Dortmans take over Oktoberfest!

Beer. That's mainly what this blog is going to be about; German beer and lots of it. But before we get to that, I better talk about Berlin, as that is where I first flew into. Berlin is a strange city and Berliners are even stranger. But I guess that's not such a surprise when you look at the history of the city. It has an alternative/artsy feel about it, everywhere you turn there is technicolour graffiti adorning the grey Soviet-style buildings or some sort of art installation. The first day I got there the sun was disarmingly shining (this tricked me into thinking the weather was always going to be like this...) so I went for a stroll down to the East Side Gallery, which is part of the old Berlin wall and has some of the best "graffiti" in the town, getting political, hippie and abstract all over the place. I also checked out Checkpoint Charlie, which had an exhibition on the history of the Berlin wall. A lot of it was news to me, considering I was 4 years old when the Berlin wall came down. You hear a lot about WWII when you're growing up, but not so much about the aftermath and what happened to Germany and the rest of Europe as a result of everything that went down. I learned even more about this history in the Topography of Terror, an exhibition about how Hitler came to power.

My last few days in Berlin were rainy and grey, and all the depressing history was kinda getting to me, so I caught a bus to rainy Prague instead and spent a few days kicking around this beautiful old city. I met a funny group of Aussie guys and a couple of girls, and we all decided to hit the town and see what Prague nightlife had to offer. The hostel took us to a weird club which was full of weird robotic lights and everything was decorated with scrap metal. It looked kinda cool, but the music was reggae/dub which is okay for a few songs, then it just gets a bit boring. So we legged it to another club called Mecca. This place had girls in leopard skin underwear dancing on podiums and crappy trance music, so us girls went downstairs to where they were playing 80s and 90s music and we totally got the dancefloor going. Then we went back to the hostel and played Uno for a while before sleep got the better of us. The next day the sun finally decided to make an appearance and we went for an adventure to the Prague Castle, which was basically a huge fortress... we were wandering around asking "Where is the castle?" only to be told "Uh, you're in it". Oh. Fantastic views were our reward as we reclined on a grassy patch in a vineyard and took in our bearings. That night Olivia and I went to see Norwegian singer Hanne Hukkelberg, which was a really cool experience, as I have missed seeing good live music. It was one of those surreal experiences where you walk outside after the 2 hour show and go "Oh, I'm in Prague... I kinda forgot for a while there."

So after Prague I caught a bus and train to Munich to meet up with the Dortmans crew for an epic Oktoberfest. Nothing can describe my excitement at arriving at the camping grounds to be greeted by Dan, Kate, Ana, Laura and Kate's friend Coxy. It was great to see some familiar faces again. So in true Dortmans style we had a few beers, which were needed to help us sleep in the arctic overnight temperatures in Munich. I didn't even have a proper sleeping bag, so I curled up in a little ball in layers of thermals, pants and jumpers and had a pretty unrestful night's sleep actually. But it didn't matter. Next morning we all got up at some ungodly hour, had breakfast and put on our most German drindles (actually Sam tells me they are called dirndls... we were calling them drindles the whole time!) and lederhosen for the opening day of the 200th Oktoberfest 2010.

Queues for the showers were phenomonal, so most of us decided to keep our shower tokens (yes, you had to pay one euro for the privelege of 5 minutes of hot water) and go dirty. Then Ana and Kate unveiled a surprise for us all... some yellow and green plastic kazoos. I repeat, some yellow and green plastic kazoos. These were to be our pride and joy for the rest of Oktoberfest, as we played "Guess the tune" and pretty much annoyed anyone else that didn't have a kazoo. After a few steins, we even resorted to communicating only via kazoo ("Uh, sorry Megan could you please kazoo that again, I didn't quite understand..." from Ana).

So we got a shuttle bus into the fest, to be greeted by a fairground complete with ferris wheel and 14 MASSIVE tents. Calling these thing tents is like calling Uluru a pebble. We picked a table outside the biggest tent, the Hofbrau and then waited until midday for the opening of the festival and the tapping of the kegs. We entertained ourselves in true Dortmans style by buying HUGE pretzels (everything is oversized at Oktoberfest) and playing "How many things can you do with a pretzel?" We were getting very creative and cracking ourselves up, and this was before even having any beers. Then at midday a procession of floats holding kegs and lots of people in traditional dress came through the crowd, even little kids were being weened early on as they hung off the floats with fake steins of beer. Parades of brass bands came through playing German songs and some of those German boys looked very cute in their lederhosen. Finally the kegs were ushered into their tents and the man kicked off the festival by tapping the keg, and fountains of golden beer poured into the steins. Beer wenches crowded around the kegs to fill up the dozen steins they held in their Herculean hands (I still have no idea how they hold so many of these... each stein holds one litre of beer!). And the race was on... each table tried to get the attention of any beer wench that came through the door, and I have never seen anyone get so excited over the arrival of beer. The energy was contagious. Many shenanigans ensued until... the big toilet disaster. Unfortunately, the downside of drinking so many beers is that you and every other beer drinker need to go to the toilet a lot. So, silly me, I left it quite late and got to the toilets only to find they were CLOSED. So Ana and I hurried to another tent where the line was majorly long. I viewed the situation and estimated roughly a 30 minute wait... I knew I didn't have that long, I needed to go NOW. So I farewelled Ana who again laughed at my misfortune (she got her comeuppance when she had to squat under a truck later on...mwa haha) and I ran across the road to where I found a Chinese restaurant. These wily entrepeneurs were charging one euro for the use of their toilets, but I swear it was the best euro I ever spent. No line, clean toilet, plenty of toilet paper. Ahhh. You can sometimes take these necessities of life for granted. I heard later there were many girls squatting under trucks and in parks because the toilet situation was so dire, and a few boys at our table even filled a few steins... eeeewwwWWWW!

Day two of Oktoberfest, we were up at 8am ready to do it all again. This time we scored a table inside at the Lowenbrau tent with a couple of other people we met. Our beer wench was a character, always pushing us to buy more beer and showing us how to eat a German sausage. We were seated next to a table of Marios and Luigis with cool handlebar moustaches. This time the drinks started flowing from 10am onwards, and the first one went down like nails. We ordered a German platter to accompany our beer, and this ended up being much more entertaining than it was delicious. Apart from ham, we weren't able to identify anything on the platter, so it became a fun game of "Guess what we're putting in your mouth?" There were some things that resembled dog food (I'm pretty sure they were) some black sausages and other weird looking things. The looks on their faces say it all.

Soon enough, everyone was dancing on tables, shouting "Prost!" and singing along to the German songs, despite not knowing a word of German (cheers being the exception). Beer was everywhere and things were gettin' loose (as Dan would say). Laura was falling asleep on her beer stein, Ana was falling asleep between a guy's crotch and I was ready to never drink another drop of beer in my life. It seems after seven litres in the one weekend I had reached my beer threshold. So we retired after another day of hard work. We had to get some sleep before the DORTMANS ROAD TRIP OF 2010.

We had a bit of trouble with car hire, but after some negotiation, we got two little cars for quite a good price. These were the honourable vestibules which would be carrying us forth to visit more Dortmanses in Holland. For some of us, this was the last stop in a Euro trip of a lifetime. So we piled into the cars and hit the Autobahn, Dan getting our little Ford Focus up to a cool 190 km/h. We made a pitstop where Laura found some fascinating self-cleaning toilets, which she claims were the highlight of her whole trip. Our fantastic navigation skills got us to Dinther in one piece (who needs GPS?) only my navigational skills were pretty dodgy, as I directed us to the wrong house. And Dan only drove on the wrong side of the road once, which is pretty good.

We were greeted by that famous Dortmans hospitality to a fantastic 3 course meal of soup, meat and veg and custard. We were beaming afterwards, after living on a diet of pretzels, beer and German sausages for two days. For once we went to bed without having any beer. We had a great night's sleep before sightseeing around Dinther and Den Bosch the next day. The Dortmans girls, Ilse, Noreen (sorry if I spelt it totally wrong!) and Marlies fed us some Dutch delicacies and then we ran around town before going back to the house for delcious pancakes and a party full of Dortmans. Which meant more beer. The next day Laura and I stuck around to catch up with some rellies on Oma's side. To our amusement, we found one of them riding a bike along the main street of Dinther. His name was Fritz and he was 84. After door knocking all around Dinther to try and find out where he lived, watching him cruise past on a bicycle was the highlight of my day. He had a cheeky grin and gave us a wave while doing a u-turn and nearly getting hit by a car in the process. He looked exactly like Oma and just as healthy.

We also met Oma's younger brother Wim, all of them lived within 5 minutes walking distance in the same town. We probably could have knocked on any door in the cute little town and they could tell us where they lived. Which is pretty much what we did!
Phew! What a long blog. I will have to tell you about New York and Central America another time. Hey, guess what? I will be home in about 5 weeks! Can't wait chicas!
xxoo Megan

Inside, outside, puppy dogs tails

If you measure how extreme an adventure is by how many thongs you go through, then I think my adventure is pretty extreme (except Ash already knew that after our bungee jumping/white water rafting/speed dating adventures in New Zealand...). And to avoid any confusion for any Americans out there reading this, I mean those things you wear on your feet, not any other type of thong (man, that would be scary if I was breaking a lot of those...). I am now up to my fourth pair of thongs. When I am at home, one pair of thongs will last me like five years. Average life span of my thongs on this trip... 63.5 days. And they always seem to break in the most annoying places... like walking in Mykonos when the bitumen road is 100 degrees, or traipsing the streets of Berlin when it's raining (and let me tell you, the ground in the metro there is far from clean). And they were all Havaianas (apart from the ones I bought in Thailand, I think they were fake) which is why I will never be buying Havaianas again. They simply aren't extreme enough to keep up with me.

So anyway, enough about thongs. My mum also says she can't keep up with me, and I can see why, as I have been in five different countries (Spain, England, Wales, Ireland, Germany, for those keeping score) within the space of about two weeks. I touched down in London town a couple of weeks ago to some rather pleasant weather, actually. I was getting pretty sick of the 40 degree days in Spain, so a balmy 20 degrees was okay with me for a while (be careful what you wish for...). I found Beth working in her pub on Goodge Street (funniest street name ever) then did a spot of shopping on Oxford Street. That night Beth and I lazed around her room and watched movies and ate weirdly flavoured "crisps" with a bottle of rose. Before we went to her room, Beth warned me "Ok, well it's a bit ghetto..." It was a shoebox with four beds in it and just enough room to walk between them. She was living the cliche of a starving artist (or bartender) trying to make ends meet in the big city. It was worse than a hostel, but literally two doors down from her pub. And only temporary. The next day we went to the Notting Hill Carnival, which was actually really disappointing. What I expected was colourful Caribbean floats and costumes and music everywhere, with activities etc. What I got was drunken people everywhere, a few crappy DJs, long queues for the toilets and lots and lots of crowds. The highlight of my day was the African food and this old lady juggling:

So then I caught up with my cousin Kate, who also happened to be in London (the Dortmans invasion of Europe... it's beginning to gather momentum). We did the touristy thing cruising around Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, getting corny photos in red phone booths and double decker buses. Then we went to Covent Gardens for a beer or two, which turned into an afternoon drinking session watching street performers below and our group kept growing bigger and bigger. After a bite to eat in Soho, I was home in bed by midnight, the beauty of starting in the afternoon.

I ticked off a few more sights in London, like the Tower of London, Natural History Museum, National Portrait Gallery, Tate Modern, changing of the guard, then at night I went to see Shakespeare's "Comedy of Errors" at the Globe (replica of the original) for five pounds! Only downside being that I had to stand like a peasant for the whole show. But I do think we had the best non-seats in the house, right in amongst the action. The performance was awesome, and actually was hilarious. The next night I rocked up to a West End ticket booth at 6pm, bought a half-price ticket in a great seat to see "Oliver!" (very appropriate for London) and by 7pm was sitting in the Theatre Royal watching a great show. Try doing that in Australia!

After that I spontaneously decided to go to Ireland and hopped on a train and ferry to Dublin. It wasn't quite the quaint old city I'd been led to believe from the books of James Joyce and others, but a lot to see nonetheless. The sun didn't come out for the two days I was there, so I rugged up in my jeans and jacket for the first time in a while and cruised the streets. That night I went out with some Germans to a cool little pub called "The Stag's Head" where a little three piece band were playing old Irish ballads and the intimate crowd was getting right into it, dancing and singing along. I'd had my first taste of traditional Irish music, and disenchanted by the touristy clubs and bars that were taking over Dublin, I decided to head west, the home of trad Irish music. I caught a bus to Galway and was instantly greeted by Irish music pouring from bar doors and buskers on the street trying to earn a euro. I liked it better already. My first night there I met three hilarious Alaskan guys and a fellow Aussie girl doing the same thing as me, and between the five of us we ploughed through seven bottles of wine and laughed about George Bush, Sarah Palin and the weird things that Colombian men do with donkeys. I don't remember much of the rest of that night, except that I am pretty sure I resprained my ankle trying to wrestle someone and got REALLY lost (in Galway! The place is tiny!) after losing the others in a bar. I woke up the next morning pretty sore.

I then joined a tour to the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher, which looked like the beautiful magical Ireland you imagine, only crawling with tourists. The cliffs were spectacular and I finished off the day with a hearty Irish stew and a pint of Guinness (yes it does taste better in Ireland... something about the pipes, someone told me) then watched a five piece Irish band at the Spanish Arch, where an old man performed a spontaneous Irish jig on his way out the door, to the joy of all the onlookers. The guy playing the tinwhistle looked like a rockstar, he was very handsome. The tinwhistle is a sexy instrument, don't you think? Then with the accent... well, need I say more.

I would have loved to spend more time exploring the west, however, London was calling, as I had a flight to catch to Berlin in a few days time. I spent one more night in Dublin on my way through and gave it another chance, and this time it came up with the goods. The sun even came out for a while! I tried to walk to the port to buy a ferry ticket and got a bit lost. An old guy called Lawrence took pity on me standing on the street with my map offered to drive me there (it was so far away, glad I didn't walk!). Then he waited for me to buy the ticket and drove me back to where he picked me up! How cool is Irish hospitality? These random acts of kindness always keep me smiling for the rest of the day. That night I walked into a cosy little pub with a three piece band playing American folk music and started talking to a friend of the band who told me that Guinness had so much iron in it, you could live on a diet of 24 pints a day without eating anything else. I think a lot of Irish people live on this diet. So I hung out with these guys for the rest of the night as we went from little alternative bar to little alternative bar and they decided I was "intrepid" and I almost felt like I could be in Melbourne.

Then back to London where I caught up with Beth after her first week of having a real job... teaching! She was exhausted, but we reflected on our weeks over some good Indian food and pints of Guinness. The next day we did the London Dungeon, a kitschy mixture of London history and gore... the only time I genuinely got scared was when Jack the Ripper jumped out with a knife... oh and on the giant drop, of which I bought a priceless photo of the look on my face, which I will treasure forever. Then I said farewell to Beth, not knowing when and where we would see each other again, after randomly bumping into each other all over Europe. Sniff. Then I hopped on a plane to Berlin. Three days until Oktoberfest, bring it on Dortos!

Love Megan
Intrepid traveller

I'm a gypsy... are you coming with me?

Well it's been quite some time since my last blog, and now it's time to talk about Spain, which is where I flew to after Turkey. (Incidentally, did you know it was cheaper to fly from Istanbul to Barcelona than it was for me to catch a train from Barcelona to Madrid?) Anyway... Barcelona was a nice city, if rather touristy. So I did lots of touristy things... I did a "free" walking tour (hot tip, those things are never free; there is always an awkward moment at the end where the guide asks for tips and nobody knows how much to give) which covered the history of Catalonia (the state that Barcelona is in... they see themselves as separate from the Spanish, they even have their own language) and Picasso and Dali's absinthe drinking days. Then I went to see the Sagrada Familia, which is a cathedral worth seeing for it's unique architecture by Gaudi. I had a wander down La Rambla, a street full of pickpockets and street performers (I saw people doing the weirdest things for money) then bought a strawberry and coconut juice from "La Boqueria", a fruit and fish market that was as colourful as it was crowded. On the metro a lady pointed out that my handbag was unzipped... I always have my handbag unzipped, but she was Spanish and I am sure she knew a lot more about what the notorious Barcelona pickpockets were capable of, so I zipped it up. I also perused the Picasso museum before hopping on a train to Madrid, for which I paid an arm and a leg and a torso too for the privilege.






Madrid was a city with more character... I consoled myself after the expensive train trip by nabbing a room in an old University Residence for 9 euros a night. I got in late at night and went for a walk to find some food, only to find we were round the corner from prostitute central. There were also these Asian guys sitting on the footpaths with cardboard boxes in front of them selling cheap beer, soft drink, chocolate bars. I think they were probably illegal though, because as soon as a cop car drove by, they disappeared into thin air, like magic. These guys do come in handy, though, when you're walking from bar to bar... you can't beat a one euro traveller! The next day I went to the Museo del Prado, a fantastic collection of Spanish and Flemish art; even after all the art galleries I've seen, this one had a good variety, not just your typical religious paintings of simpering Madonnas and haloed Jesuses. I went to a restaurant for lunch and paid too much for what was basically battered eggplant. It sounded more fancy in Spanish, I'm sure. My whole time in Spain I have to say, I was not impressed with the food... tapas is good, if you're drinking beer and want something light, but they have no good dishes to speak of, apart from paella, which is basically saffron fried rice. So anyway, I met two friendly Indian guys at the restaurant who told me they were driving down to Granada in a few days if I wanted a lift. I got their numbers and said I would think about it.






That night I went on a "pub crawl" which was basically a group of us drinking in the basement of the hostel restaurant and playing drinking games. There was a very multicultural mix of people which was cool and one absolute moron who certainly didn't need to be drinking, but kept us entertained all night. We went to one "pub", then went to a Spanish fiesta where everyone drinks and dances on the street to some traditional Spanish songs that everyone seems to know. So then the moron spewed all over his shoes and I agreed to put him in a taxi and take him back to the hostel, as I was pretty tired anyway and he passed out in the back of the cab. So I took his last five euros, paid for the fare and went to bed. The next day I met Leah, a friendly Australian girl whose multilingualism made me insanely jealous... she could speak fluent German and pretty good Spanish and French. She asked me if I wanted to go to Toledo with her. We went to the train station and bought a ticket, then had an hour and a half to kill, so we went to the Australian Embassy to vote. They even had little cardboard boxes and a stunning view of Madrid. We went back to the train station, only to find it was the wrong station to get our train, so we missed it, then had a half hour argument with the meanie pants station workers in Leah's broken Spanish, but they wouldn't refund or transfer the ticket. So we had waited two hours for the privilege of not going to Toledo. We consoled ourselves over some greasy Spanish food, then as we were walking through the Plaza de Espana, I bumped into those Indian guys again. Madrid is a big place, so it was pretty uncanny. I took it as a sign and agreed to get a lift with them to Granada the next day. That night Leah and I stayed up until 3am talking to A South African and a Brazilian about the three things that you're apparently not suppoed to talk about with strangers; religion, politics and football. But it was one of the better conversations I have had with people in a hostel, considering you usually never get below the surface of "Hi, my name is Confucius, I've been travelling for this long, my favourite place has been...". I have even considered making up a whole new persona for myself because I get so bored saying the same thing all the time... "Hi, my name is Gertrude, I am a circus freak who can dislocate my own arms and I am currently on the run from the law because I robbed a convenience store..." then watch them back away!






Ahem, anyway. So I sadly said farewell to Leah and met up with my Indian friends, Reuben and Umesh. It turns out they couldn't hire a car without me anyway, because neither of them had a credit card, so they needed me (or my credit card) as much as I needed them. Oh, and we stopped at Toledo on the way to Granada, so I got there in the end. It wasn't that much chop anyway. It took about five hours to get to Granada, most of which I slept. Granada was a cute little University city, with the massive Muslim fortress of the Alhambra looming over the city night and day. But getting inside that thing was more complicated than it seems... you have to get up at 7am and queue for two hours to even get a look in. It took me four or five mornings of turning off my 7am alarm before I finally made it up there, but it was pretty amazing. It was the last Muslim fortress in Spain at the time when Queen Isabella was killing anyone who wasn't Catholic, and what a beautiful fortress it was. The palaces were ornately carved and mosaiced on every square inch and the view of Granada was amazing. I also went to see a fantastic flamenco show in the gypsy quarter, where the gypsies used to live in caves. I had a chat to the barman who told me a brief history of the gypsies and how flamenco originated, then sat down with a glass of sangria in a front row seat. There were four female dancers and a male guitarist and singer/clapper. I liked that the women ranged in age from 20 up to about 45 or older, and they each had their own style as they furiously stomped, clapped, clicked and twirled their way across the wooden stage. I actually thought they were going to stomp a hole in the floor. Each one would sit down afterwards, dripping with sweat and then I realised why flamenco dancers always have those polka dot fans. The musicians were also fabulous.






After Granada I caught a bus to Seville, which is the home of flamenco. It is a beautiful old town with little cobblestone streets and flowers hanging over every balcony and a long history. I went to a museum about Spain's discovery of the Caribbean islands and all the piracy etc. that went on during the 16th-18th centuries. It was very interesting and I walked out thinking that maybe I was born in the dullest century in history... why couldn't I have been born in the 1500s when there were still undiscovered corners of the globe waiting to be explored? Well, every day I went out and explored the little nooks and crannies of Seville anyway, even if they had already been discovered by thousands of feet already, but it was so hot I could only manage a few hours before I wanted to lie down underneath an air conditioner and not budge. I swear the mercury never went below 35 degrees the whole time I was in Spain. I went to see another flamenco show (it's addictive) which wasn't as good as the Granada one, but still fantastic. There was a guy and a girl dancer this time. After Seville I caught an overnight bus to Valencia, where I was meeting up with two other Aussie girls I met in Italy for LA TOMATINA, a big tomato fight. We had booked a hotel because everything cheaper was booked out, but it turned out to be a good decision, as you get a little sick of hostels after a while. We all put on our whitest clothes and caught a train to Bunol, where the fight was to begin. We were well prepared with our money in ziplock bags and tucked into our bather tops (or strapped to my arm) and we bought a disposable camera on the way to capture some priceless shots. So, the festival kicks off with people trying to climb a greasy pole to get a leg of ham. Yes, a greasy pole. When someone gets the ham, you hear a loud BANG and then a few minutes later the ominous sound of trucks. About five trucks come through and dump a whole load of tomatoes in the street, and then it is bedlam. Tomatoes are flying everywhere, you're trying to stay on your feet, people are rubbing tomato in your hair and guys are trying to rip your clothes off, everyone is pushing and shoving, guards are trying to move people so they don't get run over by trucks, the smell of off tomatoes makes you dry wretch and basically it is just crazy. Both the girls I was with lost their thongs in the fray and one had her top ripped, but miraculously the camera and our money survived. We pushed our way to a side street at the risk of being suffocated, then got a whole bucket of water on our heads by the friendly locals on their balconies. And that was it. All over. We went back to the top of the hill where a DJ was playing some tunes, so everyone got half naked and started a dance party in the street... I felt like I was in the Real Cancun or something. Then we were exhausted and took our stinky selves home for a much needed shower and I said farewell to my trusty Dunlop Volleys which was indeed a sad moment. The next day we got our photos developed on the way to the Aquarium in Valencia, from the disposable camera that was covered in tomatoes and the cardboard covering the open holes had become soggy and fallen off, so we were sure the photos wouldn't turn out. But they did, and we sat on a deck chair in a department store crying with laughter over some of the photos we had managed to take amidst the battlefield.






Wow, this was a really long blog, so I might finish there. Next destination: London. Watch out Queen, here starts the Dortmans invasion!






Thanks for reading,


Megan

Gobbling kebabs in Turkey

Previous experience told me I should fly from Santorini to Istanbul. I wasn't prepared for another two day stint on buses and ferries and trains and the flights were quite cheap. I arrived late at night and found my hostel down a narrow cobblestone alleyway full of little kiddy chairs and tables with people playing backgammon (not badminton, hey Fi), smoking shi-sha and drinking in little cafes with waiters trying to hassle all the passers by. My hostel seemed to be on the busiest street in Istanbul. Lucky I was exhausted and collapsed into bed.

In the morning I met up with Fi and Shelley to do some shopping at the Grand Bazaar and to go and see a mosque or two. We caught the metro which used these cool little tokens that made you feel like you had won the jackpot whenever you purchased them in the machine. We arrived at the Grand Bazaar and the hassling began. First a man at the entrance asked if he could feel my hair and then just went ahead and did it anyway. We got called everything from "Spice girls" to "Angels" to "Shakira" in the stall owners attempts to lure us into their stores. One of my favourites was "Hey, you wanna come into my store and by some things you don't need?". But some of the vendors were really fun. We spent a while picking out some gorgeous cashmere scarves with a man who showed us a cool way of tying them and then offered up his arm to parade us around his store once we had them on. So cute. At another store they gave us some Turkish tea and gave us a lesson in how to spot the quality scarves while we showed them the new scarf tying technique we had just learnt.

Then Shelley got her bum pinched in the crowd (lucky nothing else got pinched - apparently there are some expert pickpocketers in the Grand Bazaar) and we decided it was time to bail. We walked around and saw some mosques before deciding it was simply too hot to function any more. The next day we did more sightseeing and shopping, this time doing the Spice Bazaar where walking around you could smell every type of exotic spice displayed in big piled up pots and buy some fantastic Turkish Delight. We also had a Turkish bath, which was certainly an experience even all the onsen in Japan couldn't prepare me for. We walked into the big stone room which was centuries old and these old ladies with huge floppy bellies who were walking around in black underwear simply whipped off our towels and motioned us to lie on our backs on a big stone slab in the middle of the hexagonical room. There were already other girls laying around it, so we did as we were told and they proceeded to scrub us down with big soapy sponges as we lay there in nothing but undies. I felt like I had stepped back in time, as the building was so old and everyone was laying around like sirens from a Greek myth or something. Then they wash your hair for you (I felt like I was 4 years old again) and then the best part - a half hour oil massage.

That night we went to see a belly dancing show. Of course I got summoned onto the stage by the lady who was acting as the Sultan's mother and ushered out the back of the stage. They put a scarf thing on my head and what they didn't tell us was that we were going to have to go out and dance in front of everyone, to see if we were good enough for the Sultan's Harem. So they played some Turkish belly dancing music and I shook my booty like Beyonce... I'm pretty sure the Sultana was impressed. Fi and Shelley were just laughing their asses off at me. We then went to find a nice bar to drink at. We stumbled upon one that had some cool live Turkish music flowing out the front door, so we sat down for a beer/wine. But we were drawn inside and decided to have a bit of a dance, only to find we were the only foreigners in the whole place, which was fine with us! A song came on that everyone clearly knew and they all got in a circle and joined pinkies (which we were right in the middle of) and we danced around kicking our legs and laughing. Apparently there was some significance of a guy who had a napkin, so we called it "The Napkin Dance". Very fun. Then we sat outside again and an old man started passing fruit out to us, some of it we had never seen before. So random. Then a guy tried to teach us some Turkish - even a simple thank you was beyond us. Shelley thought she had it down pat, then tried it on another Turkish man who replied "Sorry, I don't speak English". Oops, nice try Shelley!

The next day Shelley decided she needed a belly dancing scarf, so we went back to the Grand Bazaar. Now, Shelley is clearly a natural born haggler, because the lady in the shop was so unimpressed with the price she named, she pointed at Shelley and said "This is bad!" as if she was an evil force that needed to be eliminated. But she gave us the named price anyway, not before Fi had upended a whole hat full of tiny beads all over the shop, which Shelley and I thought was hilarious.

Then it was time for Fi and Shelley to leave on a plane bound for London, and I farewelled them and set to making some plans for my remaining week in Turkey. Coincidentally, I found out my cousin Ana was flying to Istanbul the next day, so I decided to wait for her. That night I went to see the whirling dervishes, a branch of Islam that go into a meditative state through turning in circles. It sounds a bit silly, but it was actually quite interesting, and a lot of the beliefs outlined in the brochure reminded me of Christian beliefs. I think our religions are closer to each other than most people think. It took us a while, but Ana and I found each other and caught up on things over a meaty dinner of doner kebab, which really is just lamb off a spit with no salad or any other filler to speak of. Mmm, meat. We did a three hour ferry cruise down the strait between Asia and Europe and then rushed around to do some sightseeing. At the Spice Bazaar I was looking for a present for my dad and an old man tried to convince me that he would really like some Turkish viagra. Considering it was just a huge ball made of nuts I was pretty sure it wouldn´t make it back to Australia and decided my dad would probably prefer some Turkish delight.

The next day we caught a 6 hour bus to Canakkale, the base for tours to Gallipoli. Unfortunately, as I was stepping off the kerb with my backpack on, my ankle decided to give way and for the first time in my life I sprained my ankle. Ana was very sympathetic and was laughing too hard to help me up as I lay sprawled in a ditch with my backpack still on. I was halfway between crying with pain and laughing with embarrassment, as everyone was staring at me. Luckily the guy at our new hostel (who thought he was so Aussie, using phrases that only old men at the RSL would use like "kangaroo loose in the top paddock") was a little more sympathetic and gave me some cream and a bandage to ease the pain. The next day we were doing a Gallipoli tour, so I decided to rent some crutches. The lady at the medical centre didn´t speak any English so she brought in a translator from the shop next door and I had to buy a crutch for ten Lira (about 7 AUD). Ana thought it was hilarious that I was doing Gallipoli on a crutch. I´m glad someone got some joy from my pain :).

So we spent the next day travelling on a bus to Ayvalik which seemed like a cute little seaside town. Unfortunately I didn´t get much time to explore it as the only bus I could get back to Istanbul left at 10am the next day! Dóh! But Ana and I had a nice wine by the water and ate some amazingly juicy peaches and stayed in a gorgeous little homely hostel. Then it was time to say goodbye as Ana went on to Greece and I flew to Spain. I hate goodbyes. At least we would be catching up again for Oktoberfest in September. Can´t wait!

Farewell (just for a little while),
Megan

Riding on scooters with boys

Naples was grimy, it's true, but when I got there I felt like I had finally found the "real" Italy. Everywhere you looked, the streets were full of life; men with pot bellies sitting in front of fruit shops, scooter and taxis zooming down cobblestone streets, fat old ladies dangling buckets over balconies covered in washing and pizzerias making dough for amazing pizzas. Naples is the birthplace of pizza, and they like to keep it traditional; their dough is not too thick, a litle bit doughy and the Margheritas have the perfect ratio of tomato to cheese to herbs. I ate a whole one for 3 euros and it was delicious. People had warned me that Naples was full of pickpockets and thieves, but when I arrived I had about 4 people gather around me at the bus stop to guide me to my hidden away hostel using a mixture of sign language and broken English (and my bad Italian).

The next day I hopped on a bus to Pompeii, an ancient town, an archeologist's dream and a fascinating if really hot way to spend 3 or 4 hours. All thanks to a big volcano called Mt Vesuvius which exploded almost 2000 years ago. I felt like I shouldn't be allowed to walk around the dusty streets, like I was violating some UNESCO heritage law or something, but it was pretty cool to see how much was still intact. Especially haunting were the people petrified in lava who were curled in the foetal position or hands in the air with a look of terror on their faces.

After Naples I decided I needed some beach time, so I caught a stiflingly hot train to Sorrento, on the west coast of Italy. I was staying at a hostel with a terrace with 360 degree views of the surrounding area and the place was more like a 4 star hotel than a hostel. I was pretty hot after being squished between sweaty bodies and my backpack on the bus in Naples, so I walked down the stairs cut into the side of a sheer cliff to the beach. I was minding my own business, reading a book on the rocks when a guy called Rafael decided he would like to chat me up. However, he hardly spoke English and kept asking me "Rafael, beautiful?" and these things did not work in his favour. He decided to give me his number anyway.

I went back to hostel and had dinner with two lovely French Canadian girls (who it turns out were young enough to be my students... funny how age doesn't seem to matter when you're traveling) then had a few drinks at the hostel which was overrun with the cast of Laguna Beach, the most typical loud and insincere American girls you could imagine. I was the celebrity for the night because they simply couldn't imagine how a girl could be traveling on her own for like a whole year!

The next night I caught up with two Australian girls I met at a hostel in Naples and we were in the bar at the hostel at 2am enjoying a cocktail when the manager of the hostel asked if we would like to go to a nightclub in Positano, about 30km down the coast. We decided it would be an adventure, and the next thing you know we're each on the back of a scooter with an Italian guy zooming down the Amalfi coast by moonlight with sheer cliffs on either side. We approached Positano which looked like a sea of stars perched on a cliff and went to a nightclub which was in a cave in the side of a cliff. There was an expensive cover charge, but the guys knew the owner so we got in for free. Then we discovered that any drink was ten euros to buy (about 15 AUD), even a beer. We thought we got a good deal when we asked for 3 small glasses of beer for 10 euros, but looking back I am pretty sure it was just one beer poured into 3 glasses. So we stayed out until about 4am when we rode back to Sorrento in time to drop into the back door of a little bakery for a very fresh chocolate croissant and watch the sun rise over the cliffs. What a crazy night.

Then up again at 9am the next morning for a boat tour to Capri Island. This seemed like a good idea before we had stayed out all night, but unfortunately the three of us got "seasick" and ended up spewing over the side. But, once we got that out of our system we swam through some neon blue waters in some grottoes in the side of the cliffs and did some Jack Sparrow diving off our boat.

That night we met some crazy aussie boys on the rooftop terrace and agreed to hire scooters with them the next day to do the Amalfi coast by daylight. So we took off on scooters the next day with reassuring comments from the boys like "I've never driven a scooter before" and "I like to cut corners". For us girls, it was ideal because we could enjoy the view without having to concentrate on the road. We stopped at a few beaches, rode through Positano (even more stunning in daylight) and Amalfi then stopped for lunch. No sooner had we jumped back on the scooters when big grey storm clouds rolled in and out of nowhere came freezing cold rain. We took refuge in some old man's garage before embarking on the journey back to the hostel. Another fantastic day, finished off with Tim Tams and beer watching the sun set on the rooftop terrace (the Tim Tams were a delicious gift from my mum).

The next day was not so fantastic. I won't go into detail only to say I had 38 hours of non-stop travel on sweaty buses, trains and ferries to get to a little island in Greece called Mykonos, where I was meeting Fi and Shelley. Mykonos was not my favourite place in the world to say the least and it was made worse by the fact that I spent my whole first day there alone because I couldn't get onto the girls, the whole reason I even was there. I did find them at about 9:30 that night after some tears and a homesick call to my mum. Of course they had been oblivious and had been lazing by the pool all day. But all was forgiven as we went out and danced the night away. The main reason I didn't like Mykonos was because it was a major rip off and crowded with silly people; it appears the only reason you go to Mykonos is if you like to get off your head and dance until 10am, spend ridiculous amounts of money or you like to grope girls in the dark. Since I am none of those three, I didn't enjoy it so much. But the houses were cool with their plaster white walls and blue doors and shutters and the Venice windmills were pretty. We also got into the Mediterranean habit of eating lunch at 3pm (a yummy 2 euro souvlaki if you please) and eating dinner at midnight. Greek food by the way, is delicious. I only really knew about souvlakis, but there are so many more delicious meat dishes and tomato fritters, cheese balls, greek salads, yum yum YUM.

After Mykonos I caught a ferry to Santorini, and this island fully deserves its reputation as the jewel of the Greek Islands. The place was spectacular with clean white plastered houses with blue domes perched on top of rocky cliffs like snow and amazing sunsets and lava rock beaches. My first day before Fi and Shelley arrived I hired a quad bike and zoomed around the island (top speed of 50km/h whoa!). I even got lost one time and got waved down by a 12 year old hitchhiker who jumped on the back without even asking then put his arm around me. I just laughed and kicked him off at the next intersection. He was weighing me down anyway. The second night was a full moon and I got some spectacular photos of the moon reflecting off the water with the lights of Oia, the old white town, glimmering. So romantic; I think I found my honey moon spot.

Fi Shelley and I went on a tour to Volcano Island the next day, a little island next door which is basically just a volcano which erupted ages ago and caused the amazing cliffs and lava beaches of Santorini. Now because the shores of Santorini are all vertical cliffs, we had a lot of steps to walk down to the port. And it was hot. And we were running late. So we're speeding down the steps when a big fat donkey decides to step in our way and like the stubborn mule he is, will not budge. We tried patting its bum, we tried politeness ("Please move donkey") and we even called out for the donkey man to move his donkey. None of this worked so we managed to edge around the group of donkeys and continue. We climbed the volcano and heard an interesting phone conversation ("Sorry, I can't talk now, I'm standing on top of a volcano") then the boat took us too some "hot springs" which were really lukewarm, which was ok because we were pretty hot anyway.

The next few days we spent watching more great sunsets and relaxing on black stone beaches watching people run to the water like they were walking over hot coals (which they almost were) and eating more souvlakis. I swear I didn't want another piece of meat after Greece, delicious though they were. Little did I know, things were going to get even meatier in Turkey!

More on that next time :)

Megan

Sound of Music, Salsa dancing and Sculptures

Well, I have had a lot of adventures since my last blog. So where was I? Well, I believe last post I was bored out of my brains in the middle of nowhere in Austria. I left this place refreshed and ready to take on the world and headed straight to Salzburg, the home of the Sound of Music and classical music. The city was beautiful with huge baroque buildings surrounded by mountains; I felt like I had stepped into the 18th century, or some time around there. I also found out this stage, after not using it for 3 weeks, that my bank card had expired. It seems no matter how prepared you are, things like this will always pop up. I think I need to interrupt this blog to say that I have the best mum in the world. She jumped into action straight away at home and made sure that I wasn't without cash for too long. That night I had to find somewhere to watch Holland play Uruguay, so on a recommendation from the hostel I found a huge Oktoberfest-style beer hall inside a monastery with huge steins of beer and a massive screen. I met a friendly group of Israeli guys who bought me some massive beers, and then after the fantastic game (which Holland won) we found a salsa night club. Yes, I went salsa dancing in Salzburg with some Israelis. Just another day in the world of backpacking.

The next day I did the Sound of Music tour, since everyone on Facebook told me it simply had to be done. The tour was led by a lady wearing a Julie Andrews style hill-twirling costume who took us to many places where the movie was filmed such as the huge house they lived in, the lake they fell in, the gazebo where Liesel fell in love and the gardens where they sang "Do re mi". We had a good singalong on the bus to the soundtrack and that night I watched the movie itself so I could recognise all the places. I really forgot how much I love that movie. I swear for the next week I had all the songs on repeat in my head.

Next stop was a town called Innsbruck right in the Austrian Alps. I arrived at this town and it was the first time I had arrived anywhere without pre-booking. I think it will surely be the last. Apparently there were some medical exams going on, so the whole place was booked out by students. Just my luck. So I spent 3 hours frantically calling place after place on the Internet before I finally found a rather expensive room a little out of town, but conveniently located at the foot of the alps. Relieved that I wasn't going to have to spend the night sleeping in a train station or park bench, I had a well-earnt bath and then collapsed into my large and expensive double bed. The next day I caught a cable car halfway up the mountains, then hiked to the summit. The view was well worth it. I felt on top of the world and even spotted a wild mountain goat. As I was descending, however, I went a bit off the beaten track and ended up almost rock climbing, but without the safety of a harness. There were a few hairy moments where the rocks got a bit slippery and as I watched some loose rocks fall the 600m or so down the mountain I decided it was time to go back the way I came. I don't think my travel insurance covers stupidity.

So from Innsbruck I caught a long overnight train to Rome, back to Italy, where I would be meeting up with Fi and Shelley. I was excited but completely exhausted, yet somehow I couldn't seem to get any sleep on the 10 hour train ride. Maybe it had something to do with the school and scout groups that were all over the train. But I made it to Rome and checked into a camping site about 20 minutes out from the city centre where a friend of Fi's welcomed me and I gratefully fell into a deep sleep under a tree by the pool. That night I had dinner with Katrina (Fi's friend) and her family, a good old fashioned aussie BBQ with sausages and kebabs. It was pure bliss. The next day I awoke to find that Fi and Shelley had arrived and we kept hugging because I simply couldn't believe they were really there. We caught the train into town for Fi and Shelley's first Italian meal, during which a pigeon thought it would be funny to poo on Fi's head and in our drinks. Well, they do say it's good luck. Welcome to Rome. We then did a bit of shopping, as girls tend to do when they get together, especially when every shop window is shouting "Saldi!" (sales). We threw our coins into the magnificent Trevi fountain, then we went back to laze by the pool and get ready for the World Cup final between Holland and Spain. Unfortunately it was a ridiculously boring game and the outcome was disappointing and Fi and Shelley were struggling to keep their eyes open, so we went to bed, as we had an early start in the morning to get to the Vatican.

We had a booking for 8:30 for the Vatican museum. So we left at 7:30 to catch the train. But the train had other ideas. Let me tell you a bit about public transport in Rome. They consist of rickety old trains covered in graffiti and with no air conditioning and they are usually so packed that you can't get a seat. This is an issue when every day is 40 degrees. And when the train decides to stop for 10 minutes at every stop and then even in between; which is what this train did. Everyone was looking pretty frazzled, fanning themselves and then finally someone knocked on the train driver's cabin and asked what the deal was in Italian. Only then did an announcement come over the speaker, and it mustn't have said anything reassuring because everyone groaned. I asked a man what it said and he replied "They are having technical difficulties". Well duh. So what should have been a 20 min train ride took us an hour and we didn't get to the Vatican until 9:30. Luckily our booking still held, because the queue was already about 1 kilometre long as it weaved around the city walls in the hot sun (I am not even exaggerating). I was definitely glad to pay the extra 4 euro booking fee to skip that queue. I felt a bit like VIPs getting into an exclusive club. Except that this club was full of sculptures and religious artwork and the Sistine Chapel. Amazing yet totally overwhelming.

We then went to see St Peter's Basilica and climbed the 320 steps to the top for an amazing view of Rome. The church itself was by far the most amazing I have seen, with such intricate detail in every square inch of wall and you sort of had to wonder at the decadence and power of the Catholic Church. Shelley and I got a photo with the Swiss guards who made sure we kept a healthy distance and then we decided it was time for some of the best gelati Rome had to offer. Katrina took us to a place which was so packed you couldn't even read the flavours, but it was definitely some of the best gelati I've had.

The next day Shelley and I went to see the Colosseum and Roman Forum. We got a summary of over 2000 years of Roman history in about ten minutes and we stood at the top of the Colosseum just staring at the very place where years before people watched as slaves were eaten alive by exotic animals. And I thought human kind was messed up nowadays. That night we went out for dinner with Katrina and then went out for a few drinks. We met a very interesting character as we were downing our Mojitos... he looked like he was trying to be Axl Rose from Guns n Roses and he was surely wearing more make up than the 3 of us combined. He was also generously tattooed and kept us entertained all night with his anecdotes. On the way home, I suddenly became very fluent in Italian and chatted to our taxi driver all the way home in what I thought was perfecto Italiano.

Soooo, we shopped, ate and drank our way through the Rome heat, but after 3 days, it was time to part ways with Fi and Shelley again and move on to my next destination; Naples, then the Amalfi coast. Stay tuned for more adventures... it only gets more exciting. :)

xxxxxooooo Meg

The hills are alive... with the sound of cow bells (oh ohoh ohhhh)

When I first landed myself in the southern Austrian Alps, I must admit, I thought I was on another planet. And all I wanted to do was get back on that eight hour train and ten hour overnight bus right back to the tranquil waters of Croatia where the sun always shines and the people are friendly. When I arrived it was rainy and cloudy, I swear I didn't see the sun for the first 72 hours. And my first encounter with the locals was at the Grünhütte, a bar/cafe atop a mountain where a dirty old drunken farmer obviously well on his way to paralysis slurred some words in some weird dialect of German in my face and tried to put his hand on my knee. Needless to say, I put it right back where it came from and informed him that "Ich spreche nicht gut Deutsch", which in English means "Please stop talking to me, you dirty old farmer (figuratively speaking)". I was pretty glad to get out of there. So why did I bring myself to this strange land you might ask?

Well, it is all in the name of saving money. Same as I did Workaways in Italy, I decided leading some hiking tours in the Austrian Alps wouldn't be so bad. And it isn't. As I'm finding as I travel, when you tough things out, they only get better. Sometimes they can even be a highlight, as my sister Beth would say. This probably isn't a highlight, but it's not so bad. A few days later the sun came out and I even got to lead a couple of people on a hike (despite not even having walked it myself... it's okay, I can read signs). One of them turned around and went back a third of the way through, so the two of us remaining toughed it out, even though it was kind of rainy and it was all uphill. So the deal is I get 2 euros 50 for every person I take on a hike, and then at nights I work about 4 hours behind the bar at the Hotel. For this I get meals, a bed and unlimited beer, wine and soft drink.

Yesterday I had to map out a new hiking route. This new hiking route should probably take 4 hours, round trip. For me, it took 6 and a half. Now, before you think I am extremely unfit and ridiculously stupid, I was armed with a really crappy map (which I subsequently dropped in a creek when I bent down to get a drink of water... I nearly fell in trying to retrieve it, but in the end I got my soggy map) and there was a big chunk of the walk which was through a paddock and really badly marked. Then I tried to take a shortcut back to the hotel because it was getting late and I had to scramble through the bush getting stung by nettles and falling off rocks and logs (and can I just quietly say, THOSE NETTLE STINGER THINGS HURT.) I came out onto the main road, and I am sure I must have looked like Jane from Tarzan with dirt on my face and twigs in my hair... but I made it. And achieved my objective... to map out a new trail where no (wo)man has gone before. Sometimes I feel like I'm in Lord of the Rings, other times I feel like I'm in Enid Blyton's The Faraway Tree (the trees even make that wisha wisha wisha sound... am I showing my age here?), sometimes I feel like Maria Von Trapp, but mostly I just feel a bit bored.

Another plus to being stuck out here with nothing to do is that I have finally opened my Bible. After carting it around for six months and opening it probably only once (in Vietnam on a sleeper train when I thought we were going to contract a disease from the beds) I have decided to read it from front to back. I realise I have never done this before in my life - all the stories seemed so familiar to me since being drummed into us in Sunday School and high school,etc. But to read the Old Testament in order and with fresh eyes is fascinating. In fact, I have found a lot of things in the Old Testament which really concern me, and I can't believe I have never questioned some of it before. I could write a whole extra blog on what I have found reading it, but I won't bore you all. If anyone has any insight into this, feel free to email me, because I find the God that exists in the Old Testament seems contradictory to everything I am led to believe about him in the New Testament and beyond. How could the Israelites trust in a God who turned on them all the time and condoned stoning, burning and stabbing people to death for some seemingly minor offences? And some of the justifications for making war with their neighbours seem similar to the excuses you hear come out of the mouths of fundamentalist religious people who think it is holy to blow themselves up. But anyway, it is certainly interesting reading. I found once I started, it became like one of those novels you can't put down, except that it's actually real history and really small writing and heaps and heaps of pages. Heaps and HEAPS of pages...

So anyway, this is what I dedicate my days to, I'm also getting better at speaking Dutch and German, although I always get the two confused. Oh, and Australia finally made the news here with our new Kath & Kim-like Prime Minister. I watched Rudd's speech on YouTube and it nearly made me cry... poor Rudd! And I watched Gillard's speech and it made me laugh because of her accent and the chicken head bobbing. But I think she might be ok, only time will tell. Although if she holds an election while I'm overseas it's kind of annoying because I have no idea how to vote... ah well.

Do do do do...
Megan

Look at the way these weeds and prickles taunt me... surely there is no way through this wilderness...

 

But nothing is impossible for Megan, Weed Warrior! Fear me, oh weeds and stingers (did I mention earlier that those things hurt!). Armed with my Scythe of Carinthia (I left my machete at home, unfortunately...) I will slaughter you mercilessly! Feel my wrath.

Check out the path I made. Suck on that stingers. Goodness wins again! Who needs a lawn mower? (or a real scythe, or a machete...)

By the way, before the comments flow in, yes I have been reading too much Old Testament, yes, I did enjoy that just a little too much and yes, I do have too much time on my hands :)

Stay tuned for more adventures of Megan, Weed Warrior.

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail"

Ralph Waldo Emerson