"Top of the blog to ya ... "

Once more these hallowed cyber-halls are graced with prose detailing action and misadventure! This time the tale tells of a trip to a town of Dubh Lin in a land of Eire.

Say the word Ireland and immediately images of clovers, dancing jigs and leprechauns come to mind. Of course I won't even begin to dispute those images - they're all true. However drunkeness seems to be the true common unifying element of the Irish life. Never before have I seen so many people completely inebriated by alcohol getting off a plane. People stumbling everywhere, carrying each other, one guy being sick in the toilet - and it was only a 45 minute flight!

Going back to the previous points, if there is one harsh truth the Irish have embraced as a necessary evil of drinking it's the "better out than in" principle. Dublin is laced with more random acts of regurgitation on the city footpaths, gardens, roads than any other city in the world I think - and it all seems perfectly normal! Funnily enough Dublin is actually called Baile Átha Cliath in Irish - meaning Town of the Hurdled Ford. Ford's are very popular cars here and the operative word there is hurdled. Surely not quite the original meaning but still partially poignant to this day.

Only after a few hours you become immediately infected by the Irish way and find yourself heading inexorably for a pub. And for some reason, regardless of what you actually would like to order you somehow always end up ordering pints of Guiness at the last moment. Before you know it you are filled with Irish cheer and warmth to ready you for whatever comes.

Dublin houses the impressive Trinity College - a very charming academic institution that dates way back with alumni list that includes none other than Bram Stoker, who while in Ireland, went on to write the Romanian legend of Dracula. Whilst enjoying a leisurely stroll through the campus, there were some young lads practicing drills for Gaelic Football. In case you don't know, Gaelic Football is probably the closest thing in the world to Australian Rules Football back at home. Only they use a round ball, a different field and they don't play with a lager and meat pie in one hand like our lads do.

The weather was quite nice (two digits IS nice), so a trip to the sea side was in order. Quaint little houses awaited us nestled at the base of cliffs, cute lighthouses and a resident seal who poked out of the harbour to show his belly full of Guiness. All and all t'was a lovely day and that night we all decided to stop for a cup of tea, however we were lured into a bar and somehow ended up drinking Guiness again. Hmmm. We were all becoming more and more Irish by the second.

Later that night I realised that the city, if not the whole country, was in the grip of some evil conspiracy. That everywhere you turn you are being coerced into drinking Guiness. Logically the only way to find out if this theory was true was to head straight to the source the next day - the Guiness brewery. From the outside it had big branded gates that drew parallels to a certain Mr Wonka's chocolate factory and there were rumours of a giant 'Guiness pipe' which went under the sea to England. The plot thickened.

The tour inevitably leads to a sampling section. Essentially you had to ask yourself "would Arthur Guiness be happy with the Guiness your sampling?". That was a very difficult question that required LOTS of sampling to come to a clear and decisive answer. Sadly, the more sampling partaken, the less decisive the results and the more the shnozberries tasted like shnozberries.

Comfortingly enough the brewery did have a elevator running up all 7 floors through the centre of the building and although it didn't burst OUT of the roof into the clouds driven by a slightly crazed Gene Wilder, it did emerge at a glass walled bar on the roof where yet more "Irish wine" was being poured profusely. The Guiness Factory had defeated me, I came seeking answers to conspiracy theories but all that was found was drunkeness.

It was a great tour but I do remember a local explaining with some authority that "it's a luhvely place, bet it's the warest feckin pint o' the black stooff you'll uhver feckin hafe'.

Say it as you read it and you should be speaking Irish tongue in no time ... to be sure, to be sure.

Ich bin ein Berliner!

So proclaimed JFK on his famous speech regarding the absurdity of the Berlin Wall. It literally translates to "I am one with Berlin!", or if you think it's more appropriate I am told it can also translate to "I am a jelly-filled donut!".

This entry comes from Berlin, the capital of a now unified Germany. To say Germany has had a rough recent history is of course the understatement of the century. There is probably no one in Europe more aware of the travesty of war then the folk in Berlin in particular. The English bombers spared no mercy when they pretty much leveled the city in World War 2 in revenge. As a consequence there are only a few original old buildings, the rest have been torn down and some have been left in a half ruined state as an immortal reminder of the ravages of conflict. The new buildings that have sprung up to replace the old are very well designed and coupled with the giant TV tower that keeps vigil over the city, Berlin has a very mixed and wild horizon.

The Reichstag (German government house) is perhaps the coolest building on the skyline, sporting a big funky metal dome atop a classical stone building. You can actually go up to the roof and climb the massive big dome for a great view of the city and icons such as the Brandenburg Gate. Another definite highlight is the Pergamon museum, which contains all the missing statues and well preserved altar pieces from Pergamon in Turkey. It was the last pieces of the Pergamon jigsaw puzzle. Germany and Turkey will probably continue to fight over the legitimate right of those pieces for quite some time too.


One can not come to Berlin of course and not be punched in the face by some of their more depressing recent history. There is a massive Jewish war victims memorial, a series of some several hundred concrete blocks all laid at random heights. You can get lost amongst them, the idea being that begin to feel a kind of loneliness and uncertainty the Jewish population once faced. It's a nicely done artistic memorial I think.

The former SS headquarters, home of the infamous Himmler, is now nothing more than an empty block of land but they are beginning to create an open air display to educate about the atrocities devised from this very spot. Nearby is the underground bunker where Hitler so bravely committed suicide rather than face the music for what he had done. Nearby is a memorial to one of the regrettable 'Nazi book burnings', a great literary tragedy.

Post WW2 things didn't end there for the Berlin folk, tensions between occupying powers naturally led to the building of the Berlin Wall straight through the city to separate east from west. The wall stood for almost 30 years, mainly because there were no Scots or Mongolians to keep ripping it down. The wall was described by it's Communistic East Berlin constructors as an "anti-fascist protection barrier" designed to keep the evils of the West out. I have a feeling the East Berliners may have had some doubts of that claim since all the defenses on the wall were pointing inwards at them. This didn't stop some incredible escape attempts however, from flying foxes to a home made hot air balloons to a submarines made out of a bath tub.

Nowadays you can't see much of the wall, there are some small sections still remaining in a few spots through the city and each strip is surrounded by an "anti-tourist protection barrier" to stop "wall-peckers" from taking it all.

To close, and to lift spirits a little, I would like to proudly point out that Berlin has possibly wrenched the title of best hot chocolate from Belgrade. I order my usual order for the kazillionth time and was presented with a deliciously rich, dark hot chocolate with intensely deep cocoa flavour and just a smidgen of sweetness, accompanied by chocolate mousse come whipped cream, two chocolate coated coffee beans, a short bread, several small jars of spices (chili, nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamon) so I could spice up my chocolate and a glass of water to refresh at the end. So in essence the hot choc was exquisite, the diversity of the offering divine and the price didn't evoke sweat palpitation. The champ is here...

So with that, the journey of a hundred thousand steps contiues ...

PS. Gift means poison in German. Remember that.

The Würst is Yet to Come ...

Before I begin describing the first of the Germanic adventures I must relay to you a most harrowing tragedy. In a hasty exit from Florence a major piece of inventory was lost. Not a bank card, not a passport, not a bag ... something far, far more important - the Vegemite. The heavy burden of the loss will linger forever deep in the heart and blacken this day. If you by chance are a church-goer, please spare a prayer.

After a period of mourning on platform 5 of Zurich Hauptbahnhof Stuttgart was calling. Stuttgart is pretty much a student town with one hell of a shopping precinct. It's actually not entirely remarkable unless you are a car fan, in which case the Porsche museum and factory are near.

Germany is a very clean and orderly place where the trains run on time and it is generally easy to plan your travel. It is a welcome respite after the craziness of former countries. The ICE trains are an extremely nice ride and even though they zip around at great speed, the actual train is so insulated that you barely even feel the speed. The east European rattlers hitting 70kph somehow felt more exhilarating.

There are some very important unspoken rules in Germany - do not jay walk (doing so is akin to murdering a child) and do not drink good beer out of anything except a tall glass. When pouring the beer it is vitally important that you finish the head off perfectly with a pattern reminiscent of a barrista making a cappuccino. Anything less than perfection when pouring a bier leads can jeopardise friendships with locals.

Stuttgart was primarily a staging point for a trip to Europa Park, a seriously awesome theme park with an astonishing amount of rides. Their Silver Star roller coaster looks scary on the net and is seriously stool-inducing in real life. Europa Park has different sections based on European countries - such as the Swiss zone with a Matterhorn themed ride for example. The Russian zone had a MIR roller coaster but I was surprised to see no black market. I was also disappointed to see no Romania world with the 'Pothole Voyager' or the 'Border Guard Blitz' in Turkey world. The dodgem cars would have been more authentic in Italian world too, with little 'Rome Taxi' signs on them.

That night was spent in the gorgeous town of Freiberg, with fairytale-like archways and very pointy churches. I swear the entire collection of photos of German architecture are in portrait mode.

So this quick entry comes to an end, the next post will come from Berlin. Now that the wall has come down and the underground re-connected it is apparently easier for tourists to get around. Aufweiderzehen!

What Have the Romans Ever Done for Us?

"All right, but apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?"

After a quick overnight ferry cruise filled to the brim with church goers and 3000 hail Mary's later the shores of Italy beckon! Landing in the very functional (if not much else) city port of Ancona a train was hitched onwards to Rome, with visions of participating in glorious and bloody gladiatorial combat! Failing that the tourist thing would suffice.

I once heard the phrase "Rome in a day", which is totally impossible to actually perform. There is so much to see here that it can become overwhelming. I mean most other cities would be chuffed to have ONE of the incredible churches/cathedrals/ruins/museums found here.

So with that in mind you can imagine I am not sure where to begin. Many of you have already been here, and will know what I mean when I describe "visual overload". When it comes to exploring the city you only really begin to realise the enormity of the task when the incredible building you have just been admiring for the last half an hour is just a toilet and isn't even important enough to make it on the map. Suddenly you feel very small. I wouldn't even dare explain in detail the amazing sights we have seen, or how many pairs of socks have died through seeing it - I'll focus on the "vibe".

Firstly, Italian is really a beautiful language. It flows and rolls so smoothly compared to other crazy tongues muttered recently. The beauty of it coupled with the advent of mobile phones might explain why Italians talk so much and talk so loudly that it can be difficult to distinguish a heartfelt discussion from an argument approaching blows.

Italian food is, as expected, very nice and simple in it's brilliance. Pizza, pasta, coffee/hot choc and gelati are all firm favourites. Interestingly though the best pizza title still rests with Slovenia and best coffee/hot choc with Belgrade. But uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, there may just be a new champion around the corner.

Rome has many big ticket attractions we all know and love:

1. The Colosseum - the big famous sports stadium where the gladiators fought. Vulcan was my favourite. Interestingly there are no longer trapdoors that lions spring out of to maul unwary combatants. Although street hawkers have taken the places of said felines.

2. A Kazillion Fountains including Trevi Fountain - in which lie the wishes of a million tourists and an equally impressive collection of Euro coins, making it a favourite after dark hang out of Gypsies.

3. The Pantheon - the best preserved Roman ruins in existence probably. The gaping big hole in the roof sucks when it rains though.

4. The Vatican City - home of the worlds biggest church - St Peter's, the Vatican museum (containing the Sistine Chapel) and the big P man himself! Unfortunately I could not find the pope-mobile and the papal song and dance stage spectacular the Pope holds every Wednesday after bingo wasn't on.

Crossing roads here is akin to Russian roulette. The golden rule is basically "cross half way and pray". Better yet find an organised tour and walk inside them, that way they can cushion the blow for you.

On a more modern tangent, Rome is perhaps as close to heaven as possible for women. The city layout represents a cyclic pattern of beautiful churches, shoe shops, leather shops, cafes and bank machines. All a girl needs. Any spare space usually contains a church, you can never have enough of them it seems.

Some ruins and exhibits have glass panes around them, which sometimes turns them into a bit of a zoological exhibit of cats and the homeless. Some others have even higher security, the Vatican City for example has a very strong stance against Swiss army knives. Normal knives are fine though. I figure the pope's personal Swiss guards don't want to deal with the challenge of a Swiss army knife fight. "I cannot defeat this crazed tourist, he parries all my toothpick lunges with his tweezers!". The Vatican has also indicated clearly via signs that men in pink one piece bathing suits will not be allowed entry. I think that's fair enough.

Here you can enjoy works by favourite Renaissance artists such as Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello and Raphael (he's the leader of the group, transformed from the norm by the nuclear goup). It was a personal highlight of mine to see the "creation of Adam" in the Sistine Chapel. Sadly the number of tourists in the museum and basilica does make it difficult to enjoy anything in privacy, it literally becomes a river of bodies that sweeps you along from which you desperately clutch at branches to pull yourself out and into the eddies.

So having completed stage one of the Italian job, it is now north to Florence that travel must go. Here I am sure there will be more delectable food, yet more jaw dropping sights and the chance to uncover more facts about the Italian dialect - such as whether Tellitubbi is a type of pasta or just a stupefying kids show that defies all sane thought.

The Balkans Express

This is a tale. A tale of how the best laid travel plans are so easily derailed. It was thought, somewhat shortsightedly I should add, that a quick trip across the Balkans was possible. Sounds easy in theory but much harder to execute for the Balkan countries most definitely suck you in.

The first stop post-Turkey was Sofia - the capital of Bulgaria. Sofia is like an untouched exhibit of angular, abstract artwork and statues from communist days. The locals feel they are ugly, but since most other post communist countries have torn their ones down the Bulgarian intact statues are suddenly very unique. Bulgaria also has THE best animation of the green walking man at pedestrian crossings yet - picture John Cleese in the Ministry of Silly Walks.

Bulgaria's biggest music singer is a transvestite called Aziz. Funnily enough no one actually admits to buying his music - I draw parallels with the Spice Girls somehow. Aziz has gone to a lot of effort to look as feminine as possible, but I have one word of advice that could make the transformation even more convincing ... LOSE THE BEARD.

Next stop on the trip was Belgrade, Serbia. A short hop from the train station and already you will get a taste of the scars of conflict, two buildings with gaping holes in the side from bombs, entire floors of  several buildings had been completely ruined and the metal framework melted and fused together from the heat of the explosion. It must be quite weird to see this everyday living here, like a permanent reminder of bad days.

Belgrade is a very nocturnal city, the day is quiet but it really comes alive at night. The night time sky is so lit up that the city seems ablaze. Actually, maybe it was, who knows. Belgrade also now has the title of best hot chocolate in all of Europe so far - picture real chocolate melted with milk and topped with some special mix of malt and wheat germ. The consistency and taste were all perfect. If you ever come here, tell me, I'll direct you to where to look.

Perhaps the coolest thing in Belgrade is the Nikola Tesla museum. For those of you in the dark, Tesla was the founder of AC current and an inventor extraordinaire. He was also in the Prestige played by the very cool, cool David Bowie. The museum was fascinating and had a large Tesla Coil which generated electrical arcs of massive voltage, do a Google image search of one, they really are awesome. What was even cooler is when they turned the coil on and the light bulbs we were all holding lit up by the electrical current arcing through the air to them. We were all awe struck and maybe a little scared. OK we were freaked out.

FYI Serbians are TALL. It's nice to be able to look at clothes again.

Eventually, chocolate taste buds had to be betrayed by leaving Belgrade and heading into Bosnia, specifically Sarajevo. Just the city name will undoubtedly bring images to your head of armed conflict and war, you may also ask, along with the border guards, 'why the hell are you going there?'. Well I assure you it is quite safe now, bar the fact nature hikes are off limits due to land mines, and Sarajevo is quite simply 'intense'.

The mountain pass into Sarajevo was completely clouded over and a comfortable 2 degrees. Bosnian folk huddle in small, wooden mountain haunts dimly lit through a haze of cigarette smoke. Outside several whole lambs spin on the spit roast for the nights meal in what must be the Bosnian equivalent of the 'arvy barbie'. It is important that the bus stops at these places for an indeterminate amount of time.

Sarajevo is an eye opener. So recently and heavily war torn. Every building is covered in bullet holes, windows remain shattered, mortar explosions in the pavement are filled with red cement to become infamous 'Sarajevo roses'. There are large sections of the city sealed off with barb wire due to land mines and monuments lie forever damaged. There was a sign on one street with an arrow pointing to the nearby corner saying 'warning, sniper'. There are photos of people having to run across 'alleys of death', dodging sniper fire with their groceries and even babies in their hands.

Yet harrowing as the damage is, the intangible spirit of the Bosnian people is something very evident. They are proud that they came through the longest siege in modern history with their nationality and Independence intact. Sarajevo also has a long history of religious diversity - where else can you find a Catholic church, an Orthodox church, a synagogue and a mosque all on the same city block? It makes for an inspiring city horizon when the sun sets.  I feel very grateful to have see this place.

Interestingly, the latin bridge still stands, those history buffs out there will know this spot as the bridge where Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Austro-Hungarian empire was assassinated.

Bosnia and Herzegovina nature-wise are truly awesome, though perhaps the biggest tragedy of it all is that so much of the forests and mountains are still riddled with land mines. So for all the vastness of their natural beauty, it cannot be explored. It just gets even more impressive as you head to Croatia or to Montenegro.

The last Balkan stop was Croatia, which was a big change. It is very popular with tourists here, more expensive and the service levels plummeted instantly. Never-the-less Dubrovnik and Split are gorgeous cities with old towns that are a real buzz to explore. Given more time I am sure Croatia would be equally inspiring, we have heard the northern part of the country bordering Slovenia is magnificent.

Well my stalwart reader, I hope you have enjoyed sharing the little Balkan leg. Until the next entry enjoy your vegetables, all that is available here is meat. And more meat.