Pisa e Luca

A short flight from Dublin and I was in Pisa, Italy. I would recommend to everyone to stay in Pisa Tower hostel - it's the best hostel I've stayed in yet!




Every country gives you that first wow! impression, which is usually marred by some sort of secondary impression. For example, in England, you think Wow!... it's really cold here.In Ireland you think Wow!... it rains a lot here. And in Scotland, you think Wow!... it's really cold and rains a lot here. In Italy, though you think Wow!... this is perfect. It's definitely got to be one of my favourite countries so far, with an agreeable climate, awesome food, amazing history and a vibrant culture. I am still deciding whether it is possible to live off of pizza and Gelato for every meal (for example yesterday's cuisine consisted of - Breakfast: Gelato, Lunch: pizza, and Dinner: Gelato). I thought that gelato was healthy because it isn't dairy-based, but someone at the hostel told me it has more sugar than your girlfriend's kisses. So maybe it isn't so healthy...

All dietician's advice aside, Pisa is a beautiful city. The park containing the leaning tower of Pisa has a bunch of tourists performing tai chi poses to get the perfect 'holding up the tower shot', and I couldn't resist trying the chance to look even more Brobdingnagian than I already am. Borgo Stretto, the main street starting from the centre of town at the Ponte di Mezzi, has some amazing Gelatissimos, and at dusk, the magic begins as candles come out on the streetside for every restaurant. If you peek down small alleys off Borgo Stretto, you can find hidden squares, where locals and tourists mingle for drinks and multi-course meals. The further down winding alleyway you go, the more chance you have of finding a magical venue for your evening meal. Pisa is such an amazing place that I don't want to leave tomorrow, when I head to Florence.

Today I spent my time at a small village, just a train's ride away from Pisa, called Lucca. The medieval city is walled all the way around, and when I visited it had an exhibition in the tunnels running around the city under the city walls. Paved streets and bustling piazzas recommend this city to the eyes and cement its place in your memory, especially the famous Piazza del Ampitheatro. The sheer volume of history bearing down on you from this walled city means one cannot fail to have a good time in Lucca, whether it's walking on the battlements of the city's walls, or traversing the narrow alleys, which usually lead you no place except utterly lost.

Newgrange and Knowth: A civilisation older than the pyramids

I had no idea that cavemen were such geniuses. Newgrange and Knowth, monuments older than the pyramids, are a testament to this. The sheer architectural brilliance it would have required to map out exactly where the sun would strike for the different position in the sky on one 365th of the year to mark the Winter solstice is amazing. How they did it back then, with no written language and no metals, rulers, or squares to build their buildings is just amazing. This single act of precision stunned me, especially when I was inside the structure and they showed what the solstice would look like at the end of the year. The design was so precise, in fact, that the ray of sunlight that penetrates the tomb once a year strikes to the left of the tomb, where 5000 years ago, it struck in the centre. The infinitesimally small movement of the axis of the earth over 5000 years has moved the beam about thirty centimetres from where it struck 5000 years ago. While Newgrange was built to mark the Winter solstice, Knowth was built with east-facing tunnels, which might mean it marked the equinoxes. Magic symbols surround the tombs, and one can even be used to tell the time, like a sundial.

Riverdance

Irish people are madmen. As I watched them spin across the stage as spritely as if they weighed the same as helium, I was amazed at this feat of human agility. The two main dancers, in particular, could dance so fast that their feet were just a blur, and only the staccatto tapping of their shoes told you what was happening. I was super impressed by Riverdance - there was even a dance-off between American style tap dance and Irish style dancing. I was very glad to have gotten a ticket to this amazing show, and it felt even better to be seeing it in Ireland, the home of where that style of dance was made. the whole production was very well put together, and at times made me sad and others really happy. An awesome production, I can see why it's been running for such a long time!!!

Heritage

Stuffy and underslept, I groaned out of bed the day I left Galway - and then I remembered what day it was! Nugent family castle day!! All looked like it was going to work out perfectly, until at the second last stop the bus driver told me that they no longer go to Delvin, my destination.So sticking my thumb out was the only option. On the way there, I hitched a ride with a father and son who were on their way to a bike race, and on the way back, I got a man looking to buy golf clubs that sounded so much like Gerard Butler that it was scary (yes, I know Gerard is Scottish!).

The Nugent castle in the middle of Delvin was awesome, I took a bunch of photos because I was so proud that my ancestors had a castle. Then i got taling with the salesman at the local shop, and it turned out that there were not one, but three Nugent castles - the one I saw was the first, built in 1100, while the second one was burnt to the ground in an act of defiance when Mr Nugent didn't want the castle to fall into the hands of Cromwell's forces. Finally, and most awesomelyu, the relatively newest caslte is amazing, and looks like a palace fit for kKings, not Earls as the Nugents were. It standsat the edge of town, and most of its grounds have been turned into a Galf course by the current owners of the castle.

What an experience, to see a castle named after your ancestors. It was an amazing day, abut a long one - by the time I'd caught the bus from Galway to Monegar, near Delvin, and then hitched rides, it was almost midnight by the time I got into Dublin at my hostel. What a day!!!

Galway Girls

I love finding the little nuances of speech in different english speaking countries. In England, everyone repeats themselves rapidly - when they are hanging up a phone, they go byebyebyebyebyebyebye. Or if theyre apologising, they say sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry. In Ireland, when something's good, it's 'class'. And a lot of things are good to Irish people, so they say 'class' about three times every paragraph.

Galway is defined by its pubs, which are such great fun that it's hard not to have a good time in Galway. I think Galway is a little Australian community in Ireland, as well, there are that many Australian toursits passing through.  In Galway I met a great bunch of Irish people who were down for the Arts festival that was going on at the time I was there. The arts fest meant that the streets were filled with buskers with really great acts, my favourite were a band standing on the curb poles and first singing 'you are my sunshine', which then turned into 'you are my moonshine' - typical of Irish to turn to the drink :P

I also 'took a stroll down the old long walk of a day', as they say - its a lovely spot and i've got lots of sunset photos there. Galways quite a peaceful town during the day, and at night it rocks - every pub seems to have live bands and the streets ae always lively every night of the week.


On my last night in Galway I was lucky enough to meet three awesome Australians, Aleisha, Troy, and Jacqui, and as Australians do, one drink led to another and before we knew it we were dancing to a live rock band in one of Galway's many great pubs. We danced for so long and had such a good night. I haven't spent a lot of time partying with people who are older than me before, and it's so refreshing - everyone just wants to have a good time, and it's not ruined by most peoples panic-crzed need to think that they have to make out with someone or the night's wasted. I will have to spend some time with an older crew, who are more after my own heart (having fun!) when I get back to Aus!

Blarney and Guinness

I now have the gift of the gab, the eloquence of poets and politicians. I'm not sure that I feel that different, although I made sure to kiss the stone well in order to get all the gifts that it could provide me. It's actually a bit gross actually, the stone has a big wet mark from all the lips that have smooched it (probably from all the lip gloss from girl's lips that has rubbed off onto the stone). The stone itself is rumoured to be half of the throne of kings, which I saw when I went to Edinburgh Castle, which kings used to sit on when they were coronated. Half was given to Ireland in exchange for their services during an allied Irish-Scots war against the English.

I was awe-struck by Blarney castle. It was ingeniously designed, built on a bed of rock so noone could mine in, and very attractively designed. The castle itself is still in excellent shape, and there are also escape tunnels from the castle from when Cromwell's forces overcame the castle and tried to take the treasure within - none of which they managed to get their hands on.

Blarney castle is only the start of the spectacular, though. My favourite area was in the surrounds of the castle, called Rock Close. In these gardens, the Blarney witch resides, who grants wishes to travellers who walk up and down the Witch's stairs with their eyes closed, walking backwards. It's a difficult feat, but one that I'm glad to say that I achieved. She gives wishes in exchange for the firewood that she steals from the house nearby. Apparently apart from giving wishes, she's really quite evil and attacks people - luckily she's trapped in the Witches stone by day and only comes out by night. I thought it was a bit harsh to trap the poor witch in a stone by day and that they should let her out - Irish nights are awfully cold, even worse than Irish days!

Amongst the wonders of the Rock Close, there is also a Fairy Glen and an old tomb from the first inhabitants of Ireland, even before the druids. There's a druids circle there, also, with a sacrificing stone and everything. Most fun place in ages, perfect for me and to take your children to!

Yesterday I travelled from Cork to Killarney, and spent the whole bus trip talking to a lovely old lady from Dublin who was headed on holiday. Killarney isn't as touristy as it's made out to be if you ignore the tour buses, and the national park looks awesome. Despite the rain, today I'm going to try and have a walk through the trails of Killarney National Park.

Last night, I met some Aussies at our hostel. The only possible eventuality when you meet Aussies is that you go out drinking at the pub. I met a Danish couple, and Irish, French, English and Dutch people, tried Guinness from the tap (really quite good!), and danced. It was a great night!

Fiddle dee dees and Potatoes

In Ireland! This is one part of the trip I had been especially looking forward to, and for good reason. I took the Megabus from Inverness down to London and stayed for one night in the worst youth hostel ever. I should have been tipped off when it was a 24 bed dorm (It was ridiculous! Bunks were piled sky-high and it looked like a library... but of people), but it was a bit grubby and unkempt. Luckily, I was only staying there one night, so it didn't really make any difference what it looked like. I spent the days in London bored and freezing cold, spending most of my time hanging out in Hyde Park like a lizard in order to soak up every tiny bit of sunlight warmth.

Both overnight buses were quite difficult to sleep on - both the Inverness to London and the London to Rosslare. I've found that the reason for this is the seat belts screwed into the bottom of the seats, meaning that if you lie down across the seats, they stab you in uncomfortable places. Luckily, for the trip to Ireland, I was on a ferry for half of it, which was extremely comfortable - probably the best ferry I've been on in my life. Turns out the Megabus wasn't that cheap after all, because they leave you at Rosslare ferry port - it costs another 20 Euros to get to Cork, while the National Express bus, while initially looking more expensive, may have worked out to be a similar price.

For some reason I find it much easier to sleep on the warm, sunny morning when riding a bus after a sleepless night on a bus - I have no idea why. It's somewhat inconvenient, as I was fighting to keep my eyes open so that I could see all that I could of Ireland from the trip between Rosslare and Cork. A young Irish gentleman at the bus station sparked up a conversation with me, which solidified my opinion that Ireland is amazing - if they even talk on public transport, they must be friendly types!

Now I'm in Cork - I'll have a look around Cork today, and probably go kiss the Blarney Stone tomorrow. If my blog posts start to sound particularly eloquent, you'll know that I have indeed been granted the Gift of the Gab by the Blarney Stone.

The Isle of Skye

After saying goodbye to my beautiful Rebecca in Inverness, I caught a bus to the Isle of Skye, one of the most renowned areas of Scotland. I can see why. On the way, I drove through areas with hills high enough for the tops to be hidden in clouds. Waterfalls decorated the sides of many of the mountains, and wound down towards the road. In Lochalsh, the mainland area near to Skye, I saw Eilean Donan castle, which is one of the best preserved and most beautiful castles in Scotland. It sits amidst a loch, with only a stone bridge connecting it to the mainland. Atop the bridge of Skye, you could see forever in both directions. It was stunning, looking down to the Loch and all the little islands dotted around it.

When I arrived in Kyleakin, the bus driver didn't want to stop, so I had to walk for a bit to get to my hostel, Saucy Mary's. Saucy Mary was a Viking noble who fixed a big long chain from each side of the Loch to levy the sailors passing through. For an extra fee, she used to flash her ample breasts for the poor sex-deprived sailors, hence the "saucy" adjective.

Sunsets on the Isle of Skye are superb, not least because you have so much longer to appreciate them than you do in Australia. The clouds in the sky are died pink and orange for around four hours in Skye, so it's easy to snap a good pic of the sunset. Nearby, there's also the ruins of an old castle, Castle Maol. It's also possible to get to it, with a bit of determination and walking through marshland. It's a lovely spot, as few others attempt the journey, so I was able to appreciate the view from the top of the castle all by myself. The water in the loch  below is so clear that you can see all the strange-shaped seaweed growing in it. On my last day in Skye, I planned to get a Skye Rover, which is a ticket which enables you to take any bus all the way around Skye. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a Sunday, which meant that there were about 3 buses the whole day. Everything ended up working out, however, as I managed to hitch a ride with some Americans who were headed to Old Man Stor, a stone formation atop a hill, a medium length hike from the carpark. The rock was barely visible through the cloud, and as we reached it, the clouds started to thicken. It wasn't long before rain set in, and a river followed us on the path back down to the carpark. We were all sogging wet when we reached the carpark, and the same people who gave me a lift there gave me a lift back to Portree, where I waited around for the bus for a fair few hours. There was less to do in Portree than there should be, and after an hour I was left to sit around reading a book or watching movies on the laptop.

-photos are coming shortly

The Scottish Highlands - Glencoe and Loch Ness

Glencoe is dew with the all-pervading scent of pine intermingled with smokey peat from all the chimneys warming up cosy stone cottages. An Tor is the most awesome place to go for a walk, an endless pine forest covered in moss, permanently very cold and slightly damp. I loved it! Far apart from the bush of Australia, everything was more verdant than the colour green on a pastel chart, and there is no colour bleaching as the light is dimmed in the forest, making everything shine its most radiant colours.

Loch Ness was less impressive. The mountains around the lake are nice, although the walks are much longer than at Glencoe and have less to offer. I think around now would be the perfect time of year to visit Scotland, as everything is nice and green and it's possible to go outside without losing body parts when they solidify and break off from your cold, cold body. In winter, there would be nothing to do but sit inside with a good book and stoke the fireplace. Which is tempting, anyway, and what I did in Glencoe every evening I was there.

Welsh Dragons and Scottish Dragoons

We were in London from a grand total of 1 hour before we headed off to Cardiff, Wales. Lucky we did, because the Glastonbury festival was on in England, which meant for some reason that hostels in London were incredibly expensive – the first dorm bed was 66 pounds, and the second dorm bed option was 133 pounds! Hostels were still expensive, although just the usual type of expensive – 20 pounds for a dorm bed. We booked in to Cardiff, and checked out the gardens and surrounds of the Cardiff castle. We also walked up to Blackmoor Weir, which has been operating since the middle ages. There wasn't a great deal to see in Cardiff, and everything was incredibly expensive, so after two nights in Cardiff, we skipped out on the rest of Wales and caught two buses up to Edinburgh, Scotland. Edinburgh is beautiful, and the countryside once we hit Scotland was much improved to England. I love Scotland! Edinburgh castle is quite interesting – we saw a demonstration of an old rifle shooting, and also a cannon being shot! I think the old powder and ball rifle actually made more noise than the cannon, it was ridiculously loud. Now we're headed to Glencoe, at the base of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in Scotland!

Wicked Road tripping – never enough! Take two: Malaga to London in 8 days

 Such a good Wicked road trip, but after seven days travelling around Holland, Belgium, France, and England, it had to end. Or so I thought...

My flight to Madrid, Spain was relatively straightforward – easyJet is so easy to catch that it feels more like taking a bus than a plane, and all customs in the EU don't involve much hassle (except for England, which makes it a bother to get into!). I met Bec at our hostel – we were psyched up for a roadtrip around Spain, and I was rapt to see her again. The plan was three weeks with a little Barina sized car, exploring Spain's nooks and crannies. Bec had put a deposit down on the rental and we just had to rock up and pay. Or so we thought...

Both of these assumptions turned out wrong. When we arrived at the car rental company, they wouldn't accept any of our Travelex Visa cards for payment... and would have had to pay triple deposit with Bec's Australian Credit/Debit Card – they wouldn't accept cash, either. In short, they were snobs – we had four different ways to pay them for the rental, but they didn't like any of them. We would lose the deposit because we couldn't pay them, even though we could pay them in four different fashions. Bastards. Trying to think it through, I delayed the hire until the next day while we worked out our options.

Never one to like snobs, I proposed we ditch the rental company and go with something a little more casual, where there's no pickiness about payment – a Wicked rental. I thought I remembered that there was another 1 pound special from Spain to London. I checked it out – indeed there was! Wasting no time, we planned out a quick route and shot an email through. The next day, we were at the beginning of my second, and Bec's first Wicked! Road trip.

Spain hadn't been high on my to-see list, and from the few days I was there, I don't see much in it. We had an awesome backpackers in Malaga with Oasis Hostel, but outside the hostels there is little to see or do.

In direct contrast to this, when we arrived in Portugal late on the first day of our road tripping, I was VERY impressed. Beautiful white washed villages introduced us to the country, and things only improved from there. By noon on the second day, we were in Sintra, which is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen – a lush green city, with palacial grounds all over it and small winding alleys, in which cafes and restaurants nestle. A visit to the Quinta de Regaleira, one of three palaces with extensive palace grounds, had me the most excited – beautiful gardens overgrown with pine trees, wells with winding staircases and undergrown tunnels, ponds and marble statues, all with a healthy dusting of moss and tree ferns. The icing on the cake was the secret doorway at the top of one of the well staircases – I almost imploded with mirth.

After spending a good four hours exploring the palace, we set off in search of Alcazar do Mer, a seaside town set atop cliffs over the sea that I'd seen in a postcard whilst purging the alleyways of Sintra of their secrets. It wasn't far, so I thought it would be worth seeing. The drive there through rainforest and narrow winding roads was lovely, as was the beautiful view of the town from my eyrie on a seaside cliff. After a day of exploring the wonders of southern Portugal, I was as tired as a ten year old after a day at Movie World, and slept hard.

The next morning, we set off to head through northern Spain to France. On the way, we passed through some of the most beautiful little Portugese towns, with cobblestoned ways as their main streets, and old men sitting in groups in benches, watching the days go by and staring at us strangely. I had the most ridiculous conversation with a gentleman when I stopped to ask for directions – we had been driving through mountainous pine forests for about an hour and I was worried that we were lost. He only seemed to speak Portugese, of which I speak none (It sounds more Russian than Spanish to me – although I don't speak any Spanish, either). In the end, it turned out he didn't speak any English, although he had some French. While he tried to tell me where to go, he would speak six out of ten words in French, and then the rest in Portugese. The directions that I understood were solid, however, and we got through the pine forests in Portugal to Spain soon thereafter. Reaching the border to France by late that day, we were tired and slept well – a long day of driving. We stayed in a forest on top of a hill in Erentera, a little Spanish village. Unfortunately, it was a Sunday, so we had to scrounge food from petrol stations and corner stores. A streetside market stall along the drive supplied us with fresh peaches, tomatoes and garlic for a ridiculously meagre price, and we amassed enough random supplies to make a nice spaghetti bolognese with spicy chorizo sausage – luckily we found a petrol station that sold chorizo, or we would have had to eat plain pancakes.

The next morning, I was in the mood for pancakes anyway. Without any topping for them, I made dutch style pancakes with apple cooked into them, and then made a peach coulis from some of the peaches we bought at the market. It turned out delicious! With such a good start to the day, we were ready to tackle France. Avoiding the toll roads was the hardest part, although we had good practise in this from driving through Portugal. As it turned out, the non-toll roads are nicer and show much more natural beauty anyway.

The highlights of france were having to turn around after 100 kms because a marked bridge didn't exist and the ferry cost 50 Euros. Luckily, it turned out that the way back was filled with French chateaus perched above endless fields of grapes – stunning. The next day, we arrived in Fougeres, which is an ancient French town with a castle dating back to the days when Brittany was a separate country. It's the biggest fortress in Europe, and the most well preserved castle I've ever seen – even the slate roofs were still intact. It looked to me exactly like someone had pulled it out of a fairytale, and turns out, I wasn't far wrong – the Melusine tower was reputedly built by a fairy mason in two weeks for her husband. When he saw her true form (a dragon), Melusine flew away. The castle was beset by invasions thereafter, although it is said that Melusine has been seen from the high towers – and a sighting of her forebodes ill for the castle and its inhabitants. These rumours are probably true, as the Melusine tower is the best preserved, and has the most exact architecture, more amazing than I would have believed possible back then.

After Fougeres, a short hour's drive took us to Mont-St-Michel, the most wondrous town in France. It's built on a rock in the ocean, with a great abbey garnishing the town and providing the spectacular sight that makes it so renowned. The winding alleys and huge abbey were spectacular. We had to leave before high tide at 6.15pm – the tides at Mont St Michel have the largest difference between low tide and high tide in the world. When we arrived, the water was kilometres out on the flats, while when we returned, it was surrounding the island. The flats have so many pools of quicksand, and the changing tides so dangerous, that it used to be a prison for France's criminals.

Arriving in London, we immediately took a bus to Cardiff, Wales – I had seen enough of London last time I was there, and the Glastonbury festival is on, making the cheapest dorm bed 66 pounds per night, while the second cheapest was 133 pounds. I don't really understand, as the Glastonbury festival isn't even in London! Wales isn't much better – our hostel is 25 pounds a night. Tomorrow, it's off to Scotland – Woohoo!

Lecherous London

Blatantly wrongly advertised, Baker street in Paddington, London has not a single bakery to be found. As I scurried for the 10.18 bus to Luton Airport (I'd forgotten that miles were a lot longer than kilometres), I was committed to starve because of their poor signing. No orchards on Orchard street, either – the one that leads onto Baker street. I bet that people don't walk that much faster on Fleet street, either. At least there's a Buckingham Palace on Buckingham Palace street – although quite a boring looking building for the interest it garners in the average tourist amateur paparazzis.

Once I had parked up my beautiful and very comfortable petrol-drainhole of a Wicked Van, I got my bearings on London. Basically, walk across Victoria Bridge and everything's quite close – I saw Big Ben as soon as I had stepped onto the bridge, and the adjoining palace, which is quite an amazing and awe-striking building. Perhaps the royal family should move in there instead of their unimaginative abode. Westminster abbey was constructed with similar architecture as the palace attached to the Big Ben, although I didn't bother entering, as the queue was as ridiculously long as a beefeater's hat is.

After seeing most of the London landmarks (I missed the tower bridge, which looks quite wonderful – and King's cross station, I wonder how many people have run into the wall between platform 9 and 10 and become concussed – next time for both of these, I suppose). Back somewhat sore from carrying my progressively heavier backpack, I finally alighted upon Victoria Coach station, in anticipation of the free pick-up for pre-booked guests of Hostel 63. Giving them a call from a payphone, a gruff man answered and informed me that the number was wrong. So was the rest of the web page – no breakfast was provided, either, and none of the showers lock. The web page didn't say anything about noisy Spanish people either, although I guess everyone expects that in most dorms.

Finding myself at a loss for what to see next, I went for a wander in Hyde Park and the adjoining Kensington Gardens. There I found the greatest treasure one could hope for – a statue of Peter Pan, commissioned by JM Barrie in 1912! Apparently it appeared by magic over night in the gardens. I spent the evening reading a book, accompanied by Peter blowing his flute. By the end, Peter and I were best mates – sharing some things in common, like a vivid imagination, and never wanting to grow up.

Wicked Road Trip - Amsterdam to London in 7 days

A lucky check online while I was at Laura's place found a Wicked van relocation special - 1 British Pound for 7 days rental of a Wicked van. For those who haven't seen one driving around, Wicked vans are big Toyota vans converted into campervans, with a bed and cooking gear. 

I had a whole day in Amsterdam to plan my trip from Amsterdam to London. By 6pm, I had a whole trip planned, including Paris and Mont St Michel, an awesome town built on a tiny island with a massive church on top. Also included in the trip were castles and wineries... in short, it was the perfect road trip. Unfortunately, I only had 3 days in Europe, total. That meant 8 hours driving a day... and when was I supposed to see things! I had to scrap the plan, and settle for something a little more modest. The first day, I was to do most of the driving – having seen enough of Holland for now, I was going to drive all the way south, drop by in Antwerp and Gent in Brussels, and then stop near Lille (France!) for the night. Then I would spend the next day checking out Lille, after which I would drive down country roads to Boulogne-sur-Mer, a little French town on the seaside. I would then spend the day snaking up the little coast-side roads to Dunkerque, and jump on the ferry. The second half of the trip (the part in England) I left to speculation for now, hoping that my cousin Craig, who I had arranged to meet in Dover, would provide a muse's inspiration for the onward journey.

The first part of the trip went slowly – new to understanding highway directions in Holland, I first went to wrong way when I saw a sign for Europoort – which I thought was maybe dutch for Eurotunnel. Turns out there's also a Europort, although I didn't go all the way there, only fifteen minutes off the main southern route to Belgium. I gradually worked out the way that highway signage works, although had one more mishap when the sign towards rosenthal indicated a turnoff – I continued straight, and for some strange reason the highway turned full circle around, and signs started to say Amsterdam again – surely a bad sign! Finally I found my way to Antwerp – driving through, I didn't see much to impress me overmuch, so I continued on to Gent. Although I didn't see much in Gent, I got out of the car for a break, and to purchase some supplies for the night. Everyone in Belgium speaks French, which is alright, although mostly they speak some weird Flemish language that sounds very strange. As it was late, I didn't bother getting out the warm cooking supplies, and just had a cold salad and baguette for dinner.

Late at night, when it was starting to get dark (around 11pm in Belgium!) I found a truckstop and stove in for the night. I was tired from lots of driving, but excited to see what sort of sleeping machine the van could turn into. Fixing a few wooden boards in to place, laying mattresses out, and voila – I had the perfect double bed arrangement – extremely comfortable, too! It took me another night to realise that I could push the front seats forward to get extra room, but my little fort, with curtains pulled across all windows, was very exciting! I bought a coffee from the petrol station and snuggled into the mattress in the van. It felt strange and exciting, sleeping in a truck stop/parking lot, but I allayed my nerves by reading the Girl with the Pearl Earring (a book about a Delft painter, you might have seen the movie) until I was tired enough, and then fell asleep.

Wicked Vans have everything – gas cooker, pots, pans, plates, mugs and cutlery, matresses, a dinner table, a lunch table inside the van, and esky, even a kitchen sink! The one thing they lack, however is bedding. Halfway through the night, I woke up with frost on the car and breathing steam and realised that I would need more than just a light jumper to sleep in as I shivered in the car – I had no idea cars got this cold at night, during the day they're always warm! Bit like a desert, I suppose.

After a glacial half-nap, I woke up in the morning, partially recharged and ready to at least warm up by being in the sunlight. I had the rest of the baguette and jam for breakfast on a warm sunny park bench, then set off for Lille. Reverse parking into a small free spot on the outside of town, I felt like I was getting the hang of this Wicked van thing. I walked in to town and checked out Lille, my first French city. Expensive shops abound in Lille, with everything from Gucci to Burberry stores lining the main street. Unimpressed, I headed off for some more cultural icons. A lovely church sits in the middle of town, but apart from that there's not a great deal to see or do in Lille. I stopped into a cafe that promised Wifi for a coffee – which was quite bad, and the Wifi didn't even work. Then I stopped in Maccas to get some reliable Wifi. Online, I searched for nice places to see around Lille, and a place to buy a cheap blanket. Having no luck finding second hand stores, I tried a supermarket. Unfortunately, they only had light cotton sheets. I bought one for 6 Euros anyway, and balled up the pillow cover that came with it to use as a pillow. Grabbing some dinner supplies, too – fish roe dip and baguette, I jumped back in the car and started the journey towards Boulogne-sur-mer. On a little country road, I found a sign for a campsite. I stopped in there for the night, meeting a lovely English couple who shared their English cider as well as a corned beef and chutney supper with me, and helped mould a plan for where to go in England. I noted down to check out somewhere in Hereford or Sommerset, where they told me that the best ciders come from. They even tipped that it's possible to get scrumpy – farmer's cider – from some farms.

The last day in France, I skipped Boulogne-sur-mer, and headed for Callais. It's a really lovely seaside town, that has had more than its fair share of disruption from the English, as a tactical strongpoint for invasion, which is also the reason for the fortifications built near the seaside. Squinting, I still couldn't see the English coastline from the jetty on the Callais beach, so I jumped in the car and got to Dunkerque, stopping in the ferry carpark for the night. The facilities were great – I managed to score a free hot shower, and there were toilets and running water there too. I finally tried out the gas cooker (I was very dubious of butane cookers), and after a bit of fiddling I realised that it would never cook anything. Taking it in out of the wind, the flame started to actually produce heat, and the sausages were cooked properly in no time. My faith was restored in butane burners, they just need an absolutely still environment to work! Finally a warm dinner was had, with coleslaw, sausages, tabouli, and hot tea – yum!

My phone started singing to me at 6.30 in the morning – time to catch the ferry! Once I received a severe grilling over coals by the English customs lady, who with one look at the awesome van thought I was a drug addict who would stay in England forever to be a burden on society, I finally got through and parked the van up. Heading to the top deck, I found a powerpoint to charge my laptop, and booted it up to watch a movie – turned out there was wifi on the ferry! I spent the two hour ferry trip frantically arranging a meeting point with Craig, and his father, who luckily turned out to be going across the Eurotunnel for a bicycle race on the same day!

After a bit of a time-zone recalculation, the poor buggers were left waiting in the Dover ferry parking lot for an hour (they had to wake up early for it and everything!). We went to near the Eurotunnel port for a coffee and cake, which Uncle Russel kindly shouted, and then after showing me his own campervan (very cool!) Craig and I headed off into the wild unknown of England.

We started off well enough, deciding to head for Oxford, a quaint university town just north-west of London. Unfortunately, England's logistical system is a nightmare. Their highways are planned so that every highway funnels onto the M25, the ring-road around London. Everyone who wants to go into London, or go around London, or drive anywhere in England, has to drive on the M25. Thus, it is permanently in full standstill traffic-jam, the likes of which aren't seen in Australia, the sort of traffic jam where you go round the back of the Wicked Van and open it up and start cooking sausages and setting up the bed without any fear of moving. Luckily, we got off at the first exit we found, 100 metres and ten painful minutes from our entrance onto the M25. Our only option left was to drive through the outskirts of London. Although central London has something to offer in the way of sights, the outskirts of London are just a massive slummy circumference of dingy houses and tiny roads. There are a few nice villages, though – although they're windy and difficult to get out of! I nearly lost the left mirror off the van when we drove between some very narrow roads – luckily, we were going slow enough that it just folded in. London drivers are also quite insane, jumping in all over the place at intersections, forcing you to slam on the breaks, and the roads veer off in all sorts of wrong direction with no warning.

After 4 hours of trying to circumvent the worst of London, we got to the opposite side, and back onto a highway that moved at proper speeds. Freedom! We were in Oxford in no time, and found the perfect spot to sleep in a park-and-ride parking spot, which are free! We had a sausages, potato salad, and pear cider dinner, then headed out to check out Oxford, and the pubs of Oxford. Either Oxford is an extremely nerdy town all the time, or no-one was out because of exams, because the pubs were extremely quiet. After three pints of cider, we headed back on the bus to sleep.

The next day, we headed to Bath. Getting there in only an hour or two, we had plenty of time to check out the city. Craig introduced me to one of his friends from Bath, and she offered us a parking spot outside her share house. We saw the Roman baths and some other lovely buildings, and I got a good feel from this town – the only town in England that I've liked thus far. The next day, Craig had a powerful hangover (I hadn't gone out). We headed to Stonehenge. I was quite excited about seeing this druidic relic, although the wind was blowing rain fiercely, which made it difficult to take a good photo. Remembering that Stonehenge was built to observe the sun on solstices and equinoxes, I asked Craig what he thought the Druids did on Solstices and Equinoxes when the sun wasn't out (which, frankly, was probably most of them in England). My hypothesis is that after painstakingly constructing an outstanding druidic monument to observe the sun, and finding no sun where they built it, they got angry. Without any sun to look at and a massive monument, this may have been the time that they started to sacrifice animals and virgins to gods.

Craig then showed me around the town where he lived, Basingstoke. Old Basing is really interesting, a battle was fought there during the English civil war (I didn't even know there was an English civil war!), and Craig's house is lovely. The next day was the end of my Wicked Road trip – after a clean drive through to the Wicked drop off point in central London.

All over Holland!

Aptly named, the day I left Laura's extremely hospitable company, I had a day pass which enabled me to catch any train in Holland for the whole of Sunday. Not wanting it to go to waste, I planned out a hectic itinerary... Haarlem, Leiden, Delft, and Utrecht, all in one day. That gave me only a few hours in each, although I didn't bother planning out a time scale because it was all too depressing. Haarlem was a great introduction to old Holland – a beautiful canal town with similar gorgeous old apartments as could be found in Amsterdam. Then was Leiden, which is without doubt the most beautiful old town in Holland.... the Leiden Leger was especially good for showing you around the city – probably the best tourist walk of a city I've found. I stood in a square where hundreds of years ago, executions were common, and looked up at great churches and castle-like buildings. Delft had many shops with the famous Delft-ware, and looking back having read The Girl with the Pearl Earring, it was an extraordinary place. Utrecht was great – it differed from the rest of the canal towns, as the canal is a level below the rest of the city. As such, restaurants and cafes line the canal down a flight of stairs – it looks really beautiful.

Staying with Laura

Having seen all I could see in Amsterdam for the time being, I arranged to stay with Laura, a friend I had met on the ferry back from the Gilli Islands near Bali last year when I was travelling south east Asia. She lives in Arnhem, which is an hour train ride from Amsterdam. After a teary goodbye to Bec, I jumped on the train to Arnhem (15.2 Euros).

Arnhem is a lovely place – I thought canal houses were a singular oddity of Amsterdam, but Arnhem also possesses its fair share of beautiful old apartments, although no canals to speak of. Just walking through the central shopping district is beautiful, while the other areas hold monolithic churches and lovely parks. Arnhem is the greenest city in Amsterdam, and it shows – apartments in Holland hold a charm unto themselves. I have never felt any desire to live in an apartment in Australia – they are usually flavourless, cramped spaces, but the apartments here are spacious, and beautifully designed, inside and out. Laura's apartment has been expertly decorated to suit her tastes, with a hammock, tasteful wallpaper, bare wooden floorboards and the most comfortable couch in the world (my bed, and the only couch that I have fit full length on and still had plenty of room).

The first night with Laura, we went for a picnic in the park with some of her friends – I was now a member of that utopian society I spoke about last post, that has picnics in parks and enjoys every moment of warmth and sunshine. As an Australian, warmth and sunshine aren't duly appreciated by me, but I've learnt their benefits. Some of Laura's friends brought along some cask wine as well as a couple of bottles, so we stayed in the park happily for about six hours, soaking in sunshine, red wine and friendship. Once the wine had almost run out, we sojourned to a theatre fair that was going on atop a hill (yes, Arnhem is the only non-flat place in the Netherlands). The real purpose of the fair, however, was to provide a place for most of the town of Arnhem to drink beer.

Meeting more of Laura's friends, the beer, capirinhas and mojitos flowing, we had an awesome night – I tried out my extensive knowledge of the Dutch language (saying 'I love you) on many people, mostly men as it turned out, and made many friends myself. While I was unsuccessful at learning any of the names of Laura's friends, I did remember one person's 'name' – Wally, who's real name was so difficult that no-one bothers to pronounce it.

Waking up on the couch the next morning, I remembered how bad headaches cask wine gives, so slept it off until about noon, when I felt ready to move again. I bought a massive breakfast of ham, eggs and bread from the shop, and finished off the rest of my delicious dutch cheese. Fully recovered, I spent the rest of the day researching where to go next, and how to get there. After a few hours of uncertain searching, I happened upon the Wicked Campervan website, who are currently holding a special for a journey from Amsterdam to London – the price of the rental for a week is one pound total. I quickly sent off an email and received a reply about two hours later. It looks like my next journey will be to London, as I was successful in booking the special! Much more research is needed – I intend to drive around France for a few days before making a ferry crossing to Dover and then exploring England before handing back the van on the 13^th of June. If anyone knows anyone in Amsterdam or France who wants a ride to London, do tell! I think I have four seats left. I might put a notice up in the hostel tonight to see if I can find any willing companions.

Today I am travelling around Amsterdam, as Laura gave me a go-anywhere-in-Holland-in-one-day pass (the dutch name for the card is just as long!), before checking back into the hostel in Amsterdam for two days to plan my road trip. Thankyou, Laura, for a great stay, and a great chance to appreciate Holland! I felt very welcome in her apartment, so much so that it made me feel a bit home sick.