Yeah, Nah

Distance Traveled:   36, 670 kms (BNE-MEL-SYD-BKK-PKT-BKK-CNX-BKK-PP-SR-BB-PP-HCMC-NC-TH-HA-H-L-MR-AG-SV-TF-AC-LL-ML-CZ-TF-CZ-SV-L)

Time Difference: -9 hours (from Brisbane)

Soundtrack: Les Mis soundtrack still, and now Phantom on top of it.

Currently Inspired by:  The Bard of Avon of course!

Stacks: None, and my increased coordination appears to be having a bad effect on my father, who has been taking my share of stacks lately.  I will attempt to fall over soon, Dad.
Words written: 62,754.  Yes, I am starting to freak out.  Mad writing bursts in Europe to come!

Where to start?  The madness of the last two weeks has left me a tired and broken shell of a woman.  Despite no drinking whatsoever, I am still crashing by about 3pm most days and needing a nanna nap.  Clearly, over six months of holidays has made me soft and is turning my brain to mush!  I am leaving for a whirlwind European adventure on Wednesday and will only have a few days in most cities, until I get to Italy at least, so I am going to need to toughen up!  I will get my remaining itinerary out of the way just below so you can track my progress (if this is something you are doing) and also so any intrepid travelling friends can consider their holiday plans over the next five months.  Europe is being done entirely by train (which is why my Austrian bits might seem weird.  Look at a map).

11 - 12 April
Budapest
13 - 20 April
Boat Tour of Dalmatian Coast, Croatia
21 - 24 April
Ljubljana, Slovenia
25 - 29 April
Vienna, Austria
30 April - 3 May
Prague, Czech Republic

4 - 6 May
Salzburg, Austria
7 - 10 May
Munich, Germany
11 - 13 May
Zurich, Switzerland
14 - 15 May
Geneva, Switzerland
16 - 19 May
Lyon, France
20 May - 7 Jun
Tuscany, Italy
8 - 23 June
Rome & Surrounds, Italy
23 - 29 June
Venice and Cinque Terre, Italy
29 June - 10 July
Portland, Oregon USA
10 July - 24 September
New York, USA
24 September
Australia.

Following my stay in Hampton Court I had the opportunity to spend an evening with Chris and Eve, a couple I met while doing my tour of Cambodia.  They live really close to the palace in a sweet village called Teddington, and were kind enough to offer me their hospitality for the evening, and take me out for a delicious Italian meal (and I mean delicious – aubergine parmigiana and handmade salmon ravioli in an asparagus cream sauce, so mad I didn’t take a photo!)  It was great to catch up with them and reminisce about our time in Cambodia, somewhat unbelievably, five months ago!!!  It feels like yesterday. 

Jess, Romana, Matt

I would like to take this opportunity to “publicly” thank everyone who has offered me their hospitality on this trip, so I hope they are reading it...  Matt, Romana and Jess, who let me stay for ages, and were such wonderful hosts and so much fun to be around, thank you so much.  I feel like I have made two new friends from that household!  Esther and Darren, amidst all your wedding craziness and with a small place, you allowed me to stay so many days, despite the fact that I kept breaking stuff in your house (what is WITH that?).  Thanks guys!  Chris and Eve, for your hospitality to that strange Australian vagabond you met for a couple of weeks five months ago, and for taking me out for that lovely dinner, I give most humble thanks. The Jones parents of course deserve a mention in there as well, although they won’t be reading!  I appreciate the kind offers I received as well, from Geoff and Mark, although the visits didn’t work as planned.  Mwahs to all.

London City Singers

It was so wonderful to have the opportunity to visit a couple of barbershop choruses at rehearsal whilst here in London.  I saw a men’s and a women’s chorus, and definitely got my “fix”.  This fix has no choice but to hold me over until I get to the men’s international contest in Portland in June, so I am hanging on it with a death grip.  The men were absolutely lovely, nicest guys in the world, although their chorus needed a LOT of work, and the women were quite good!  The English character doesn’t really lend itself to the over-the-top brassiness of barbershop so I was surprised to see how animated and committed the ladies were.  I had a bit of a sing with them and overall they were just two incredibly entertaining evenings and I was grateful and glad that they allowed my visits.

Phantom Set

It has been quite a musical trip actually.  Most unfortunately, I was unable to see the London Philharmonic or Symphony, so I will have to save that for next time.  I did get back to the West End however, this time to see Phantom of the Opera.  I liked it a lot, mainly because the music is just so famous and I was able to (in my head) sing along with it as it went on.  It is very dramatic /eighties goth in its style though, isn’t it?  I was vaguely aware of the main plot and I expected to feel sorry for the Phantom but I found him really irritating and a bit laughable.  My friend Matty described him perfectly as a “childish tantrum thrower”.  I also intensely disliked Christine - I thought she was vapid and incredibly stupid.  I was never happier than when they were singing and the music was stripping the wallpaper off and I didn’t have to listen to them speak.  They were all excellent vocalists. I have added many photos to my London General folder which you can see by clicking here.  If you have looked at it from the previous blog, then go to the end and work back.

Most people know what an intense and to-the-death foodie I am, so you can imagine my excitement at going to Heston Blumenthal’s restaurant “Dinner” in Knightsbridge.  Initially we tried to get into his Fat Duck but were unable to, and ended up having to book a lunch spot at Dinner, the only one of a few places available.  All the dishes are inspired by dishes from the 1500s, 1600s and 1700s.  He has researched old cookbooks and done his best to stick to them while still making the experience suitable for the modern palate and still a fine dining experience.  Was he successful?  Hmmm.  Have a look at the menu here. 

Meat fruit

Hereford Ribeye

I had the meat fruit, and the Hereford rib eye, followed by the brown bread icecream.  Let me first say that the meat fruit was really excellent.  The parfait was absurdly creamy and wonderfully set off by the mandarin jelly, and it looked sensational.  The steak and chips was literally just steak and chips... sure the steak was beautifully cooked and his triple cooked chips are ridiculously crunchy but I’ve had better, of both, and much less expensive too.  There was no “wow” factor.  The mushroom ketchup had a strange tang and the jus that accompanied the dish actually wasn’t to my taste, which I discovered after liberally coating the meal with it.  You had to order sides, so we ordered some roast carrots and green beans, and I couldn’t get over the impression that I was just sitting in some pub or random restaurant eating steak, chips and beans.  The minimalist decor, open kitchen and bright windows didn’t really tie in with the theme of the restaurant either.

Brown bread icecream

 I blame the concept more so than the execution.  Everything was cooked perfectly, it just wasn’t a terribly exciting menu (as I imagine it also wasn’t back in the day that the dishes were from).  The brown bread icecream was extremely interesting without being something I would particularly like to eat again, and came with his “famous” salted peanut caramel which I think I may have loved if it hadn’t been oversold to me previously.  Leaving the restaurant, a hundred pounds lighter (I ordered only one juice, to drink) I couldn’t help but feel a little bit ripped off and disappointed with the whole experience, which was sad.  Perhaps my expectations were too high, or perhaps nothing was ever going to match up to the molecular gastronomy experience of the Fat Duck, or perhaps Heston has sold out as a result of his fame and reputation.  Who knows?  I hope it isn’t the latter.  To see more food photos including Heston dishes, click here. If you have already seen my food album, go to the last photo and work backwards.

G'Day!

Onto happier times, I went to Stratford Upon Avon for a couple of days, in order to check the place out and also to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform their new production of The Tempest, as their London season doesn’t begin until June.  Although at first I wasn’t happy about not being able to see them at The Globe, the actual theatre where they were originally performed (well the site, the theatre has burned down a couple of times and been rebuilt) when I thought about it, Stratford Upon Avon, Shakespeare’s birthplace, where his wife and children lived while he was working in London and where he finally died, was a really appropriate place to see the RSC. 

Tempest Set

They. Were. Brilliant.  It was the best production of ANYTHING, that I have ever seen.  Minimal props and sets, fairly simple costumes, but the acting was unbelievable.  I was captivated from the second it began, and every second thereafter.  During Prospero’s haunting epilogue “Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,I must be here confined by you... But release me from my bands, With the help of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours my sails, Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please... As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.” (abridged) where he asks basically for the audience to release him from the desert island on which he is trapped by virtue of their applause, you could have heard a pin drop.  There were easily ten to twenty seconds of silence before anybody clapped.  The actor had the perfect mix of pride and pathos, and I cried, not because it is sad but because it was so beautiful!  The language of course, and the respect done to it by this mere mortal of a actor, mortal being something that I refuse to believe Shakespeare was.  It was transcendent.  I still keep getting flashes of Ariel's face when I close my eyes. 

Shakespeare's birthplace

Stratford Upon Avon is a lovely village.  The river Avon abounds with tame swans, picturesque bridges, Elizabethan style pubs and tiny cottages with red chimneys.  It almost looks like a movie set that someone would create if they were looking for an “Olde English” feel, with the major difference bring that it is almost entirely genuine.  Of course everything is called “The Shakespeare Inn” or the “The Globe Cafe” (not to mention Shakespeare's birthplace, his daughter's house and the site they excavating where the house he died in is) as the locals capitalise on the one thing that makes them different from the surrounding villages, and I was actually a little sad to see almost no references to Christopher Marlowe, another great and tragically murdered English playwright who was born there around the same time of Shakespeare and was a massive influence on his writing.  I found myself wishing he had been born elsewhere so we could go and have lunch at “The Marlowe Tavern”.  How one buries the other in virtual obscurity!  I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really love Shakespeare (and I'm sure he would be impressed with this excellent sentence), but I haven’t forgotten you, Marlowe.  Click here to see all the photos from stunning Stratford.

The happy couple

As Stratford is in Warwickshire, the county where the wedding was to take place, my companion Stefan drove me to the next village over and I spent the Thursday evening assisting my dear friend Esther and her sister with last minute wedding prep.  It felt wonderful to be productive for a change, I must say, and in one of my milieus, so to speak, of events management.  I only wish I could have been of more assistance in the main part of the organising, given that I have been otherwise unemployed for the last several months!  The wedding went off beautifully however, no assistance required, and a truly wonderful day was had by all.  One of my favourite things to do in group situations over here is to teach people Australian expressions that hardly anyone uses like “fair suck of the sav” and “bunging it on”, in this really ocker accent (“reck orf, Bounsah”) and the two most common questions I get are “why do Australians always go up at the end of their sentences like it’s a question” and “why do Australians say ‘yes, no’ or ‘yeah, nah’ before answering a question?”  I actually don’t have an answer for either of those.  Do you?  The wedding like a said was a real blast, although bittersweet for me, because I knew that this signalled essentially the main reason and also the end of my trip here, and many of the people I saw at the wedding I knew I would not be seeing again until... well... who the hell knows? “Operation Marry-A-Gay-English-Boy” was not a success and I am again faced with either leaving or being turfed out.  I choose to leave, but not without at least a little bit of kicking and screaming!  You can click here to see the photos from the wedding.

I don’t really know what to do with this story I heard, so I am simply going to relate it, and you can think as you please.  Esther’s delightful parents decided to do a lunch on Easter Sunday, following the wedding for a selection of friends and relatives.  (Madness!) While were sitting enjoying our delicious roast, one of the bridesmaids and her husband, nicest couple in the world, began relating a story about their cat.  Apparently the wife of the couple thought it would be useful to teach the cat how to hang off doorknobs in order to open doors.  This is the last thing I would teach a cat, how else do you keep it out of places it isn’t supposed to be?? Anyway, one particular evening they both walked out of the front door and closed it before realising that neither of them had keys, and they called the cat for ages, and eventually the cat came and OPENED THE DOOR FOR THEM.  So it doesn’t just do it, it does it on cue.  This was not the exciting part however, oh no.  On another evening, they were eating takeout ribs for dinner, and they both swear to all that is holy that their cat looked at them and quite deliberately said “riiiiibs” in a kind of low growl.  Now, coming from someone else I wouldn’t believe that, but there is absolutely nothing of the charlatan about these two.  They were entirely believable.  We discussed it afterwards and couldn’t figure out how they haven’t bought ribs several more times since to test the cat.  You would, wouldn’t you?  I would like to take this opportunity to prepare for a possible apology to my mother, who for years I have scorned over this story she tells everyone about our dog Marley barking out “Rerastian!” over and over when she was calling our cat Sebastian in for dinner one afternoon.  It may well be that animals are learning to talk!  Who am I to be sceptical about such a thing?

On that surreal note, I’m signing off.  I’ll catch you in Budapest!

Til Next We Speak

*LOVE*

N