Get your gherk on

Barcelona has a giant erection. Towering amongst Barcelona´s skyscrapers and old buildings is La Torre Agbar, a cucumber or gherkin shaped tower. It piqued Dave´s interest, so off we went in search of this interesting architectural work. The building, designed by Jean Nouvel, is now home to water company headquarters. Finding the metro route to the place was difficult. We didn´t know what it was called. After much frustration, Dave put his drawing skills to the test. Drawing a bunch of buildings with the gherkin structure amongst them resulted in laughs but understanding from the information people at the station. We arrived in the evening at the metro stop Glories before dark. From afar and close up we to took lots of great snaps. We headed to a nearby shopping complex for dinner. Dave also came out with a suave hat and dress shirt. When we emerged the place was lit up with brilliant reds, greens and blues. We got honks and laughs from passerbys as Dave and I went mad with silly snaps.

´My dad has a big one´ began one of the french guys. I mentioned we are rooming with some young french lads in the last post. This double entendre, which was really referring to his father´s high-tech camera, resulted in laughs and a discussion about double entendres.

Turns out, the French don´t ´really use the term double entendre´anymore. Dave got talking to the French boys and we ended up joining them for a cheap eat they´d read about in the Lonely Planet. They are really cool and suprisingly proficient English speakers. One of the boys, Guillame, has a mother who teaches English. He lives in Paris, and has offered us accommodation if we ever visit his gorgeous city. Tempting offer indeed!

Where to next?, you ask. We arrived in Girona yesterday and will be staying until the end of our trip. This fortified city is stunning, and not half as smelly as Barcelona. We fly back to Australia on August 22nd. My trip is shorter due to reasons too long to ennumerate here. On the plus side, I´m looking forward to home sweet home and catching up with you all. Yayness!

Bustle of Barcelona

Dave and I have been going to market, to market. The Mercat de St Josef on Las Ramblas is a fresh produce market. If you can abide the crowds and smells, it is worth a visit. We discovered a fresh pasta place within the market, Pazzta to Go, which makes its own pasta and fresh meals. You just select a pasta, say almond and ricotta, sausage or spinach, and a sauce like pesto or tomato and they´ll make you a bowl of piping hot pasta. Yummmo! There are heaps of restaurants with the same reheated drudge in Barcelona, so this place is a fresh bite. For one euro, I down a fresh Banana and Strawberry juice from the market and I´m laughing.

Barcelona is pretty overwhelming. Today, our first quite rainy day this trip, we went out to the fantastical imaginative brainchild Park Guell, designed by Gaudi. It features lots of greenery, stone religious monuments and darkly fun mosaic monuments. Dave was impressed with the Hansel and Gretel houses which look like picture book gingerbread abodes, but wasn´t phased on the whole. Perhaps it was the altitude change as the park is high up, but we felt exhausted after this venture out. We had gotten up late this morning, at 11.15, but yet we were still lacklustre. Barcelona is a party girl, and the place is crazy busy all the time. Thus, we´ve decided to spend tomorrow chilling out in order to revive our spirits and sanity.

Yesterday, we learnt of a festival which was occuring in a nearby streets near Le Catedral. We listened to an excellent accordion player with a limited repertoire until his equipment failed and he began to fiddle and exclaim ´Scheitzer!´. Luckily, we found our way around the corner to an uber talented opera singer who entranced us with her sopranic notes.

Meandering back to the hostel, we were almost scammed by two kids claiming to be from the deaf foundation. They thrust a sheet in front of us, and in response to our inquiry as to the cause, pointed simply to something stating a need for a National Deaf foundation. Just sign here, they demanded. We did this, following along the other boxes like postcode etc until we got to donation. They weren´t impressed by a 5euro donation insisting on 20. We walked away, realising that their melodramatic kisses and exclamation of ´Gracias, Gracias´were a well'designed trap.

You can shop till ya drop in Barcelona. Well-behaved we´ve been, with the exception of some small slippages. I got a pretty purple and white checked dress, with a purple tafetta bottom. Dave got a suave black hat, and a long-sleeved black dress shirt from H & M.

Our new hostel, Center Ramblas on Hospital St, is pretty dodge. Ridiculous prices have forced us to leave double rooms behind, and this is our first shared experience. The place is pretty filthy as they don´t seem to regularly clean rooms or change sheets. I am the only girl in a six-bed dorm. We are sharing with a bunch of lovely French boys who are spending time in Barcelona as part of their ´ínternational journey of the holidays.´¨ I slept through all the comings and goings last night, so for me sleep has been pretty good. Dave is shattered though, so as I type, he´s having a nap in the top bunk down the road.

B.b.b.barcelona!

We were sad to leave behind Dave´s extended family and cute Maisie who, it turns out, wouldn´t fit in our packs. Luckily, Barcelona, Spain is happening enough to make up for it. The city is full of architectual eye candy, from the gothic Barri area, Gaudi´s gorgeous buildings, to inventive landscape gardening which has produced many scenic parks.

The busy square, Plaça Catalunya

Barcelona is abuzz with activity, boasting an effervescent street culture and a string of sexy sights. For our first few nights, we stayed in a shoebox room at the Hostal Las Ramblas which is just off the main street. It was a good access point to the craziness that is Las Ramblas, which hosts buskers, dancers, skilful folk. And yes this street 'with all its human stains' as one artist describes harbours and a few odd people with half-baked money making schemes.

Buskers include a lady dressed as a fruit stand, a green man pictured next to Dave the grim reaper, a teenage mutant ninja turtle and much more. Las Ramblas also has a fresh produce market, many a restaurant and artists who have turned to caricatures and portrait painting to make a dime.

Initially we were at a loss of how to map the city, mentally and physically. So, we jumped on a bus service called Bus Turista. For 22euro for two days, you can catch a few different routes around the city which pass the main attractions. These double decker buses make for gorgeous sightseeing and snapping from the top view. Dave was tickled when we glanced across to spot a man streaking along on his bicycle, a la naturel. Yes you read right, he was starkers, nuddy, exposed, utterly nude. How rude!

Speaking of rude things, Dave and I got down and dirty at the Erotic Museum on the main street of Barcelona, Las Ramblas. Interesting pieces include artwork blending photography of pink bits, the S & M room and a pleasure seat with inbuilt dildos and a pleasure (?) control to be operated by someone other than the user. The ancient Greek erotica was pretty cool. For those who find the place abit too overwhelming or dare I say it, naughty, there is a outdoor chillax area with bamboo sun chairs.

Shocked at the erotic museum!

We are cerebral creatures too, so we were ecstatic to learn of a Leonardo da Vinci exhibition on at the maritime museum. ´Knowledge is the daughter of experience´ was a mantra of da Vinci, and this philosophy was tested in the various inventions which were showcased in the exhibition. These technical-scientific studies only showed a glint of Da Vinci´s genius as his abilities spread across many disciplines. Frenetic, a word from a plaque at the exhibition, captures the frenzy of activity that produced these inventions. The music, intense and fast classical tunes, highlighted the prodigious productive capacity of da Vinci.

I´m going to section off these posts into little Barcelonic portions, because the city is really a feast of architectural and cultural delights that can´t be dealt with easily.

A real corker

Family Dinner - is bolognaise eating Finley?

Today has been a day of recuperation. Last night I got merry, and Dave got absolutely trashed. He adopted a bottle of vodka, combining it with red bull. Keen to take advantage of cheap Spanish alcohol he had dashed down to the supermarket to procure the red bull before close time. Admittedly, I downed some red bulls and vodkas, got merry and danced repeatedly to my own rendition of 'Black Betty.' Dave was a laugh last night though. Particularly amusing were his attempts to help a friendly Spanish neighbour who had come along to repair our broken outside light. He was drunk but tried to tinker with the tools, repeating his extensive Spanish vocabulary of 'si' and 'uno'.

The English family got plotting early on to make Dave a cork hat. Our participation in this scheme required copious consumption of champagne to yield the required corks. Last night, Dave was presented with the grand hat, made from corks attached to his Burberry bucket hat. We both took turns wearing it and posing for pics to be posted soon. We talked for ages as Lisa and Rick amused us with funny tales and ringtones. Dave banned me from going to bed, drank himself silly and then after a few hours, announced he was off to bed and marched away. Actually getting him to bed was a difficult affair but was eventually achieved. In the morning, he asked earnestly if he'd fallen asleep outside.

Sadly, Sam and her kids left us this morning. I got up and gave Sam a huge hug and proceeded to fall back to sleep. Dave got up and kept Sam entertained whilst she had breakfast. He released some of last night's festivities in a breakfast barf. Maisie was uber cute this morning, declaring that Finley has the brain of a monkey, Alix the brain of a doctor and likening her own brain to that of a dragon.

Dave got a ribbing today. He slept most of the day but went fishing with the kids this arvo. Alix caught a crab, and Dave managed a small fish. I read and pottered around. Earlier on Rick, Lisa, Finley and I went to a hardware store which was unfortunately located next to a smelly sewerage area. Lisa and I held our noses and sprinted back to the car. Tonight is both exciting but upsetting as it's our last night in Alicante. Boooo! We are off to a chinese restaurant to have the meal of day. Apparently it is a requirement by law that all restaurants offer a 'Meal of the Day' which is cheap and affordable so everyone could eat out.

Yesterday morning was fab. We went to the Sam Miguel markets aka shoppers heaven. This local Spanish market is located in an old housing area. Fruit, clothes and cute little Senorita dresses can be picked up at market stalls. I may have accidentally acquired shoes, souvenirs and yet another pretty dress. Sam and Lisa also got pairs of pretty flower thongs. Dave bought the kids lasers which produce patterns. Endless entertainment! He is one cool cousin/nephew/boyfriend.

Yahreepah: family fun in Spain

Pulling up at the Alicante train station, Spain, just before midnight we puzzled over how to find Dave's uncle Alan. 'We'll call him when we get outside' Dave fretted. Two moments later, Dave starts chuckling. The first thing we notice about Dave's uncle is his sense of humour. There he stood ahead of us, holding a wonderfully designed sign reading 'David P Smelly'.

The adults, or Alan and Betty's big kids, waited up for us at home in Orihuela, Alicante. We met briefly Betty, Sam, Lisa and Rick and knew we were in for some laughs. 'Fireman' Rick is full of tricks and fun and makes a mean morning coffee. Sam and Lisa have a truckload of stories, also love reading and are absolute riots. Sam becomes even more amusing with some vodka concoction in her. This was to be the quietest we'd hear the house before it filled up with kiddiewinks. We are staying in the apartment next door with the big kids, and things run smoothly and efficiently between the two Spanish houses.

The big girls remember Dave's mum fondly, so Dave is filled in on tales of his mum and his big sister Bev as a youngster. On our third night in Alicante, Sam, Rick and Lisa took us out for drinks. We headed out to a strip of bars but never made it past the first Irish pub. We had an early one but it was awesome fun just chatting and enjoying the rapier English humour of our hosts.

Must make a random tangent, but we attended a carboot sale on our first morning in Alicante. We came out with a plethora of colourful, comfy crocs for the kids. I found a copy of my beloved book, Pnin by Nabokov. Embarassingly, I jumped with the ecstasy of a bibliomaniac. this book is crazy hard to find! Now Dave's extended family realise I'm a bit loopy but have decided to accept me anyway. Yahreepah!

We found out that we were destined to join in days of drinking and frolicking at the pool. The amounts of water we empty out of the pool each day with an assortment of bombies and shoves is gargantuan. The kids are just gorgeous. They adore Dave and enjoy mucking about in the pool with him. Sam's kids - Josh, Bradley and Ben are well-mannered, adorable and addicted to their nintendos. Rick and Lisa's lot - Finley, Maisie and Alix are always brimming with energy. Alix keeps up with the boys, Finley provides household entertainment and Maisie is a little bundle of cuteness who runs around catching pondskaters at the pool. The little girl Maisie even has two serves of cereal so she can have enough energy to throw Dave in the pool. Poor little Maisie doesn't realise, but we've been plotting ways to transport her back to Oz in our packs. She is uber cute!

Alan and Betty are wonderful hosts - anxious to give their nephew Dave a good time and even his tag-along girlfriend gets the hospitality. They've taken us out to a Spanish bakery and an English pub. We each got coffee and a decadent cake and it was gorgeous.

Last night though was pretty amazing - we went to Las Villas, a Spanish restaurant which had first class service that you'd pay a fortune for in Perth. The efficient waiters worked the tables, which although empty when we were arrived, filled up quickly. The food was amazing, Dave had a seafood soup and I had a seafood crepe - and that was just the appetiser. For mains, Dave and I shared a Fisherman's Paella - a Spanish seafood rice dish.

I've been trying heaps of different foods while I've been here, even though I may have accidentally thought that the date wrapped in bacon was a sausage when I downed two. This prepared me for trying Alan's goat/kid last night at the restaurant. Couldn't eat a meal of it, but the taste was good. We finished off with dessert and drunken Dave had two Belmonte's (condensed milk, brandy and coffee) to chase his massive dessert plate. So much more to post but like our meal, delivery should be slow to allow for lots of enjoyment and banter in between courses.

Welcome Back to Athens

When we got back to Athens late on a Wednesday afternoon, we headed to the dodgy red-light, drug-dealing area of Omonia to check up on our streetcorner standing girls. Although we'd tried to get in early to some inexpensive places in nice touristic Plaka we'd had no success. So we returned to this grubby bit of Athens in search of a place to kip. Although more than we'd usually pay, Hotel Parnon was awesome for the price. A functional shower is the most blessed thing for travellers like Dirty Dave and I. Since we were flying out the next morning, we never expected that we'd stay there another night.

We got to the airport at 9.05am, expecting to be two hours early for our 11am flight. When Dave got out the piece of paper to check where to go for the tickets he was taken aback. 'Our plane's leaving right now! We've missed it' he announced defeatedly. We rushed to find the counter in case of a delay, but alas we'd misread the arrival time as the departure. A right fix indeed - the plane had left without us. We went to the airline desk, and for a fee of 40€ each changed our details to exactly the same flight, same time next day. We knew we were in for a ribbing but all that mattered is that we were both O to the K.

We checked out some other sleeping options in Syntagma - ridiculously expensive. We looked around Omonia and discovered seriously skanky rooms, with towels draped over the floor to absorb recent sticky messes. We returned to Parnon hotel to be met by a bewildered reception attendant. He offered as a glass half-full solution, saying at least we had another day to explore Athens. All we explored was alcohol and food, but it was quality stuff.

We found a funky bar called Bretto's which professes to only stock hand-selected specialties. Dave had this rose liquer which tastes like rose turkish delight - sweet and drinkable. His second drink was potent though - a honey liquer (Rakimelo) which didn't go down well. Despite the 'don't like it, we'll get you another' mantra of Bretto's, the guy just kind of balked and said Dave had chosen it himself. I had some nice wines though.

I'll cut this short to share lots about our Spanish adventure. Good news is we got out second flight arriving in Madrid the next day. Bad news is our run in with Greek metro tranport people and the big fines they slapped us with. Ouch!

Got Milo?

Milos was not what we'd expected based on the rave reviews we'd had from many parties - Greeks who had been there and Greeks who hadn't. Big and unwieldy, we were at a loss at how to begin exploring this island. Ferrying from Sikinos to Milos was only a hop, skip and a jump. Time dragged it's feet though, because our evening ferry was a few hours late. Dave and I hung out at the funky Rock Cafe in Sikinos which overlooks the bay and serves icecream frappes which go off. Our ferry rocked up just past midnight and in my sleepiness I left my camera there. On Milos I called around and eventually got through to them - it's on its way back to Perth.

Milos was pretty buzzy at Adamas port when we pulled in at four in the morning. A few bars were pumping funky Greek tunes. Exhausted and apprehensive about a roof over our heads, we wandered over to the slim room pickings offered by touts out early to fill rooms. We went home with a little old lady who Dave regarded with suspicion. She let us have a 3-bed room for 40euro which we later learnt was bargainous. The 'nanna suite' came complete with an elderly aroma, plastic covered furniture, cabineted knick-knacks and floral patterns of course. The little old lady fussed about the place and kept trying to up the price - 5 euro extra for aircon etc etc. We refused so she took the remote. Dave didn't trust her, and asked in jest if the flash Mercedes parked out front was hers. She almost fell over, replying with 'I go with the foot - no car!'. Dave still thinks it's hers. He tried to work out how many nights of extra aircon it took to buy that baby.

Our first day in Milos was pretty stagnant. We hired a scooter, keen to kick around but we kept getting lost. Milos is hard to navigate, roads aren't that well-connected and peter out into dirt tracks. We made our way on scooter all the way up to Pollonia, a touristic beach town. We stopped at the bakery and quickly became regulars. We went in three times in the next hour. We are diehard fans of their cheap pastries. They even gave us free chocolate cake with our first purchase. On the way home, we found the gorgeous natural caves of Phylakopi and did some exploration. We did a spot of out-of-bounds rock climbing and I vomited much owing to the pre-exertion treats.

We stumbled across a cluster of windmills on the way back - new ones you can hire out as rooms and older, dilapidated ones. Dave wants to make one. The child-like wonder in his eyes brimmed over as he went snap-happy. In the distance, we also spotted a trio of wind turbines on the other side of the island that Dave was desperate to explore. Alas, we never found out how to reach them.

To share a few hilarious horrors, I'll start with our trip to the beach Plathiena to watch a sunset. We saw an old lady waddling down a long road on the way down to the beach Firopotamos. She was too large to offer a scooter lift, so we hoped she didn't have far and went on our way. Returning to Plathiena later we passed her again, trudging down to the beach. She didn't seem wealthy and obviously had spent ages walking for a swimming outing. Wandering around taking pics pre-sunset, Dave had the misfortune to catch her starkers though and remains evermore scarred. In a little accident, we smashed up a front light on our hire scooter. Good news is Dave returned it with a poker face and they didn't even notice. Oh yeah, and we were both ok, pretty good huh? Alot of things in Greece are designed shoddily or left in a haphazard way. Dave cut himself on the dodgy broken glass at our next hotel in Adamas, Milos.

Milos is an island rich in minerals, featuring sulphur mines, catacombs and dotted with caves which people once, crazily enough, inhabited. Although Milo, pronounced with a soft 'o' in Greek means Milo, to Dave's Australian ear, he heard Milo and it got him lusting after that stuff in a green tin. He searched the island in vain for a Milo factory.

To better get a handle on the varied island that is Milos, and to do something special on our last Greek island, we took a boat tour the day before we left for Piraeus. The tour of Milos and Kimolos took us around the perimeter of the island and afforded some amazing photographic and explorative opportunities. We swam at the gorgeous beaches Firopotamus, Kleftiko and Tsikrado. Kleftiko was the splendiferous favourite. The shore itself was pebbly and uncomfortable, definitely hard to walk on. That was irrelevant, as we explored some little caves, swimming into them. We went into a huge one off to the sight, and almost swam through to the next one. The blue water was amazing - dark blue but still transparent. The 25euro boat tour was worth it - the boat, Cpatain Yiaykos was driven by daredevils who got surprisingly close to prismatic Volcano rock structures. The only downside was the stop at Kimolos. Dave and I waited for everyone to get off and unfortunately couldn't get a table at the restaurants as people on tours packed the few restaurants. It's stressful to see a boy almost in tears with hunger pains. After an hour or so we finally got a table, and had awesome calamari and eggplant salad.

Intimate Sikinos

Sikinos was an intimate experience. We'd read that although the island boasts no party atmosphere, you could experience an untouristic Greece. If you were lucky, locals would even break into song. We certainly found this to be true!

Curious Dave became intrigued by Sikinos on the ferry ride to Santorini. We briefly chatted with a man frantically preparing to return to Sikinos - an island he had camped on and fallen in love with 20 years prior. We had planned to go from Santorini to party island Ios, but instead bypassed it for sleepy Sikinos. It's a small island with lively locals, but no party scene, internet or bustle. Sikinos is wonderful to look at -there are man-made stone wall after wall which used to show agricultural demarcations.

Coming off the ferry to Sikinos we were approached by people with 'domatia)/rooms signage. We went with a lady who had rooms 300-400metres from port. Although they were slightly a longer walk than 300/400 metres the Floga rooms were nice.

Sight-seeing wise, Sikinos is a strange creature. First of all, we tried fruitlessly to find the famed beach only accessible by boat owing to the road being under construction. We went down dirt tracks on the scooter anyway couldn't find it. We got some cute friends instead - two dogs ran alongside us for kilometres!

Nice ass and orai vizia (nice boobs)

This donkey was trying to grab me!

I'm a donkey - left my camera in Sikinos.

It's now being posted to Perth. Enjoy Dave's pics for now!

We found the Kastro/old castle which is a village/ block of old houses and buildings connected to the Hora (village centre). It's amazing how you notice the difference in wealth and age as you pass into the Hora. Some people still live in the Kastro area - dilapidated buildings and donkey sheds are still up for grabs.

We had one big day of exploration - saw the Episkopi and St Ayios Georgios chuch at the dead end of the island. We only encountered two other people the whole time we explored them. They informed us that it was the hottest day in Athens - 44C!

Dining in the Hora/village centre was an awesome experience. We got souvlaki and a cheap jug of local wine. One guy at a table near us brought out a guitar and sang really nice island songs for most of the night. It was awesome! As we got up to leave we were stopped by a guy called Kosta who had quit his job in Santorini and was taking a break before he returned to an old job. We joined him for hours. He spoke English quickly but perfectly, and taught me a host of Greek expressions. When we swapped details, I recognised his surname and learnt he is first cousins with Greek singer Kosta Karofotis!

Food wise, Sikinos was pretty good. Disasterously, the island was lacking in gyros/kebabs - they only had skewered meat available. It was too small to boast a kebab shop so we explored local dishes. The Estatorio to Meltemi (Restaurant Meltemi) was nice for a simple spaghetti bolognaise. I ordered in Greek and the waiter was taken aback - 'your Greek is really good' he told me. When I was in Sikinos, I often got a great response because some people didn't speak English.

We found a nice cafe called Sunset Cafe, which we visited twice. First up, we had Soutsokakia which is Greek meatballs in a tomato sauce served with chips. The next time, Dave had a bougatsa/custard pastry and I had a nut cake (Karodypita). The second visit, we caught the sunset and once again it was gorgeous.

Hey shorty, it's your birthday! (23 July)

The big 20 was passed on Santorini (Saint Erin!). We headed into Thira for our favourite fix - jai-rows/gyros. Actually they were some of the best - it was the second time we hit up that joint. Usually Dave downs two and I stick with one filling combination of meat, tzatziki and salad goodness in pitta bread. We sorted our tickets for the next island - Sikinos.

With the sky burnt retsina red from the sunset, Oia had fascinated us so we returned on the day of my birth to wander the streets. My bibliophilic heart was elated to discover Atlantis bookstore, written up in a Guardian article as one of the world's top 10 bookstores. I was overhwelmed by choice and couldn't decide on a birthday treat. Reader - I left empty-handed. They had some books difficult to find in WA, Mishima's Confessions of a Mask, Tanazaki's Some Prefer Nettles and Nabokov's Dozen. Oddly, the book I'd hoped to find, Henry Miller's Colossus of Maroussi ( a travel memoir of Greece) wasn't there.

Birthday wise, after a wonderful day of wandering Dave took me for a fresh meal at Parea taverna in the heart of Thira. Dave was flabbergasted at the full-bodied but deliciously fleshy fish that was placed in front of him - a red snapper which was presented wholly grilled. To Dave's amazement, it was not red but char-grilled, and it had a hauntingly conscious eye. He freaked at first, but we shared our dishes. In the end he got a fair way through it.

Other highlights include the far from nosy local wine which wasn't special but did the job. After dinner Dave took me out to Club 33, which blasted Greek music. They played some awesome songs. No-one was there - it was a Monday night so we just sat in the corner. But when Vertis's 'Pes to Mou Ksana' came on I pulled him up and he danced with me for a bit. So, my birthday day was uber special.

Saintly Me (July 20-22)

Santorini (Saint Eirini/Erin) is a gorgeous - it must be said postcard perfect - island with lots to offer. Touristy, the island has busloads of older people on package tours (although not too old to navigate the interminable steps). Sleep deprived, Dave and I zombie-walked off the ferry at 1 pm to arrive in Santorini.

Crossing the road, we entered a tourist/accommodation centre. A greek man with a host of hotels canvassed the more expensive options until finally he pulled out the cheap stays. We jumped in the hotel bus and were whisked off to Olympia hotel in the nowhere part of Santorini. The hotel was good though - had an awesome pool and rooms were well kept.

Location wise, Olympia wasn't great at is was a trek to Thira and a long way from Oia. But with an adventurous spirit and a need for speed, we resorted to scooterific fun. On arrival we left our bags at the hotel and wandered the area closest. Dave was devastated - this sketchy area was not the postcard Santorini he had expected. His brow furrowed with a 'what are we doing here?' concern as his stress levels rose on the first day to match the temperature of volcanic Santorini.

Access to the blue and white bliss of this Cycladic island came in the form of renting a highly functional scooter - no speedometer, fuel or heat guards, a broken foot rest. Its reedeming factor however, was its' leading link front suspension, which according to Dave, is hot. As we got going on the road, Dave's mood picked up as he full-throttled it the whole way. Dave is amazingly talented at navigating Greek roads and avoiding disaster - there were some close run-ins on Santorini as Greek drivers are maniacs!

Beginning the next day afresh with inclusive brekky - freshly made bread, cold meats and fresh juice we headed out for some exploration.

Santorini was so vast we didn't navigate much of it. We did some typical venturing and enjoyed the magical sunset at Oia. Ironically we almost missed it as our scooter conked out on the uphill voyage. We stopped at a house and a mechanically minded Dave managed to fix it (brains and sweet skills) with the help of tools from a Greek man who looked on concerned. The sunset was gorgeous. We didn't watch it from above but instead drove the scooter down a hill and found somewhere less packed.

Dirty, hot and deliciously fun was our day of exertion in Santorini. We drove to an area above a cluster of houses. Peering down, we saw steps leading up to a large rock. Hours of sunny fun were spent climbing up until we reached the highest point at which the path ended. We crept through a crack in two rocks and climbed higher. We climbed until we reached an impossible prospect. It was too steep and a hook had been inserted for a rope. On the way down, we took another route to explore a little church. We've found some of those random explorations have been more intense and intimate than some typical tourist stopovers.

Going home on the scooter, we got lost but discovered an exhibition of ancient wall paintings of Thira - unearthed in the ancient excavations of Akrotiri. Some of the prints were reproduced from huge negatives which were made through complex techniques. Designs were awesome, ranging from realistic pictures of flowers to those with more interpretative latitude - saffron gatherers and the like.

After working up a sweat we got more gyros and watched the sunset from Thira. We headed out to reconnoitre the nightlife for the next evening. We wound up in a fairly crappy pub called Murphy's but I'll stop now and share the special birthday celebrations in another post.

Acropolis Now (19 July-20th)

The Acropolis is a must. We missed it due to the workers' strike but despair not, we did explore this sexy structure in the end. Aegina, a €7 slow ferry ride to Piraeus, took only just an hour and a half of travelling time. Relishing the slow ride, we sat on the deck looking out to sea. We really noticed the contrast between the slow enjoyment of this ride and the bus-like stultification inside the hydrofoil we took to get to Aegina. Following the Greek mantra of 'sigha sigha' (slowly slowly) we decided slow ferries would do us. Pulling up to Piraeus it was fun talking to the ship workers in Greek and watching them prepare for the port.

Hoping to secure a ferry to Santorini, on arrival at Piraeus we marched straight into a ticket office. Slow ferries were booked up for the next few days, with the exception of an overnight journey leaving at 10pm that day to arrive at 1pm the following day. We booked that option which left us some sweet afternoon hours to kill. Only a 30 minute metro trip from Piraeus to Athens, the Acropolis beckoned.

Another random rendezvous (RR) occured at the Piraeus port occured as we wandered out of the ticket office.

Dave acting apocalyptic!

We'd overheard a guy in the the ticket office with a highly unusual New Zealandish/Pommy accent who talked in the coolest of colloquialisms. We scored a travel companion and a new vocabulary! Damo introduced himself and asked where us guys were headed. Our plans of visiting the Acropolis were met with an honest 'What's that?'. Damo thought this 'apocalypse' thing' sounded like a good way to spend the day, so he joined us.

Operators and workers had returned from strike, so the Acropolis awaited us. We dumped our bags for a steep €10 charge at Athens backpackers. The day was sweltering but the Acropolis was worth it. Reconstruction was occuring (ugly metal obscured the hot bits) but this ancient centre of city life was resplendent.

It was rushed but interesting to explore the 'apocalypse' with our temporary travel buddy Damo. Despite not knowing the history he took some awesome shots and he was a cruisy guy. We picked up some Greeklish vocabulary from Damo - 'apocalypse' for Acropolis and our personal fave - JAI ROWS for greek kebabs (gyros). We now joke about our constant craving for JAIROWS; 'aww yeah mate I could really go for them gyros you got'. We are pretty much turning into kebabs in our pursuit for the perfect gyros. Some of the best were found in Thira, Santorini.

After our Acropolian adventure we headed to Athens backpackers to pick up our bags and some beverii - beers for the boys and girl. Upstairs at Athens backpackers they have an awesomely chillaxed rooftop bar. The coloured seat cushions and funky tunes made this a mental must for our next Athens stay. We chatted to some fellow travellers including an Oxford physics scholar with an unconventional examination approach. This phD student was doing a European trip despite his exams approaching in 3 weeks. Also talked to his friend James and Dave chatted to a girl called Mola who

Rooftop Bar at Athens Backpackers!

was shattered owing to the theft of her pretty dress shoes. With little time left before our Piraeus passage I headed out for some really good authentic Atheninan jairows (kebabs) with James, Hugo, Damo and Dave.

Relaxed and refreshed we caught the metro back to the port of Piraeus. On the journey Damo had strong words with a man on the train who had tried to unzip his bag. The man didn't take being caught out well - he pressed his face up close to Damo's and evil-eyed him until his stop came up. We arrived with only minutes to spare and ended up running with our packs to the ferry. We secured comfy twin seats each which were great for relaxing but not comfy enough for quality zzzzs. It was a long ride with only 4 hours sleep. Santorini bound, we arrived eventually safe but sleepy.

Erato Experience

In slapdash last-minute prep fashion, we chose our island of a recommendation from bargirl at Lozanni, Christie. So off we headed to Aegina and the funky Erato backpackers. Erato, run by a Greek-Australian and his gorgeous partner, was lots of fun. At the backpackers itself, they have a pool, free internet, good cookups and a nice bar.

A walk away, we visited the temple of Aphaia in Aegina Marina. We spent ages exploring this wonderful reconstruction. Unlike the writhing waves of tourists keen for a postcard shot at the Acropolis (we did get there eventually) there was no-one at Aphai when we first arrived. After an arduous but fun walk uphill, we spent ages looking at the place, from the freakingly cavernous cistern to composing silly pics. Unfortunate was the unexplored museum - the ticket people didn"t mention it. Two days later we learnt it existed! The church of Agios Nikolaoui (close-ish!) was spectacular. They let us inside - me clad with a makeshift skirt - and Dave was blown away by the detail and imposing design.

Using the fun and lively Erato as our base, we also hired a scooter to hoon around the island on. Scootering in Greece is pretty wild - total disregard of safety and road rules characterises their 'anything goes' road mentality. We felt pretty safe for most of the time, with the exception of a disturbance from an unconventional road user. Banking around a long, flowing bend, we looked up to see the swish of a peacock tail as it hopped out of our way. First time we'd seen the buggers, and it almost caused a road catastrophe!

On Aegina we scootered around, frolicked at the Aegina Marina beach and had coffees galore. Freddocinos - a kind of frappe, coffee and icecream mix - are divine. We were fortunate to catch the islands's Saint Day - Aegina is named after a saint. Big processions began at the church behind our hostel and people spilled out onto the beach as they headed towards another imposing and beautiful church. That evening, we watched the festivities from the Paradise Restaurant. We sampled an average stifado and a delicously (fatty) yet tasty yiouvetsi - lamb with risoni pasta. We then headed out to catch the markets and listen to some interesting live music.

Our last evening was spent in a delightful way. Earlier that day, we scootered out to Sovala and consumed a monstrosity of an omelette - a ham, bacon, cheese fried delight. Totally stuffed, we waited for dinner to eat again. This was fortunate, because we enjoyed live music at a local gyros (kebab shop). We had wine by the barrel - two types of non nosy red and white - deliciously sweet and different. We headed out after for a few more drinks and what Dave deems the most sumptuous chocolate cake ever. It was a wonderful way to end the fun at Erato!

I'm off to the quiescent island of Sikanos today via ferry, so this is a short one to touch base and keep you entertained. Will fill in the Santorini gaps soon!

The seedy side of Athens (13-15 with a day trip 17)

Rocking up in Athens was not without seedy surprises. Athens, definitely not a beauty, is a city with a lot to offer, from the imposing Acropolis to heated nightlife. Sweltering and overwhelming though, the muchness of Athens can get to you fast. Using my Greek to get tickets for the bus from the airport, we made our way to Hotel Lozanni, in an area known as Omonia. Omonia oozes seedy vibes - strutting streetgirls, dirty lanes and 'pickypockets' galore.

Now reader, I am susceptible to attacks of paroxysms. Paroxysms involve emotional excitement so extreme I get bubbles of affection well up in side of me. Paroxysms mixed with nervous energy characterised my expectation of seeing Dave.

I arrived at Hotel Lozanni to learn that he had arrived earlier. Owing to an admin fuckup, he'd been placed in a room with my mum and I - just one double bed! Now I don't know about you, but the thought of that was uber twisted! After running up to see him (and walking right passed him - perched at the computer) reunion was hot and off we trudged to sort out the accommodation accident. Of course, the unexpected is where adventure begins.

Dave and I wandered out to find a place for mum nearby. Poor boy, off on his first European adventure, shared his first impressions of Athens. On the x95 bus ride from the airport, the bus driver hit a dude side-on riding a scooter. Being a bus driver committed to passenger deadlines, he proceeded to zoom off. At the next set of lights, scooter dude caught up and had 'words' with the bus driver - it was all greek to Dave but the meaning was pretty explicit. On arrival in Omonia square, Dave felt someone trailing him only to feel his hand trying to get into his back pocket. Grabbing his arm hard, he intimidated the guy into backing off.

As we walked the streets near Lozanni for a hotel, we spotted some dressy girls. Dave pointed out they'd been there all day. At first he thought, she's a bit overdressed, but returning later (is she still waiting for a bus?) he'd realised she was working those streets. There were so many that he describes it as like Where's Wally? aka 'which one is not for sale?'.

On a related note, we rocked up at one hotel to inquire about rooms. They seemed inexpensive enough so we took mum there to have a look. I went up and they were very pretty indeed. Whilst we were settling the payment though, several of those working girls walked in, accompanied by male companions. Mum freaked so we took her around the corner - she"d get no sleep or peace in a hooker hostel!

Whilst we had some nice meals in Athens, the seedy atmosphere was sinking our spirits. Worst luck of luck, the Acropolis was closed for days! We were able to wander the Agora (ancient marketplace) but the Acropolis workers were on strike. A sneaky forward flash - we managed to see it later though!

Working on a tipoff from a lovely Estonian girl called Christie who worked the bar at Lozanni, we headed out to the island of Aegina. Athens we decided, could wait for later, so after two days we said yiassas! to Athens and mum, sailing to the island Aegina. Our Aegina experience and our stay at Erato backpackers deserves another post. So for now I'll be celebrating the death of my teens in Santorini!

Na ste kala.

About a boy

When I went to the gents

There was a skewered heart

And a legend of love. Let me

Sleep on your breast to the airport. (Heaney)

I love the way these lines from a poem by Seamus Heaney move from the everyday to the realm of the intimate. These lines follow the persona's ironic glance over a 'skewered heart' - a trite scrawling of possessive love on the toilet door. Instead the persona moves towards a moment of peace and privacy, as the lines allude to the possibility of a honeymoon after a surreal matrimonial experience. With today's poetry lecture ended, I too will wander into the private sphere as I share some exciting news.

As you all know, I'm a little expeditionist running around the world. Writing now from Frankfurt, Germany I'm crazy excited to be heading to Athens tomorrow. Greece will be wild.

Even wilder, the lovely Dave is joining me all the way from Perth! Yayness. Will be meeting him tomorrow at the hostel, as he hits Greece in the morning. Wooohoo! So apologies if I blog less frequently, but I'm likely having a blast on the islands and a short break in travel companionship with my mum. Go grease lightning - partying and summer fun!

Pausing in Passau (7-8 July)

Now I was being gentle, easing you into this post with the carefully placed 'pausing' in Passau. But substitute it for 'pissing around in Passau' and you have mum's summary of our time in Passau. We didn't get much accomplished, bar from eating and sleeping.

When you venture out of Lonely Planet territory, you know things will be more difficult. Rocking up in Passau, Germany we find ourselves totally stuck for accommodation.

We couldn't get through to anyone prior to book rooms. Following signs to Jugendherbege (youth hostel) we learn from locals that it is hours away. Where are my German speaking friends (Alice, Larissa!) when I need them? Dialling several pensions and hotels I learn they only speak German. English - nein!

Grabbing my phrasebook, I call again. Butchering German in process, I fire of a barrage of questions from the Deutsche: Accommodation section. Do you have double rooms,? How much? Can I come see?. Now I didn't understand all the answers, but I was pretty sure a room was free. With trepidation we set out to find the place, and it was only a few streets down. So for the next two nights we stayed at Hotel Wienar Wald.

It was fine, except for the first night. We were underneath the Go! nightclub which had revellers in and out until early morning. Also, a restaurant on the street below featured excrutiatingly painful live entertainment. An amateur songmaker sang English and German songs, receiving measly claps after a bout of buffoonery. Muffling the English he sang away and mum laments that he has killed her favourite songs.

Before we secured accommodation, as I mentioned, we had tracked the JudgendHerbegere (Youth Hostel) signs only to learn it was far away. Spotting Rhodos restaurant I suggested we stop for a drink.

Mum starts barraging the waiter in English and he looked bewildered. So I ask him in German if he speaks English. He shakes his head. Ellenika? His face lit up. So in Greek, I order tea and coffee and he tells me that he has sisters in Melbourne etc etc. I butchered the language but he understood me perfectly. We went back there the next day for pastitsio and mousakka. Now, the patsitsio was good but in now way surpasses Io's mums.

So there you go, practicing my Greek in Germany and some very basic German! Apart from that, not much else got done!

Melking it

Melk, a little town in Austria, was a perfect stop for a few recuperative days. Venturing out of the city was a good move. We got some zzzzs and saw some very pretty sights!

As soon as we got to Melk we napped. Borrring! Waking up reinvigorated we went for dinner at a pub called Familie Ebner Restaurant. Boy was it worth it! The restaurant itself was charming - filled with bottles of booze (decorative ones - not my first time in a pub!), wonderful wooden booths and circular benches. A breadbasket was delivered replete with a selection of wholesome rolls. I had fillet steak, with steamed vegies and baked potato. It was a gargantuan meal and hungry me consumed it all. Actually, the whole time I was in Austria my appetite was ravenous!

I go nuts for hazelnuts and in Germany and Austria you couldn't keep me away from the stuff. I've been eating hazelnut chocolate, drinking hazelnut coffee and cooling off with hazelnut milshakes. I also love muesli, and in both Austria and Germany hostel breakfasts have featured muesli with whole hazelnuts and choc flakes!

For a more substantial course, reader, let it be known that Stift Melk, the Melk Monastery featured in Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose is truly a resplendent sight. Pictures will come later, but even the library was a thing of beauty! The monastery has an interesting history, undergoing many changes over the years. Most visually edifying are the changes from the baroque reconstruction between 1701 -1736. Melk was magical, and a wonderful reprieve from many a city.

Ending with a funny story, I discovered in a Melk tourist store signage announcing 'No kangaroos in Austria'. Later I met some Austrians on the train - they told us that they often get asked by tourists and foreigners about the kangaroos in Austria.

(RR) They were really lovely people - a hilarious loud teenage girl with a serious dedication to Metallica, and her mum who had spent a year in England. "I wanna 'sick of school" break, the young girl said when she learnt of our long trip. We had so much fun speaking with them. Both competed to remember the most specific English words - and announced half-jokingly that all home conversations would now be conducted in English. We almost missed our stop, but luckily the train stopped for a few mins. As we hurled our crap onto the platform, I looked up to see the train move off and our Austrian friends waving at us from the window.

"The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again" George Santayana.

GETTING UP; MIESCZYSLAW KOSCIELNIAK

A picture of the crowded bunks from an exhibition at Auschwitz.

A variation of a quote I'm sure you've all heard before, Santayana's reference to 'the one' implicates the viewer entering one of the exhibitions at Auschwitz in the harrowing history of the Holocaust. A reminder of the significance of Auschwitz, it speaks for the 1.5 million people murdered at Auschwitz between 1940-45.

90% of those killed at Auschwitz were Jews. Overflow from this concentration camp - an efficient extermination machine carrying out the Nazi's plan to destroy undesirabes - was so great that another camp, Birkenau (Auschwitz 2) was built up the road. These sites are a horrific reminder of the hellish Holocaust legacy.

Visiting Auschwitz was a smothering yet expanding experience. Caught in between times for the English tours, we wandered through the camp grounds and exhibitions. So daunting were the displays, the children's bunker, the death section, that I did not see everything. Nor did I go onto Birkenau or the museums. I didn't feel an overt emotional registration - I wasn't overwhelmed by tears. Looking at the walled passages filled with photos of camp victims was distressing and I felt anxiety for those close to me.

Overloaded by horror after horror I felt smothered. I entered one room with a display of 1950kg of human hair, which the Nazis profited from by selling onto the German textile industry during the War. It was sickening. I apologise if this post seems inadequate, but some things are hard to articulate.

From Krakow to Auschwitz, the bus ride is about two hours. Looking out the window from the plush comfort of the coach at the verdant growth and quaint buildings, it is painful to think that many who were deported to Auschwitz, crampled like cattle in trucks, did not see the same side of Poland.

Getting fresh

Enough of the negativity - travelling is too much an amazing experience to dwell on the bad. What did I do to get fresh and rejuvenated? As an interactive reader exercise, here is a short multiple choice quiz on possible activities I embarked upon to clear my mind. Did Erin:

a) throw a tantrum?
b) curl up with a good book?
c) wander the town taking snaps?
d) sink into some retail therapy?
e) grab a cold beverage?

Now, a combination of D + E maketh for a happy Erin. At the Naber cafe, I was initiated into the world of frappes. As a backpacker, I'll never look back. Ordering the frappe over the iced coffee saves me scooping out the cream. Iced coffee minus cream is still divine but not easy to order in foreign countries.

At risk of boring patient readers, I headed to the Galeria shopping centre to grab a bite to eat and hit the shops. Vexing my heavy backpack, I weeded out some crap. Threw out my inappropriate (bum-gazing) jeans. Bought some hot denim shorts instead which will endure the angry sun better. Love em!

As a further justification for my naughty shopping ways I will add that at the hostel Oki Doki, we had a dieing disaster. They offer free washing service which we took advantage of. Our clothes were returned bearing a greyish hue. They'd mingled all the colours. Mum was happy - cream never flattered her anyway but two of my tops were ruined. Also, I just love looking at the gorgeous European fashions. So when I say casually that I did a spot of shopping you'll forgive me. Won't go into the purchases but they made me a happy lady. Ending another frivolous post, I'll save yesterday's day trip for later. Auschwitz was an overwhelming experience deserving a separate post.

Lemon of a hostel

With a name like Lemon Hostel you'd expect a sparkling gem of a hostel at in Krakow, Poland. 'Lemon Hostel' conjures a calming and cleansing establishment with a hint of citrus zing. After a back-breaking trek from station to hostel, arrival had a bitter aftertaste. The entrance was dingy - winding staircases housed ancient mattresses and flies carried on a zippy corridor party. Trudging our way to the reception we got an ass view of adjourning buildings - kitchen scrappage, a collection of animal pelts and more crusty delights.

My muscles were crying and my morale was low so I told mum to renege on our three day booking - and push for one night only. I waited downstairs whislt she negotiated. Success was ensured. Climbing our way upto our rooms we found they were spacious - boasting wooden floorboards and citrus sweet prints. We came to this lemon of a hostel because competing hostels with creative names such as Dizzy Daisy and Bling Bling were all booked out.

Deciding the 18zl price and the lack of other choices were compelling enough reasons to stay on, we rebooked an extra two days. Breakfast is fairly fab - alternating between sweet pastries and cheeses and breads. Internet is also free. Downside is the raucous going-ons which continue all night. Next door are boisterous teenettes who fraternise awkwardly with the boys in the hostel. Screaming goes on in the streets well into the morning. They also don't clean the rooms - two girls moved on two nights ago and they didn't come clean their mess or make beds.

Will share another random rendezvous (RR). Met a girl from New York who has been in Berlin learning German to prepare for a job in Austria. Practicing her phrasebook Polish, the girl said 'Do you speak English?' to a hostel worker. She asked the lady if she could understand what she was saying. "I can, the worker replied, but you aren't pronouncing the first bit and instead you say a very bad word. It is very funny for me" she chuckled. Sorry about the rant on the not so fresh hostel guys, will make a separate post for the bright side.

Random rendezvous (RR)

We dined with a physicist our last night in Warsaw, Poland. Wandering back down Novy Swait again for dinner, our stomachs took a liking to a BierHalle offering Polish fare. Overhearing our puzzlement about the cuisine, an American lady cleared up the establishment arrangements. We asked her to join us and she obliged. A physicist, she had arrived from a long trip - America to Warsaw for a conference. Weary from her trip she was keen to avoid her fellow physicists. "If you see a whole lot of geeky people wandering the streets of Warsaw - that will be us" she quipped. Food and conversation were fit for the evening - ordered a Polish soup (zurek) and a dish of chicken breast and vegies. Great stuff.

Travelling brings a plethora of new faces. Introductions begin with a barrage of questions: Where are you from? Where are you going,? Why are you here?. Many connections will soon be lost owing to the tenuous foundations of memory. If anyone is interested, the former US poet laureate Billy Collins has a wonderful animated poem called "Forgetfulness."

Met another Erin - a random Canadian chick at the hostel Oki Doki in Warsaw. Coming back to the room one afternoon, we discovered her in a zombie state. Ran into her again at the train station bound for Krakow, so I inquired after her name. She told me it was the same as mine. When she was mid-stupor that sleepy afternoon, mum's nagging refrain of 'Erin! Erin!' muddled with her dreaming. Why is the crazy woman calling me? her brain queried. Faces flash by constantly - I was enamoured with the cute Polish girl who showed great concern for 'the Australians' coming back so late. Others include some cute Cypriot lads, and it has to be said - a whinging Pom suffering from a cold and an attitude malaise. Will update soon on my sour hostel and an overwhelming visit to Auschwitz.

Checking your mailbox?

Hello my gorgeous people,

Always the disorganised lass, I didn't get time to compile a handy address book of everyone's details. If you would like to receive a postcard, please email me your postal address at bandit_erin(at)hotmail.com. I have stackloads already - some are crappy but cool free ones. Others were just too beautiful to resist.

To all the ladies in the house that I've vacated - my gorgeous housemates, this one is for you. The girls have a rampant Buffy The Vampire Slayer obsession so when I saw this graffiti I snapped away.

take care guys,

love Erin

Oki Doki

So we are in Warsaw, Poland. We've been staying at a wacky hostel called Oki Doki. Listed in the Lonely Planet, this sexy little hostel boasts free internet, colourfully kitsch rooms, a funky bar, cheap washing services and lots more for the weary backpacker. If you want a fun place to stay, it's a great hostel with heaps of perks. Finallly encountered some fellow foreigners too - lots of Americans and Aussies. The first night we shared our room with a lovely Polish lady. We spoke in smiles owing to the language barrier. When she left, she put a chocolate treat on my bed and also kindly returned my journal to the desk. Absent-minded Erin had left it a PC. A wonderful lady indeed.

Warsaw is amazing. Trekking from place to place I'm wonderfully excited but I truly wish I could have innumerable days to explore and absorb these wonderful cities. On our second day we wandered the old town of Warsaw. For a city so ravaged by war, the monuments and stunning facades of buildings which survived show its extensive beauty.

Many have been rebuilt again. Whilst eating our lunch in the old town square, we listened to local music and chuckled with amusement as a lively Polish lady approached all the young men around for a dance and dalliance. Here is her first approach, off to the left side. We plan to head back to the Old Town today to check out a castle.

Cute polish tyke - I have a feeling he was part of an old-style military display that was going on. Every 15 minutes or so, loud gun-shots would go off causing mum and and I to jump on our park benches.

Cute kids abound in Poland. When I was in primary school, year seven, my teacher Mr Martin read Ian Serailler's The Silver Sword to us. I totally adored it and begged him to read it again and again. Indeed, it caused that much consternation I decided I wanted to give my kids the Polish names of the characters - Ruth, Edek and Bronia. Still adore them, but other names are in the mix now. Being in Poland, it's not just Polish names that appeal - the children are deliciously cute. This gorgeous little boy was part of a mock military exhibition. We caught him gallivanting around with his mates and grabbed him for this shot. Reading more of Cloud Atlas I found an awesome quote about the sexualisation of kids - "A trio of teenettes, dressed like Prostitute Barbie approached, draft-netting the width of the pavement." Can I rave any more about Mitchell's wit?

Forgive me as I take a tangent into the world of bookstores. Wandering into the American Bookstore in Warsaw, I came out with Kirino's Out. Published cheaply by Vintage, I'd never purchased it but the quote on the inside has always intrigued me. Flannery O'Connor: 'The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience.' Pardon, I must take a typing break as I contemplate and daydream. Anyway, I figure it shall be a good introduction into the fictional world of mystery.

We got to Warsaw on the Berlin - Warsaw express after making our way from Leipzig to Berlin. Illogical seating arrangements on the train made for constant kafuffle over whose seat was whose. A priest and nun on the train appeared ruffled as people were constantly shifting them. One cumudgeonly old man sat in the wrong seat the whole time. As each person boarded to claim their rightful seat he ignored their wrath with protestations of entitlement.

Onto beer and randomness - had an awesome Polish pint with some pizza - chicken, asparagus etc on Novy Swait/street our first day out on the town. It was our first more decadent meal. Forgot to mention it, but in Frankfurt, Germany, Pizza Hut offers a bier spider - icecream and beer together in a delectable (?) mix. Kebabs are of course everywhere - had an awesome chicken doner in Germany wrapped in flatbread.

Wandering Leipzig

Berlin was booked out - so we decided to spend more time absorbing the unexpected charm of Leipzig. Lonely Planet, the bible of backpackerdom, cautions against rapid sight-seeing. Indeed, wandering the streets of Leipzig is a joy itself. We managed to get on the right tram to an area called Schunefeld where we were staying. From the perspective of the tram the streets looked scrappy - dilapidated apartment buildings and decayed charm. But once the defamiliarisation stage set in, we soon discovered its beauty.

Cute cat - we took the half hour walk from hostel to Leipzig centre one day and discovered some gorgeous streets and creatures!
.

The hostel was secluded - we were perhaps the only non-Germans there. Breakfast was included so we enjoyed the full spread of cold meats, breads and cereals they had prepared. At breakfast, people constantly came up to us, asking questions in German pertaining to the kitchen facilities. I looked at them bewildered, deprived of any kind of voice. Survival is easy though - most people will gesture with their hands their little knowledge of English. It's always a great help. Met an aspiring actress called Nadine - she rocked up at midnight on our first night so we had a brief exchange before bed. She had come to Leipzig in preparation for a second stage exam determining entrance into a performing arts college. I ate one of her props - some chocolate coated gingerbread foodstuff wrapped in a paper funnel. She was lovely, but got a private room the next day so she could practice for her examination. Defining words is hard - I struggled to explain to her what the word 'pretending' meant. It was in the last line of her English song performance - a tune from Les Miserables.

BLUE HOUR, MAX KLINGER

We went to the Museum Der Bildenden Kunste in Leipzig which has special exhbitions on Max Klinger and also hosts the works of many other artists. The modern museum is wonderful in itself - many levels with carefully thought-out displays. In a net cafe, I left Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs (right subject order?) on a bookcrossing table. When we returned just a few hours later to collect a pen we'd left behind - it was gone! Snapped up already.

Book-wise, on the Berlin - Warsaw express I began Cloud Atlas and it's sumptuosly erudite. The second story is particularly scandalous. All the stories are linked my the most gripping interconnections.

Language blunders are frequent owing to my devoid knowledge of German. After our coat-buying spree we decided to get lunch. Pointing to a vegetable curry concoction, I ordered two of the dish - what I thought was called curry bratwurst. We were alarmed to see the lady hack up a sausage, douse it in a rich sauce and sprinkle it with curry powder. We ate it like curried hotdogs - inside of bread and it was a delicous suprise nonetheless.

We are now in Warsaw for three days, arriving just yesterday. We are staying at the wackiest hostel, called Oki Doki. It is reknown for its bright rooms. Enough said for now, because the train journey to Warsaw is a story in itself.

Is Germany too cool for me?

Fashion, beer and sex are the focus of this frivolous post. First up - the fashion. Eccentricity is tested and explored on the streets by German youths. Some highlights were the couple who sported matching his and hers pink punk hairstyles. Shaved, spiked designs were streaked with flossy pink. They walked the shopping complex with their black doggy, heads held defiantly high. The punks in Germany put the wanna-be emo and goth lurkers in Forrest Chase to shame. They have shops devoted to 'emily the strange' aswell as shops full of the freakiest gothic fashions around.

Leaving my jumper behind in Auckland was silly because summer has yet to settle in Germany. In Leipzig today, mum and I headed out to covet coats. We fruitlessly searched the train shopping complex with tacky shops like 'Forever 18' for suitable winter wear. Everywhere we went the Germans were decked out in nice warm attire. But on the racks, the dearth of classy clothes was evident. After visiting a museum, we found more shops in the city centre. In one shop I found a gorgeous fitted black jacket with buttons and a small hood. I lost mum however. Approaching a store lady with 'Sprechen Die English?' I was assisted by her colleague who was able to speak English. I explained that I wanted her to hold the coat while I found my mum. They dragged me to the cash desk, pulled out a microphone and told me to call mum over the PA in English. Super embarrassed, I assured them that it was unecessary and set off to find mum on foot. I collected her and we both bought our jackets there. Here's a pic of me at the hostel in my hot new jacket.

Now, let's talk about sex baby. You all know I love a good bookstore, but today that love was sorely challenged. I wandered into a bookstore only to be dismayed by the great books which were only available in German. Moving on to the next room, I discovered it was really a porn shop masquerading as a bookhhandlung. Boooo! German condoms are really funny. They have stupid names like 'Billy Boy' and line the impulse buys shelves in supermarkets. Speaking of markets, we passed a peepshow shop today aptly named 'erotic markt.' Talk about sexual commodification.

As many of you know, I've never been a beer drinker. The wine/spirit core in me was destablised recently when I visited the Belgian Beer cafe in Perth with some sexy peeps. This introduction prepared me, hopefully, for bucketfuls of Bier in Germany. Yesterday, keen to try beer I entered a strange bottleshop in search of a beer. It was occupied by a salesman and about five of his sloshed mates who had fun practising their English with their Australian visitors. The only cold stuff they had was called a Mixery -a combination of bier and cola. I drank it - totally weird but cool. Not as great as beer on its own though.

After a hard day of sight-seeing and shopping, mum and I went to a Bier Bar (Gleis 8) at the station. I pre-mastered enough German to ask the bar lady what she recommends. So we both enjoyed a fantastic Radeberger Pilsner. Want to go back for another! Anyway, I have oodles to share - stories about a cool actress I met, some silly language blunders and more. We are off to Warsaw tomorrow - Berlin was all booked out but hopefully I'll share my Frankfurt and Leipzig experiences soon. Yay for the International Arts Festival in Warsaw!