Click here to view as a slideshow (recommended!)

Click here to view as a slideshow (recommended!)

With a strong sense of deja vu, and in very similar circumstances, I’m just about to head off to the airport for the flight to Nepal.

Not sure what internet connectivity will be like, so don’t hold your breath for updates or photos.

Back on the 31st… ciao for now!

This just in: finally got around to uploading my photos from Düsseldorf, featuring Mr T, Robert Smith, and B-Real from Cypress Hill. Also using a new theme for the site… hope you like it.

Yes indeedy, I am home again. No more castles, no more snow, no more entertaining hand gesture conversations in non-English speaking countries (such as Scotland), no more exotic cuisine. Also no more waking up wondering what country I’m in, washing my face in the hostel room sink, then finding out that a roommate urinated in it during the night. When you gotta go…

I’m determined not to be sentimental, let’s just say I had a fantastic time, its something that everyone should do, and I definitely plan on doing it again some time. But for now its time to find a new job and get on with things. So rather than writing up some overarching philosophical musings on my trip and the indelible mark left upon my psyche, I will simply give you my:

Observations

• American currency sucks. All the notes are the same colour and size, I walked away from every transaction with “did I give her a fifty?” anxiety. UK money is nice but too tall (the notes poke out the top of my wallet and get torn). Euros are nice and Canadian money is the best, after Australian notes.
• Americans walk on the right side of the “sidewalk” (footpath), Brits and Aussies walk on the left. There were some collisions.
• You can get anything to eat in New York at a reasonable price… as long as its pizza, gyros, or tacos.
• I did not meet a single American who could identify an Australian accent. 99% guessed English. They need the context of khakis and akubra hats.
• Canadians do indeed like to say “eh” alot. They don’t say “aboot” though. It’s more like “a boat”. Hockey isn’t a sport, it’s a religion.
• Many, many people in London have dogs, but few have mastered the art of collecting their droppings off the footpath.
• Heathrow is an ugly, crowded, depressing place.
• If you need to wash a pair of socks at a hostel, it will cost up to $5. You can buy a pack of five for $3.
• Although I was warned in advance not to bring up US foreign policy, most Americans I spoke to were happy to chat about their government. I spoke with a Texan who despised Bush, and alerted me to the fact that he isn’t a native, and was in fact born in Boston.
• A crucial strategy that allowed England to take Canada from the French was to recruit a large contingent of Scottish highlanders and attack the French in the morning when they were hungover. Perhaps we could adopt a similar strategy in Iraq?
• Australians are everywhere. Every hostel, every bar, everywhere. 90% of them are aged 18-22. The infection is spreading… when someone develops an “Aus-Rid” type ointment, we will all be in trouble.
• And finally… if you are planning to go to the UK, you might want to take out a mortgage on your house first. Trust me on this one.

I should note first that I am back in Sydney. However this post is about Germany, so if it helps at all, just pretend I am writing it from Dusseldorf.

The taxi driver from the airport, after establishing that I did not speak German, proceeded to talk to me German. Bewildered, I tried to get involved in the conversation, which was admittedly a fairly stupid idea. I’d glanced at the speedometer and noticed he was really hammering it. Perhaps we were on one of those autobahns I’d heard so much about. “Autobahn?” I asked hesitantly. He was immediately incensed and started talking really fast and pointing to various signs, and it became clear that I had just demanded why we weren’t taking the autobahn instead of this road. I decided to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the trip.

I stayed with Steve and Alex (who I am happy to report, haven’t changed a bit) in their lovely flat on Bogenstrasse. Steve introduced me to the delights of schweinebrötchen (a.k.a. extreme pork assault, delivery vector: bread roll), and I taught him how to say “My CPU is a neural net processor, a learning computer” in an Arnie accent. We visited a pretty funky little nightclub in town where I met some fellow english speaking auslanders. On the way in, the person at the door hands you a little yellow card, where your drink purchases are recorded by staff, and then on the way out you pay the balance on your card. All very efficiently German, but does make it easy to spend more than you realise.

The following night they kindly let me tag along to a co-workers’ party. It was an 80s party so Steve decided to go as Robert Smith, which involved shaving off his facial hair and applying lipstick and eyeliner. The results were very impressive and Smith-esque, except I don’t recall Smith being seven feet tall. The party itself was very cool, and we all rapidly became extremely inebriated. The night ended with us all standing on a dodgy looking street corner in the rain, laughing our arses off and having mock-fights etc.

Lots of other stuff happened, but I have been tipped off by a more experienced blogger that I should keep my posts shorter or people won’t read them. So, all in all I had a short but fantastic time in Germany. Steve and Alex: thanks a bunch. You rock my socks.

Finally, if the title of this post doesn’t really make sense to you, it was a bit of a running gag during my time in Dusseldorf, spawned by my ignorance of german grammatical structures. Perhaps the title of Steve’s recent blog entry will make things clearer.

This is a new record! Actually this is just a short one to let you know I’ve put up hundreds of new photos, including the ones from London and Scotland, as well as a few of me drunkenly harassing bar staff in New York.

After a very civilised train trip to Scotland I found my hostel, the Globetrotter Inn. The building is quite old and beautiful, and it sits on a hilltop, way out of town, facing the Firth of Forth. This alone gave me the impression of the Overlook Hotel from The Shining. As the elevator doors opened I expected a torrent of blood to come gushing out, and I habitually checked over my shoulder for spooky twin girls standing in the corridors.

Edinburgh was tres cool, one of the first things I noticed was an enormous, gothic, black spire. I thought it might be Cthonic temple of some kind but later found out its a monument to Walter Scott, and its black because its right next to the train station and got stained by all the smoke. The architecture in general is spectacular.

I took a tour through Mary King’s Close, which is basically a series of real streets and buildings from the 18th century, which are situated underneath the City Chambers, which were built on top. Basically there were lots of poor people living there, and quite a bit of plague too (wish they’d told us that before they took us down there). They did a good job of scaring the shit out of us a couple times, with people jumping out at us and loud noises etc. I enjoyed it, but considering the rest of the people in my small tour group looked over 70, I hope they have some insurance. Overall this was probably the most interesting and entertaining tour I’ve taken so far.

Just to counter this, I should also mention the worst tour in Scotland (and perhaps the world?): called “The Scotch Whiskey Experience”, it was more botched than Scotch. The tour begins with a miniscule taste of Teacher’s whiskey (a paint stripper brand which I happen to know is NOT one of the finer brands) while we watch an extremely cheesy video. It starts something like this:

(American tourist enters bar)

BARTENDER: And what can I get ye?

TOURIST: Well, seeing as I’m in Scotland, I guess it’ll have to be a Scotch!

(they laugh like its the funniest joke ever)

He drinks the Scotch which causes him to be magically (???) transported to a distillery. He then walks around wide-eyed asking idiotic questions about the process (he wants to drink the mash), which are answered by a booming voice over.

Mercifully this was soon over, and we were taken into the next room, where… we watched another video. I can’t even remember what this one was about, I think it was the history of whiskey. Then we were taken to meet the master blender, who was, the guide promised us, a ghost! Actually the ghost was another video, in monochrome spooky-green, but this time rear-projected onto a glass screen in front of a bar. The most spectacular visual effect ever, if you happen to be from the Victorian era.

Finally we were put into small electric cars for a narrated, automated tour of various historical scenes featuring extremely unlifelike mannequins illustrating the various whiskey related… oh whatever, I can’t even remember. The car (made to look like it was carved from a giant whiskey barrel) was intensely irritating because it moved extremely slowly (perhaps there were too many people on ours?), and on one corner actually got stuck for about 5 minutes.

We were overjoyed to be out of the car and then… the tour ended! Wha? Where did my nine pounds sterling go? The entire tour seemed designed to funnel you into an overpriced bar, with no clearly marked exits. “Tourist trap” doesn’t begin to do it justice.

Aaanyway, now that I have that out of my system… I visited both Edinburgh and Stirling Castle, Edinburgh does have an edge I’d have to say, but Stirling did have a few whacky things to see… a castle bowling green for one. It also had a pet cemetary for officer’s dogs. The Edinburgh War Museum was awesome.

On the way to Stirling Castle I took a brief stop in Glasgow, which was nice but a little underwhelming. There is a big sort of square in the middle which has a war memorial, and is lined with massive statues of famous Scots, which I found pretty impressive.

Of course being a Morrison I was required to purchase clan souveneirs at outrageous prices. There is actually a retail chain here called “Morrisons”, as well as a Morrison Road, and of course John Morrison Kiltmakers. I must look like a local, because I would be asked at least 20 times a day for directions, to which I would reply with a “Crikey mate, I dunno, struth!” which usually got the message across.

All in all I loved Edinburgh, and I’d really like to come back some day. And I’d just like to say I am very proud to say I have gotten through this entire post without mentioning that Graham’s mum smells like cheese… DOH!

EDIT: Corrected spelling of “Stirling Castle”. Thanks Graham.

The food on the flight to London was appalling. It was nominally lasagna, but it seemed to be prepared by someone who had never heard of lasagna before, and had the basic concept described to them over the phone by someone who had seen a lasagna once. As the lasagna curled into a rocky gastric bomb in the pit of my stomach, I departed Heathrow on the Heathrow Express train, which, as a pleasant surprise, plays soft drum & bass and electro breaks in the background as you are whisked into the city.

In London I stayed with Enjel and Ray, who let me use and abuse their home as if it was my own. How cool is that? On top of this they are the nicest people I’ve hung out on my trip, Aussie or otherwise. Massive props to those two crazy kids. Their house was right next to Notting Hill, although I didnt see Julia Roberts anywhere. It was also close to Portobello Road, which I remembered from Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Maybe you remember the song:

Portobello Road, Portobello Road
Place where the riches of ages are stowed
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrows of Portobello Road

I sang this in a rich tenor as we strolled down the road, which caused Ray to look slightly uncomfortable as he tried to walk ahead of me. I bought a few things, including a tshirt showing a scene from Reservoir Dogs, with Steve Buscemi and Harvey Keitel pointing guns at each other, however the guns are replaced by bananas! Haha! How classy is that!

Spent a couple of nights out with my good friend Anand, who I haven’t seen in a while. He invited me to an after-work function for a woman who was leaving his company, set in a massive bar on Liverpool St, and it was packed tighter than a Tom Jones impersonator show at Penrith Panthers, however we had our own section reserved.

I got unbelievably drunk on German beer, which seemed to magically refill itself every time I took a sip. After Anand’s friend Lee kindly bought me some KFC (or “dirty chicken” as he amusingly referred to it), I was done for the night. Anand steered me towards the tube, I caught the wrong train and ended up stumbling around Paddington station at 1am trying to figure out the obscure hieroglyphics on the underground maps. I finally made it home, but took about 20 minutes to get the key into the lock in the dark, while desperately needing to go to the toilet.

Visited the Tower of London, where I was abused by Beefeaters. It was all rather amusing as their ceremonial duties are now reduced to “glorified tour guide”. Saw the site where Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard were executed. Also saw the Crown Jewels, which was pretty cool. To see the crown jewels you stand on a long moving walkway which whisks you past at a modest pace. They really are stunning to look at, so after going around the back and doing the travelator thing twice, I found it was easier to just sort of moonwalk on the travelator, staying in the same spot, and inspect each piece for as long as I wanted. Then the previously mentioned Beefeaters came in and told me to stop it. Perhaps they aren’t Michael Jackson fans.

Also of note at the Tower were the numerous ravens. Apparently a former King decreed that the White Tower would fall if the ravens ever left the castle. They appear to be pretty serious about this prognostication as I later found out their wings have all been clipped. Poor ravens.

I spent a few hours exploring the beautiful Kensington Gardens, and found the spot overlooking the Serpentine where Pink Floyd held a giant concert in the late 70s. They have dozens of giant geese and ducks there, who appear to have been fed some sort of experimental growth agent. Lots of pigeons and seagulls as well. Being next to the lake as the sun set was beautiful, photos coming soon.

I moseyed on down to the London Science Museum, not sure what to expect. I was absolutely stoked to find they had an exhibition called Game On, which is all about the history of video games, from Pong right through to Grand Theft Auto. It was like nerd nirvana. (warning: non video game fanatics, e.g. people with social lives, might want to skip the next few paragraphs)

Played some of the classics, such as Space Invaders in the original cabinet, however they had the screen hooked up to a projector so you could destroy blocky alien blobs on a glorious 10 foot wide vista. They also had every console and home computer from the 80s, including the Commodore 64 and my beloved Amiga 500. It brought a tear to my eye to see the old girl, clunky mouse and a copy of the Team17 classic Project-X left nonchantly above the ventilation slots. There was a glaring omission with no Atari STs (sorry Marty). However they did have Tempest 2000 running on an Atari Jaguar. This was fantastic as I had read a bit about the game (Jeff Minter had to learn to code in 3D to write it), but thought I’d never get to play it, as the console was only on the shelves for a couple of years. I felt pretty über as I blasted little red polygons on a multicoloured starfield.

I played around with a few other classic games they had set up (Monkey Island, Populous, Bubble Bobble, that cheesy C64 basketball game that was impossible to win), then noticed they had set up a large sort of transparent cube, with screens on four sides, running multiplayer Halo. I stepped up to the cube, picked up a controller, and proceeded to brutally terminate my three opponents repeatedly with extreme prejudice. After I machine gunned one little kid to death for the third time in a row, he started crying and ran over to his mum. w00t!

Up the back they had a few Xbox360s set up with massive projector screens. There was a bit of a line but Rockstar’s Table Tennis game was awesome, enough to make me want a 360 pretty badly. As I left the exhibition I felt a surge of geek pride that I had played and mastered almost all of the exhibited games at some point in my life, right back to the ones from the early 80s. This was rapidly replaced by a feeling of being old.

I wandered downstairs where they had a massive hall of inventions, chronologically sorted right up to present day. I turned to my right and noticed I was standing right next to Charles Babbage’s Difference Engine. I almost creamed my jeans on the spot. Although it was only a replica, I cannot describe the reverential awe I felt standing right next to what was essentially the first ever computer. Laugh if you will but I found myself wishing it wasn’t in a glass case so that I could crank those lovely brass handles and calculate some basic arithmetic. It occured to me, if it broke, who did Babbage call for tech support?

Also on display was the Apollo command module (complete with cracked and scorched heat shield), a Model T Ford, a Cray 1 supercomputer, and a V2 rocket. I think I spent about 4 hours there and I could have easily spent more time. Later I had dinner with Enjel and Ray, who for some reason didn’t share my enthusiasm for conversations about Charles Babbage or veteran games developer Jeff Minter. In fact they seemed to be grimacing a little as I gushed about the exhibition… maybe their food was too spicy? Anyway dinner was lovely, I had a Kofta Targine, which was sort of like meatballs and egg in a spicy tomato sauce, served in a kooky sort of clay casserole dish. Delicious.

Then it came time for me to leave, I bid a fond farewell to my hosts and caught the tube to Kings Cross (which I was surprised to find, you cant buy for £200. I must have a word with the Parker Brothers). I had a full English Breakfast at a pub next to the railway, along with perhaps the only decent coffee I’d experienced during my entire stay in London. I was sad to leave, as I would have liked a few more weeks to get up to some mischief etc, but the time had come for me to leave for Scotland…

Comedy at the Underground

I think I mentioned in a previous post that we were hustled by hostel staff into seeing some truly dire comedians. To make up for this we visited Comedy At The Underground. The venue itself is literally half-underground, with a narrow outside patio that leaves your shoulders at street-level, so that passing locals can flick their lit cigarettes at your head.

The comedy room out back was very intimate (read: small), but very authentic; spotlight on a brick-and-mortar wall, tables with candles on them, and a mic stand. Just like those Seinfeld intros, but without the stupid slap-bass jingle. The comics themselves varied in quality but on average very, very funny. One managed to interrupt his own performance by leaving his phone switched on in his jacket pocket at the back of the room. His Britney Spears ringtone was funnier than the joke he was telling at the time so it probably saved that particular bit. Another comic was Australian; some of the Americans I spoke with later said he was the funniest all night, which was baffling to me; all he basically did was speak in a broad accent and swear alot. Mental note: accent + swearing = CHAMPAGNE COMEDY.

After the show we hung out at the bar with some of the locals, and met several interesting characters. I had a long chat with Glen, who was one of the comics (had a great bit about coke-head mosquitoes), about the comedy scene in the US. Apparently, you have to first earn your stripes in the NY scene, then you go to LA to get rich. Unfortunately I came from LA to NY, which must be why I’m not an millionaire comedy star with my own TV show. Damn!

Bobby and I also had a chat with a pharmacist from down the road named Jose. He was mortified to hear that Australians don’t drink Fosters as he is a huge fan, and partakes regularly as a sort of diplomatic gesture to his trans-pacific friends. As a pharmacist, he was able to give me some great advice on over the counter drugs that would get me sufficiently wrecked to enjoy the upcoming flight to London.

Oh and as usual, once Bobby discovered there was a pool table, it was difficult to get him off for the rest of the night — even though the table had a lean so bad it was too dangerous to rest a drink on without having it slide off.

Times Square

I later found out on a tour, it is legal requirement to have a large neon sign attached if you want to build any sort of structure in Times Square (I’m not joking!). The effect is an eerie blanket of neon light that makes it seem like daytime in the middle of the night, which is a little disconcerting. There is a large cylindrical building whose exterior is actually one huge sign — the only way you can tell it’s a building is when you notice the windows. The animations that play on the surface are carefully constructed so that the advertiser’s message is displayed between the gaps in the rows of windows.

We discovered the Virgin Megastore, which is a music lovers’ nirvana, all up I think we spent several hours in there. We both purchased some really cool shirts, you will probably see us modelling them in debonair fashion in the photos.

I was hoping to purchase some tickets to Spamalot (the Monty Python Broadway musical) while I was in town, but didn’t get a chance due to time and expense. Our tour guide said it’s one of the three hottest shows in town, which I found a little hard to believe (the other two, in case you’re wondering, are Beauty and the Beast, and Jersey Boys. You weren’t wondering? OK I’ll shut up then)

Statue of Liberty

It took two attempts to see the Statue of Liberty, as on our first attempt we arrived mere seconds after the last ferry left for the day. So you had better appreciate those photos dammit! Actually I think we kind of did it as a sort of compulsory tourist stop kind of thing, however when you arrive at Liberty Island, with the serene surroundings, amazing view of the Manhattan skyline, and course the Statue itself, it is a pretty moving experience.

One thing I noticed, which you don’t often see in front-on pictures, is her back foot is raised in mid-stride. So instead of standing there holding the torch, she is walking with it, i.e., she is leading the way with her torch, which symbolizes the republican/libertarian ideals the French shared with the Americans at the time. I will now inevitably receive 20 “duh, everyone knows that” comments, so I will now pre-empt them by saying in advance, duh yourself.

Ground Zero

The thing that struck me about Ground Zero, is that everywhere in Manhattan is striped with huge shadows cast by the various skyscrapers, so for one block you might need sunglasses, and the next its quite dark. Ground zero is one huge, sunny hole, which gives it considerable visual impact. The was a pretty weird vibe from the tourists crowds… I was shocked to see one woman walking around, literally weeping. I can’t believe its over 5 years since the attack and they still haven’t even started building anything on the site, not even a proper memorial. I guess the Federal Government is too busy with the war. Shame on you, Dubya.

Pianos with Elise

We met up with my dear friend and ex-flatmate Elise on the Lower East Side (i.e. The Village), in a music/bar/restaurant place called Pianos. I really enjoyed catching up with her and hearing where her life had taken her after her years studying in Australia. We checked out some live music out the back, and it was really excellent.

Elise then took us to a club a few blocks away, I think (?) it was called “Lit”. We found a table down the side, which was decorated with a sculpture that I recognised as one of the little “bullet men” from H.R. Giger’s piece. We decided on the spot to name him Clarence, and all posed for pictures with him. As we got slightly more inebriated it seemed like a good idea to get everyone who walked past to pose with Clarence for a picture, in the end I think Elise photographed everyone in the club and used up a whole roll of film. Can’t wait to see those photos Elise!

Something else quite odd happened in the club — the police came down and told the DJ to stop playing! Apparently while the music was ok, they were not licensed for more than 2 people to dance! I was extremely tempted to defiantly perform Kevin Bacon’s famous “Angry Dance” from Footloose as a show of rebellion, but once they were sure the cops had left the area, the music started up again. Which was probably a good thing, because on the rare occasion that I dance at a club, people often end up getting hurt quite seriously.

City Tour and Brooklyn

I guess the other main thing we did was a full bus tour of all of Manhattan and some of Brooklyn. We had a great time doing this, and I am now armed with hundreds of nuggets of New York trivia that I promise to bore everyone with the moment I return.

On the Brooklyn tour it occured to me that the tour guide with the mic sounded exactly like James Woods. As the guide was hidden up the front, it was easy to imagine that I was getting a personal tour of Brooklyn from the man who so believably played the cop-who-plays-by-his-own-rules-yet-gets-the-job-done-but-deep-down-has-a-heart-of-gold in The Hard Way himself!

The Airport

The airport is noteworthy for two reasons.

a) I spilled an entire glass of Diet Coke down my pants in the airport bar. It was the most humiliating thing to happen to me on this trip; forget cultural faux pas’, my inability to understand foreign currency, etc… me standing there with an empty glass with my jeans all soaked, standing in a puddle of liquid and ice cubes, the woman behind the bar shaking her head with undisguised pity… lets just say it wasn’t a highlight!

b) The other sad thing to happen: I bid farewell to Bobby, for whom it was time to return to Sydney. Thanks mate, had a great time travelling with you, we’ll have to do it again some time…