Stephen & Jen

We rose early on the last Wednesday of August, the day of the annual La Tomatina festival. In preparation for the event, we had hit the local carrefour to buy a couple of cheap t-shirts and some eye protection.

The traffic grew heavy as we approached Bunol. As we hit the outskirts of the town we saw hundreds of 'free-campers' who had set up on just about every square inch of space available on roadsides, vacant lots, car parks and parkland. We parked the car and started to walk into the centre of town. The air was filled with the smell of the hot breakfasts being sold by local street vendors, and the cries of "beer... one Euro!". There were thousands of people sporting all manner of outfits. We observed various national flags, a couple of guys with watermelon helmets, a group of guys painted in 'Braveheart' theme (complete with tiny plastic swords and shields), a group of girls dressed in Aussie Swimming Caps (Members of the Fanatics), an excellent volleyball helmet, and a rowdy bunch of Portuguese men chanting "Por-tu-gal!..Por-tu-gal!..." as they forced their way through the crowd towards the Plaza Mayor.

We managed to reach the halfway point along one of the avenues approaching the Plaza. We found a bit of wall to lean against and started watching the proceedings. Local home and shop owners had covered the facades of thier premises with boards and sheets of plastic. They hid on the balconies of the upper floors and darted out from cover occassionally in order to hose or bombard the crowd with buckets of water. A group of about 8 local men and women had set up a large dining table in front of their shop. The sat in suits and ate morning tea determined to withstand the constant targeting by water bombers on the upper floors. They remained there, chatting calmly, until just before the start of the event and refused to react as the crowd roared it's approval with each drenching from above.

The event starts with an open challenge to climb a greased pole and retrieve a large ham which is attached to the top. We were some distance from the main plaza, where this takes place, so were unable to witness the activity. We were alerted, however, to it's successful completion by the sounding of an air horn. This blast of the horn also announces the beginning of La Tomatina. Before too long the already packed avenue was further compressed to allow the first of the tomato trucks slow passage, and our first supply of fresh fruit with which to pelt each other senseless. The width of the vehicle was significant and, as a result, people were pressed against either side of the avenue with substantial force. For the few minutes that the truck was in front of us, it had become difficult to take a deep breath and I was fearful of receiving a future paternity suit from the girl in front of me. It was a tad embarrassing, very uncomfortable, and a little distressing for shorter folk. The wall to wall armpit reminded us that we would soon be climbing aboard the London Underground again. However this crush, unlike the peak hour tube journey, had a pay off. It allowed you to vent your aggravation through the use of controlled violence, courtesy of the drive by fruiting. Each truck contained tons of ripe red tomatoes and several people in the tilt back of the vehicle. They stopped periodically and tipped a heap of fruit on the ground and as the crowd raced to get to the bounty, the men and women perched on the sides would fire off a volley of red missiles at those below.

Most of us had equipped ourselves with eye protection, swimming or safety goggles, but they soon steamed up and became impossible to see through. This left us without any peripheral vision and open to easy attack. We soon had a combination of whole and mushed tomatoes bouncing off, or splatting against, every side of our heads. T-Shirts were also soaked in the river of tomato juice on the street and flung with venom. This had the added effect on temporarily mummifying you as it wrapped around your face and head. We had not forgotten the early attacks from the residents and took aim for the gaps between their protective plastic sheeting. They returned fire with buckets and hoses. The whole tomatoes ran out and the fight would abate for a while, until trucks arrived with fresh ammunition. They did so on 3 or 4 occasions and, after about an hour, a final series of blasts of the air horns signalled the ceassation of the day's hostilities.

We took the opportunity to remove our steam and tomato filled eyewear and survey the area. Everyone was covered from head to toe with seeds, skin and tomato flesh. A river of juice and pulp flowed along the avenues as we embarked on the challenge of getting out again. We saw a break in the sea of people and joined the exiting throng. BAD IDEA... there was a crush of drunken men pushing from every side. Jen was constantly shoved around and was only just managing to keep her feet. I pity anyone who fell because they would have been trampled. A girl next to us was very distressed and looked ready to pass out. We had worked our way to the edge of the crowd when a couple, seeing our predicament, reached in and grabbed us, and the distressed girl. They pulled us to the safety of the wall, much like being rescued from a river torrent. It was a relief to only be taking soggy T-shirts to the head again. What a debarcle. We caught our breath and then started laughing, with relief, before stockpiling knotted, soggy shirts for a revenge fuelled volley at the next group of drunken louts. Our stress levels abated with every successful face shot. The rest of the crowd joined in and one loud, muscle bound, moron was pelted mercilessly... ahhh, rough justice never tasted better. I could hear Robert Duvall in my mind "I love the smell of tomato in the morning".

Our next challenge was to find somewhere to clean ourselves up and change into some clean clothes for the drive back to our hotel. We had rented a Seat Ibiza and assumed Europcar would prefer it returned without the bolognaise. It had quietened down considerably when we tagged onto the crowd leaving the avenue for the main square. People were splashing, jumping, sliding and sitting in the river of tomato juice. Many people were heading down a hill towards a narrow stream in order to rinse off. We joined them and, after a trecherous climb down the slippery bank, were washing off the morning's ripe red coating. It was only then that we detected the faint smell of sewerage. We looked in horror at those immersing their heads in the water and decided that, as we had escaped death by tomato, it would be a shame to subsequently die of hepatitis. We scrambled up the hill and joined the end of a long line which had an old couple, with garden hoses, at the other end. Mrs Gardenhose was giving everyone a powerful spray of water from head to toe. She had an excellent technique and was very efficient. She was obviously a veteran and was racing through eager participants. Her husband was somewhat less efficient. He was far more laboured and took his work very seriously indeed. Particularly long female legs and bikini tops. I drew the short straw and received only a cursory squirt from Mr garden hose. Whilst showering later at the hotel, I flushed a large chunk of tomato from the inside of my left ear. I should have worn a bikini top!

We had intended to clean up our clothes and shoes but it was clearly not going to be possible. Our Keens and Salomons, along with clothing, was confined to the garbage bin. We were certain we smelt strongly of Tomato, but later surmised that we had bolognaise sinusitis. Our skin was perfect though... because we're worth it.

La Tomatina is held annually, on the last Wednesday of August, in Bunol. You can find reasonably priced accommodation around Valencia and it is easy to travel to Bunol for the event. There are a host of activities on the preceding night and also the day/night of the event. Live entertainment and plenty of food and souvenir stalls. It is intense, a real challenge to those who need some personal space, and enormously enjoyable. Give it a go if you ever get the chance, but wear shoes you are happy to throw away afterwards and bring eye protection. We had a blast and hope to do it all again some day.

Pre-fight Bravado

Volleyball Helmet = Stylish and Protective

The locals are protected by plastic Sheeting...

...and they attack the crowd with a barrage of water bombs

The calm before the storm

The tomato truck arrives

We survive the first volley

The sea of tomato pulp

The guy in front of us takes a soggy T-shirt to the head

The crowd prepares for the next wave

Trouble starts as a real fight breaks out

The first re-supply truck arrives

...and the food fight continues

El hombre está en la sopa de tomate

Clean... almost.

Climbing down to the El Stinko river

Mr & Mrs Gardenhose (note: Mr GH is far less interested in his current male client and prefers to gaze at the bikini he just hosed)

The post fight street party begins

The First Truck Arrives

La Tomatina 2009-The Worlds Biggest Tomato Fight

Post Tomatina Street Party feat. The Coolest Dancer In The World

Our trip started with a 0350 minicab ride to Stansted Airport. It was the usual white knuckled trip as our sub-continental driver battled to keep his eyes open at 85mph up the motorway. Through the grace of God (or Vishnu or Shiva) we arrived safely, checked in and in 1 hour 50 mins we were landing in Barcelona. We collected our hire car, a Seat Ibiza, and prepared to meet our first challenge. Driving on the opposite side of the car... on the opposite side of the road. Jen put her hand up for the challenge and before very long we were zipping down the road without any worry. Suffice it to say we brought our TomTom with us and had it set to remind us to drive on the right hand side of the road. After about 20mins driving we reached The Hotel Alimara. It's a nice, NH style place and we were in a spacious double room on the 2nd floor. It is a 3 minute walk to the metro station and about 15 mins by train to the city centre.

Streets of Barcelona

That afternoon we took the metro to Diagonal station and then walked for about 15 minutes to our first stop, Sagrada Familia. We were instantly struck by the beauty of Barcelona the moment we emerged from the station. This is a city where function is not valued over form. The buildings are absolutely amazing, so ornate, a mix of modern and gothic architecture. Every couple of blocks we found ourselves stopping in awe of one of the building designs, ornate facades, or Gaudi-esqe edifices.Sagrada Familia is an iconic site designed by Gaudi in 1882. It was not completed in his lifetime and work continues still in an effort to finish his design.

Sagrada Familia... and the cranes

The heat was just starting to make its impression on us when we arrived so we were thankful for the shade trees and park benches opposite this beautiful church. It was every bit as wonderous as the images we had seen in books. It also maintained the European trend of constant maintenance or reconstruction. We soon came to the realisation that ‘The cranes in Spain lie mainly in the frame’ it was almost impossible to take a photograph without a crane or some scaffold in the shot. It didn’t prevent us taking a few shots though, nor the hundreds of other visitors there.

We walked South toward the city for a while before stopping for a drink and a bite to eat at a taverna. We had been assured, by several people, that everyone in the major cities spoke english and would in fact PREFER to speak in english, rather than endure our struggle with limited Spanish. When the proprietor brought over a menu we found that he spoke absolutely no English whatsoever. However, with the help of some very animated gesticulation, he said “Tu leer' (paused) "me habla” (you read then come and talk to me). 'Sin problema' I thought. Jen chose grilled ham and cheese (called a bikini) and a coke. Great... I can pronounce that. I went for a fritata Espanol and a latte. I approached the counter, practicing the dialogue under my breath and he approached, grinning. “Por favour Senor” I said (off to a good start) “Una bikini...” he put his hand up and stopped me. He was shaking his head slowly and took a short pause before telling me that what I really wanted was the chicken and indicated to the dish on his right. I politely declined but he insisted that was what I wanted. I patted my stomach and indicated that it would be too much. He insisted that what I wanted was the chicken. "Bien, bien" he said kissing his finger tips like an Italian. I ended up saying “Si” to the chicken and several of his other suggestions. It was that or starve. I was singularly unarmed for a conversational battle over a bikini. When I returned to the table Jen asked me how it went. I explained that I had ordered food but had only a vague idea exactly what food I had ordered. We had our drinks and waited for the food to arrive. A variety of small dishes arrived and we immediately went for the chicken. He was right. It was delicious, as was everything else. We were a little anxious about the ‘eat first-get the bill later’ approach and were hoping we were not going to be scammed, but the bill was very reasonable. When we went inside to pay we explained we were Australian. He and his wife seemed thrilled and immediately assured us that they were aware of the fact that Australia is very bad at soccer. He praised our national basketball team before pouring four shots of something which he described as 'little bit alcohol'. Salud! It was like rocket fuel. We smiled broadly as the contents of the glass ripped the flesh from our throats. His wife necked the contents and grinned. Jen later admitted to thinking we were being poisoned for initially baulking at the chicken suggestion. We figured if he made the wife drink it then we should be alright. We thanked them for everything. There was hand shaking all round and I politely said ‘adios senor’... to his wife! Oops.. I meant senora. I blame the alcohol.

Casa Mila La Pridera - Classic Gaudi Architecture

Barcelona Marina
The next day we took the metro to Gracia station and walked to Gaudi park. We had brought a baguette, chorizo and cheese so ate a picnic breakfast seated on a bench in the shade. After eating, we walked around the park before heading back to the hotel for siesta. That afternoon we took the train to the city and walked to Barcelonetta beach. We sat and had an ice-cream and drink. An old lady had a wee in the sand in front of us so we quickly decided to take a walk along boardwalk then stop at a cafe for cervesa, bocadillo and agua. The food was great but the beer was enough to put us to sleep after a long day in the sun.

Day 3 we took the metro to Place de Catalunya. We exited the metro and found a large plaza with statues and fountains. A girl approached us with tickets for the Bus Turistic. We are fans of the hop on, hop off buses. They are a great way to see the big ticket sights when you don't have a great deal of time. We started on the red line which took us to Casa les Punxes, Sagrada Familia, Sarria, Pavellons Guell and FC Barcelona's ground. After a break we did two laps of the blue line. We visited Placa d'Espanya, Poble Espanyol, Port Vell, Museu d'Historia de Catalunya and Catedral.
After finishing the busride we sat in the shade eating a maxibon and sipping on a diet coke (irony). We headed home, baked from the sun, and relaxed. We were comparing our 3 day tans and applying our moisturising regime when a middle aged English woman suddenly burst into our room. Jen said ‘Excuse me!’ in her gruffest voice, but it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re sitting on the floor in your singlet and nicks!

Wednesday morning we hit the road early, excited to be behind the wheel and making a start on our roadtrip proper. We headed for our next destination, Zaragoza. The roads were good and we saw the space open up as we left Barcelona. The morning revealed the colours which would dominate the Spanish landscape. We had taken the time to burn 2 roadtrip soundtrack cds. We were relaxed and comfortable on the right hand lane and pressed play. We sank into the seats a little more and contemplated the long road ahead. We felt like we were in a Cameron Crowe movie... and it felt really, really good.

On the Road

We arrived in Zaragoza and 'dos Tom' found a carpark. Again we had packed a picnic breakfast so we found a shady spot by the river and ate. The town is dominated by an impressive cathederal and has a lovely main plaza. We had a coffee and plotted the course to our hotel. We had booked a nights accommodation in a town named Fraga. It sounded ideal, positioned within easy reach of Zaragoza and our next stop Huesca, or so the website said. In reality Fraga meant backtracking for an hour and a quarter. Hey, we didn't mind. We like a drive.

Zaragoza

Zaragoza Cathedral - with our shady picnic spot in the foreground.

Zaragoza Plaza

We arrived in Fraga and accidently drove through it whilst looking for a place to make a U-turn. We pulled in at the hotel and the 10 or so old guys seated out the front gazed, un-blinkingly, as we walked to the front door. We checked in and showered before joining the blokes out the front. We placed our order with the heavily intoxicated waiter and waited for our drinks. All the time, feeling the constant stare of the locals. We drank our drinks still under scrutiny. We wondered if anyone from out of town had ever arrived here before. Jen has a theory that the guys out front had arrived, as teenagers, after getting lost in a terrible storm. Having never found a way out of town again, they now found themselves in their 70s. We took a walk around the town and settled on an early night. We left at dawn the next day. The drive took us through some beautiful areas. Fields of sunflowers with a mountain backdrop and flocks of cranes taking flight as we passed. The roads became almost non existent. We found ourselves having to crawl along in 1st gear, negotiating our way around the potholes. This only added fuel to our theory that Fraga was designed to be inescapable. We resolved to push on for fear of returning to the hotel to live out our lives. Sitting with the old guys, staring at poor souls who stumbled into town in error, and learning to play the banjo. We climbed hill after hill until, finally, we found the bitumen road again. We set 'dos tom' for Barbosa and put the hammer down.

We stopped for a coffee at a bar in Barbastro, bought breakfast items at the Carrefour and then hit the road. We headed to Monzon to see the impressive Castle. The town of Monzon is fairly small and full of character. We climbed along the cobbled lanes, flanked by scores of ladies sweeping and chatting to each other or sitting in the shade in front of their houses. A long narrow road snakes its way from the town to the castle.

Streets of Monzon

The day was heating up as we arrived and the climb was taxing, but the views were stunning. We could see for miles in all directions and the large statue of Christ stood watching over the town of Monzon.

Jesus Looking Over Monzon View from Castillo de Monzon

Areas of Castillo de Monzon date back to the 9th and 10th centuries. The Knights Templar received the castle in 1143 and it remained one of the great feudal commanderies in the lands that formed the border between the Christian and Muslim worlds. We loved Monzon and now had our 'castle in the mountains' mojo working. We set out for our next destination... Alquezar.

Alquezar is perched high in the mountains. The area hosts many adventure tourists who engage in activities such as canyoning, kayaking and climbing. We, however, chose the adventure that can only be found in trying to find a toilet after a long drive. That achieved, we sat and had a cold drink at a cafe on the edge of the mountainside. We gazed down at the massive vultures which prowled the sky above the canyons. Refreshed we walked up towards the town. As we approached the main gate we could hear music and much activity. We entered through the gate and were greeted by a gentleman with a glass caraffe with a thin pouring spout set about half way up, filled with red wine. He was laughing loudly as he demonstrated his expert aim. He held the wine high and guided a thin stream of wine through the air and into his mouth. He gave me the wine and told me to give it a try. I did. It was good wine!

We are all about getting into local customs Fiesta Time

As we continued through the streets, towards the castle, a number of brass and guitar bands performed. They walked through the lanes, surrounded by the crowd singing and playing. Everyone had a sprig of local flora behind their ears. The whole town was gripped by a fiesta mood. Click Here to see our video of Alquezar.

We reached the castle and, again, the view was simply amazing. We felt like we had stepped back in time. The town structure had changed so little through the years that we could imagine life here centuries earlier. Alquezar not only sounds magic... it was.

Views down from Alquezar Alquezar Alquezar

The afternoon was drawing to a close when we returned to the road. We drove towards Huesca, a provincial town in North Central Aragon, and a gateway to the Aragonese Pyrenees. We decided to spend the first night in our trusty tent, at Camping San Jorge. When we had entered the town we noticed the vast majority of people were dressed in white pants and shirt with a green bandana and sash-belt. It turned out we had arrived in time for one night of a week long celebration for the festival of San Lorenzo. Click here to see our video of the Fiesta. We joined the masses in the centre of the old town for traditional singing & dancing, complete with traditional costume and castanets! There was also lengthy stretches of market stalls and a firework show to cap off the evening. We also had the first of what would become a regular treat throughout the rest of the trip. Rich ice-cream in a cone. Flavour... turron (Spanish Nougat). We felt pretty lucky to have stumbled across two festivals in one day.

Fiestas De San Lorenzo

We didn't get much sleep on our first night camping. It was only as we put our heads down to sleep that we realised two significant issues. The slow leaks in our sleeping mats and the fact we had no pillows, and nothing to use as a pillow other than a towel and a couple of somewhat fragrant T-shirts.

Dont Miss the Next Exciting Installment - Huesca to Leon (Coming Soon)

Be FASCINATED by Gary the Twitcher (Birdwatcher)....

Be THRILLED by the Crazy Spanish Drivers

Be AMAZED by the single Australian Gum Tree of Celorio

(Voiceover) IF YOU ONLY READ ONE BLOG THIS YEAR, MAKE SURE IT'S "SPANISH ROADTRIP"

London has seen the Majesty of Rock that is... Spinal Tap.

In celebration of the 25th anniversary of the Mocumentary 'This is Spinal Tap', and the release of the new album 'Back from the dead', the lads kicked off their one night only world tour with a single show at Wembley Arena. There was a great array of classic heavy metal t-shirts on display. Tour shirts from the 70s & 80s featuring the usual suspects. I imagine middle aged men all over Britain had entered the secret code to the unlock the rock merchandise draw, removed the ADCD, Led Zeppelin or Metalica T-shirt from it's protective plastic sleeve and stretched it over the beer belly. This was not a night for half measures. An array of cardboard or inflatable guitars, fake Derek Smalls moustashes, long blonde wigs and a sea of black clothing prevailed. Looking around the crowd, It was a little like combining a Star Trek convention and a public funeral.

Tap were in good company with American folk legends 'The Folksmen' as the support act. This slick trio were note perfect, as you would expect. They had the audience cheering and clapping along to their self styled 'Eclectrified Folk". The stand out songs were their 1962 top 70 hit 'Old Joe's Place' and the sombre 'Blood on the coal' "Over the years we have noticed that about 50% of folk songs are about terrible tragedies" said Bassist Marta Shubb (until recently Mark) " The other 50% are about mediocre tragedies. Most involve either a coal mine disaster or a train wreck. I think this is the first song, however, to feature both". They took the audience on a rambling tour of hits including "Loco Man" and "Never did no wanderin'". The Folksmen - Jerry Palter, Alan Barrows and Marta Shubb -performed expertly with smooth vocal harmony and masterful guitar and mandolin playing. Displaying the musical savvy that has seen them become America's "most popular late addition to folk festivals within a day’s auto travel of their homes".

After a short interval, the house lights dropped and a roar went out accross the arena. We could hear the stage manager calling Tap to the stage but there was no sign of them. "Tap, Tap , Tap..." the crowd chanted, but still no sign of the band. A greenroom camera revealed David and Nigel playing Xbox, oblivious to the fact that it was showtime. The stage manager threw to a clip of "The Magesty of Rock" and shortly after the arena erupted up as Spinal Tap took to the stage. "Hello Wimbledon, we are Spinal Tap". They opened with the powerful "Tonight I'm gonna rock you tonight" and the crowd went crazy. What followed was a journey through the back catalogue of hits including "Gimme Some Money", "All the Way Home", "Cups and Cakes", "(Listen to the) Flower People" and a reworked, funk version of the classic hit "Sex Farm". It sounded sounded slick and the skull motif on the screen behind the band was now sporting an afro and 'Bootsy Collins' star shaped sunglasses. Could this be a preview of their new direction?
The crowd was on it's feet for the whole show and obediently thrust fists in the air as they called out the choruses of "Hell Hole" and "Heavy Duty". London was treated to the genius of David St Hubbins in the form of the completed work "Saucy Jack" the definitive musical exploration of the infamous East End serial killer, Jack 'the ripper'. The band also played more recent offerrings like "Warmer than Hell" and "Rock and Roll Nightmare" "Do you want to go back... right back to the very beginning"? asked David St Hubbins, the lights dimmed and Nigel stepped to the mic. "In the beginning.." a roar went up from the crowd as the band played the immortal 'Stonehenge" halfway though the song a huge inflatable replica of the monolith slowly rose on stage left. A little too slowly actually. As the two dwarves, dressed in medievil costume, arrived on stage, Nigel emplored them to 'Push it up... push it up" eventually it stood tall... Stonehenge. The dwarves did a kind of Morriss Dance around the statue until it toppled over, trapping them underneath. When the song was over the arena thundered with applause. Tap did 3 encores the last of which was "Big Bottom" and featured, among others, Frankie Poullain (the Darkness) & Andy Scott (Sweet) on bass. "Goodnight London, We love you" and it was over. Almost as soon as the World Tour had begun, it was over. Spinal Tap had again rocked the house and silenced those who would consign them to the 'Where are they now?" file.

History had been made, and history will show that anytime Spinal Tap sound the call to their fans, 5000 overweight, middle-aged man in poorly fitting shirts will answer. I should know... I was one of them.

Yesterday we took a trip to Southbank, in London, to check out a Parkour demonstration by the Urban Playground Group. It featured Charles Perrière and Malik Diouf - two of the original members of Parkour founder David Belle's 'Yamakazi' group.

Parkour is also known as PK or l'art du déplacement (the art of movement) and first appeared in France. It focuses on moving from one point to another as smoothly, efficiently and quickly as possible using the abilities of the human body. It is built on the philosophical premise that any obstacle, physical or mental, can be surpassed. Parkour practitioners are often called traceurs (males) or traceuses (females).

The demonstration was impressive and, as a result, we are now unable to look at the urban landscape without imagining ourselves leaping, climbing and balancing our way through, over and accross it. I would encourage anyone young and fit enough to give it a try to do so.

We also discovered a skatepark along Southbank (East of the London Eye).

Ahhh... takes my mind back to Nicole Kidman's mad skills in 'BMX Bandits'.

Sunday saw the celebration of our beautiful town with the yearly East Finchley festival. It is held on the common at Cherry Tree Wood and is a real community celebration. Stalls are set up by the local community groups, schools and charities with all the usual fare available - books, clothes, trinkets and collectables. An array of culinary options from Caribbean jerk chicken to Indian curries and healthy salads were on offer. We chose the barbequed snag in bread (Aussie Aussie Aussie).

The entertainment was housed on two stages, one at each end of the common. A series of bands played on the larger and a series of nervous school children danced on the smaller. Nothing says 'Community' like a group of 25 badly co-ordinated, terrified primary school kids who have been forced, by their parents, to flail around on a little stage whilst being filmed for future humiliation on their 21st birthday!

We sat on the grass and listened to a couple of the bands before walking through the treed area in search of some squirrels to feed. We thought they might have gone to visit relatives for the day, but neither the noise of the bands or the East Finchley Primary School choreography had driven them away. The sun was filtered through the pale green canopy of leaves and the squirrels were in fine form.

After a couple of hours at the festival we were sporting 'I Love N2' badges and T-Shirts, had full tummies and no more peanuts. Next year we will do it all again... talk about living life on the edge!

There's just no place like Amsterdam for a lost weekend. It has all the ingredients for an escape from routine for a couple of days.

Amsterdam is only a 45 minute flight from London. The moment we reached cruising altitude, the cabin crew raced out the trolleys, threw us a ham roll and coffee, and then scurried away again because it was time to start preparing for landing.

We arrived at Schipol airport and jumped on a train to Centraal. A tram from there to Zuid and a short walk to the hotel. At least that's how it was meant to go. On the train into town we tried to retrieve the email detailing the name and address of our accommodation. No luck. We couldn't connect. I knew that it was one of the NH hotels and I had looked on Google maps before we left and worked out where we needed to go in relation to the hotel we stayed at last trip. We got to Zuid station and headed in the direction of the Hotel. We were confident we would find it. I mean, it's a hotel. It's big right? We saw an equally confused couple of guys about 50 metres ahead of us. They made every turn that we were going to take and so we figured that they must be looking for the same hotel. As we had neither a name or address for the hotel, we basically followed them for a while until we came to a little cafe and decided it would be handy to know where we were supposed to be going. We started searching the list of NH hotels in Amsterdam but none of the names were familiar. We decided upon the one closest to our current position and headed off... in the direction we had come from. After a very healthy walk we arrived and checked in. The room was really nice. We gave ourselves a 30 minute pit stop before heading to town.

NH Musica hotel room

We took a tram to centraal and looked for somewhere for coffee and coke. No folks... the drink!
It was a beautiful sunny day and we enjoyed the stroll around the streets and waterways of the city.

We ate lunch at the world's best burger joint before surrendering to fatigue (we had left home at 03.00 to catch 2 buses and a train to the airport). Back to the hotel and a nanna nap until the evening.

Saturday night we woke refreshed and ready for a big night out in the Dam. We headed into town and got ourselves some dinner. We spent the rest of the night between the red light district, the coffee shop and the waffle shop. It is always cheap entertainment after midnight in town. We sat with our legs dangling over the waterways just people watching.

Amsterdam at night

At about 02.00 am we hailed a taxi and headed for the hotel. After several minutes driving in, seemingly every direction the driver pulled over and said he wanted to check the address. He started asking us if it was near places we had never heard of. I told him we figured that he was a taxi driver so it may be reasonable to assume that he would have a better idea of the town than someone who had only arrived that morning. He reassured us he had worked it out and off we went again. We went back past several of the streets we had just travelled before stopping again. This time he wanted to check his map. Again we asked if he had any idea what he was doing. Again he assured us he had it sorted and off we went again. On the fourth occasion we politely explained that we would like to make it home before morning and left the vehicle. We walked up to the next major road and luckily another taxi eventually came past. This guy had no idea where we wanted to go, despite having the address. Happily, he called his controller and about 15 minutes later we were home. It seems that nobody from the Netherlands drives a taxi... only Egyptians! We now fully expect to find only Dutch taxi drivers in Egypt.

Sunday was another lovely day and we spent it wandering about, taking photos and eating. We shared a meal with a guy named Aaron who was over from New Zealand to compete in the Laser fleet racing. He was really nice and interesting to talk to. As you might imagine hauling your gear around the world is expensive and Aaron would benefit enormously from sponsorship, so if anyone has appropriate business connections in NZ send them the link please.
http://www.aaronhume-merry.net/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=15&Itemid=31

We took a walk, about 15 minutes south of Dam Square, to the flower market. The Amsterdam flower market is a long stretch of stalls beside a waterway where you can find beautiful fresh cut flowers, in a wide variety of rich colours, as well as plants and a huge number of bulbs. You can also buy your Grandma a canabis starter kit for Christmas (it helps with the arthritis).

We stopped for lunch and, as Jen and I are learning Spanish for our next trip, started testing each other with dialogue from our course. We did pretty well but too much time in the coffeeshop had taken the edge of our Spanish language skills... and our English language skills to be honest. Anyway, I was struggling to translate "The bag is not brown, it is black" because I had forgotten the Spanish word for 'Black'. "Don't tell me...Don't tell me... I'll get it" I told Jen. After several minutes of agony trying to remember it came to me "Ahhh... NEGRO" I shouted.
The black family just entering the establishment seemed happy that I was so excited to see them. Not my best moment. Jen looked at me in horror and we laughed ourselves to tears for the next half hour.

One of the most apparent differences between Amsterdam and many other cities in the world is the extent to which the general public use bicycles rather than cars. The Dutch seem to have succeeded in establishing a safe and effective network of bicycle paths and the default mode for getting sround appears to be bikes and public transport.



Multistory bike park

The rail system is efficient although we found that services ceased too early on weekends. We hasten to point out that, in Amsterdam, we found two things we can never find in London... public transport with personal space and SUNSHINE! Mmmmm, it makes me feel like a kip.


On our last day we had breakfast in town and then walked to Centraal station for our train to the airport. On the way I realised that a conversation I could hear in the background was actually a twitchy gentleman walking beside me saying "Hey... big man... business?" I told him we were fine thanks and were not interested. "You want some coke" he said "I have some great coke" I smiled and said "Thanks, but no thanks" he asked "Are you keeping your woman happy?" I assured him Jen was happy, he smiled broadly, laughed a bit, shook my hand and said "Stay strong big man, stay strong man". We laughed and headed to the station.

All in all, Amsterdam makes an ideal getaway for a few days. It is a well designed city with all the essential ingredients for the visitor. Uniquely Dutch offering like clogs, dykes and tons of tulips. Architecture, museums, galleries and other sights worth photographing. The stranger than fiction red light district, complete with touts outside sex clubs, working girls in shop windows, and dodgy gents around every corner asking if you want to do 'Business'. Not forgetting the famous coffeeshops for an Amsterdam style chill out. The people are relaxed and friendly and we found we could walk around at any time of the day or night without feeling the slightest nervousness. We loved it and give it our *Five Clog* rating.

On April 25th Australia and New Zealand observes Anzac Day. In remembrance of those sons and daughters who have fallen in all conflicts. Foremost in our minds though, are the Anzacs, those who fell at Gallipoli, in Turkey. Over 8,000 Australian and 2,700 New Zealand soldiers died. For Australians and New Zealanders at home the 25th of April became the day on which they remember the sacrifice of those who died in war.

This year I found myself back in Melbourne for Anzac Day, whilst Jen remained in London. We each attended remembrance services. Myself, with Adam, at the Shrine in Melbourne and Jen on Whitehall in London.

I feel somewhat ashamed to say that this year was the first occasion I have attended the dawn service at the Shrine of Remembrance. I would encourage all Victorians to make the trip at some stage. In the 1920s, after the First World War, returned soldiers sought the comradeship they felt in the quiet, peaceful moments before dawn. With a symbolic link to the dawn landing at Gallipoli, the dawn service became the common form of remembrance on Anzac day.

Dawn service at the shrine of remembrance

It is with a sombre national pride that we pause to reflect on the sacrifice of war. Strange indeed that from this most brutal theatre, spring stories which speak of honour, decency, courage and mateship almost lost in the modern era. Many of the young men who were shipped to Europe went through a commitment to our Commonwealth, many through a sense of adventure. Only to fall on the beaches, on the Western front, or in the fields of places like Villers-Bretonneux.

Jen and I, along with Adam and Meaghan, visited France and Belgium in 2007. We visited the town of Villers-Bretonneaux, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villers-Bretonneux the location of the Australian War Memorial in France. It is a sombre place that imbued us with a sense of both sadness and national pride.

I detest war. Nobody celebrates the loss of life in conflict and this is not a day of celebration. Anzac day gives our nations time to pause and reflect on the huge number of young people who lost there lives overseas. I remember when I was 20 years old. I felt grown up and invincible. In reality I was a kid, just starting out on my life beyond childhood. Think of the 18 and 19 year old soldiers who left in droves from the cities and rural communities, bound for the war in Europe. Swapping a school uniform for a military one. Kids, prevailed upon by the Commonwealth to commit themselves to war. They should have been at home in their communities, with thier families. Instead, they gave their lives in support of families in France and Belgium.

The Australian War Memorial

In Villers-Bretonneux there is a sign which reads 'Do not forget Australia'. The people of this town know the courage and sacrifice of Australia's sons. They have their bodies in the fields which stretch out from the town. They honour them in remembrance. On April 25th join these grateful families in saying

Lest we forget.

The eternal flame

It was an unusually sunny day in London today and with Stephen in Australia, i thought i needed to do something to occupy my mind and get me out of the house.

I jumped on the tube and headed towards Camden, before doing the ten minute walk from Camden Town to Regents Park - and to the London Zoo. The London Zoo is the worlds oldest scientific zoo, and opened in 1828.

Toucan

Though it is the last weekend of the school half term holidays, and the sunniest day in weeks - the lines and crowds were manageable (much to my surprise). The entry into the Zoo is not cheap however once in, i was able to wander around in my own time checking out what London Zoo has to offer.

The London Zoo was a far smaller than i expected it to be. I have not been to a zoo in a few years however i do strongly feel that Melbourne Zoo in Australia is much much bigger that this was today. Some of the bigger animals like the Rhinos and Elephants, i am pleased to say, have been moved out of London Zoo to a bigger one in Bedfordshire (Whipsnade Zoo)

There were a wide range of animals on display - some stranger than others, and i managed to get around to see most of them. The lack of clear signposting and route planning within the zoo makes it easy to miss areas altogether - so i never did manage to find the otters or meerkats (shame - I love Meerkats).

Red Panda - my favourites!

Monkeying around

I enjoyed wandering around the Zoo, it was a great day out in the sunshine and an opportunity to check out another London sight i had never done before...

Wednesday night brought our first ever World Cup Qualifier - in the magnificant new Wembley Stadium.

Over the past few weeks more and more people we know were slipping into conversation that they had tickets to see Ukraine vs England in this World Cup Qualifier, and we started to wonder why the heck we had not tried to get tickets for this. Anyway, the final straw came two days before the match, and Jen logged on, went through the process to become an Englandfan (the only way left to get tickets) and puchased two for us to go for our first ever major game at Wembley.

Walking from the Tube Station towards Wembley

The walk down from the Tube to the Stadium was insane, a sea of football fans singing and kicking footballs, loading up on overpriced pizza slices and hotdogs (just like at home!) on the walk towards this massive stadium.

Our seats were quite high but allowed us to see the entire ground clearly, even if we couldnt see the players sweat covered faces! Just like playing on Playstation - we could clearly see the passages of play - all we needed were our controllers. The atmosphere was amazing, we learnt a few new football chants during the course of the game and its impossible not to get caught up in the emotion of an international match.

Ukraine and England Teams enter the Ground

Stephen Checks Out the View of the Ground

The Flags Come Out

God Save The Queen

England looked very sharp early on, and were rewarded with a goal by Paul Crouch at around the 40 minute mark. Then they switched off. It appears that the English play football much like a workday... A bit at the start, not much through the day, and then a bit at the end. Suffice it to say, as they were relaxing in the middle, Ukraine managed to steal a goal to equalise (we could tell they had scored by the deafening silence of the crowd). Instantly, England switched on again. They brought Beckham on, without about 20 minutes left in the match, his impact was felt immediately. A couple of free kicks gave us the chance to see him Bend it Like.... well... him. He delivered a corner from the far side and John Terry sent it into the back of the net. the crowd sang "two-one.....two-one....." followed by a standing rendition of "You're not Singing Anymore" whilst pointing at the small section of Ukraine Supporters.

Chanting Crowd

Game Play

A few minutes later the referee signalled the end of the game and we began the crush back towards the Tube Station. Lines of Mounted Police prevented too may people getting into the station at one time, and it actually went quite smoothly. We were home by 11:30 and are now dedicated followers of the World Game.

We celebrated this year with a short trip to Helsinki. We had not been to any of the Scandinavian countries before so we were very interested to venture a bit further North.

As our plane descended in preparation for landing we could see huge snow covered expanses, dotted with houses and towns. The plane had a nose camera which enabled us to watch the landing. It is a strange experience to watch your plane speeding towards a, seemingly, small strip of gray tarmac in a sea of snow. The pilot got us there (of course) and I felt like shouting out three cheers... one for the landing, one for the snow, and mainly one that we were on another holiday!

We took the local bus into the city center. Our hotel was situated right next to the Central train station, which is where the bus terminal is so we were checked in in no time.

We threw on a few more layers of clothing before heading out for a walk around town. We had crossed a bridge over a frozen river, on the bus trip, and were keen to have a closer look. We walked through parkland behind our hotel which was covered in a thick blanket of snow. I stopped to make a snowball only to find that the snow was too powder dry to form a ball. The snow was falling all day, but not in big flakes like in London, small icy drops which bounced off our coats to the ground. Nothing gets wet. We had woolen beanies on but the snow just bounces off and they stay perfectly dry. Probably why it is so popular, as outerwear, with sheep!

We got to the river and found it was frozen. Several people were walking across rather than using the bridge. A group of guys skated past us in the middle section. A woman and her dog crossed from the boathouse to the opposite bank. Jen then scientifically tested the integrity of the ice by throwing a couple of small pieces of ice, left by the snow plough, at the surface. At maximum velocity the projectiles shattered into tiny pieces and skidded along the thick ice.This was followed by a short conversation about fearfully hammering away at the underside of the ice having been swept away after falling though a thin spot. Suffice it to say, vivid imagination versus reality often ends in a first round knockout. We walked to the bridge.

The 19th started with a ferry trip to Suomenlinna which is an historic sea fortress. It was included in the Unesco World Heritage List in 1991. Suomenlinna is only a short trip from the dock at Market Square in Helsinki, where we boarded our Ferry. We could feel the bow breaking through the icy waters as we cut a trail to the island. We arrived at the island and those who travelled with us quickly scurried away. We took a few photos as the ferry returned to Helsinki. We only ever saw two other people as we walked around the island. Which meant we didn't have to hurry and we didn't have anyone in our shots...nice. Neither of us had ever been in a place which was so cold before. I had foolishly neglected to wear thermal long johns, I generally save those for wrestling, BAD IDEA... I found the going pretty tough when exposed to the windchill. We had gloves, jackets and beanies on but just couldn't stay warm.
Suomenlinna was striking in it's silence. Only the sound of our steps in the thick snow and the occasional yelp as one of us slipped around on an icy patch of ground. We walked from the dock to the Fortress, cannons aimed seaward, and to the King's Gate. We warmed up with a hot drink before the return ferry trip. We highly recommend a visit in winter, despite the cold. This is a really beautiful place.

The next day we rose early in order to catch the 06.05 bus to the Norfolk line ferry terminal. We took the slow boat to Tallinn, which was... let's say interesting. We boarded the ferry at about 07.30 and found a quiet spot in the lounge bar at the stern of the craft. Shortly after we found a seat, and to our suprise, the bar opened and the majority of the passengers started downing beer, wine and even cognac...in significant quanitity. We settled for coffee and a roll. The engines started up and soon we were cutting a path through the frozen waters in the direction of Estonia. It was facinating to see where the ice ended and the open water began. A little further into the journey a live trio emerged from behind a heavy stage curtain and started playing what I think is best described as "easy listening polka". It's basically polka performed as subtly as a polka can be performed with a clear understanding that it is 8.00 in the morning. Couples rushed to the dancefloor and 30 mins into the set it was like so many other small clubs or pubs in the world... a tortured band playing to a bunch of pissheads who were combining a general lack of balance with random thrusting of limbs in something vaguely resembling dance. Imagine Oliver Reed on "Dancing with the stars" that should paint the picture. We found the whole thing enormously entertaining... to a point. Ultimately we retreated to a quieter area until we docked in Tallinn, Estonia.

We had the weather gods on our side and the sun shone brightly from the blue skies above. Tallinn is a very pretty town with a distinctly medieval flavour. The photos speak for themselves...

As dusk approached we made the return trip, arriving back at Helsinki in the dark. We grabbed something to eat before venturing out for some night photography.

Our final day was spent taking a last leisurely wander around the main town before the trip back to London.

We really enjoyed our first Scandinavian visit. It was quite a contrast to the other countries we have visited thus far. We are now planning a longer trip exploring this part of the world next winter. Finland, Lapland in particular, has a great deal to offer and we are very keen to visit again.

We have routinely whinged about the cold Melbourne winters. Never again!

Winter in London, this year, has been one of the few times that we have been cold through to the very marrow of our bones. Not suprising as we are experiencing the coldest winter in 18 years. Last week saw significant snowfall right across England.

We awoke in the middle of the night to snow bucketting down and by the time I was ready to leave for work on Monday morning (05.00am) there was a thick white blanket covering the entire neighbourhood. Unfortunately, I had to drive to Barnsley, in South Yorkshire, some 190 miles North. Whilst I made it there and back in treacherous conditions I shant do it again. That said, provided we don't have to get to work, we still LOVE waking up to snow!

We were full of expectation as we booked our trip to Paris for New Year's Eve. We could vividly imagine the colourful fireworks shooting from the Eiffel. We knew where we wanted to be positioned to take in the midnight spectacular. Only one slight hiccup... they don't do the NYE fireworks thing in France. I know, I know... we should have checked before booking but hey, we love Paris so we were happy to be back there to welcome 2009.

We spent a very relaxing few days enjoying good food, good coffee and romantic strolls in the freezing cold, can't feel my hands anymore, evenings. We saw the irony of us watching the film "Australia" in France, whilst on holiday from London. We joined the masses on the Champs Elysee and counted down to the new year. We finally remembered, being veterans of Paris metro travel, that you can save a whole lot of time in queues by purchasing the 10 ticket deal when you first arrive. Ha!.. take that travel gods... how do you like me now? After a mandatory high 5 we used the first of our twenty tickets and headed for the hotel. Next day we found that all public transport for new year's eve and new year's day was FREE OF CHARGE. Touche Travel Gods...Touche.

About the only sightseeing activity we did was a fascinating journey into the catacombs. Skeletons are always going to be somewhat macabre and confronting, but we didn't have the sense of sadness we experienced in Cambodia. There was no air of injustice and evil. Anyway the photos will do much better than my words can to describe the scene.

All in all, we had a nice relaxing time and Paris always looks beautiful, no matter what season.

We arrived in Munich on a wintery, but dry, Thursday morning. As was the case in Berlin, we found the metro was not as easy to understand as elsewhere in Europe. After struggling with the ticket machine for a while we conceded defeat and made our purchase at the ticket desk in the airport. We boarded the S Bahn service to Hauptbahnhof, which is the main central station in Munich We found our way to our hotel, not far at all from Hauptbahnhof Station (the main one in Munich which we came into - about 35 minutes from the airport). We checked in without any drama and were pleasantly surprised with our hotel, which is always nice!

Thursday was spent meandering around the city, spending most of our time around Marienplatz, the central pedestrian square in the middle of the city which is surrounded by several brilliant buildings, like the Old City Hall (Altes Rathaus) and the New City Hall (Neues Rathaus).

Mariensaul Column in front of Neues Rathaus

Friday we travelled by train about 20km North-West of Munich to visit the Dachau Concentration Camp. Dachau was the first concentration camp established by the Nazi Party and was considered the prototype for subsequent camps. Dachau was a work camp where Jews, Jehova's witnesses, sympathisers and criminals were forced to labour in support of the war effort. Whilst Dachau did have a Gas Chamber, it was never used. Instead, prisoners who did not die from disease, exhaustion, suicide or malnutrition were sent to "extermination camps" such as Auschwitz. In April, 1945, 32000 prisoners were liberated by American & British Forces.

Arbecht Macht Frei - Work Shall Set You Free: The Gate to Dachau through which all of the prisoners entered.

Memorial

The Path to the Dachau Crematorium

It was a freezing cold day at Dachau and, with very few people visiting, there was an eerie quiet throughout the grounds. As we looked around, we could not even begin to imagine how anyone could have survived. The appalling conditions, workload, overcrowding, disease, torment and torture that went on there, seemed all the more devastating as the rain and freezing wind swept across the compound.

On Saturday we jumped on a train for the two hour trip to Salzburg, Austria. We were able to get return tickets for both of us for only € 28. These are called Bayern Tickets and allow unlimited travel on any regional transport for up to FIVE people between 9am - 03am the following day. Fantastic! Traveling by train allowed us to observe the change in terrain from within the warmth of our carriage. The built up areas of Munich were replaced by farmland and heavily treed areas. A thick blanket of snow covered the landscape as we drew closer to Austria.

When we arrived in Salzburg it became apparent that we were not dressed warmly enough. We immediately headed to buy some additional thermals and warmer coats. We had checked the forecast and it was supposed to be a low of -3 and despite having almost every layer we owned on, it was simply not enough!

Streets of Salzburg

Statue in Salzburg

Snowy view - Salzburg

Jen in Salzburg

Couple walking down to the Salzburg Christmas Markets

One of the highlights of Salzburg was the Christkindlemarkt (Christmas Market). As it got darker (and colder), it looked just like a classic fairytale Christmas. There were fairy lights everywhere, the snow was falling, music played and people wandered from stall to stall buying their Christmas gifts. The stalls had rows and rows of lovely hand made Christmas ornaments and decorations. We joined the multitude of people huddled around drinking Gluewein (hot mulled wine) and eating giant pretzels and tasty bratwurst! After a perfect day, we reluctantly returned to Munich on the evening train.

Christmas Markets in Salzburg

Sunday we had breakfast at our hotel and then wandered around the City Centre. We had lunch at Bistro Am Marienplatz. Whilst the hot chocolate and crepes were perfect, the grumpy waiter diminished the visit somewhat! After lunch we paid the tiny entrance fee of €1.20 and climbed the stairs of St Peters Church for some great views across the city. On such a clear day we had views as far as the alps.

View from St Peters Church Tower

After St Peters, we walked up through Residenz and had a look around the Englischer Garten, one of the worlds biggest public parks. As dusk approached, the temperature dropped significantly so we hightailed it back to the hotel.

After a short Nanna-Nap, Jen peeked through the curtains and announced excitedly, "Its Snowing.... Its REALLY snowing! Really, Really Snowing". It was, it was bucketing down with snow. We quickly threw on our standard seven layers of clothing, grabbed our cameras and headed out to shoot midnight snow. It was fascinating to see the sights, bathed in sunshine earlier in the day, now covered in a three inch blanket of snow. It re-enforced one thing we already knew...Boy do we love snow!

Marienplatz under Midnight Snow

Odeonsplatz

Monday we headed for the Augustiner Brau, a brewery and beer hall in town. We sat at a huge wooden table and ate hot lentil stew with bratwurst and each tried a massive glass of the house beer, Edelstoff Hell. It was great to eat a lovely hot meal on such a cold day, and in such a different environment. Apron clad waitresses lugged beer to the tables and hunting trophies adorned the walls. We felt less guilty eating the lentils than the Bratwurst given the surroundings! We chose the Augustiner Beer Hall over the more raucous, and tourist filled, HofBrauhaus, but we could still imagine how busy the city and its beer halls would be during Oktoberfest.

On Tuesday we again took a day trip by train, this time bound for Fussen. Fussen is a beautiful town located in the Bavarian Alps, just 5 kilometers from the Austrian Border. The famous castles of Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau are located near the town. Neuschwanstein has appeared in several movies, and was the inspiration for Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland Park and for the Cinderella Castles at the Magic Kingdom and Tokyo Disneyland. We climbed aboard an overloaded horse-drawn cart and made the climb to Zur-Neuen-Burg for our customary Bavarian lunch of Bratwurst, Bread and Mustard. Adequately refuelled, we climbed the final stretch to the castle just in time for a fresh snowfall.

Schloss Neuschwanstein

Horse and cart up to the castle

View from the Castle

We jumped back on the Cart and, with dusk approaching, travelled to the second of the castles which overlook the town, Hohenschwangau. We gave the horses a congratulatory pat for a job well done, and quickly took some photographs of this, the older of the two castles, and of the town below before catching our train back to Munich.

Stephen and Jen at the Bavarian Alps

View from Hohenschwangau

The last few days of our holiday were spent simply relaxing. We slept when sleepy, ate when hungry, and enjoyed a walk around the town when bored. On Thursday afternoon we headed for the airport and before we knew it, we were back in rainy old London again. Ah well... gotta earn some more money for the next trip!

The one thing we love about living and working in London is how it helps you appreciate getting away from the hussle and hassle for a few days abroad.

Our short trip to Paris started with a mad dash to Kings Cross-St Pancras to catch the Eurostar. Once onboard though, we quickly settled in and the unwind commenced. We heartily recommend travelling to Paris by train rather than by plane because you don't have all the hassle, or cost, of getting to and from the airport and delays are very rare. Also, we have more space and you get to watch the scenery as you speed by. We feel like our holiday starts as soon as we take our seats.

That said, we were still really eager to emerge from the tunnel on French soil. We had an early train, so we arrived at Gare De Nord at about 10.00am. The metro is great in Paris and very easy to understand and navigate. We purchased tickets at the machine and were on our way to Cambronne station. We had booked a room at a very well positioned, affordable, hotel called The Baldi. We checked in to a small but comfortable double room on the top floor. Dumping our luggage, we grabbed our cameras and headed out the door for breakfast. We were lucky with the weather. Whilst it was very cold for the duration of our trip, we enjoyed extended periods of clear blue skies and occasional sunshine to warm our faces.

This trip to Paris was in strong contrast to previous trips. The city had a very different aspect. Bathed in green, brown and gold. It really is a beautiful part of the world.

Here are some of the sights of Paris in Autumn.

Gare Du Nord Railway Station

Autumn in Paris

Well, good friends getting married in a country as lovely as Scotland was enough motivation we needed to take a look at this beautiful place, and 5 days was just enough to make us realize that we need a longer period of time to explore it properly.

We landed at Glasgow at Prestwick airport, not the nearest airport to the city but certainly the nearest to our first destination - which was the Isle of Arran.

We stayed in a budget B&B overnight near Irvine, where we caught the ferry across from Ardrossan to Brodick on the Isle of Arran (nicknamed "Scotland in Miniature"). We checked into a welcoming B&B on the waterfront, the owners of which went to ridiculous lengths to make us feel comfortable and able to get ready for the wedding despite our rooms not yet being available... all at no extra cost!).

View across Lamlash Bay from our B&B in Brodick

The wedding was at Lamlash Parish Church, a lovely spot overlooking Lamlash Bay, and we all had a lovely time seeing our good friends marry in such beautiful surroundings. The Reception followed at the Auchrannie Hotel, again, a lovely room which was set out beautifully for us all to dance, eat and drink the night away. The bride and groom had employed the services of a traditional ceilidh, a called dance, not unlike a barn dance, which everyone had a go at, most of us looked silly doing, but we all thoroughly enjoyed!

The Isle of Arran is a beautiful place to visit and we wish we had have allocated some more time to explore the island... so have made a commitment to return to see it properly with more time!

Isle of Arran

The following day, Holly. Kris, Stephen and I headed off back to the Mainland and on to Glasgow and checked into a lovely serviced apartment Holly had found a few weeks before, in the heart of Glasgow. Perfect for exploring the surrounding city.
Glasgow is a bizarre place, with beautiful old buildings and architecture swamped by masses of ugly and poorly designed housing estates for the cities low income earners, of which there are many.

Glasgow Cathedral

Glasgow Cathedral Interior

Beautiful Art Deco theatre, the Capitol

We were lucky enough to be in Glasgow on a day where many of the cities public buildings were open to the public to visit, for free! We visited the Glasgow City Chambers, just off George Square, and were stunned at the full marble staircase, the dark council chamber and the sheer grandeur of the banqueting hall. It was a great coincidence to be there on the day that we could visit, and we are glad we took a peek inside.

George Square - Glasgow City

Glasgow City Chambers

Glasgow City Chambers Interior

Glasgow City Chambers - Full Marble Staircase

We took a stroll up to the "Barra's", the market area in the East End. There were all the usual things you expect to find at a market in any major city, Copied DVDs, BB Guns, Cheap Clothing and household items. Another thing we saw a lot of at the Barra's was what is known as a "Glasgow Smile". This is also known as a Chelsea Grin/Chelsea Smile. Basically, a Glasgow Smile is a practice which originated in the city of Glasgow which involves a person being cut from mouth to ear, causing a permanent and extended smile like scar (most famous recipient of such practice would be the Joker from Batman). Its quite a fascinating thing to see, when every 3 or 4 men that pass have such scars... and these look like regular guys (did not seen any women with this)... Very, very strange thing to see indeed. Needless to say, we did not get a photo of one of these...

After two nights in Glasgow, we decided to get up early and drive to Edinburgh for our very last day before catching a night flight back to London. After all, It's guid ti hae yir cog out whan it rains kail (Make the most of your opportunities!) Boy... are we glad we did! As soon as we reached Edinburgh, we let out a sigh and smiled as we knew we had gotten up early for good reason. It took us about 1.5 hours to drive from Glasgow to Edinburgh (including time finding a car park!).

We wondered up the Royal Mile towards the Edinburgh Castle, where we spent a few hours wandering around exploring and taking in the amazing views of the city from the Castle. Lunch was fabulous, Oysters, Haggis, Chicken and Lamb, and boy were we all full!

Entrance to Edinburgh Castle

Jen at Edinburgh Castle

Stephen & Jen at Edinburgh Castle

Edinburgh Castle

Guns eye view from Edinburgh Castle

The Sun stayed out for us to wander the streets of Edinburgh until it was time for us to get back on the car and head back to Glasgow Prestwick for our return flight to London.

We did toy with the idea of changing our flights to stay in Edinburgh longer but decided instead (thanks to the small issue of our four jobs!), to book in another holiday back there really soon.