Meeeeeoooooowwwy Christmas evrah buhdy!

Thanks for the buffet.

My flight was shit. Flying is shit, but this experience was particularly odious. Non-stop turbulence from Auckland to LA to Heathrow. 

British shops at Christmas are intimidating and not unlike Mordor. My forearms are cramped up from playing the wii and I have inherited a mutherfucker of a flu which has destroyed my insides and turned me into a coarse, coughing, dripping corpse.

We went out drinking with Emma (Simon's sister) and Simon's mates on Saturday, died on Saturday, resurrected on Thursday. Simon and his family bought me an unnecessary plethora of gifts, my fav of which include my spanking new holga, dinogami book, knitwear made by Emma and Marie (Simon's mum), Classic French cookbook, Nigella's Christmas, kaleidoscope and no face key ring.

I gave Simon a trip to Bologna. We're leaving early on the morning of the 19th and coming back late on the 23rd.

I think I only just got over my jet-lag.

Well my fine friends, I am writing to you from the cold, sex shop riddled, partly medieval city of Tallinn. I should start from where I left off though… This may take a while.

Friesland- northern Holland, full of big, kind people and Friesian cows. I went to a quilt shop on a farm and watched the ever so slightly fly-blown cows being milked. There has been torrential rain through most of Northern Europe, and Holland was no different. Flat, windy and green. I’ll buy a vowel for 2 points. Those old vegan sentiments stirred up in me as I watched the cows, especially when we moved into the nursery and I was feeding some calves. The farm owners told me they were going to the big sausage factory in the sky (because they were male and very little use to dairy farmers).

In Den Haag I went to this American bookstore and on the bargain table was this really cool old Finnish book about monsters, and the end parts had these brilliant line art pics. Needless to say I bought it, and there is this picture I found worthy of a tattoo. Yes. I also endeavoured to cut my own hair. It doesn’t look too bad. (No, it looks much the same really).

After some debacles involving missing cars, weird departures and poor signage, Lili (that’s an old NZ uni friend of my dad’s who is defacto’ed to a stressed out, bald Dutchie named Andre. Actually he’s not bald, he shaves his head- as is the fashion I’ve noticed in these northern European countries. Also Army fatigues… Hm.

Anyway.

We drove to Nurnburg in the South-West of Germany where my dad and Andre saw the F1- we ended up getting so lost that we couldn’t find accommodation and slept in the car. I also went through Luxembourg and Belgium on my way there. From Nurnburg we moved on to Rothenburg- fairly picturesque with quaint little villages, old wooden houses, rolling green hills etc. Too bad about the stinging nettles (BEWARE: when pissing in the bushes, avoid STINGING NETTLE). And salad fingers.

We drove along the Rhine and moved on to Stuttgart and the Porsche museum- that was a two hour waste of my life. From there we went to Potsdam and Berlin, where the young people were so trendy I couldn’t stand it. We roamed about the city on foot, saw the usual things from tourist guides- wall, square, monument, bridge, east and west. The new S-Bahn station where I purchased some earplugs for blocking out my dad’s avalanche worthy snoring. Actually right now I’m pretty fucking pissed at him because he’s acting, once again like a petulant child. If things continue like this I may very well bugger off on my own. Besides my personal aggravations Germany has probably been my favourite place so far, along with the Netherlands. I do love a good pasture.

Then there was the land of Po- it was a fairly grim place at times. The buildings were sort of sad and the people looked hardened- ACTUALLY it sort of reminded me of rural Australia. But it was juxtapositioned with lavish houses of worship, endless fields and forests. On telephone poles sat fat nests holding white storks, floating in the sky. We camped in Bison country- and lo the mosquitoes. I am truly bitten. We saw wild Bison, wolves, deer, moose, boar, reindeer, horses and a lynx at Bialowieski Park Narodowy. I bought some ‘Bison honey’ and I’m fairly sure the honey isn’t secreted from the Bison’s glands or anything. You know, Bison grass…

As for food I must tell you that so far I have indulged in pickled herring with raw onion (never again) woodland mushrooms (I think they’re called piffling or something ridiculous to that extent), Latvian ‘meat dumplings’ in sour cream and a fair sampling of the local chocolates. There is this weird one with bits of crystallised toffee in it. This probably sounds terrible but we’re travelling with a dog and about half of every food item I purchase ends up in her stomach.

Then we moved to Vilnius where we played 500 with a young Dutch couple who were fairly switched on. The campsite had this Sunday dinner where they served up a free bbq and drinks and everyone got into this great cultural mixer. There was also this devastatingly handsome man from Sweden who I later found out to be cycling around Europe because his cerebral palsy made him extremely shy around groups of people and he wanted to break down some barriers. What a champion. I’ll be going back to Vilnius in a few days for the KGB prison tour (it was closed when we were there).

We moved on to Riga where my tent got rained into and I ended up sleeping in the back of our old Mercedes station wagon with dad. Hm. Riga is a fairly enterprising sort of place, but Andre was in a rush and so I hope to go back there on our way back as well.

Right now I’m in Tallinn listening to dad huff and moan about how sore his back is. I’m going to pick up a few things at the local supermarket with Lili and escape the ogre’s wrath. We're in moose country at the moment and it’s relatively cold, but I suppose I’m relatively close to the North Pole. Estonia has the funniest linguistics; yesterday I saw a sign for CATWEES.

So! I’ll be heading back to Riga, Vilnius, Krakow, Wielikza, Zakpopane and then Budapest. From there it’s Austria, Czech Republic, Italy, France, Spain, France, England, possibly Scotland, Ireland. Coming to a theatre near you.

Oh PS. We stopped at this place on the road called HESBURGER (Estonian McDonalds for truckers) and I bought a bottle of vodka for the equivalent of 8 Australian dollars. Should be interesting.

Yesterday I was in Amsterdam. When we left the airport at six in the morning the first thing I smelt was, in fact, the smoky sweet smell of cannabis. A couple of unsavory sorts were sitting across from us, cackling like mad, stoned hyenas. We had to wait a while to get picked up and it was a lot colder than Bangkok- probably about 20 degrees on that morning with an ever present wind. As I sat in waiting I saw a raven trying to eat a live finch by biting at its neck. An omen?
 

Once we left the airport miles of green came into view, disfigured with the odd road and leaning set of buildings. We got to the city center and were flanked by century old buildings, cobble stoned streets, canals and bridges. It was… simply put, beautiful. Being here is like watching a film, so many of the aspects of life in Europe seem almost unreal. Too quaint.  Too green. Too structurally astounding. Old men sitting in front of cafes reading the morning news; interested in the prospects of the world but quite content to remain untouched by conflict in their own little town.  Bicycles with whicker baskets carrying terriers. Women with flowers wrapped in brown paper.
 

We went to the Anne Frank museum on a whim- early morning and already the crowds had arrived. It was… I don’t suppose I can describe the feeling of standing in a room where, not but a few decades ago, real human beings characterized by literature hid from persecution. From torture and death. I ran my fingers across the pealing wallpaper. Their wallpaper.   
 

We took a trip down the canals and ended up at the Van Gogh museum. Once again I find myself at a loss. I thought being in the presence of the originals wouldn’t be that different from looking at the replicas. Once you’ve seen one sunflower you’ve seen them all. But I could see the thickness of the oil paints he used; I could follow the motions of the paint and clearly envision the strokes of his hand. Follow his progression in style and talent. It was worth the crippling entry fee of ten euro.
 

Monster is a small town near the sea. This afternoon I walked over, letting the water of the Arctic Ocean drench the bottoms of my jeans and wash over my feet. The beach was overrun with German tourists escaping the landlocked confines of their homeland, sunning themselves to cancer riddled leather crisps. Tomorrow I’m going to one of those old barns with the giant thatched roofs. Should be…quaint.

I wasn’t going to update until Holland, but our flight isn’t until midnight and yesterday was too amusing not to recount. Think John Safran vs God meets Lost in Translation. We decided to spend the day looking at Temples (Thailand is predominantly Buddhist if you didn’t know), and so we took a cab to Wat Pho (giant reclining golden Buddha). Wat Pho was closed and a Tuk Tuk driver offered to take us to the other temples until Wat Pho opened for 40 Bhat. We agreed, and after one temple our Tuk Tuk driver said he’d take us to the Thai centre for suits. This is common practice for Tuk Tuk drivers; if they take you to certain tailors and jewelry places and you spend more than 15 minutes there, they get gas coupons from the proprietor. Which we learnt when he took us to the jewelry store. I actually ended up buying a pendant, silly arsehole I am. At our second temple visit a man offered to show us around, and I couldn’t understand half of what he said. There were halls of 52 Buddhas, standing and sitting in different positions. I had to fight the childish urge to giggle when he said ‘this farting Buddha’ instead of ‘fasting Buddha’. Rib rib rib. Then, as is the custom, he asked us for money for his efforts. Fair enough.

We finally made it to Wat Pho, and it was beyond touristy. Absolutely magnificent though; ornate temples stretching up into the sky with cats balancing precariously on them, leading to the main attraction- the golden Buddha with mother of pearl feet. Pretty fucking huge. As we ambled about the grounds a man selling knickknacks at one of the exits offered to take us to be blessed by a monk. I was speculative but dad seemed keen, and we were oddly hypnotized by the man’s rambling.

“You Australian?”

“Yeah.”

“Ohh, Crocodile Dundee. One and Two. He lived in Los Angeles but came back. Very good!”

“Err… yeah.”

“Very good movies. You go this way please!”

We entered a little wooden room hidden across the road by a labyrinth of cement byways.

“You take off shoes. There there, sit in front of the monk.”

A bald, haggard old man in orange robes beckoned us forward and gestured that we should cross our legs and lean forward with our hands together in prayer. He tied yellow string bracelets on our wrists before he started chanting and beating us on the head with wet bamboo. He flicked water at us and beat us on the head again, and I had to bite my lip to fight the laughter that was bubbling inside my lungs. The monk then pulled out a case of Buddhist icon pendants, and our ‘helpful’ chaperone said:  

“You take for good luck. Each make donation of 1500 Bhat.”

That’s roughly $50 each, and so broke and incredulous, we bought one and wandered out of the building in a confused haze.  I suppose even monks have to scratch a living…

We made it to a pier where we hoped to take a long boat down the khlongs. Our man said that he’d give us one hour for 1500 Bhat, or two for 2000 Bhat. We paid for two hours and set sail. Think Venetian gondolas, only the water is about 20 times worse than the Brisbane River. After a while we ended up on the open river which was roughly a kilometer wide, and almost sailed right into a ferry carrying about 100 people. The whole kuffufle lasted about five minutes, all the while the passengers on the ferry were staring us down. Just as we were leaving I turned back at them and had a facial spasm, lifting my fingers to my head as devil horns. Mostly they looked perturbed, though a couple of teenagers laughed.

After an hour we got back to the pier, and my dad had a bit of a row with the man we had paid (not the driver) about how we forked out for another hour. He said:

“Nonono! You pay for one hour. Stop at Thai boxing or Snake farm, take two hour.”

We weren’t particularly keen on stopping, but by a strange twist of fate we ended up at the snake farm- Just as it began to rain. The farm was more or less a morbid zoo with monkeys, gators, deer, one lone tiger and a cassowary, and of course snakes. I was pretty devastated by the enclosures, though I suppose they can’t afford those virtual habitats we have back home. We met some people from Denmark who were going to Australia and they offered us a place to stay when we were in the neighborhood. Accommodation for Denmark- check. A snake show started which mortified me further. They provoked the snakes to attack which was cruel enough, and I didn’t feel so safe sitting in the front row with a fence about 40 cm high protecting me from an aggravated snake. I got to hold a carpet snake, reminded me of home. Australia won the soccer against the Thais (4-0) and I feel I am quite ready to head for the Netherlands. I miss cheese.

[pathetic/]

Friday night. The stark realization that we are in fact very far from home Toto. It was my first night on the streets of Bangkok and I suppose I began to realize what a big change this is. Where I am. It was confronting, and I think the pollution, crowds, sweat, prostitutes (EVERYWHERE- in mostly non Christian countries there isn’t much shame about such things) and the food poisoning clouded my judgment. Yeah, eating street vendor food is a risk (well worth it, I’d say), and I think I was pretty lucky to make it this far without getting rabies or cholera. It was just for one night. And for that one night, I hated Bangkok.  

Saturday was Chatuchack markets, at which I bought an abundance of clothing, accessories etc. and rapidly alleviated my aversion with an even flow of consumerism. I didn’t think I’d be into Thai clothes (either too Japanese school girl or too traditional), but a lot of the things for sale looked like they were made for the valley markets. I bought this grey skirt from a shop called ‘teen yakuza!’ and it has all these origami folds and suspenders. But enough of that. It was an endurance test to say the least; a cornucopia of sheltered alleyways leading onto more alleyways, the air was stagnant and the walkways crowded. You have to be careful not to pass out or get robbed.  Apparently there were over 9000 stalls selling basically anything you could imagine and more, but I didn’t stray from the clothes area. I think I would have passed out if I did.

To end a rather hectic yet satisfying day we wandered over to Nuan’s Health Spa. At first I felt a little disgruntled, not so keen on being pampered and what have you. Plus, I think it would take a pretty carefree sort of person not to be apprehensive with a bunch of women talking and laughing in a different language, when the only words you’re able to make out are ‘foreigner’ and ‘Australian’. But I have fluro yellow nails to show for it, and as my dad was paying one of the women walked over to me and started combing my frizzy, humid beaten hair. I thought it was sweet. There was also a moment of understanding when she went to sit on the little stool and do my nails, and one of the women behind her said something to her in Thai and she got up to pull up her jeans while laughing. I laughed with her, for us women know the pain of arse-crack flashing in a pair of jeans.

Today we had a pretty lazy day, went to the supermarket and watched weird Asian teev. I’ve watched a little Japanese teev and it’s a lot like that. Crazy shit aimed at teenagers. 

Tomorrow we’re going to the park and we’re going to rent one of those river paddle things that you sit in and propel with your feet. You know what I mean. The next day is for Buddha and temples and our night flight to Amsterdam. This is prolly the last you’ll here of my adventures in Bangkok, so I suppose I should end by setting the record straight. Bangkok people are generally lovely, and while it’s crowded it’s because Bangkok is so full of life. Change is confronting, and what I couldn’t understand immediately I turned to dislike. But I think, in its own way, Bangkok is truly charming.

Sawatdika, mofos.

If you ever want to pretend you’re a giant ogre, then Bangkok- actually I’m assuming most places in Asia—is the place to go. I’ve not seen one woman taller than me, and the men are pretty few. Yesterday we got to Bangkok after a four hour delay in Sydney airport. That was joyous. At three am the first thing I noticed as I stepped out of the Bangkok airport was the overwhelming humidity permeated with a smell that could only be described as exhaust fumes and cat piss. I tried some Thai out on our driver (poor thing had to wait four hours for us), but he just smiled benignly and nodded. I suppose I was probably telling him to “go die!” instead of “thank you!”.

There are dogs on the streets everywhere, but apparently I’m not allowed to touch them. Something about rabies. The city contains 15 million people and is, for lack of a better cliché, a sprawling urban jungle. My every second thought is “OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT!” due to the kamikaze drivers. There really aren’t any road rules here, just a lot of dodging and swerving and rapid breaking.

Yesterday dad and I (after deciding our secret names; Adriane- Su-ix-see, Dad- Herrald), made our way around the Siam area and mostly looked at shops. I’m very rapidly turning into a Japanese teenage girl- already in ownership of a Pocky bag and various Hello Kitty paraphernalia (who would of guessed?). I have found that Tuk Tuks are an indispensable method of transportation, as long as you don’t value your life too much.

Most vendors try to rob us blind as far as prices go, and I don’t really blame them. Considering most of them make 15 USD a day, I generally just accept their prices without much concern. Actually some of the vendors say “I give you discount” after I’ve already agreed to their price. A lot of people who speak a smattering of English come up to us to try it out, give us advice etc. They’re just… really, really eager. My impression of Thai people so far is split into three descriptions. The first- slightly displeased with ‘self-important foreigners’ who should really just bugger off but give us their money first, the second- quick smiles and eager to help, the last- too old to give a fuck. With many shades of grey in between, though you know I’m generalizing.

Today we took a boat to China Town. The sheer magnitude of the markets is really enough to give any glassy-eyed Westerner a panic attack. I’m tired as all shit but really happy. I’m feeling a little lost in translation, but already I’m starting to pick things up. Like, don’t ask what sort of animal it is that you’re eating. You probably don’t want to know. So far I have lucked out with pork, duck and misc. We’ll leave that one alone I think. I’m also a chili bitch.

Tomorrow I’m going to the Chatuchuck markets (pretty sure that’s how you spell it) and the next day is the spa. Oh, it’s a hard life.        


chillin' with the water-boiler           


hangin' by the river                    


tuk tuk travel

Today I put the puppies in a basket and brought them inside to feed them formula with a little syringe-esque instrument. I’ve been playing them music since they have already learnt to recognise my voice. They enjoy Matisyahu, Morcheeba and The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

Fucking hippies.

They also like foreign films with Gerard Depardieu.

There's this little fat one that eats about four times more than the rest, and whenever I went out to check on them he'd crawl out and squint at me, as if to say, “Where’s my food, bitch?”. I decided I couldn't keep calling him Fattyboombalada [because he might develop a complex], so I named him Elvis. He’s a good kid, just a bit rough around the edges. Give him time, give him time.

What else. I pretty much spent the last couple of days cleaning the house, cooking for my family and watching Cardcaptors… Gonna catch you catch you catch me catch me mi-te… Something else in Japanese… And as ever, travel planning. I’m up to Roma, where I plan on taking my dad to Cappuchin Crypt. They have artwork made out of dead monk’s bones, YES. [Pam, I know you’re feeling it!]

I woke up today with this weird pain under my eye, and my stepmum reckons it’s bruised or something. In conclusion, I have been turned into a sleeper agent for a ninja organisation and my unexplained injuries are a result of my violent less-than-secret life.

THE END.

I feel I should write something since I haven't written in so long. I just don't think I have anything all that worthy to write about, and the things I do want to say aren't really the sort of thing you'd post in a livejournal.

Let's see, points of semi-interest:

1. Clare and I are going to produce a half-hour show for community television. The concept is so mind-blowing that I could probably only explain it to you through interpretive dance with origami.

2. I got to spend some quality time with the 1LM pack, and in leaving said gathering there is the renewed promise of sweet reunion once again.

3. My dad turned into a wonky piece of wood this week, I haven't talked to him that much. He is such a little brother.

4. It's been really windy lately and my house swings and creeks and lurches every time the wind comes a blowin'. I fixed the drain with my handy-person skills.

5. The puppies are two weeks old today. If you have $400 sitting around you can have one. If you give me the money.

6. 4 weeks and 2 days until Europa.

7. I play too much solitaire. When I close my eyes it's all I see... But it gives me a great sense of accomplishment, and I have sports commentators in my head when I'm playing it so I don't get lonely very much.

8. I am the master salad-maker. Today I made this salad with mescaline greens, blue cheese, roast chicken, walnuts and avocado. It was my greatest love.

9. Yesterday I went to Barrio with Pam, my ethnic friend. Haw haw haw.

10. Last night I went out for pizza with my stepmum because my dad and sisters were at my uncle's in Pomona. While it was great spending time with her, I sort of felt like I was on another planet. Like I understand something, or think I understand it, but whenever I try to explain it to other people they either interpret me incorrectly or don't understand. And this knowledge I have rules my life completely, it feels akin to some form of enlightenment... but no-one knows what I mean. They just don't feel it.