It’s time to stop hating on London

Yeah rent here is super crazy expensive. So is public transport and generally everything else you may want to buy. The tube is full of angry people with bad BO and at the end of that day you’re spending more than a fiver on a 2/3 pint (its not even a full pint) with mates while it rains outside. But you’re still here, right?

So what’s keeping you in London? It’s not just vacant memories of the great London which existed once upon a time. This constant fight against the man is being fuelled by something more.

Firstly, I don’t think most of us truly believe we’ll be here forever. This is especially true for those of us who aren’t born and raised Londoners. We can’t be this poor for too long. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to be 45 and still have housemates. So we’re – excuse the upcoming cheesy line – living in the moment. Who cares about long-term savings, mortgages and what not? I don’t even know what else to put on this list – it’s all too far beyond my life right now.

We may as well spent our weekly budget on a festival in the park while we still have some decent weather. Or stop by one of the many East London food markets within run-down industrial spaces and chow down on tacos which look like works of art while sipping on cocktails from carved-out watermelons (StreetFeast in Ralston). To me, that is glorious.

And let’s just leave central London for tourists and the elite. They can have their high-end retail stores, £50-entry clubs and couture haircuts. Just give me some cheap vintage clothes from Brick Lane Market, a local pub filled with people dancing on tables to T-Swift and my Turkish barber down the road who only charges a tenner. That’s more than enough for me. And if I feel like spoiling myself, I might just pop down to Columbia Road Market for some cheap flowers while being entertained by the big burly men screaming out deals for pretty lilies and orchids. They get me every time.

I may work in a bar all day or all night – sometimes both – but it’s worth it. Plus it’s not hard to find another fellow Londoner who wants to vent about their daily struggles. We’re all brought together by the fight. We find joy in the small things and in each other. We think we’re tough while cosying up to one another on a cold winter’s night watching Bridget Jones’ Diary for the millionth time. Now that ain’t too bad.

But back to the job market. Many of us might be working a lot for very little but the possibilities for greatness are everywhere. London is a hub for so many industries which allow us to try out so many new and exciting fields. Employers are always looking to hire those from different areas with a plethora of experiences. They want the personality and the determination. They can train the rest.

This is rare. Not many other cities offer so many possibilities. Think of London as your own experiment in life. Dip your feet into a few pools, either professionally or just for shits and gigs. You’ll work at it for a long time and might even make it into the elite but failure is inevitable. And that’s ok. Just keep trudging on. If you’ve got what it takes, you’ll get there in the end. London will reward you – but yes it will also throw a few punches along the way.

And when or if the time comes for me to leave, to slow down the pace and settle down, I won’t regret my move to London. I survived the big bad city. And I take pride in that. So bitch about the city all you like – just don’t hate on it so much that you miss out on everything else it’s offering.

My Eurovision shenanigans in London

Having time off between hospitality jobs, I decided do a Parks and Rec styled ‘Treat Yoself’ week and live in luxury (at least whatever luxury my pitiful paycheques would afford me). I slept in till 10:30 every day, watched endless amounts of Buffy on Netflix, soaked up the sun on London rooftops and ate so much delicious food.

I spent most of this week by myself, simply enjoying my Andytime, but this was all inevitably going to reach a climax with some good old fashioned Eurovision shenanigans alongside friends and a bunch of strangers.

So with some Eurotrash music on in the house and a heap of delicious Broadway Market food sprawled out on the kitchen table, I got myself prepared for the night ahead. And as every Eurovision party should be a dress-up party, I began to put myself together.

Donning my lederhosen I bought for Oktoberfest in Munich last year and a cool red cap turned to the side like some 90’s white rapper, I thought I looked schmick. I called my look ‘Traditional German Rapper’ and attempted to bust some German rhymes around the house (thankfully I was alone for this disgraceful display).

This foolishness ended once my friend joined me for a few drinks and soon we finally mustered the courage to leave the house in our costumes (she was wearing a red wig, tiara and fur vest over some regular clothes but I was expecting more elaborate costumes to be at the party). We Ubered around the corner to the Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club and got ourselves pumped up, ready for some silliness.

Getting out of the Uber, I was immediately faced with a line of hipsters who were too cool to wear anything but their black ripped jeans and corduroy shirts. The most dressed-up people I saw had merely smeared some glitter on their cheeks. Why am I wearing a lederhosen?!?!

I should have known Brits don’t do this. Too proper and this crowd is definitely not gay enough for this to be ok. Whatever, they are the ones who didn’t dress up for a Eurovision party. They are the fools even if they clearly think otherwise. So my friend and I ignored the judging looks and giggles and strutted, yes strutted, to the bar. Cider! I need Cider! Or Beer! Just Booze me up!

I soon forgot how I was the odd one out in this large crowd (oh how this is not such an unusual occurrence for me). I took a deep breath and a big swig of my Bulmers and prepared myself for Conchita (At least she’d appreciate my efforts, right?).

As the show began on the two large projectors, I could see how perfect the venue was. An old dirty pub, with that typical bar/club sticky smell which seeps into all your clothes was decked out with European (and Aussie) flags and a stage right up the front.

Out stepped the hosts, one 30 something year old guy who had so much fake tan on it looked as if he’d tried to, well you know, be very racist. He was trying just that bit too hard to be funny but as the night went on, his tragic failings at Terry Wogan sarcasm were entertaining in itself. The other host was a curvy blonde lass in a tight sequin dress which made her look a bit like a drag queen – so this was perfect. Unfortunately, she barely spoke and just stood there watching the show with a microphone in her hand. But their presence wasn’t necessary. What was on the screen was more than enough.

   Conchita was flying through the air, three necessarily stunning hosts were saying something I couldn’t hear over the crowd and then all the fun began. Well I must admit it was a slow start with Slovenia being a bit meh and France being absolutely dreadful. But the Israeli boy band’s performance created uproarious love and dancing. And so the party was finally started. The buzz built from there. It peaked again and again with Serbia’s super Eurovisiony song with back-up dancers wearing all white with masks, wind machines, dorky characters and an amazing costume change which came out of nowhere. YES!! This is why we love Eurovision!

The beautiful Swedish performer came up later and showed who all the gays were in the bar as (I kept an eye out) as he sang his cheesy song to the gushing Austrian crowd. And then Australia joined in on the fun and Mr. Sebastian kicked some butt. The song perfectly fit into the Eurovision world as the whole crowd found itself singing along right from the get go. Woop woop.

The rest of the performances are a bit of a haze as I had been drinking copious amounts of booze and was sweating like crazy in the cramped hot space. But once they finished, the DJ took over as we all swayed and danced along to ABBA, Kylie and Mariah while the people of Europe voted. Now even more perspiration ensued as I realised how difficult it was to dance in a lederhosen. There was surprisingly more energy input required to pull off my… ‘moves’.

But the counting soon began and I found myself cuddling up to a cute Belgian boy. Australia and Belgium were neck and neck for 4^th and 5^th position so we had some strange flirtatious rivalry going on. The entire room booed every time Russia got points and, as it was clear Sweden was our only hope of stopping Russia, we all became his biggest fans. I screamed, jumped up and down and hugged the cute Belgian boy right up until Sweden finally came out on top.

Belgian beat Australia by a few points so I conceded defeat. I kissed the pretty boy, well made out a little, and then got into full-on crazy Andy dance mode. My friend left as she was tired and I had been a bad friend, neglecting her for the boy. But I was a bit too drunk to feel bad.

I don’t know how it happened but I then befriended two German and one British girl on the dancefloor. They were so much fun!! The five of us danced and danced for hours as the music was just so good. Could sing along to everything.

But I realised how I was so not sexy at this point. I was the only one dressed up and sweat was streming out of my pores. I feared I smelt horribly so didn’t get too close to the Belgian boy. I stopped drinking and routinely went to the bathroom to drink from the water bason (totally not classy). At one point I got so desperate that I rubbed hand wash into my armpits to stop myself from smelling. And to my surprise this actually worked. I was smelling as fresh as rainforest – at least that’s what the soap container told me.

With this new-found confidence I continued to dance until the early morning. By about 3am we had much more space to do our thing but were also exhausted. We unanimously decided to exchange numbers and go our separate ways (planning to go out together on Thursday). I soon found myself wandering around Hackney getting lost while desperately searching for home and my beautiful, beautiful bed. Finally, I asked some people (who were on something) for directions. While wait for one guy to look up my address, I hugged his girlfriend on the side of the street until they showed me where I was – home was literally around the corner and I was sitting in front of my local Sainsbury’s – FOOL!!

Anyway, I got home, drank a litre of water and fell asleep in my lederhosen. This was a great way to end my week of fun. Now to sleep in tomorrow and stay in bed watching Buffy all day. Life is good.

Netil360 – The place to be in London this summer

Netil360 reopened just 2 weeks ago by London Fields but I’ve already heard great things from so many sources. My hipster housemate had a boozy day in the sun here last weekend (she’s the first to try everything) and a cute Spanish boy told me about it on Tinder (yes we will be coming here on a date soon). Word is spreading fast and it won’t be long before all these deck chairs are taken up by gin and juice sipping East Londoners.

But prepare yourselves for the journey up to the rooftop. I’m not one for exercise (let me emphasise this – I oppose all forms of exercise) but this 5 floor climb is definitely worth the perspiration. I immediately ran towards my second coffee of the day but struggled to make my order. Heavily panting, I basically just yelled out ‘Latte!’ between deep breaths but there was no judgement here. And like most East London venues, all the staff are suspiciously attractive. So first impressions were already pretty good.

Now, despite being a bit of a Melbourne coffee snob, their Climpson and Son’s coffee was a delight. Not burnt, decent latte art and nice and hot.

After taking my first sip of coffee and catching my breath, I set myself up in the sun, perched on a cushion listening to some laid back music and sank into instant comfort. I got my tan on and stared off into the distance.

So this brings me to the views! Definitely the selling point here. You start with the overground at your feet, with your gaze slowly moving up towards the Regent’s Canal where the imposing out-of-use gas storage structure stands. You’ve got the gentrifying industrial landscape at your feet and the metropolitan cityscape in the distance. All of which is just basking in the London sun.

That’ll do London, that’ll do.

But turn around and look at the space. It huge. Enormous even. Such a rarity for London rooftops. You’ve got big comfy hammocks (perfect for drunken snuggles), deck chairs sprawled out in the open and in the shade with pillows scattered about the AstroTurf laid floor. Then you’ve got two big barn-looking spaces for studying where, on weekdays, most people are hanging out doing their work. And to top it all off you’ve got your disco ball and light bulbs dotted about showing how this space is also destined for some amazing night time gatherings this summer.

But as they’re in their formative stages, the food and drinks menu is quite sparse. They’ve got good coffee, simple but fresh salads and some little desserts. Booze comes in the form of Estrella and Magners in a can, basic spirits and jugs of Pimms. But that’s all you need for a summer hang out. It’s not too pricey and it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Netil360 knows it’s the place to be. They’re just waiting for everyone else to join in the discovery.

Open from 10:00 AM on weekdays and from 12:00 PM on weekends. At 1 Westgate Street, Hackney, E8 3RL. Jump on the band wagon fast and start your summer now!

The never ending Danish Christmas – Part 2

Christmas Day + 2

Wake up around 11:30 – no need for breakfast – another feast awaits me today.

Today’s meal comes from my cousin’s family friends (I think I’ve already seen just about every loosely related Danish relative I have over here). But before I could enjoy the meal, I had to overcome one of my newly found fears… bikes. I had recently visited Amsterdam and was terrified by the cycling gangs which roamed the streets (ok I may be over exaggerating here). Link to Amsterdam blog

It had also been about 5 years since I had last been on a bike so this was going to be interesting. Still, the novelty of riding a bike through the snow in Copenhagen and my determination to conquer this fear helped me get through.

At first everything was easy, be it a bit cold, as we rode through the park and town to get to the house. But as the traffic grew and the streets got icier, my lack of riding skills became ever so clear. We stopped at some street lights and waited for our green light. Once we could go, I attempted to mount the bike but failed abysmally. My cousin had already crossed the road and was laughing uncontrollably at me. I then began to laugh hysterically at myself which just made the whole thing much more difficult. I fell off the bike over and over again and just as I was ready to go, the light turned red so I backed myself up and waited for my second attempt. I had received strange looks from the other cyclists, car drivers and even the old lady walking her dog through the snow. I’m such a bike novice.

But somehow we arrived at the quaint little house unscathed (well my ego may have been somewhat bruised).

I took part in yet another 5 course meal which lasted the entire day as we drank even more schnapps. I was surrounded by one of the sweetest families. I wasn’t even related to them but they still treated me as one of their own. We spoke about life, love and politics (getting into deeper topics as we downed more and more schnapps). It was also during this evening when I was told ‘only to drink schnapps when you’re happy’ otherwise the consequences can be disastrous. Fortunately, I was in a constant state of bliss (unless I was cycling) while in Denmark so had nothing to worry about.

As the evening was winding down I found myself diverting all energy towards digesting my food and keeping some form of dignity in this drunk state of mind. But, inevitably, I had to pull myself up off of the couch, put all my layers of clothes back on and psych myself up for the cycle through the snow.

Surprisingly, I was quite the pro as I cycled home (this just means that I didn’t fall off and embarrass myself too much). The freezing cold air outside had woken me up and sobered me up as well. After arriving home, I stumbled back to the couch, watched more Parks and Rec and then fell asleep in a state of bliss J

Day off

I took this day off from the festive feasts to explore the city of Copenhagen and be a bit of a tourist. Couldn’t visit this place without wandering around the city centre.

After sleeping in, I checked all the details for the next part of my trip (off to Sweden for New Years with some mates) but soon realised that I had booked my flight to Stockholm instead of the small town of Umea where my friend lived. After feverishly booking another flight, (thank god it was cheap) I made my way to the metro and easily found myself standing in the centre of Copenhagen.

I had been here before with my parents and sisters about 6 years ago but still wanted to explore the city. I walked down the famous Nyhavn canal and around the harbour to see the statue of the Little Mermaid. It was surrounded by tourists but I still managed to get a sneaky photo and walk on. I quite liked how the industrial buildings sat behind the Little Mermaid. I saw it as a nice juxtaposition between fairy-tale and reality but I may just be reading into this too much.

I also got great views of the early sunset from the city’s old fortress looking out over the old city houses and churches. Twas picturesque.

I then spent an hour or two in a cosy little café called ‘mormors’ (grandma’s) reading, writing and eating. I had a delicious hot chocolate with whipped cream on top and 2 big scones (this is all I needed to eat today as my body was still recovering from the masses of food I had inhaled over the past few days). I then wandered around more of the city, revelling in all the Christmas lights which adorned every building (I loooove Christmas lights so this was perfect). I walked down the main shopping street and watched a few buskers do their thing while hopping into the occasional retail store to take advantage of the free heating.

I ended up at Tivoli gardens and took a few happy snaps with the statue of Hans Christian Anderson (I had done this 6 years ago with my family so it was mostly for nostalgic purposes). This relaxing day in Copenhagen was just what I needed as the next day going to be full of booze and food… again.

    

Christmas Day + 4

My last full day in Copenhagen was most definitely my biggest. But I dint know this yet.

I woke up and made myself all pretty before heading out to another Christmas lunch. This time it was with all my cousin’s friends and their kids who collectively owned a summer house in Sweden. This bunch of Danes were perhaps the rowdiest and most quirky bunch of people I had met over here.

The food was themed ‘Swedish’ although I couldn’t really tell the difference between this food and that which I had been eating all week. Nonetheless, it was delicious. There was more beer and even more schnapps so I knew this would probably get messy.

There were about 20 people in the house, half adults and half kids (Was great to have some more people my age to hang out with at this point too). ‘Skol’ (cheers) was shouted out so frequently that I felt as if I was constantly sculling schnapps and beer.

It became very apparent just how great a festive mood everyone was in once the singing started (yes, there was singing). Two or three guitars popped up out of nowhere and everyone started to sing Beatles hits alongside Danish pop and rock songs. And they even took up my request to hear the Danish national anthem. They rose to their feet and drunkenly shouted out the song while swinging to and fro in one anothers arms. It was a surreal moment. They even asked me to sing an aussie song and all I could think of was ‘You’re the Voice’ by John Farnham. By some stroke of luck, they all knew it, so we chanted that classic anthem together (of course, all out of tune) and they helped me feel at home.

The night went on much in this fashion until us kids decided to head towards the city for more drinks and dancing without the oldies. We grabbed some beers for the road and made our way out. We started at a small bar which was pretty empty but had a good chat and quickly downed a pint of beer before moving on (I was already struggling to drink any more alcohol by this point of the night).

Next stop was a small bar full of locals spending their Tuesday night getting schwasted. Jager Bombs happened to be the equivalent of one pound each so the guys I was with bought 10 at a time (there were only 4 of us) and lucky me always received one of the extras. I was on Struggle Street by this point. We had 2 or 3 rounds of jager bombs (I can’t remember many details) and some beer to wash it all down before moving on.

The last place we got to was a great bar/ club. There was pop music you could sing and dance to and the drinks kept flowing. Unfortunately, I was completely smashed by this point so could only dance to about 4 songs before the alcohol took over any sense of control I may have had at this point. I’m not sure if I said goodbye to anyone, but I stumbled past the cloakroom, collecting my coat and scarf and then wandered down the streets of Copenhagen, letting my feet lead the way.

I was too drunk to get into a moving car at this point and knew I’d pass out if I sat down so I just continued to stumble around looking for a kebab shop or some other form of fast food proprietor. I was unsuccessful. How can there be no kebab shop?! Damn you Copenhagen.

So I had a tactical vom in a park and hailed a cab. I basically threw my phone at the cab driver, asking him to take me to the address my cousin had put in my phone earlier that evening. In what seemed like just a few seconds, we arrived. I threw some money at the cabbie and made my way back up to the house and onto the couch. I even got changed into my PJ’s (now that’s a bonus).

I have no idea what time it was when I got to sleep but I had to wake up nice and early to catch my flight to Sweden the next day. Tomorrow will not be a good day… oh well, I guess that’s just future Andy’s problem.

The never ending Danish Christmas – Part 1

All I wanted for Christmas was to be surrounded by family (no matter how distant the relatives were) and to see snow. But I got so much more than this.

I left London and arrived in the cold and windy Copenhagen on the night of the 23^rd of December. I was super excited to experience a Danish Christmas but was also slightly apprehensive about spending the festive season away from my family back in Australia. I had only met these relatives once, 6 years ago, and didn’t know what to expect.

But all those negative feelings left my body as soon as I gave my cousin a big warm hug at the airport. We spoke about life and other random things during the 45 minute drive to the small town of Ringsted where most of the family lived. I then met my grandmother’s brother-in-law (yes the relations are confusing – most of the time I was not sure how I was related to everyone) and more hugs were shared. After an hour or so of more catching up, I retreated to bed and prepared myself for the proper meeting of the family tomorrow.

Christmas Eve

The 24^th of December is when most Scandinavians celebrate Christmas so I was thrown right into the thick of it. I went from house to house, eating, drinking, sharing presents and getting to know everyone properly.

We started with a simple Danish breakfast in the morning with bread, cheeses and an assortment of juices as we prepared our stomachs for the enormous dinner which was yet to come. The big feast that night consisted of 4 different roasts, a huge amount of potatoes and some red cabbage on the side. Perhaps a salad or some other veges would have been nice but that’s just not how the Danes do it. No fussing about. No wasting time or precious space in ones stomach with lettuce and beans.

I brought 3 bottles of wine from London and they went fast. We then moved onto the beer and schnapps which were a lethal combination. We had all gotten well and truly drunk and it was only 6:00 PM (ok maybe I was the only one who couldn’t hold their schnapps).

We eventually moved onto dessert which was a traditional rice pudding (doesn’t look quite that appetising in this picture) which all Danes eat on Christmas. To make it even better, they would put a whole almond in the mix and the one who got it would get an extra Christmas present. But I was too impatient to slowly chew my food and sort through the pudding so I just inhaled it all. I think I even ate the almond but was too afraid to admit it. In the end, no one found the almond so they just gave the present to me (the foreigner). I got a lolly jar, full of lollies. Winning!

Danish Christmas carols were next and I was in no state of mind to sing in this oh so difficult language. Nonetheless, I persisted and made a right fool of myself. Thank god my family are a loud, unashamed bunch of misfits who just laughed throughout and sang out of tune. This had already been such a unique and fun Christmas.

After more and more merriment, the few of us who didn’t have children and such made our way into to town to drink and dance at one of the local bars. I had never been out during Christmas celebrations back in Aus but I was more than happy to keep changing things up.

Before I could even take everything in, I had a beer shoved into my hand and we were all drinking the night away. The place smelt like every bar does, of sweat, smoke and dirt (mmm home sweet home). I was introduced to the family friends and other more distant relatives, each of whom bought me a shot of schnapps. Now it would just be rude of me to turn down such an offer so I took each shot in hand, yelled out ‘SKOL’ (cheers) and moved on to the next greeting.

While the rest of the night is somewhat of a blur, I do distinctly remember my 70 something year old relative ripping up the dancefloor with his stellar moves. The man is so fit and can handle is alcohol like a pro. He was the spriteliest out of all of us and loved a good boogie. We spent the next few hours dancing to Western pop music and Danish hits which I pretended to know and sing along to (I thought I was a pro but was most likely butchering every song). The old man and I stumbled on home around 4:00AM, arms wrapped around one another until we reached the house and split off into our own rooms. I crashed in bed and fell asleep before I could even fully take off my pants. Clearly, the perfect end to my first day of Christmas celebrations here in Denmark.

Christmas Day

I woke up around midday with a killer hangover and made my way over to the window to open the blinds (sunlight will help me wake up). But low and behold… SNOW! It was the 25^th of December and the entire town of Ringsted was covered in a thin layer of pristinely white and glowing snow. All I could think was ‘I’M WINNING CHRISTMAS’. Unfortunately, this joy was quickly ripped away from me by my pounding headache and sore body.

I had a quick shower and face timed my family back home just as I had promised but was not looking my best. All my mum could do was laugh at me in this state. She knew all too well how schnapps always comes out on top but failed to warn me (cheers mum). My older sisters gave me the typical disappointed look but simultaneously revelled in my pain. I said hi to the rest of the family (anyone who was still awake in Melbourne) and then made my way out of my room to see how the old geezer was going.

I was a mess but he was just as happy and energetic as usual. He gave me a big smile and asked me how I was. How does he do it? How is he not hungover after last night?

Respect. Clearly the man is a true Dane.

While the 25^th is usually the big Christmas day for my family back home, this would be our recovery day. No big lunch held outside on the balcony in sun overlooking the beach like in Australia (My family sent me this picture to make me jealous and, I must admit, it kinda worked). Today the whole family spent the day collapsed on the couch with one another, slowly waking up and getting back to normal.

Of course we had copious amounts of food. There was herring, meatballs, roast pork, potatoes, salad, turkey and some other form of seafood. And of course it was all on delicious rye bread (everything is eaten in the form of an open sandwich).

The rest of the day was spent watching Disney clips on TV (a tradition for most Danes) with more eating and drinking (I took this day off from Schnapps – I would hang out with the little ones and drink soda). I then said my goodbyes to most of the family as they went back home in the evening to have an early sleep. Then a few of us stayed to watch Mama Mia and the 5^th Harry Potter.

This was not by any means similar to my family’s traditional Christmas but it was still pretty damn great! Plus it wasn’t over yet – tomorrow I go to Copenhagen to visit the other half of the family and partake in even more festive feasts. Bring it on!

Christmas Day + 1

I was lucky enough to be taken in by one of my other cousins (I think her dad and my grandmother were siblings…. But don’t quote me on that) who lived just outside of the Copenhagen’s city centre. She had always been seen as the cool older cousin as she didn’t live in the small town with the others, was more cultural and went out to trendy bars and restaurants.

Less than an hour after arriving at her place, I met even more relatives as I began to eat yet another mammoth Christmas lunch. We started with scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on rye bread (a different but surprisingly great combination), then had two different types of herring, some roast pork, a few bowls of potatoes, salad and every type of condiment you could think of.

Dessert with the customary rice pudding followed and, of course, schnapps and beer was served throughout the afternoon. After this 5 hour lunch, I found myself slowly falling into a food coma while trying to talk to more of the family.

By this time of the trip, I just assumed that every person I met was a family member and called them all ‘cousin’. Despite my terrible family tree skills, all of the Danes were welcoming and showered me with love and praise. I couldn’t be happier. I was surrounded by happy, friendly and somewhat intoxicated people. This is how all Christmas’s should be.
To top it all off, I had a quick run around outside in the snow, took the mandatory snowy selfie and then retreated back within the warm house.

Fortunately the night ended early as I spent the rest of it just chilling in front of the tele with copious amounts of tea while talking nonsense with my cousin. I ended the evening falling asleep while watching Parks and Recreation. A perfect end to yet another perfect day.

A mixed bag of emotions in Amstrerdam

We all know of the infamous Amsterdam. Green coffee shops, the red light district, picturesque canals and bikes all over the place but there is so much more to this place.

First things first, there so many more bikes than you could ever imagine. I thought ‘yeah Amsterdam is known for having a lot of bikes’. NO! Amsterdam has more than just a lot. Picture a shitload of bikes and then multiply that by 1000 and you’re getting close. And with all these bikes, come the bike gangs. Hordes of cyclists riding about like they own not only the bike lanes but all streets and footpaths as well.

I never thought I could fear cyclists but here I was standing in what I thought was a harmless footpath admiring the great Vondelpark when I had an entire bikie gang wiz past me from all directions (I swear one of them pinched my bum)! I quickly learnt to always be on the lookout for bikes. But anytime I had a lapse in concentration I was sure to find myself close to crapping my dacks because they were dinging their bells while zipping past. I still get twitches whenever I hear a bike bell. Maybe I should have just hired a bike but I seriously haven’t been on one in years. This would have been worse than being a pedestrian. Ahh just writing this brings back the bad memories.

But once you move past the fear of bikes (who knows, maybe it’s only me being melodramatic – it wouldn’t be the first time) you’ll come to love all the great quirks Amsterdam has on offer.

Forget the Leaning Tower of Pisa (it’s pretty shit anyway. I’ve been twice and was underwhelmed both times). Just about every terrace house in the city centre is leaning one way or another. Some seem as if there diving into the canal in front of them while others are nudging their neighbours (even the architecture seems to show the houses screaming out in fear because of this – look at the picture on the left). Still, it’s quite fun trying to find the house which leans the most. Give it a go.

But prepare yourself for expensive living costs. We had just come from Prague where we had quickly grown accustom to super cheap… well everything. Fortunately for me, Amsterdam happened to be the place where my Europe holiday intersected with that of my parents. Being the super awesome people they are, they paid for so much of my food and booze while I was here. Those of you who don’t happen to have your parents around paying for stuff, look out for bargains down little alley ways away from the touristy spots (though this is something that remains true for just about every city). The food here is great. I struggled to find any ‘traditional Dutch food’ but had some great Indian, Thai and Chinese eats.

After food experiences, came the art and culture hit. Mum and Dad paid for my Vincent Van Gogh Museum ticket and we spent a great morning looking at his famous artwork. His use of colour just gets me. I could have stayed here for the entire day. This museum was my favourite as I loved each and every one of his impressionist paintings. Even his biography, the interactive dimensions of the museum and the souvenir shop got me excited. I bought a Van Gogh mug. I don’t need a Van Gogh mug. What am I going to do with it in London? OK I’ll drink tea out of it, but still. Silly me. I was just too excited to not get anything.

I started to get a bit ill around the third day in Amsterdam The next day but still got to see the Anne Frank House and the Red Light District at night (with hindsight, combining the two was probably a bit wrong). We pre-booked tickets for this as well so skipped the crazy long queues and went straight into the exhibit. While this was great, going in so quickly meant that I had little time to prepare myself for what I was going to experience.

Walking through the very hallways and rooms of the building where the three families hid from the Nazis made me go all quiet. Hearing their stories, reading her surprisingly insightful and honest writing was extremely confronting. I was close to tears on several occasions but somehow managed to keep myself together. Seeing her name on the concentration camp list and then on the deceased list made me stop in my place. What was worse is that there were four Aaron Franks above her name on the deceased list and this page, full of at least 100 other names, only represented a tiny fraction of all victims. If I can only just keep myself together while I’m here, how am I going to deal with the concentration camps in Germany? I guess that’s future Andy’s problem.

All three of us left in an understandably sombre mood. We didn’t quite make eye contact with each other and little talking took place as we made our way to the Red Light District at night.

Being in this state of mind, I only felt sorry for the women selling themselves through the windows. I thought of the sex trafficking trade which takes place in these streets and how some of these women looked like mothers. But the strangers around me were loving life and thought this was all hilarious. I guess I had somewhat of the same reaction when I accidentally stumbled across the Red Light District the day before and lost my shit due to the general surprise. Making eye contact with these women was just awkward for me. Maybe I should have worn an ‘I am gay’ T-shirt so they didn’t waste their time ushering me over. Maybe I would have enjoyed this more if I wasn’t so sad. Oh well.

Unfortunately, I got tonsillitis during my time here and spent a day or two laying in my hostel dorm by myself sleeping and taking antibiotics. It sucked to miss out on so much time in Amsterdam and it was even worse when I had to pay 55 euros to go to the doctor but at least my mumma and papa were around to take care of me. It just so happened that as I was on my way to the pharmacist, I walked past my parents having lunch in a café. They bought me some chicken soup and we talked about life and shit for quite some time. I’m so lucky to have them around during this part of my holiday. It is the last time I’ll be getting this love and affection from them for about a year as I won’t see them while I’m living in London. Must get all the love I can now!

Being sick meant I missed out on going to a coffee shop and grabbing a brownie (none of my fellow travellers wanted to do this so not getting high on my own may have been a blessing). I also couldn’t make our cycling tour around the city (this was probably another blessing as my bike fear was real). I didn’t even get the obligatory canal and IAMsterdam photo (a small part of my selfie loving self died because of this). But these were the only main things I missed out on.

So my stay in Amsterdam was full of mixed emotions. I loved parts and was in a pretty crappy state of mind for quite a bit of it too. But the best/worst part had to be when my parents took me on a river cruise dinner on my last night there. We had a great time chatting, eating and making fun of each other but it was also the last time I’d see them for at least a year. Hugging them both goodbye wasn’t an easy thing to do. At least we can Skye and Whatsapp each other occasionally. Plus I’m a big boy, I can survive without my parents (I hope).

So much happened while I was here but I must return to Amsterdam in the near future so I can really take advantage of everything. Maybe I’ll even overcome my new found fear of bikes.

Prague – The Complete Package

Day 55 – 58

I had heard quite a lot about the Czech Republic from other travellers (though I was still calling it Czechoslovakia up until I arrived – just a casual decade or two behind political developments of Europe. My bad) but still wasn’t sure what I was in for.

It wasn’t until my fellow traveling companion and I took our customary free walking tour around the city on the first day that we fell in love with Prague. It was almost instantaneous. I looked to my friend and knew she shared these sentiments. The architecture was stunning with great representations of all eras in art and culture on every street. And there was an abundance of street art scattered throughout the city, surprising you at every turn – example on the left). Ahh it was all too much. Thank goodness we were shown our way through the city by a local. I wouldn’t have known where to start.

We opted to go with Sandeman’s New Europe Walking Tours as all of our previous experience using them had been ace. This was no exception. We were led around for 3 hours but time just flew on by. Amongst all of the quirky tales we heard, our brief 20 minute history lesson had to be my favourite part. We learnt of the long wars and occupations as well as the numerous fenestrations that took place in the very streets we walked through.

But the one part of the Czech Republic’s history which had the greatest effect on me was the 1989 Velvet Revolution. We stood in an enormous square in the heart of the city (on the right) and heard of the people’s peaceful resistance to Communism.

It was only 25 years ago when the Czech people came out of their homes and congregated in that space to stand up to an oppressive regime. Tens of thousands of people (some even say around one hundred thousand people) stood in the streets and shook their house keys, symbolising the unlocking of doors. They were telling the communists they were taking back their home and it was time for them to leave. This may have just been one event out of many which took place in Prague during this time but it contributed towards them gaining their independence and freedom.

Our guide shook her keys and told us to imagine this sound multiplied by up to 100,000 times. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine this but it is something you’d have to experience firsthand to fully comprehend. Nonetheless, this moment gave me shivers and I just wanted to go up to all the Czech citizens and give them a big old hug (fortunately, I resisted this urge).

Sorry for the mini history lesson but, for me, this was moving. Simply being in that space and seeing the faces of those who lived through this made the history real, not just words on a page.

Now moving on to more cheerful things, our hostel here was superb. Just a 5 minute walk from the Old Town Square, ‘Art Hole Hostel’ had everything we could have wanted. We were in a cheap 4-bed dorm with super friendly and respectful people (yes they didn’t stay up late talking in the room with the lights on while everyone else tried to sleep). Even better, the whole hostel was just the right size so it was easy to meet people. I can’t count how many conversations I had which started in one of the kitchens while brewing a cup of tea. Everyone was so cheerful, approachable and easy going.

It was refreshing to be around such positive energy. It was good to finally be around some other people for a change (you always need a break from your fellow travelers when you’re on such a long trip). I got to make so many new friends who I hated saying goodbye to.

I remember spending an entire night sitting around the kitchen table upstairs chatting to a Norwegian, British and Aussie traveller. I could easily have gone around Europe with these girls and guy for months. The four of us ended up getting a cheeky cider in the pub across road and stayed there till closing. What makes this even better is we’re all going to be in London at the same time and a future catch-up has already been planned. Bogan Bingo at ‘The Slug’ in London will happen and I cannot wait to see them all again so we can drink, dance and generally get up to no good.

But during the stay, I got up to a lot more mischief. Unlike much of my trip, I was around people who loved to drink and go out so I took full advantage of this. The hostel organised a super cheap pub crawl around the city where I got to meet so many more awesome people from all over the globe. I had way too much fun wandering around the streets with a bunch of random people who quickly became my good friends.

I seriously had the best time in Prague. The place, the people and I can’t forget the crazy cheap beer (cheaper than water). If I hadn’t converted to a beer drinker before this part of the trip, Prague made sure it was now an undeniable reality (sorry to those who know me back home as a cider man. I’ve changed…)

Above all other cities, this had to be the one I both didn’t want to leave the most yet felt as if I had truly done it properly. I saw and did everything I wanted to. We watched the famous Astronomical Clock in action and walked to the top of the tower to look over the whole town (I’m a sucker for viewpoints). We went into the obligatory churches (found my fave so far as it looked like the mansion of an evil Disney villain. Yes I’m a big kid). We went to the famous Prague castle and toured around it with another Sandeman’s tour.

We strolled over the Charles Bridge (0n the right) four or five times. And we just admired the architecture of Prague which had survived both world wars (making this place unique to the rest of Europe). We ate heaps of oily Schnitzel and buttery potatoes and even had time to wander and relax. Bah there is too much to name. Prague had everything on offer and I couldn’t help but eat it all up.

I will be returning to Prague. Of that I am sure.

Taking a holiday away from my holiday in Budapest

Day 51 – 54

By the time I reached Budapest, I was truly in need of some rest. I was still recovering from my 8-day sail around the Croatian islands and had begun to get sick. My body was exhausted. I’m almost two months into this trip and I have had very little time to sit still and do nothing. We’re always exploring a new city, visiting landmarks and waking up early to walk around all day.

Budapest will be my lazy city.

We got most of the sightseeing out of the way in the first day as we took a free walking tour around both Buda and Pest. The day was huge as we walked and walked for hours but the knowledge that I would be doing nothing for the next 3 days was enough to keep me going.

We got to see the views over the Duna River (on the left), walk past the obligatory church, basilica and cathedral (I’m still not sure what differentiates all of these – something to do with relics and archbishops – nonetheless they were pretty as usual) and see the renowned Parliament.

Unfortunately, by this part of the trip, I had simply hit a wall and was unable to really appreciate everything to the same extent as I had previously. I just wanted to lay around and do nothing – is that too much to ask for?

The next day, I got just that. We headed towards the Szechenyi Baths in the City Park. Once we arrived, I knew I wanted to spend my entire day here. The two girls who I was still travelling with also wanted to see more sights and go shopping this day so we split up to do our own thing.

At first, bathing alone felt a bit weird as most people around me were couples or groups of friends but I soon sank into my own world (excuse the bathing pun). I closed my eyes, lay back in the warm water and turned my brain off. My muscles slowly loosened and my constant stiffness slipped away. This bathing life is pretty damn good.

I spent about one or two hours relaxing in the large outdoor pool-like baths (on the right) while taking breaks on the pavement reading my book. (I couldn’t be in the water for long as I didn’t want to get too pruney, too fast – must pace myself). I was super relaxed but a bit underwhelmed with there only being three big baths in the whole place.

Foolish me. It wasn’t until I explored the surrounding buildings when I found a plethora of baths, saunas and steam rooms. My eyes lit up and I couldn’t help but laugh at how much more I had to take advantage of. This was no longer a simple relaxation getaway. It had now become a mission. A mission to try everything!!

I started with one of the saunas as I was sick and needed some steam to clear me up. Taking my first step in, I immediately remembered why I hadn’t gone into a sauna in about 5 years. The memory of my inability to breathe in these small, hot, humid places had been suppressed. But I wasn’t going to walk in and just turn right back around. Not with all the judging eyes of the sauna pros on me. I would persist.

Instead of relaxing, all I did was focus on my breathing. At first my heart was racing but as I forced myself to sit and stay, I slowly grew accustom to the environment. Thinking about nothing but my breathing soon became calming. I stayed here for a few minutes before I had sweated out all my bodily fluids.

After returning back to the locker room to down some water, I moved on to the other baths. Each one had a different temperature or salinity. Some even had medicinal properties. I needed the supposed healing powers of these waters. I had had enough of my constant coughing and sniffing (I’m sure my fellow travellers had as well).

Even the saunas had different temperatures while the steam rooms had different scents (one smelt of Vix VaporRub and I couldn’t help but go into this one about five times). I spent as much time as I could in each bath before jumping into the next. It was oddly fun and peaceful at the same time.

I then spent another four hours at the Szechenyi Baths. I soaked in the same water as some beautiful European men and even dared to strike up conversations with some of them. While this was great, the majority of patrons were either old and fat men or families running around together. Not quite as pleasant as it could have been but I wasn’t here to pick up (Don’t give me that look).

After spending an entire day here, my hands and feet made me look like I was 90 but I felt so healthy and rejuvenated. I had reached my happy place but was not willing to leave it just yet. I was going to be in my happy place for the whole time I was in Budapest. No one and nothing would get in my way of this quest.

I was determined to be free from drama, stress, negative energy and above all else, physical exertion. I was going to be lazy even if this meant seeing less of Budapest (truthfully, the city hadn’t won me over as the famous river that ran through was dirty and unappealing while the architecture wasn’t anything special).

I spent the rest of my time in Budapest sleeping, writing, drinking tea and listening to music. I even sat on our kitchen bench with my legs hanging out of the building watching a festival in the park across the road for quite some time (view on the left). Oh and we had more good Wi-Fi here so I took a few Snapchats, responded to messages from my friends back home and downloaded one of the new True Blood episodes (yes, True Blood is one of my many guilty pleasures).

Some may say I wasted my time here but I desperately needed to feel at home for a few days. I needed to have some time to myself and recover from two months of intense traveling. I have no regrets when it comes to missing out on seeing a lot of Budapest as the city just didn’t do it for me. If I am to come back, it would only be for the baths. How I do miss them already.

 

 

 

Ljubljana – This city will charm its way into the cockles of your heart

There are so many unique and quirky little things that Slovenia’s capital city brings to the table.
For instance, as more and more roads in the city centre have become pedestrian only zones over the past few years, the old folk in this charming place have struggled to get around town. So the city council decided to give them free chauffers in golf buggies and vans to drive them around. This caught on so well that they decided to allow everyone to use them. These green vehicles zipped around the city centre with locals and tourists taking advantage of the fun little service.

At first, we though it a little silly as the town was so small. But one day we had a craving for Japanese food and had no idea where to go. Then a small green golf buggie drove past us and we chased it (it was moving at a snail’s pace but I was still huffing and puffing once we caught up with it). The driver was super cheerful and helpful (something rarely found amongst public transport officials in Melbourne) as he quickly took us to a sushi train in town. We had some small talk and he pointed out a few local attractions along the way (we were a little too busy taking selfies and giggling to ourselves to pay attention). He dropped us off, gave us a big smile and then left. The whole novelty of being driven around by a local for free was just too much for me. The sushi train was amazing and cheap but I couldn’t get over this masterful form of transport. I wanted these to be in every other place we’d be going next.

This kindness was just one example of how nice the Slovenian people are. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with smiles, high levels of energy and general politeness. I hadn’t met so many upbeat people before. Everything was just so perfect. It almost felt as if I was on the Truman Show. This feeling was only strengthened by the perfectly maintained buildings which lined all of the clean streets. It was as if the whole town was a film set. In the middle of all of this was an old castle perched upon a big hill. It couldn’t be more picturesque.

It was here in this perfectly charming place where I could relax and recover from the chaos of sailing around the Croatian Islands last week. I had caught the infamous ‘Contiki Cough’ so was a little bit ill as well (this is the main reason why I haven’t updated this blog in a while. Sorry guys). I was able to sleep in, walk around slowly, drink all the tea I wanted and still find time to see everything.

This all culminated in the day when my two fellow travellers left to go to Lake Bled (my budget didn’t allow for me to pay for expensive day tours to see castles and lakes) and I stayed behind. I meandered around the main river in town and crossed all of their bridges (decked out with dragons and large concrete pillars) before reaching a small café full of Slovenian hipsters. If hipsters are around, it must be good!! At least that’s my logic… Don’t question it.

It just so happened that the café ‘Tozd’ was very Melbourne (this is a good thing). They served the best coffee I had had in Europe so far. So, naturally, I had three. I spent a good 4 or 5 hours here as I lounged, drank, ate, read and wrote. They even served an avocado toastie (I hadn’t had avocado since I left home 6 weeks ago – I was in heaven). I also had some tapas which consisted of a heap of good cheddar, marinated olives, capers and sundried tomatoes with breadsticks. All up it only came to 12 euros. After a week of drinking and dancing on a boat while being constantly surrounded by new people, I needed this. My body needed rest. My brain needed to be active. Thanks Lubjub (we struggled to pronounce Ljubljana so we had to make an abbreviation).

I don’t know if I’ll be coming back here anytime soon but if I was looking for a quiet retreat in a friendly and upbeat environment, this is where I’d come.

Sailing Around the Croatian Islands? Yes Please!!

Day 39 – 46

Go out all night with new friends. Drink and dance in ancient towns until the early morning. Wake up on a boat and look out the door to see yourself skimming across the emerald green water by the Croatian coast (on the left). Then have some breakie before jumping off the boat and splashing about in the Adriatic Sea (best cure for a hangover – seriously, try it). Arrive at another small island and explore. Eat a whole heap of cheap and fresh seafood, hang out with those new friends again (Soon you’ll morph into a family) and relax on the beach. Now you can just tan, read a book or do nothing for the rest of the day. Go to dinner with the family, drink a lot of cheap booze on the boat, play some drinking games and take part in many a shenanigans before heading out for another big night. And so the cycle continues.

This is the Croatian sailing life. And it’s damn good!!

This was the first organised tour I had ever been on so I was a bit apprehensive. Some of my friends had told me of their Contiki trips around Europe and how fast paced these holidays were. Into one city one day and then on a bus early the next morning to drive elsewhere. Non-stop with little room to breathe and really take in your surroundings. But the main Contiki coach tour’s little sailing brother is altogether different.

For one, your accommodation is also your transport so no need to constantly pack and unpack all of your things. And even better, your boat does most of its travelling while you sleep soundly in your little bunk (and by little I really mean tiny so prepare yourself. You’ll be getting super close with your bunk buddy).

And to top it all off, our Contiki rep, Danielle, was a delightful surprise. Her laid back nature, coupled with a constant and genuine glee, made everything run smoothly. She even came out drinking and partying with us every night. It was so good to have someone telling me what I could do and how I could do it (being constantly switched on for 6 weeks had been exhausting and I needed to turn off my brain for a short while). We even had some control over the daily schedule. If we wanted to stop for a longer swim between ports, Dani would check in with the crew to see if it was possible (most of the time it was) and we’d stay as long as we wanted. We could join in with group activities, wander by ourselves or just tan on the boat while listening to music.

‘Care free’ seems to be the best way to describe how I felt throughout this part of my holiday.

But prepare to be surrounded by Aussies. We had 4 crew members who were local Croatians (Some of the friendliest, most helpful and hardworking people I have ever met), a South African Contiki rep and 25 passengers (all but two were Australians). This was unexpected and initially disappointing. I was hoping it would have a more international blend but I came to realise how this helped me feel at home on the boat.

The main problem was how my accent quickly deteriorated into a super bogan form of English. Everything good became ‘sick’, I was swearing all the time and that great Aussie twang just got thicker and thicker as the days went by. From the outside, we must have looked like an obnoxious group of tourists making a mess but, from the inside, everything was just as it should have been.

Now going on about the fellow passengers. I’d never come across such a large group of open, tolerant and fun people who were looking to make as many new friends as they could. The average age was about 24 with only two in their thirties but age was no obstacle here. While we had initially spread into a few small groups, we soon became one happy family (alcohol fuelled nights tend to help tear down those walls). This closeness culminated in the last night of the Contiki where we all went to a beach festival in Split. We spent the night dancing on the shore, laughing at each other’s foolish antics all the while ignoring the fact that we all had to say goodbye the next morning. Is it bad that I was sadder to see some of my new found friends leave than I was to say goodbye to some of my previous fellow travellers from home?

Now let’s move on to the country itself. Croatia. This place is a newly discovered (by us travellers) oasis amongst the overly modernised, full and noisy tourist spots in Europe. No one is trying to rip you off here. No one is going to be stealing your wallet or bags off the beach. It is a humble country. Small and unique but full of spectacular sights which speak for themselves.

I thought the water around islands of Thailand was clear but the Adriatic shat all over it (apologies for the language but the bogan within has been hard to get rid of since this trip). Standing on the top deck, we had never ending 360 degree views of this eternally beautiful and ever changing place. From sunrise to sunset I struggled to look away.

Out of the rich blue water sprung enormously steep and rocky mountains. The land was dry but still remained green. Any sight of civilisation only really appeared near the spots where we docked. Apart from that, this World Heritage Site was undisturbed.

My favourite place had to be Makarska where we spent much of the day swimming around the boat. The picturesque landscape behind the small town blew me away. I woke up to this view and had could not speak (this may also be due to the great hangover I had at the time). I lay in the water on my lilo and tried as hard as I could to not forget what was around me (I must burn this into my memory). This is another spot to add into the ever-growing list of my happy places.

We later ran about on a giant blow up jungle gym at the beach and exhausted ourselves (few of us looked classy when playing on this – no I was not one of the coordinated few). My muscles ached for days after this. My body really isn’t used to exercise.

The entire week I spent on the boat went far too fast. One moment we were getting on in Dubrovnik (a place worthy of an entire blog post if I had the time – on the left) and the next I was walking away from the sailing life in Split. I will definitely have to return here again. I didn’t know I could have such a good time and love a place so much.

Unfortunately, Croatia’s tourism is growing at a rapid pace. It won’t be this untouched for long. So get on board fast (please excuse the nautical pun). You’ll be shore to have a good time. Ok this is getting out of hand. Seariously.

Just book yourself a bed on a boat and go! Now! Do it!

#noregrets