a demain I was off to London to visit Kristen and Mike!

oo iiiieeettttttt'ssss so nice pariiiieeeeeeee

Written on March 13, for much eariler... oh I'm trop trop behind...

OOooooo I’ve been bad, it’s been like 5 days since I last wrote and that’s means you forget details about things that happened like where I was and what was I doing but I’ll try and be remember…. (imagine one of those going back in time bubbles from quality shows like ‘saved by the bell’ and ‘married with children’)…

Wednesday the 8th, we got up and with the help of Halim got the luggage down the stairs – why do none of these apartments have lifts? Surely that is just not normal, or maybe I am particularly lazy. Either way, with Halim’s “I know where that street is” confidence we headed for the Abriocotel near Jaurés metro stop. Yes… I think in the end we only had to ask about 5 people how to get there so that wasn’t too bad, but Halim almost missed his train to the North of France (where his family is), so I left Halim again at Gare du Nord where he assured me if I visited again in 5 years time he would be a successful hermit with chronic back problems from being hunched over his computer… Sorbonne Academics obviously not famous for their positive outlook on life.

I’d planned to head to the Louvre that day, but as it was already late morning and I wanted at least a whole day to explore that treasure I went instead to Notre Dame. Which was as majestic and as grand as ever, and quieted my traveling soul. I even went back later to attend mass, even though it was all in French and I couldn’t understand or respond it was a nice feeling to be worshipping on the site where other people had sent their prayers for the last 1700 years.

and now for something completely different...

Ah Gypsies, the Europeans are so incredibly prejudiced against them, and as I was accosted as I left the Cathedral I tried to remind myself of Bromwell High’s approach to Gypsies culture on (in)tolerance day (I don’t mind if only one person reading this gets my reference but it was too funny, I think I may have laughed out loud as I walked away.

I went to the left bank where I found a Greek place selling yurus (spelling anyone?) (Kaitlyn - I’m thinking of you with all these meats on sticks, at every opportunity meat on stick will be had!!!)… it was cool with Greek taverna style décor and loud Greek music – hopefully a precursor of what the summer will bring. And while I was eating the gypsies came and hassled the guy working there for free food, and he literally shooed them away, with words I would translate as “bah, lousy thieving gypsies bah”. So entertaining was this place I settled in to write some postcards (yet to be posted).

Now this is where the act that I’m writing this almost a week later becomes annoying, I can’t remember what I did for the rest of the afternoon. I may have had a nap, so yes, let’s say I did that and then went to find an internet café. Where I got totally lost you will not believe how close this place was to the hotel, but one wrong turn on my way outta there and, wow, I was two metro stops away, freezing and wondering how the hell I got there. Anyway I found a supermarket bought a bottle of water and 2 apples and turned to opposite direction to walk back where I cam from, this way I found the closest metro, and thus my hotel again, and only about 2 hours after I left the internet café. Great!

So muchly freezing and quite starving (I think it was about 9.30 pm) I headed out again for some food, this time only straying as far as a bout 50 metres down the road for some yakitori at the Japanese restaurant nearby (yay for meats on sticks again!!). It was delicious food and warming, and despite the fact that I left the restaurant smelling like a tobacconist (see they ask me if I want smoking or non-smoking, and I say oui, pas fumer, and then because everyone else in the restaurant is a chimney it’s impossible to avoid le smoke haze, and therefore lung cancer and stink) but it was a very satisfying meal.

Right now, I am thinking rather smugly to myself that I managed to write more than 700 words about absolutely nothing, hooray.

So what next? Ah the 9th… here I was thinking if it’s sunny today I’ll go to Versailles, and if it’s cloudy/raining I’ll go to the Louvre. Alas there was sun and possible storm clouds so I took my chances with Versailles. Not the best plan I ever had, but hey, it was no where near as bad as the decision to wear my high-heel shoes. Ah, the cobblestones and gravel leading up to the castle never looked so daunting...

Paris... Paris...

I wrote this on March 7... read the 'more of Tokyo' post first if you're cronological...

Is it wrong that 2 days later I am still exhausted from that flight? Ergh, Paris is absolutely freezing – freezing I say, but I guess that's beside the point. If I'm talking about the weather that's got to be an indication of how little I've done since I got here right?

Halim picked me up from the airport, and we dumped my stuff at his place before heading out for some Indian food. Apparently this was a really bad idea because despite my incredible tiredness (I had been awake for about 30 hours after 4 hours sleep) I could not sleep! That korma was sure not Ramas! That may be too much information. hm. I think it was about 4 am Paris time before I got some sleep.

So needless to say I spent the next day (March 6 if you're counting) pretty much lazing around. In the evening I somehow mustered enough energy to go out. We got some sherwrma, (if in Little-Middle-East in Paris the sherwrma doesn't compare to the real Middle East then I dunno where it would, honestly, must have something to do with the fumes in the air, or something, ah oil residue makes the perfect kebab), yes there ain't nothing like a genuine, bonefide, Middle Eastern kebab. Ok enough day dreaming... it’s definitely dinner time here.

Anyway we headed out via the electronics store for an adapter (why do I feel like I've spent more time in electronics stores than ever before?!) to Montmartre (and why do I have no idea how that is spelt!?) to check out the view, and look at how the other half live (in some amazing apartments on top of the hill).

Then it was down the hill again, to walk through the red light district to the Moulin Rouge. (ha ha auto spell check changed it to Moulin Rogue – ha ha Rogue Windmill watch out!). I took obligatory photos and walked back in the freezing night air to the apartment to eat pasta and do nothing.

Today was also a nothing day the weather was so awful, I only managed to leave for long enough to return the adapter that I had bought yesterday – and which obviously didn't work –do you know how long it takes to exchange something in France, well, I'm going to blame the fact that it was France and not that fact that we didn't cover "returning useless electrical appliances" in French101.

Tomorrow I'm leaving the apartment for a hotel, and hopefully now my strength is returning, some sort of semblance of a regular day-schedule thing (if packing and jet-lag could be eliminated the world would be a better place).

Keep you posted!! I've got some nice touristry adventures to share from Notre Dame, Versaille and so on!

Love you, miss you!!
Xoxooxoooxoxox
Ingrid

More of Tokyo... sorry it's behind schedule... keeps you wanting more!

This is from 5 March 2005 - I wrote this on the plane...

Well I have a few days to catch up on apparently... do you know how hard is to type crammed into cattle class on a 12 hour flight from Tokyo to Paris – hard I tells ya! And to top things off there's no movies on! Well they're all in Japanese and French except one about Golf, errrgghhhhh I hate golf. But enough about hitting small balls with sticks into holes hundreds of metres away.

Day three was a charm, I somehow managed to get to Hamamatsucho Station by 8.45 in the morning rush hour – now that was a joy, being crammed in and the pusher-man yelling at you to squish more (you presume) even though your cheek is up against the pole, your right hand is desperately clutching your handbag and your left hand is in someone else's pocket... at least you hope. Somehow I made it and in Japanese efficiency we we're all on the bus and ready for our departure at 9 am. I was sitting next to a French man, Dominic, who had spent the last 5 years working in New Caledonia (ouch, what a chore) and opposite to a crazy guy, called Antony, (wacky English professor) and his lovely Swiss wife, Denise.

Once we were all introduced we could enjoy the fine weather and beautiful scenery to Mt Fuji.
On the way we glimpsed the mountain through the window, and I took a, somewhat, blurry photo. It saddens me now that this was the clearest we'd actually see it all day, damnit, why didn't I clamour over the crazy English and lovely Swiss to get a better picture... oh well, I wouldn't say that it was a totally bad thing anyway, because as the road up the mountain was closed (due to snow) we could only go to the fifth station instead of the first, and so we got to go to a lovely shrine in Hakone instead.



I'm getting ahead of myself, yes there was snow, and from the Mt Fuji visitors centre we got our first glimpses of heavy grey cloud on the mountain top. But hey, they had hello kitty in the gift store. As we drove up the mountain we could see that we weren't going to be able to go all the way up. So basically we got up as far as the road would take us and stopped and looked at the snow and clouds. Interestingly, there was a stand selling ‘hotdogs’ which smelt something like I imagine eel with piss on a sugar bun smells like. Charming. I wasn't brave enough to try them, is that being unfaithful to the traveller spirit? Or merely minimising hospitalised time?

So we took the bus back down the hill to a major hotel where would have lunch, and also visit the museum and see the amusement park attached... ummm hello... our lunch was on the restaurant on the twelfth floor, where, I imagine, there would normally be nice views of Mt Fuji, but at least lunch was good and the skies opened up and let some of the snow that was obscuring our view fall.

After lunch we headed on the second part of the tour to Hakone (have you read this far well done to you!), where we got to see an extra. The extra was the Buddhist shrine, guarded by Shinto deities - an assimilation unique to Japan. It was beautiful, and apparently contains a portion of the Buddha's ashes which were presented by the Prime Minister of India when the shrine opened.

Hooray for boat cruise! There's nothing like 15 minutes on the water to make you feel completely exhausted, freezing and realising that it's 4 pm already and you've still got to go up the mountain (reading back it seems that 4 pm is definitely my flagging time). Lake Ashi really was beautiful, and it felt like something from the not too distant past when a traditional Japanese boat of gold and red sailed past.

We alighted at the cable car station to take the gondola up to the top of Mt. Komagatake. Where apparently you can get a good view of Mt Fuji (not today!) and Lake Ashi Below (terrifying – I do suffer from vertigo at such heights). AND to reward my pluck and courage, more snow storm at the top. I am actually not being sarcastic, I like it when it snows and the Julie Andrews inside me gets to sing “My Favourite Things” and the bit about the snowflakes on the eyelashes.
And this was really a Julie Andrews moment! There were hills, alive maybe, and definitely snowflakes on eyelashes.

So we were exhausted on the way back to Tokyo that night, and after spending another hour around Shinjuku station looking for the elusive Citibank ATM which supposedly (according to legend) takes foreign cards I went back to my hotel (just missed a call from mum too damnit!).
I almost forgot to mention – while I was looking for the ATM I found “INGRID” clothing store... I wanted to buy something just because it had my name tag already sewn in! But that would be for the wrong reasons... right?

Day four, 4 March 2006, was a pretty slow day for me, off to Harajuku. I checked out the Meiji shrine first. The deities enshrined are the former Emperor and Empress of Japan. They are deities very much revered by the Japanese people for their modernization of Japan in the late 19th Century. It was pretty, and remarkably enough I bumped into Dominic the French guy again – who would've thunk it huh?? In a city of 12 million!?!

It seems as I left the shrine and headed to Harajuki shopping precinct that the 12 million were in fact here and shopping for Prada. So I went down some side Alleys and pretty soon got lost, I still hadn't found any money changers, ATMs or people willing to hand me cash so I was lost, broke, and injured, did I mentioned injured – my knee was killing me, must have been all that trekking up the mountain on that cable car.

I found a grave-yard – hooray for signs of life! As I followed some dudes from the temple I realized more shops were appearing and I eventually found civilization again and the infamous Takeshita street ... So this is where Gwen Stefani was when she was inspired to sing about Harajuku girls. Well, basically I didn't see what the fuss is all about, or maybe that's because I was so used to Kuwaiti girls wearing wedding clothes to university that it all seemed a bit less than I expected. Only one girl was dressed like a French maid/bunny rabbit and another like Jack White/betty boop. Not crazy enough I say! At least I bought a hat, though looking back, it's probably a little bit more 50 cent than Sienna Miller, but who cares, I was in Harajuku, damnit! Word...

I was pretty tired, having tried local Japanese MacDonald's competitor (I had a shrimp burger, that was weird - the shrimp exploded from inside the patty, hmmm exploding shrimp) but I decided to face Ginza anyway. At Tokyo station I hobbled up the road 10 minutes to find the Sony Building, the rest of Ginza was un-extraordinary and usual shopping stuff. In the Sony building I was Aibo the robotic dog... he he Aibo, so much love you can't give.

I also tried to find somewhere to give me a manicure, but they were going to charge me $40 for the white and $40 for the pink on a French Manicure – oh and did you want nail care with that? That I'll be an extra $40... I think not.

So I went back, via Tobu, Ikebukuro, to get my dinner and go to the hotel room to repack and get an early night for Paris tomorrow. So here I am on the plane, after getting my luggage down to 26 kilos (I threw out one pair of socks - amazing – I'm convinced that Canberra airport has it in for me). My sore knee irritatingly squished into the seat in front of me (come on I'm not that tall) ready to face Paris, Le Train Grand Vitesse, and other wonders of France.
Xoxoxo
Ingrid

The beginning of the trip posts - Tokyo

Trip 2006…

2 March 2006

Where to begin, I’ve spent the whole year saving for this trip… and whining about working and being stuck in Canberra, so no one was more surprised than I about being upset to leave but I couldn’t help shedding a few tears… rather than justify it, I decided instead to just be in a bad mood until the plane took off from Sydney on route to Tokyo- Narita Airport.

Yes I was on the plane, (2nd plane, after 2nd bus)… only one more train, and one more taxi until I was safe and sound in my Tokyo hotel room. The trip really was a breeze… I didn’t even encounter the dreaded Tokyo train station’s stairs to lug my (overweight- damnit why can’t I pack light!) suitcase up… yes it was a breeze to Ikebukuro station.

Outside the Ikebukuro station (West Exit FYI) I found a taxi and decided to get in as it was pissing down and dark... and I’m no good a walking to hotels in cities I’ve never been lugging 30kgs of luggage + laptop+ handbag… ergh. Let’s be clear right here, I do not speak ANY Japanese… trip down 2 seconds down the road took about half an hour as the taxi driver and I wondered at the human capacity to communicate effectively without language, but hey, there’s always people to stop and ask for directions on the way.

The hotel seemed cute enough (yes, I do mean cute enough) and my room was teeny-weeny-tiny as I had understood Japanese hotel rooms to be. Believe it or not I had a window, shame really that the view was wall to wall heating vents from a building about half a metre away. All was not lost - there was a heater (Australian summer to 6 degrees not exactly great) – so I cranked it to 30. No, I’m not joking, 30 degrees Celsius. As it turned out this plan was lucky because my shower, I’m sure, wasn’t physically, possibly, meant to be working, the water was zero degrees, and truly the pipes should have been frozen. So I went to bed rather unclean.

Day two, 2 March 2006, started off rather promisingly with hot water and also a squashed apricot muesli bar from my purse, what more could a girl ask for! I decided that I need to take a trip to Electric city also known as Akihabara to purchase an adapter for all my charging needs (phone, batteries, laptop). Needless to say I left with a few extra things to support my increasing technology addiction (memory stick, optical mouse, headphones and the adapter) Japan is great for new-pretty-cute stuff (there was hello kitty and mini mouse memory sticks), but not that much cheaper than oz… unless you get some nice test products like I did, hooray for Japan as testing market.

Wondering around Electric city left me with quite an appetite so I decided to try some more of my obvious un-knowledge (yes that’s a word!) in Japanese language and culture by following some business men down stairs into a tiny traditional restaurant I felt so brave as the waitress asked me if I wanted a table for ichi (and I understood!) then she sat me down and let me stare bewilderedly at the menu for a whole 3 minutes before politely asking me if I’d like to see the English menu. Yes, I guess so… noodle with duck meat, as delicious and as messy as I’d hoped considering the bib they’d provided.

Is it wrong at this point to mention that I hope there’s an earthquake while I’m here. Just a little one of course, but it would be cool to experience it. This was my thought as I caught the train from electric city to Shinjuku. Shinjuku: land of business and just like CBDs around the world. I enjoyed finding my way to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building 1 to take advantage of the free view from the 45th floor. On my way wondering around looking bewildered at different coloured elevators I was accosted by a Tokyo public servant himself! Wearing his official name tag (did I mention I don’t read Japanese either) he asked me to fill out a form. Luckily enough the form was about how helpful Tokyo’s tourism facilities etc are, I felt that my 18 hours in the city truly qualified me to answer this questionnaire (including about my favourite transport – why the Narita Express of course!). Anyway for my trouble I got a Tokyo pin, 400th anniversairy of Tokyo, who knew?

I went to the top of the building to check out the views, there I saw Shinjuku Central Park below (and decided I would definitely not go there) and quite a few other skyscrapers. I was pretty glad to get a full-round picture of Tokyo and check out what was going on.

I was getting tired and passed ‘Piss Alley’ on my way back to the station to return to Ikebukuro. I thought ‘there’s no time like the present’ and decided to check out the two biggest department stores in the world at once (they’re right outside, above, and below Ikebukuro Station). It’s really amazing the ways you can tell that you finally getting old, I mean there are wrinkles, and then there’s just not being able to face 10 stories of shopping at 4 o’ clock in the afternoon. I had the obligatory look at some ladies fashion before heading down to Tobu’s food floors.

There’s so much delicious stuff I can’t believe it, of course not a fruit or vegetable in sight. As I wonder through French pastries and such I can’t help but being attracted to the sushi. Hooray for fish-eggs wrapped in rice and seaweed, I get a couple and head back to the hotel for an early night to face my tour of Mt. Fuji – Hakone tomorrow.

Thanks for reading soooo far!!!

... so when I get my laptop charged you can hear all abou that too... 'cos at the moment I'm writing these posts like word docs and then putting them on my memory stick to upload them when I'm connected to le internet!

xoxoxoox Ingrid