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