The warm up night may have ended later, but this morning my head hurts - which didn't happen yesterday. Oh sweet bus ride, how I can't wait for you...
Tragedy struck the tour yesterday morning: our guide, Phil, had left a fan on inside the bus and, as a consequence, the battery was dead. This meant that, instead of heading on to our first stop of the day, we waited around for an hour waiting for some jumper leads to arrive - this was after the half-hearted attempts to push start it, of course. It was funny as hell to be truthful and, in the end, it actually worked to our advantage as it meant we missed out on the nasty weather that had snuck up on us during the night.
When we were finally underway, our first stop was to the north coast and a place called Carrick-a-Rede - a rickety-looking rope bridge atop some amazing scenery and another massive death-drop. I haven't chickened out on one yet and I wasn't about to start now, so after a nice walk in the sun we arrived - and it was nothing! Okay, I started to worry a little bit once other people hopped on and it started bouncing away, but I made it across (and back) with hardly any panicking.
It was well worth the effort too, giving us a much better view of the coastline we'd just walked along. The ground was also incredibly spongy, it was sort of like walking on a weak trampoline.
Our next stop was Giant's Causeway. Now, there's an old Irish legend associated with this place involving giants and babies and other things, but the most important thing is that this is a National Heritage site and it's a really amazing area. The main area, the actual Causeway itself, is made up from columns of hexagonal rocks erupting from the ground. There's a giant wall of them you can climb up - the rocks double as handy stepping stones - which is, ugh, another great big bloody height I can claim to have conquered.
Around this area are a few other interesting sights to see, including the Giant's Boot, basically, a big ol' rock that looks like, you guessed it, a boot; the 'pipe organ', another collection of rock columns that sort of looks like a pipe organ; as well as more picturesque cliffs and coastline.
By now it was time to head to our next stopover for the next two days, the city of Derry. Checking into the hostel, we all headed down to the recommended eating spot for some food and drinks. And then a few more drinks. Which led to more drinks. It's a vicious spiral.
On urging from Phil, we eventually headed up to a traditional Irish pub, to sample some traditional Irish music and traditional Irish people. Oh, and have a few more drinks - that goes without saying. The pub itself was interesting, its most arresting feature being the pig head hung from the ceiling (Raymond Watts would be proud). It didn't take us long to start mingling with some locals, including a German girl (yes, she was a local!) who proceeded to tell me I looked like Bernard Black. Considering one of the girls on the tour had earlier told me I look like a young Mick Molloy, I considered this new comparison to be a step up.
After a while, we decided to move on to the next place - a night club, this time. Funnily enough, the German girl and her boyfriend tagged along too. By now, we were all quite sauced and having a good time - at which point, Phil started on his favourite trick of grabbing someone camera and going nuts with it. Not just pictures of us, either - anyone in shooting distance, he'd snap them.
Wednesday 25 April 2007
Tuesday 24 April 2007
Warming Up
It's morning, after the first day of the tour. The bus is packed with people, our tour guide is awesome and we've made it to Belfast.
When we arrived, we took the Black Cab tour of Belfast, which was quite intense and very sobering. We were taken around the city through both the Protestant and Catholic areas (kept apart by a massive wall and gates) to take a look at the various murals painted on the walls.
You can hear the stories, you can see the sights, but actually understanding the violence that happens over is completely beyond me - and it's something I'll never understand. So far, it's possibly the best thing I've done this entire trip. It was quite scary too, wandering around areas still controlled by armed militia.
By the time I arrived back at the hostel I had a severe splitting headache, so I took some Nurofen and... went up to the pub with the group. I had a feeling my sore head was from the early morning Guiness we enjoyed at the factory in Dublin (not really worth a visit), so after a hair of the dog I was almost back to normal.
The whole group spent the rest of the night drinking and getting to know each other and we had a really mad time. There was a Canadian girl, Alison, staying in our room and she tagged along with us, so in the end there were around 16 or so of us at the back of the pub having a blast.
A few hours later it was decided we needed to move on to a club, so we all wandered up the street to 'The Parlor'. The usual clubbing antics ensued: drinking, dancing and unsuccessfully hitting on girls. That is until Steve dragged this gorgeous little red-headed girl over to us, who was bragging she'd stolen a bottle of wine from the bar.
Leigh and I ended up chatting to her for a little while until she ran away, so we thought nothing much of it - until five minutes later at closing when she brought her two friends along to introduce us. The six of us then headed out to the street to chat some more, until we eventually ended up back at their house.
I wish I could continue on with some wild crazy adventure, but the truth wasn't awful so I may as well be honest: we basically just sat around chatting, drinking some more and playing tin whistles (well, the girls were - they were brilliant at it). We finally headed back to the hostel at 4.30am and was woken up at 7.30am. I'm in a surprisingly good state, all things considered.
Today we head to Derry, where we're staying for two nights. According to the guys, last night was a warm-up for the rest of the tour. I'm not sure if I should be happy or scared...
When we arrived, we took the Black Cab tour of Belfast, which was quite intense and very sobering. We were taken around the city through both the Protestant and Catholic areas (kept apart by a massive wall and gates) to take a look at the various murals painted on the walls.
You can hear the stories, you can see the sights, but actually understanding the violence that happens over is completely beyond me - and it's something I'll never understand. So far, it's possibly the best thing I've done this entire trip. It was quite scary too, wandering around areas still controlled by armed militia.
By the time I arrived back at the hostel I had a severe splitting headache, so I took some Nurofen and... went up to the pub with the group. I had a feeling my sore head was from the early morning Guiness we enjoyed at the factory in Dublin (not really worth a visit), so after a hair of the dog I was almost back to normal.
The whole group spent the rest of the night drinking and getting to know each other and we had a really mad time. There was a Canadian girl, Alison, staying in our room and she tagged along with us, so in the end there were around 16 or so of us at the back of the pub having a blast.
A few hours later it was decided we needed to move on to a club, so we all wandered up the street to 'The Parlor'. The usual clubbing antics ensued: drinking, dancing and unsuccessfully hitting on girls. That is until Steve dragged this gorgeous little red-headed girl over to us, who was bragging she'd stolen a bottle of wine from the bar.
Leigh and I ended up chatting to her for a little while until she ran away, so we thought nothing much of it - until five minutes later at closing when she brought her two friends along to introduce us. The six of us then headed out to the street to chat some more, until we eventually ended up back at their house.
I wish I could continue on with some wild crazy adventure, but the truth wasn't awful so I may as well be honest: we basically just sat around chatting, drinking some more and playing tin whistles (well, the girls were - they were brilliant at it). We finally headed back to the hostel at 4.30am and was woken up at 7.30am. I'm in a surprisingly good state, all things considered.
Today we head to Derry, where we're staying for two nights. According to the guys, last night was a warm-up for the rest of the tour. I'm not sure if I should be happy or scared...
Sunday 22 April 2007
Where are all the Irish?
Okay, so I've made it to Ireland, but so far the only people around I've run into are French. Did I catch the wrong ferry by mistake?
Well, after having a minor panic attack that I missed my train this morning (while waiting at the platform, one screamed past me 10 minutes before mine was due - there was no other stopping here), I made it successfully to the ferry and, consequently, to Ireland.
Strangely enough, I started to have the same feeling in my stomache that I did before leaving Australia. I can't explain it, but it disappeared as soon as I checked into the hostel here.
Tomorrow I start my 10 day tour of Ireland. I'm looking forward to it: so far, I've been wandering the Earth on my own, so it's going to be nice not to have to think about where I'm going next, what I'm going to do, where I'm going to stay... I just hope there's more than just myself on this tour, otherwise I'm going to feel a right tit.
Well, after having a minor panic attack that I missed my train this morning (while waiting at the platform, one screamed past me 10 minutes before mine was due - there was no other stopping here), I made it successfully to the ferry and, consequently, to Ireland.
Strangely enough, I started to have the same feeling in my stomache that I did before leaving Australia. I can't explain it, but it disappeared as soon as I checked into the hostel here.
Tomorrow I start my 10 day tour of Ireland. I'm looking forward to it: so far, I've been wandering the Earth on my own, so it's going to be nice not to have to think about where I'm going next, what I'm going to do, where I'm going to stay... I just hope there's more than just myself on this tour, otherwise I'm going to feel a right tit.
Saturday 21 April 2007
At Last, a Laundry
If there was one thing I desperately needed today, it was a laundry. I was just about ready to start wearing dirty undies when I noticed a sign on one of the doors at my latest hostel - no need for a spotty bum after all.
Where am I now, you ask? Well, I'm currently in Conwy, North Wales. This is my third day back in Wales, and one of my last as I'm heading into Holyhead tomorrow morning to catch a ferry to Dublin - just in time for my tour!
My last day in Oxford was roughly as exciting as the first: a lot of walking, shelling out to see more colleges and exhibits, then crashing back at the hostel.
What, you want some details? Oh, very well... I'll do my best, but it's been a few days.
Having seen pretty much all the sights from the bus the day before, I thought I'd wander the streets for the day to take a more intimate look. The first stop was (I keep doing it to myself) Caerfon Tower, yet another large set of stairs that go up to a deadly drop. The upside, as is usual in this situations, is that I had a great view of the city.
Right in the heart of the city is a somewhat innocuous shop-front labelled 'The Oxford Story', which is a history lesson wrapped up in a toddler's joy-ride. Basically, you sit down on a conveyor belt and pass by scores of dead-eyed mannequins dressed in semi-authentic clothes, while an actor pretending to be an important historical figure explains the history of Oxford. At least it killed a good 30 minutes of the day.
By now, the Science Museum was open so I popped in for another 30 minutes. It was surprisingly small, especially when you consider Oxford is supposed to have such an amazing reputation for, well, being brainy. The exhibits were interesting enough, but I was unable to track down the one thing I wanted to see: a blackboard used by Einstein when he visited Oxford and gave a lecture. Apparently, it still has his original chalk notes on it - I guess I'll never know.
One quick lunch later and I was inside Oxford Castle. This one had an interesting twist to it as it's only just recently been opened to the public (we're talking less than a year). For the last few hundred or so years it's been used mainly as a prison, so its main educational focus was on prison life. Once again, another massive tower induced some heart-pounding vertigo, but it was compensated by some nice photos.
After a quick detour into Blackwells (probably the most famous of Oxford's book stores, containing a rather large basement), I strolled some more until I arrived at Christ Church. This time I had to pay my way in, so I took my time inspecting the place in order to get my money's worth. Those inclined (sadly, myself included) may be interested to know this is where portions of the Harry Potter movies were filmed.
While I was in the paying mood, I took myself up to Magdalen College as I'd heard there was a deer field in the grounds. Sure enough, there is a great big field inside - full of deer. I considered taking the long walk around the campus, but by now I'd been on my feet for a very long time and it was closing time for most places anyway, so I took this to mean it was time to call it a night.
Next morning, I hopped on the first train out of Oxford on my way to Llandudno. Again, I originally had no intention of staying here to begin with but the only hostel in Conwy I would find was booked solid on Thursday night, so the closest I could find was here.
If only I'd done my research a little more, I would've discovered that Llandudno was actually a better location than Conwy as it's much larger, has far, far, far more accommodation and has a lot more to do. You can probably read between the lines at this point: this means I had very little time to see the area. In the end, I think I packed in the major attractions fairly well.
Llandudno is Wales's equivalent of Brighton: it's a sea-side resort (the biggest one in the country, apparently), its waterfront consists of rocks, pebbles and stones, and it has a big pier sticking out the end. It felt oddly familiar. It is also home to the Great Orme! No, that's not some sort of spooky Celtic religious figure, it's the name of the massive mountain there.
Arriving in the middle of the afternoon, I quickly checked into the hostel (which was completely empty save for me - score!) and took to the streets to see as much as I could while there was still sunlight. Wandering up and down the waterfront for a while, I discovered one of the more promising attractions is a cable-pulled tramway that scales the mountain. Naturally, I'd arrived too late to take a ride, so I added it to my mental checklist of 'things to do in the morning'.
The tram isn't the only way up the mountain (oh, besides the road of course), there's also a two-mile long cable car system - that didn't appear to be working - it looked like it hadn't been used for a while. By now I was sort of annoyed at being thwarted twice in an hour, so instead I took a walk up the pier and enjoyed the rocky view.
I set my alarm early so I could race around to see everything before I had to leave for Conwy. My first stop was the tram - but its first ride wasn't until 10am (a good hour away), so to kill time I took a walk along the Orme and enjoyed the view. Llandudno is quite interesting in its placement, as the town reaches the waterfront on both its east and west sides. Up where I was walking gave me a chance to see both sides simultaneously.
Arriving back at the tram in time for its first run, I purchased a return ticket and hopped aboard. I like trams, as any of my friends from Melbourne can attest to, so this one was definitely appreciated. As it's a cable-pulled tram, we passed the other tram half-way up the hill (these things work quite simply: the weight of the downward tram pulls the other one up the incline).
On the way up, I could see the cable car system - and it was running. This was frustrating, as I'd bought a return ticket for the tram and they weren't transferable! Now, it may sound like an excuse to miss out on another nauseating height, but this time I was refusing to shell out for a ticket for two reason: one, I'd have to buy a return ticket, otherwise I've wasted half my tram ticket; and two, I had to hurry to get back in order to get to Conwy!
At the top of the mountain there was another dodgy looking tourist trap which I avoided, instead opting to take a walk around the area to enjoy the views. The weather for the last few days had been surprisingly pleasant (tee-shirt weather, believe it or not) but today it'd decided to be cloudy and cold. Which was a pity, because I was in a tee-shirt. And cold.
I didn't get to see everything in Llandudno (I thought I'd skip the animatronic Alice in Wonderland exhibit), but I did get a pretty good idea of what the area is like. Nothing spectacular, mostly designed for tourists, but quite enjoyable nonetheless.
I'd actually passed through Conwy on the way to Llandudno, so I was really excited to get back to take a good look around. Like Caernarfon, Conwy is a castle-based town surrounded by massive stone walls - ostensibly for protection from invaders (like Australian tourists).
Even though I still had my backpack with me, I didn't want to miss out on seeing the Castle - especially seeing how the weather had taken a massive turn for the best (it was back to the tee-shirt). This castle was just as impressive as Caernarfon too, being mostly intact and absolutely massive. It makes for a fantastic entrance to the town, too, as it's the first sight you see coming on the bus from Llandudno!
Taking my time to have a look around, I tackled the lower level first before climbing the stairs to the walkway half way up the walls. This path makes a tour around the eight towers, which I carefully stepped around taking careful note of where I was putting each foot. Eventually, I had to bite the bullet and go up the towers - the bit I love and hate, mostly hate.
Only six of the eight towers were accessible, and each one held a superb view of both the town and the surrounding areas. I braved each one long enough to enjoy the sights (and, of course, take some photos), but I was very happy when I started on the steps down from the last tower.
Another really cool feature of Conwy is its walls: unlike Caernarfon, these ones are intact enough that you can walk almost the entire way around them - which I did. It's a good long walk, has great views of the town and is another frustrating attraction for sufferers of vertigo, like myself. Reaching the waterfront at the end of the walls, I took advantage of the great weather to eat an ice-block in the sun - trying my best not to be sickened by the rank sea air.
Having seen all I wanted to see in Conwy, I headed back to the hostel (having checked in after seeing the Castle) and crashed early. My big plan for Saturday was to head over to Mt Snowdon and climb up it - a good five hour walk, weather permitting. At 6.30am my alarm buzzed and I was up, ready for the bus at 7.10am.
Actually, just an aside for a second: I felt pretty grotty after all the walking and sea air, so I thought I'd have a shower before I went to bed, which would also save me time in the morning. Good bloody thing I did, as when I tried it in the morning there was no hot water. Not impressed.
Anyway, the bus arrived at 7.13am and I was deposited at Bangor at 7.50am ready to catch my connecting bus. Unfortunately, as I had no timetable for the connecting bus, I was extremely pissed off to discover it wasn't for another hour and twenty minutes - which then meant I wouldn't actually arrive at Llanberis (where the walks begin) until 9.45am at the earliest. There goes my brilliant plan of getting there early.
I'd actually had a bit of a change of heart when it came to climbing the mountain too: my original plan was to walk it both ways, but if I did that I'd miss out on the train ride. Not wanting to miss out, I thought I'd catch the train up, then walk down - easy. Of course, Bastard's Law says nothing can go right for me when I try to make plans, so when I arrived it turns out the train is only going half-way up the mountain due to high winds and is not letting anyone out. Better yet, it was now way too late for me to walk up and down again with any hope of getting back to Conwy at a sensible time. Realising I'm screwed, I opt for the train ride - which is then delayed an hour, just for the extra kick in the pants.
The weather had turned crap again, so visibility going up the mountain was pretty poor. It was still a nice ride, though: it's a huge mountain (1080 metres high) and it has a surprising amount of variety along its incline. Lots of sheep, too. When we reach as far as the train goes, we stop for a while so we can take pictures and admire - the fog. Then it's time to go down again, and I'm thinking I may have wasted a day and too much money for this rather anti-climactic train ride.
I'll admit it: I was in a bad mood by now (I think it kind of shows through this entire post, to be honest) so I was glad to be heading back to the hostel. It was at this point I decided to do my laundry, which is when I discovered this hostel not only has a washing machine and drier, but also the most expensive Internet terminal I've ever used. Still, I'm a sucker and I paid the exhorbitant fees in order to get my fix.
Tomorrow I will attempt to catch a train in order to get to my ferry in Holyhead - not that big a deal, you might think, but you're forgetting one thing: tomorrow is SUNDAY!
Where am I now, you ask? Well, I'm currently in Conwy, North Wales. This is my third day back in Wales, and one of my last as I'm heading into Holyhead tomorrow morning to catch a ferry to Dublin - just in time for my tour!
My last day in Oxford was roughly as exciting as the first: a lot of walking, shelling out to see more colleges and exhibits, then crashing back at the hostel.
What, you want some details? Oh, very well... I'll do my best, but it's been a few days.
Having seen pretty much all the sights from the bus the day before, I thought I'd wander the streets for the day to take a more intimate look. The first stop was (I keep doing it to myself) Caerfon Tower, yet another large set of stairs that go up to a deadly drop. The upside, as is usual in this situations, is that I had a great view of the city.
Right in the heart of the city is a somewhat innocuous shop-front labelled 'The Oxford Story', which is a history lesson wrapped up in a toddler's joy-ride. Basically, you sit down on a conveyor belt and pass by scores of dead-eyed mannequins dressed in semi-authentic clothes, while an actor pretending to be an important historical figure explains the history of Oxford. At least it killed a good 30 minutes of the day.
By now, the Science Museum was open so I popped in for another 30 minutes. It was surprisingly small, especially when you consider Oxford is supposed to have such an amazing reputation for, well, being brainy. The exhibits were interesting enough, but I was unable to track down the one thing I wanted to see: a blackboard used by Einstein when he visited Oxford and gave a lecture. Apparently, it still has his original chalk notes on it - I guess I'll never know.
One quick lunch later and I was inside Oxford Castle. This one had an interesting twist to it as it's only just recently been opened to the public (we're talking less than a year). For the last few hundred or so years it's been used mainly as a prison, so its main educational focus was on prison life. Once again, another massive tower induced some heart-pounding vertigo, but it was compensated by some nice photos.
After a quick detour into Blackwells (probably the most famous of Oxford's book stores, containing a rather large basement), I strolled some more until I arrived at Christ Church. This time I had to pay my way in, so I took my time inspecting the place in order to get my money's worth. Those inclined (sadly, myself included) may be interested to know this is where portions of the Harry Potter movies were filmed.
While I was in the paying mood, I took myself up to Magdalen College as I'd heard there was a deer field in the grounds. Sure enough, there is a great big field inside - full of deer. I considered taking the long walk around the campus, but by now I'd been on my feet for a very long time and it was closing time for most places anyway, so I took this to mean it was time to call it a night.
Next morning, I hopped on the first train out of Oxford on my way to Llandudno. Again, I originally had no intention of staying here to begin with but the only hostel in Conwy I would find was booked solid on Thursday night, so the closest I could find was here.
If only I'd done my research a little more, I would've discovered that Llandudno was actually a better location than Conwy as it's much larger, has far, far, far more accommodation and has a lot more to do. You can probably read between the lines at this point: this means I had very little time to see the area. In the end, I think I packed in the major attractions fairly well.
Llandudno is Wales's equivalent of Brighton: it's a sea-side resort (the biggest one in the country, apparently), its waterfront consists of rocks, pebbles and stones, and it has a big pier sticking out the end. It felt oddly familiar. It is also home to the Great Orme! No, that's not some sort of spooky Celtic religious figure, it's the name of the massive mountain there.
Arriving in the middle of the afternoon, I quickly checked into the hostel (which was completely empty save for me - score!) and took to the streets to see as much as I could while there was still sunlight. Wandering up and down the waterfront for a while, I discovered one of the more promising attractions is a cable-pulled tramway that scales the mountain. Naturally, I'd arrived too late to take a ride, so I added it to my mental checklist of 'things to do in the morning'.
The tram isn't the only way up the mountain (oh, besides the road of course), there's also a two-mile long cable car system - that didn't appear to be working - it looked like it hadn't been used for a while. By now I was sort of annoyed at being thwarted twice in an hour, so instead I took a walk up the pier and enjoyed the rocky view.
I set my alarm early so I could race around to see everything before I had to leave for Conwy. My first stop was the tram - but its first ride wasn't until 10am (a good hour away), so to kill time I took a walk along the Orme and enjoyed the view. Llandudno is quite interesting in its placement, as the town reaches the waterfront on both its east and west sides. Up where I was walking gave me a chance to see both sides simultaneously.
Arriving back at the tram in time for its first run, I purchased a return ticket and hopped aboard. I like trams, as any of my friends from Melbourne can attest to, so this one was definitely appreciated. As it's a cable-pulled tram, we passed the other tram half-way up the hill (these things work quite simply: the weight of the downward tram pulls the other one up the incline).
On the way up, I could see the cable car system - and it was running. This was frustrating, as I'd bought a return ticket for the tram and they weren't transferable! Now, it may sound like an excuse to miss out on another nauseating height, but this time I was refusing to shell out for a ticket for two reason: one, I'd have to buy a return ticket, otherwise I've wasted half my tram ticket; and two, I had to hurry to get back in order to get to Conwy!
At the top of the mountain there was another dodgy looking tourist trap which I avoided, instead opting to take a walk around the area to enjoy the views. The weather for the last few days had been surprisingly pleasant (tee-shirt weather, believe it or not) but today it'd decided to be cloudy and cold. Which was a pity, because I was in a tee-shirt. And cold.
I didn't get to see everything in Llandudno (I thought I'd skip the animatronic Alice in Wonderland exhibit), but I did get a pretty good idea of what the area is like. Nothing spectacular, mostly designed for tourists, but quite enjoyable nonetheless.
I'd actually passed through Conwy on the way to Llandudno, so I was really excited to get back to take a good look around. Like Caernarfon, Conwy is a castle-based town surrounded by massive stone walls - ostensibly for protection from invaders (like Australian tourists).
Even though I still had my backpack with me, I didn't want to miss out on seeing the Castle - especially seeing how the weather had taken a massive turn for the best (it was back to the tee-shirt). This castle was just as impressive as Caernarfon too, being mostly intact and absolutely massive. It makes for a fantastic entrance to the town, too, as it's the first sight you see coming on the bus from Llandudno!
Taking my time to have a look around, I tackled the lower level first before climbing the stairs to the walkway half way up the walls. This path makes a tour around the eight towers, which I carefully stepped around taking careful note of where I was putting each foot. Eventually, I had to bite the bullet and go up the towers - the bit I love and hate, mostly hate.
Only six of the eight towers were accessible, and each one held a superb view of both the town and the surrounding areas. I braved each one long enough to enjoy the sights (and, of course, take some photos), but I was very happy when I started on the steps down from the last tower.
Another really cool feature of Conwy is its walls: unlike Caernarfon, these ones are intact enough that you can walk almost the entire way around them - which I did. It's a good long walk, has great views of the town and is another frustrating attraction for sufferers of vertigo, like myself. Reaching the waterfront at the end of the walls, I took advantage of the great weather to eat an ice-block in the sun - trying my best not to be sickened by the rank sea air.
Having seen all I wanted to see in Conwy, I headed back to the hostel (having checked in after seeing the Castle) and crashed early. My big plan for Saturday was to head over to Mt Snowdon and climb up it - a good five hour walk, weather permitting. At 6.30am my alarm buzzed and I was up, ready for the bus at 7.10am.
Actually, just an aside for a second: I felt pretty grotty after all the walking and sea air, so I thought I'd have a shower before I went to bed, which would also save me time in the morning. Good bloody thing I did, as when I tried it in the morning there was no hot water. Not impressed.
Anyway, the bus arrived at 7.13am and I was deposited at Bangor at 7.50am ready to catch my connecting bus. Unfortunately, as I had no timetable for the connecting bus, I was extremely pissed off to discover it wasn't for another hour and twenty minutes - which then meant I wouldn't actually arrive at Llanberis (where the walks begin) until 9.45am at the earliest. There goes my brilliant plan of getting there early.
I'd actually had a bit of a change of heart when it came to climbing the mountain too: my original plan was to walk it both ways, but if I did that I'd miss out on the train ride. Not wanting to miss out, I thought I'd catch the train up, then walk down - easy. Of course, Bastard's Law says nothing can go right for me when I try to make plans, so when I arrived it turns out the train is only going half-way up the mountain due to high winds and is not letting anyone out. Better yet, it was now way too late for me to walk up and down again with any hope of getting back to Conwy at a sensible time. Realising I'm screwed, I opt for the train ride - which is then delayed an hour, just for the extra kick in the pants.
The weather had turned crap again, so visibility going up the mountain was pretty poor. It was still a nice ride, though: it's a huge mountain (1080 metres high) and it has a surprising amount of variety along its incline. Lots of sheep, too. When we reach as far as the train goes, we stop for a while so we can take pictures and admire - the fog. Then it's time to go down again, and I'm thinking I may have wasted a day and too much money for this rather anti-climactic train ride.
I'll admit it: I was in a bad mood by now (I think it kind of shows through this entire post, to be honest) so I was glad to be heading back to the hostel. It was at this point I decided to do my laundry, which is when I discovered this hostel not only has a washing machine and drier, but also the most expensive Internet terminal I've ever used. Still, I'm a sucker and I paid the exhorbitant fees in order to get my fix.
Tomorrow I will attempt to catch a train in order to get to my ferry in Holyhead - not that big a deal, you might think, but you're forgetting one thing: tomorrow is SUNDAY!
Tuesday 17 April 2007
Why do Universities make me feel stupid?
Back on the road again, as promised. It's now my second day in Oxford and I'm having a bit of a break between sight-seeing and grabbing some dinner.
I arrived yesterday via bus around 2.30pm and first impressions weren't very favourable, I'm afraid to say. Don't ask me why, but there's something about Oxford that seems a bit... unpleasant. It's taken me a day or so to work out what it is, but I'll get to that later.
It took me a while to find my hostel (it helps to look on the right side of the road), and once I'd checked in I took a long stroll around the town. I first went down to the river and walked along it for as far as I thought it was sensible, then wearily trod the pavements up and down the city streets. During my wanderings, nothing really stood out as particularly interesting and I was starting to regret spending three nights here.
Making it back to the hostel by the time it was dark, I huddled inside the teevee room to watch Australia win the cricket (although I missed some of it due to napping on the lounge). By now I was hungry, so I walked the streets at night until I found somewhere that looked good.
This morning, in no particular rush, I was up and out the door by 11am. My plan was to catch the sight-seeing bus tour and figure out where I'd visit. I took the tour the entire way around to begin with (a good hour), then hopped off outside Trinity College just in time to catch a walking tour that was about to begin.
The bus trip was interesting and it gave me a better understanding of Oxford, but didn't exactly show off the place very well. It wasn't until the walking tour guide had taken us through one of the colleges that Oxford started to click for me and I really started to appreciate the place.
You see, the problem is that almost all of the interesting sights here are locked up and only really accessible to the students. Sure, you can poke your head inside some of the colleges and even admire the architecture of the historic buildings, but Oxford is now almost exclusively for those attending the University, so if you're an outsider you're left out in the streets.
I'm no stranger to Universities, but the ones I've been to are nothing like this place. For the benefit of those who have no experience with University towns such as Oxford, let me fill you in a bit - it was all new to me, aren't I naive?
Rather than having an enclosed area within the city that contains the University campus, in this case the entire city is the University. This means the separate buildings of each faculty are spread out across the town in between the regular places you'd expect to see in any city, as are the many colleges where students stay, are tutored, eat and socialise. Each college has its own chapel and library, and each is impressive in its own way. Just don't walk on the grass.
The tour took us through five or so different colleges, with each one following the same basic layout and features. There are also plenty of archaic rules and rituals that are still followed hundreds of years after their introduction, which I find simultaneously fascinating and sort of disturbing at the same time.
After the walking tour, I took myself up yet another tower (nowhere near as high as St Paul's) to take a look at the city from up high. I was also interested in seeing the Botanical Gardens, so I walked up there through the grounds of Christ Church and spent an hour or so inspecting the different species that are being tended to there.
Having finally clicked to my understanding of Oxford, I finally realised what it was that was bugging me about the place: I've always felt like a trespasser in Universities, even when I was attending them. I can't explain it, but back when I was attending classes I always had this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there and could never shake my feeling of awkwardness about being a student.
While we were wandering through one of the colleges, our guide explained that those who weren't a part of the University were generally considered the lowest of the low - something I've felt about myself quite a few times over the years. I have serious self-confidence issues that I'm trying to come to terms with through this long trek across the world, so coming face-to-face with these feelings once again has been a bit of an eye opener.
This is why I have the same feeling here, only on a much larger scale. The whole city is the University, so no matter where I go here I'm always going to feel like an outsider.
I arrived yesterday via bus around 2.30pm and first impressions weren't very favourable, I'm afraid to say. Don't ask me why, but there's something about Oxford that seems a bit... unpleasant. It's taken me a day or so to work out what it is, but I'll get to that later.
It took me a while to find my hostel (it helps to look on the right side of the road), and once I'd checked in I took a long stroll around the town. I first went down to the river and walked along it for as far as I thought it was sensible, then wearily trod the pavements up and down the city streets. During my wanderings, nothing really stood out as particularly interesting and I was starting to regret spending three nights here.
Making it back to the hostel by the time it was dark, I huddled inside the teevee room to watch Australia win the cricket (although I missed some of it due to napping on the lounge). By now I was hungry, so I walked the streets at night until I found somewhere that looked good.
This morning, in no particular rush, I was up and out the door by 11am. My plan was to catch the sight-seeing bus tour and figure out where I'd visit. I took the tour the entire way around to begin with (a good hour), then hopped off outside Trinity College just in time to catch a walking tour that was about to begin.
The bus trip was interesting and it gave me a better understanding of Oxford, but didn't exactly show off the place very well. It wasn't until the walking tour guide had taken us through one of the colleges that Oxford started to click for me and I really started to appreciate the place.
You see, the problem is that almost all of the interesting sights here are locked up and only really accessible to the students. Sure, you can poke your head inside some of the colleges and even admire the architecture of the historic buildings, but Oxford is now almost exclusively for those attending the University, so if you're an outsider you're left out in the streets.
I'm no stranger to Universities, but the ones I've been to are nothing like this place. For the benefit of those who have no experience with University towns such as Oxford, let me fill you in a bit - it was all new to me, aren't I naive?
Rather than having an enclosed area within the city that contains the University campus, in this case the entire city is the University. This means the separate buildings of each faculty are spread out across the town in between the regular places you'd expect to see in any city, as are the many colleges where students stay, are tutored, eat and socialise. Each college has its own chapel and library, and each is impressive in its own way. Just don't walk on the grass.
The tour took us through five or so different colleges, with each one following the same basic layout and features. There are also plenty of archaic rules and rituals that are still followed hundreds of years after their introduction, which I find simultaneously fascinating and sort of disturbing at the same time.
After the walking tour, I took myself up yet another tower (nowhere near as high as St Paul's) to take a look at the city from up high. I was also interested in seeing the Botanical Gardens, so I walked up there through the grounds of Christ Church and spent an hour or so inspecting the different species that are being tended to there.
Having finally clicked to my understanding of Oxford, I finally realised what it was that was bugging me about the place: I've always felt like a trespasser in Universities, even when I was attending them. I can't explain it, but back when I was attending classes I always had this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there and could never shake my feeling of awkwardness about being a student.
While we were wandering through one of the colleges, our guide explained that those who weren't a part of the University were generally considered the lowest of the low - something I've felt about myself quite a few times over the years. I have serious self-confidence issues that I'm trying to come to terms with through this long trek across the world, so coming face-to-face with these feelings once again has been a bit of an eye opener.
This is why I have the same feeling here, only on a much larger scale. The whole city is the University, so no matter where I go here I'm always going to feel like an outsider.
Sunday 15 April 2007
I Haven't Seen Weather Like This For Ages
After the dreariness from my trip to Portmeirion, then Friday's overcast skies, I was starting to worry that I'm the kiss of death when it comes to the weather. Thankfully, this weekend has proved me wrong as it's been the best weather I've seen since... well, since I left Australia.
Yesterday was a fairly quiet day, if you consider travelling throughout London to do a spot of shopping quiet. Seeing how I brought only a small assortment of clothes with me, I figured it was time to start buying some new stuff. In the end I only bought a few new shirts, but they were desperately needed.
In the afternoon we were planning to head over to the Tate Modern Art Museum to have a go on the slides set up inside. By the time we got back from shopping, Margaret was too tired so Lee and I set off for some fun. When we got there, it turns out we would've had to wait around until 8.30pm to have a turn on the biggest one, so we handed back the tickets and took a ride on one of the smaller ones before heading back. When we arrived, we had some dinner and went to see a movie - Sunshine, if anyone's interested. Basic review: it was mostly excellent, with a few questionable moments.
Today I woke up really late, thanks to staying up until 3am booking my next trip. I've decided to head back on the road for a few weeks, this time I'm heading to Ireland for a 10-day bus tour. I thought I'd see what it's like to have all of my travel decisions made for me, just to compare it to going it alone. The tour doesn't leave for a week, so I'm going to slowly make my way to Dublin via Oxford and North Wales, catching the places I missed out on when I became sick.
I didn't need to even look outside to know it was a beautiful day, inside it was warmer than it's ever been. When I did take a peek out the window it became apparent just how fantastic it was, so I decided I needed to take advantage of the weather. I first took an hour-long walk through Clapham Common (which is literally over the road from where I'm staying), then I caught a bus to Battersea so I could take a closer look at the Power Station and the park.
I've already covered my love for Pink Floyd quite thoroughly in an earlier post, so I won't go over old ground again. That being said, actually seeing Battersea Power Station in the flesh, rather than on an album cover (Animals - one of my very favourite Floyd albums) was another big thrill. There were no flying pigs to be seen, but there was quite a bit of construction work going on. It's being converted into a bunch luxury apartments (they'll fit quite a few in there, the place is huge), and one of the jobs they're doing is fixing the smoke stacks. Apparently they've become quite unstable, so work is being done to repair them and keep them from falling off. Might be a good idea if there's going to be rich people living in there.
The next few hours were spent wandering through Battersea Park, surrounded by hundreds of people out enjoying the sun. Just as I was heading back, I received an SMS from Lee telling me they were going to spend the rest of the afternoon in Clapham Common, so I should join them. I eventually ran into them as I was only a few metres from the front door to the flat. For the rest of the afternoon, until the sun went down, the four of us ate, drank, read and threw a ball around - basically, just having a nice time.
I know I'm tempting fate by saying it, but I really hope the weather holds up for the next few weeks. Tomorrow, I'm catching a bus to Oxford for a few days and it'll be nice to walk around again in shorts!
Yesterday was a fairly quiet day, if you consider travelling throughout London to do a spot of shopping quiet. Seeing how I brought only a small assortment of clothes with me, I figured it was time to start buying some new stuff. In the end I only bought a few new shirts, but they were desperately needed.
In the afternoon we were planning to head over to the Tate Modern Art Museum to have a go on the slides set up inside. By the time we got back from shopping, Margaret was too tired so Lee and I set off for some fun. When we got there, it turns out we would've had to wait around until 8.30pm to have a turn on the biggest one, so we handed back the tickets and took a ride on one of the smaller ones before heading back. When we arrived, we had some dinner and went to see a movie - Sunshine, if anyone's interested. Basic review: it was mostly excellent, with a few questionable moments.
Today I woke up really late, thanks to staying up until 3am booking my next trip. I've decided to head back on the road for a few weeks, this time I'm heading to Ireland for a 10-day bus tour. I thought I'd see what it's like to have all of my travel decisions made for me, just to compare it to going it alone. The tour doesn't leave for a week, so I'm going to slowly make my way to Dublin via Oxford and North Wales, catching the places I missed out on when I became sick.
I didn't need to even look outside to know it was a beautiful day, inside it was warmer than it's ever been. When I did take a peek out the window it became apparent just how fantastic it was, so I decided I needed to take advantage of the weather. I first took an hour-long walk through Clapham Common (which is literally over the road from where I'm staying), then I caught a bus to Battersea so I could take a closer look at the Power Station and the park.
I've already covered my love for Pink Floyd quite thoroughly in an earlier post, so I won't go over old ground again. That being said, actually seeing Battersea Power Station in the flesh, rather than on an album cover (Animals - one of my very favourite Floyd albums) was another big thrill. There were no flying pigs to be seen, but there was quite a bit of construction work going on. It's being converted into a bunch luxury apartments (they'll fit quite a few in there, the place is huge), and one of the jobs they're doing is fixing the smoke stacks. Apparently they've become quite unstable, so work is being done to repair them and keep them from falling off. Might be a good idea if there's going to be rich people living in there.
The next few hours were spent wandering through Battersea Park, surrounded by hundreds of people out enjoying the sun. Just as I was heading back, I received an SMS from Lee telling me they were going to spend the rest of the afternoon in Clapham Common, so I should join them. I eventually ran into them as I was only a few metres from the front door to the flat. For the rest of the afternoon, until the sun went down, the four of us ate, drank, read and threw a ball around - basically, just having a nice time.
I know I'm tempting fate by saying it, but I really hope the weather holds up for the next few weeks. Tomorrow, I'm catching a bus to Oxford for a few days and it'll be nice to walk around again in shorts!
Why Do I Keep Doing This To Myself?
Having spent almost two weeks back in London and with almost nothing to show for it, on Thursday I decided I should probably get out and do something. In the end, I decided to go and see St Paul's Cathedral. After having a shower and getting ready to go, I checked my book and discovered the place closes at 4.00pm - and it was 2.30pm now. Bugger.
The next day, I requested an early-morning 'kick me out of bed' call from Lee so I'd be able to do my sight-seeing at a more sensible hour. This time, I was out the door by 10.00am and made it to church on time, as it were.
Now, let me say it clear and loud out front: I am an athiest, I do not believe in any God or higher power or any other religious hocus pocus. My main interest in seeing the Cathedral was to inspect its architectural and artistic achievements, of which I was not disappointed.
There appears to be a common theme running through a lot of the historic buildings on this side of the world: more, more and more. Everything is decorated, be it the walls, the ceilings, pillars, sometimes even the floors. It doesn't always work - I thought Cardiff Castle was overdone, as one example - and I'm not convinced it all works at St Paul's.
The sculptures are all very impressive, but to be honest I was most impressed by some of the more mundane features of the building. For example, a closer inspection of one of the pillars revealed an incredible amount of detail that must have been a complete nightmare to carve.
Having soaked in the main area, it was time to tackle the 259 stairs up to the Whispering Gallery.
Regular readers will already be aware of my problems when it comes to heights, so just imagine me emerging from the doorway after trudging up all of these steps, only to come face to face with a sheer 30 metre drop straight down. I won't sugar coat it: I almost shit myself. I literally had to sit down for 10 minutes to wait for my heart to stop racing. Luckily, the ceiling of the dome has been meticulously painted and adorned with sculptures, so I at least had something nice to look at.
But that wasn't the highlight of this area! The Whispering Gallery is, as its name suggests, an area of the dome where you're able to hear the whispers of other people from practically anywhere else in the massive circular room. Aside from the many other stupid tourists shouting at the wrong part of the walls, the effect is amazing - you really are able to hear people from all around the walls as though they're almost there next to you.
Having calmed down a little, I braved the edge of the barrier to take a look at the lower level from up high, then continued up the next set of 119 stairs to reach the Stone Gallery - 53 metres above the Church floor. This area is on the outside of the dome, giving you a pretty good vantage point to look over the city. It also had a massive stone and steel fence protecting me from going over the edge, so I wasn't quite as panicked here.
Finally, I tackled the final 152 stairs (for a total of 530) to reach the Golden Gallery. Now 85 metres from the Church floor, I originally expected this area to be enclosed within the very top of the dome, as there's another section you can see up the top from the Whispering Gallery. But no - it's another outdoor area, except this time there's only a small metal fence protecting you from becoming a messy splat on the pavement. There was a small kid up here with me who was bawling his eyes out - I knew exactly how he felt.
After spending a few minutes cowering in the doorway, I plucked up enough courage to head out on to the balcony and take a few pictures of the horizon. Admittedly, it was a sensational view, but I was far too petrified to truly enjoy it so I took the stairs back down as soon as I could.
Downstairs, below the Church floor, is the Crypt. This is where lots of important people throughout history are commemmorated, including Lord Nelson, Winston Churchill, Florence Nightingale and the amazing architect himself, Christopher Wren. I probably spent a good 30 minutes wandering around in here, but by the end I was merely glancing at the epitaphs than reading them. The most recent one I saw was from 2001.
That's basically it, really. I'm sure that those with faith will happily talk up St Paul's Cathedral as some sort of evidence that the divine spirit touched everyone who helped to create it, blah blah blah. That's fine. Myself, I see it as an amazing monument to human achievement, which made it well worth visiting.
Before I left in the morning, Lee and I had arranged to meet up for lunch as I was going to be near where he worked. Upon leaving the Cathedral, I turned on my phone so he could call and discovered I already had a voice mail message. Having run out of phone credit a week earlier, I wasn't able to call him back or even SMS. The best I could do was wait until he called. In the meantime, I walked back to Bank station.
When I arrived, I checked my phone and found I'd missed two calls already - stupid phones! I had no way of contacting him myself, all I could do was wait and hope he tried one last time. Just as I was about to give up hope, the phone rang and I was on my way to lunch!
After a nice pub meal, I went back to wandering the streets but it wasn't long before I could barely keep my eyes open so I headed back to the flat. After grabbing some groceries, I put my key in the front door - and then slammed straight into it. My key wasn't working, which was odd considering I've never had a problem with it before. I couldn't call Lee as I had no phone credit, so not knowing what to do I decided to just park myself on the steps and hope someone would turn up soon. Thankfully Margaret arrived quickly and, even better, she had a key to the second lock!
The next day, I requested an early-morning 'kick me out of bed' call from Lee so I'd be able to do my sight-seeing at a more sensible hour. This time, I was out the door by 10.00am and made it to church on time, as it were.
Now, let me say it clear and loud out front: I am an athiest, I do not believe in any God or higher power or any other religious hocus pocus. My main interest in seeing the Cathedral was to inspect its architectural and artistic achievements, of which I was not disappointed.
There appears to be a common theme running through a lot of the historic buildings on this side of the world: more, more and more. Everything is decorated, be it the walls, the ceilings, pillars, sometimes even the floors. It doesn't always work - I thought Cardiff Castle was overdone, as one example - and I'm not convinced it all works at St Paul's.
The sculptures are all very impressive, but to be honest I was most impressed by some of the more mundane features of the building. For example, a closer inspection of one of the pillars revealed an incredible amount of detail that must have been a complete nightmare to carve.
Having soaked in the main area, it was time to tackle the 259 stairs up to the Whispering Gallery.
Regular readers will already be aware of my problems when it comes to heights, so just imagine me emerging from the doorway after trudging up all of these steps, only to come face to face with a sheer 30 metre drop straight down. I won't sugar coat it: I almost shit myself. I literally had to sit down for 10 minutes to wait for my heart to stop racing. Luckily, the ceiling of the dome has been meticulously painted and adorned with sculptures, so I at least had something nice to look at.
But that wasn't the highlight of this area! The Whispering Gallery is, as its name suggests, an area of the dome where you're able to hear the whispers of other people from practically anywhere else in the massive circular room. Aside from the many other stupid tourists shouting at the wrong part of the walls, the effect is amazing - you really are able to hear people from all around the walls as though they're almost there next to you.
Having calmed down a little, I braved the edge of the barrier to take a look at the lower level from up high, then continued up the next set of 119 stairs to reach the Stone Gallery - 53 metres above the Church floor. This area is on the outside of the dome, giving you a pretty good vantage point to look over the city. It also had a massive stone and steel fence protecting me from going over the edge, so I wasn't quite as panicked here.
Finally, I tackled the final 152 stairs (for a total of 530) to reach the Golden Gallery. Now 85 metres from the Church floor, I originally expected this area to be enclosed within the very top of the dome, as there's another section you can see up the top from the Whispering Gallery. But no - it's another outdoor area, except this time there's only a small metal fence protecting you from becoming a messy splat on the pavement. There was a small kid up here with me who was bawling his eyes out - I knew exactly how he felt.
After spending a few minutes cowering in the doorway, I plucked up enough courage to head out on to the balcony and take a few pictures of the horizon. Admittedly, it was a sensational view, but I was far too petrified to truly enjoy it so I took the stairs back down as soon as I could.
Downstairs, below the Church floor, is the Crypt. This is where lots of important people throughout history are commemmorated, including Lord Nelson, Winston Churchill, Florence Nightingale and the amazing architect himself, Christopher Wren. I probably spent a good 30 minutes wandering around in here, but by the end I was merely glancing at the epitaphs than reading them. The most recent one I saw was from 2001.
That's basically it, really. I'm sure that those with faith will happily talk up St Paul's Cathedral as some sort of evidence that the divine spirit touched everyone who helped to create it, blah blah blah. That's fine. Myself, I see it as an amazing monument to human achievement, which made it well worth visiting.
Before I left in the morning, Lee and I had arranged to meet up for lunch as I was going to be near where he worked. Upon leaving the Cathedral, I turned on my phone so he could call and discovered I already had a voice mail message. Having run out of phone credit a week earlier, I wasn't able to call him back or even SMS. The best I could do was wait until he called. In the meantime, I walked back to Bank station.
When I arrived, I checked my phone and found I'd missed two calls already - stupid phones! I had no way of contacting him myself, all I could do was wait and hope he tried one last time. Just as I was about to give up hope, the phone rang and I was on my way to lunch!
After a nice pub meal, I went back to wandering the streets but it wasn't long before I could barely keep my eyes open so I headed back to the flat. After grabbing some groceries, I put my key in the front door - and then slammed straight into it. My key wasn't working, which was odd considering I've never had a problem with it before. I couldn't call Lee as I had no phone credit, so not knowing what to do I decided to just park myself on the steps and hope someone would turn up soon. Thankfully Margaret arrived quickly and, even better, she had a key to the second lock!
Wednesday 11 April 2007
You Call That a Beach?
I had the whole flat to myself for the Easter weekend: Lee and Margaret were having fun in Paris, Wendy and Nicole had moved into their new flat and the new tenants hadn't moved in yet - so what did I do? Cleaning, of course!
Seeing how I'd been such an inconvenience for the last week, I figured the least I could do was tidy the flat up for when everyone arrived on Monday night. It also gave me a chance to break out the new vacuum cleaner and give it a spin. For some reason I really enjoy doing the vacuuming - I can't really explain why. Please don't ask.
That's not all I did this weekend, though. Last week, when I knew I was coming back to London, I got in touch with Kylie to ask if she wanted to catch up. The next day I realised this wasn't going to be a good idea, so I rang her to explain - to which she offered to take me to see Brighton on Saturday! So that's what we did.
One early morning train ride later (plus a short walk) and we'd arrived by the seaside. I've seen pictures of Brighton before so I knew what to expect, but it really is a strange (foreign?) experience to walk on a beach that consists of rocks. There were no waves either, which made it even stranger still - the beaches in Newcastle are the complete opposite.
The weather forecast for the day had been 20 degrees and sunny, but for most of the day it was quite cloudy and cool. This, compounded with the fact that it was Easter Saturday, meant that the crowds were out in droves. By lunch time, the beach and surrounding streets were thickly spread with people trying their best to soak in what sun there was.
As it turns out, I think the main reason Kylie was so keen to go to Brighton was to do some photography. Seeing how this has been my latest hobby while I've been away, I can't exactly complain because this is what I wanted to do as well. We wandered up and down the beach taking snaps of various things and occasionally chuckling at some of the sights we saw on the beach - sunbathers, mainly.
One of the things I experimented with during the day was trying to create some high dynamic range (HDR) photos, which is a fairly recent technique I've been messing about with the last week or so. Basically, you take the same photo with different exposure settings and use some very clever software to piece them together into one single stunning image. You really, really need a tripod to be able to do them properly, but I don't have one (yet) so I had to make do with any flat surfaces I could find that pointed at something interesting.
After some lunch, an ice cream and a big long walk up, around and through the pier, we decided to beat the crowds and head back to the flat. Having extolled the virtues of HDR photography to Kylie all day, it came as a bit of a disappointment when we viewed the final results. It wasn't a complete bust, but it looks like I still have a lot to learn as they didn't turn out quite as well as I'd hoped.
The rest of the weekend was quiet, as I started contemplating my next trip. I thought I might go on a tour this time, just to see what it's like compared to going it on my own. I've decided on a 10 day tour of Ireland that includes almost all expenses - sounds good to me. The only problem is that it leaves from Dublin, so I have to figure out a way of getting there.
Seeing how I'd been such an inconvenience for the last week, I figured the least I could do was tidy the flat up for when everyone arrived on Monday night. It also gave me a chance to break out the new vacuum cleaner and give it a spin. For some reason I really enjoy doing the vacuuming - I can't really explain why. Please don't ask.
That's not all I did this weekend, though. Last week, when I knew I was coming back to London, I got in touch with Kylie to ask if she wanted to catch up. The next day I realised this wasn't going to be a good idea, so I rang her to explain - to which she offered to take me to see Brighton on Saturday! So that's what we did.
One early morning train ride later (plus a short walk) and we'd arrived by the seaside. I've seen pictures of Brighton before so I knew what to expect, but it really is a strange (foreign?) experience to walk on a beach that consists of rocks. There were no waves either, which made it even stranger still - the beaches in Newcastle are the complete opposite.
The weather forecast for the day had been 20 degrees and sunny, but for most of the day it was quite cloudy and cool. This, compounded with the fact that it was Easter Saturday, meant that the crowds were out in droves. By lunch time, the beach and surrounding streets were thickly spread with people trying their best to soak in what sun there was.
As it turns out, I think the main reason Kylie was so keen to go to Brighton was to do some photography. Seeing how this has been my latest hobby while I've been away, I can't exactly complain because this is what I wanted to do as well. We wandered up and down the beach taking snaps of various things and occasionally chuckling at some of the sights we saw on the beach - sunbathers, mainly.
One of the things I experimented with during the day was trying to create some high dynamic range (HDR) photos, which is a fairly recent technique I've been messing about with the last week or so. Basically, you take the same photo with different exposure settings and use some very clever software to piece them together into one single stunning image. You really, really need a tripod to be able to do them properly, but I don't have one (yet) so I had to make do with any flat surfaces I could find that pointed at something interesting.
After some lunch, an ice cream and a big long walk up, around and through the pier, we decided to beat the crowds and head back to the flat. Having extolled the virtues of HDR photography to Kylie all day, it came as a bit of a disappointment when we viewed the final results. It wasn't a complete bust, but it looks like I still have a lot to learn as they didn't turn out quite as well as I'd hoped.
The rest of the weekend was quiet, as I started contemplating my next trip. I thought I might go on a tour this time, just to see what it's like compared to going it on my own. I've decided on a 10 day tour of Ireland that includes almost all expenses - sounds good to me. The only problem is that it leaves from Dublin, so I have to figure out a way of getting there.
Friday 6 April 2007
Unscheduled Downtime
It's been a week, but I'm almost back to full capacity. My little bug ended up being a full-blown cold, so I've been holed up in the corner of Lee and Margaret's place with a runny nose and a box of tissues, trying my best not to annoy my extremely gracious hosts (and their guests).
I'd already been warned that this week was going to be a busy one in the flat and it would be inconvenient for me to be here, so I felt guilty as hell when my one or two days turned out to be a week. I'm going to feel even worse if anyone else ends up catching what I had - I'm already apologising profusely if I see anyone sneezing or blowing their nose.
Scaling back the clock a bit, on Saturday night we took in a musical. While I was away in Cardiff, I "borrowed" a book at one of the hostels called Wicked - the real story of the Witches of Oz. I enjoyed it a lot, so I was quite interested in seeing the musical (which was based on the book).
The show itself was quite enjoyable, with some spectacular sets and a great cast, including Nigel Planer as the Wizard of Oz and Miriam Margolyes as Madame Morrible (whose last night it was). There were huge liberties taken with the original story, but overall it was quite fun. I definitely think there's a certain mindset you need to be in to truly enjoy these kinds of musical though - by this time, though, my mind was far more concerned with how to stop my nose from running.
Nothing much of interest happened during the week, spending most of my time indoors feeling quite unwell. It's done wonders for my daily spending average, at least.
Tonight, on the other hand, was the reason I had to be back in London by, well, tonight. A few days after I arrived here, I found out Kevin Smith was doing a couple of Q&A sessions in London. When I mentioned it to Lee and Margaret, it was quickly decided we were going.
As a long term fan of Kevin Smith (I blame him and thank him for getting me fired from my post-high school job, working in a 24 hour petrol station), I was lucky enough to have caught one of his shows last year when he made his first trip to Australia, pimping Clerks 2. I liked it enough to want to go again.
The show got off to a blue beginning as one of the girls further back in the line was beckoned to the mic; first, to hear her sex talk in a British accent, and then to be probed about her proclivities in the anal department. Kevin is fascinated by the accent and is, apparently, quite keen to see some British porn - even asking couples in the audience if they'd be willing to go at it if he could just listen in. At least one couple raised their hands - and I'm almost certain they would've done it, too.
My memory has never been spectacular, so I've already forgotten a lot of the stories he told, but one that clearly sticks in my mind as the highlight of the night involved his dogs Mulder, Scully and Shecky. He began explaining how he came to own each one: Scully, the first, being a test of he and his wife's parenting skills; Mulder, as a cure to the rampant stupidity of Scully caused by excessive in-breeding; and, finally, Shecky, a miniature dachshund that was purchased by Kevin and his daughter, apparently, just to make fun of.
What began as an endearing tale of dog ownership quickly turned into a fascinating and disturbingly lurid tale of canine debauchery, perpetrated by the least likely of the Smith animal clan - I'm not sure I'm going to be able to look at dachshunds ever again the same way.
One very pleasant surprise came part-way through the show as Kevin's little girl, Harley, suddenly appeared on-stage to give her dad a massive hug - apparently, she missed him while she was out so her mum brought her by to see him (and wow, his wife is absolutely stunning in the flesh). Without skipping a beat, Kevin started proxying questions to his girl, such as what her favourite dinosaur was - a question already asked of Kevin earlier (she didn't know). She then took up the seat set up on the stage for a little while before heading off with her mum.
When I found out about the Q&As in London, it did strike me as being a little random as to why he was doing them at this time. As it turns out, the Smiths were in London so Harley could visit her best friend who is staying over here - who just happens to be Johnny Depp's daughter. He figured that, while he was over here, he might as well do something useful as opposed to sitting in his hotel room watching British porn.
The only other highlights I can remember:
- A final follow-up to the 3AM Girls incident, where one of said girls displayed her true hypocrisy by asking Kevin if he ever considered his comments might actually be hurtful to the people he's roasting.
- A very detailed description of just how much he disliked Superman Returns, including an explanation of the movie's most glaring plot hole, before declaring Superman both an emo and a rapist.
- The horror script isn't written yet, but is planned to be more visual and less dialogue dependant than his usual movies. He also cited Race With the Devil as a contemporary for his idea. And it will have gore.
- His new comedy script is finished, or close to it.
- Clerks: Sell Out has been put off due to The Weinstein Company's reluctance to fork out for the rights from Miramax. Instead, a new animated movie idea is on the burner.
Tonight's show was much shorter than the one I saw in Melbourne, which went on well past midnight but did also include a screening of Clerks 2. Tonight was wrapped up at 11pm. I think I enjoyed this show a little better as there were far fewer idiots asking stupid questions and taking too long at the mic (although tonight wasn't free of this either).
Unfortunately, I pussied out again and didn't get up to ask a question (and I had a good one this time), but as it turns out I wouldn't have had the chance anyway as there were still plenty of people lining up when the night was wrapped. Maybe next time.
Back to reality, Kylie is taking me to Brighton this weekend so I can see the English seaside. I'm looking forward to it a lot, and not just for the day out.
I've also been contacted by a German magazine to ask for permission to use one of my photos in one of their upcoming issues. My first thought was that I haven't posted any photos that a German magazine might be interested in, but when they got back to me to tell me which one they wanted it all became a lot clearer.
Pretty happy with the offer: no cash (this time), but not only do they print my photo but also a portrait of me as well as a description I get to write. The last time I was featured in a magazine was when I was co-editor of the Celluloid Superheroes mag I worked on, so it's good to be back in the printed media.
Finally, just in case anyone reads this for the Kevin Smith coverage: his favourite dinosaur is the velociraptor because it can open doors.
I'd already been warned that this week was going to be a busy one in the flat and it would be inconvenient for me to be here, so I felt guilty as hell when my one or two days turned out to be a week. I'm going to feel even worse if anyone else ends up catching what I had - I'm already apologising profusely if I see anyone sneezing or blowing their nose.
Scaling back the clock a bit, on Saturday night we took in a musical. While I was away in Cardiff, I "borrowed" a book at one of the hostels called Wicked - the real story of the Witches of Oz. I enjoyed it a lot, so I was quite interested in seeing the musical (which was based on the book).
The show itself was quite enjoyable, with some spectacular sets and a great cast, including Nigel Planer as the Wizard of Oz and Miriam Margolyes as Madame Morrible (whose last night it was). There were huge liberties taken with the original story, but overall it was quite fun. I definitely think there's a certain mindset you need to be in to truly enjoy these kinds of musical though - by this time, though, my mind was far more concerned with how to stop my nose from running.
Nothing much of interest happened during the week, spending most of my time indoors feeling quite unwell. It's done wonders for my daily spending average, at least.
Tonight, on the other hand, was the reason I had to be back in London by, well, tonight. A few days after I arrived here, I found out Kevin Smith was doing a couple of Q&A sessions in London. When I mentioned it to Lee and Margaret, it was quickly decided we were going.
As a long term fan of Kevin Smith (I blame him and thank him for getting me fired from my post-high school job, working in a 24 hour petrol station), I was lucky enough to have caught one of his shows last year when he made his first trip to Australia, pimping Clerks 2. I liked it enough to want to go again.
The show got off to a blue beginning as one of the girls further back in the line was beckoned to the mic; first, to hear her sex talk in a British accent, and then to be probed about her proclivities in the anal department. Kevin is fascinated by the accent and is, apparently, quite keen to see some British porn - even asking couples in the audience if they'd be willing to go at it if he could just listen in. At least one couple raised their hands - and I'm almost certain they would've done it, too.
My memory has never been spectacular, so I've already forgotten a lot of the stories he told, but one that clearly sticks in my mind as the highlight of the night involved his dogs Mulder, Scully and Shecky. He began explaining how he came to own each one: Scully, the first, being a test of he and his wife's parenting skills; Mulder, as a cure to the rampant stupidity of Scully caused by excessive in-breeding; and, finally, Shecky, a miniature dachshund that was purchased by Kevin and his daughter, apparently, just to make fun of.
What began as an endearing tale of dog ownership quickly turned into a fascinating and disturbingly lurid tale of canine debauchery, perpetrated by the least likely of the Smith animal clan - I'm not sure I'm going to be able to look at dachshunds ever again the same way.
One very pleasant surprise came part-way through the show as Kevin's little girl, Harley, suddenly appeared on-stage to give her dad a massive hug - apparently, she missed him while she was out so her mum brought her by to see him (and wow, his wife is absolutely stunning in the flesh). Without skipping a beat, Kevin started proxying questions to his girl, such as what her favourite dinosaur was - a question already asked of Kevin earlier (she didn't know). She then took up the seat set up on the stage for a little while before heading off with her mum.
When I found out about the Q&As in London, it did strike me as being a little random as to why he was doing them at this time. As it turns out, the Smiths were in London so Harley could visit her best friend who is staying over here - who just happens to be Johnny Depp's daughter. He figured that, while he was over here, he might as well do something useful as opposed to sitting in his hotel room watching British porn.
The only other highlights I can remember:
- A final follow-up to the 3AM Girls incident, where one of said girls displayed her true hypocrisy by asking Kevin if he ever considered his comments might actually be hurtful to the people he's roasting.
- A very detailed description of just how much he disliked Superman Returns, including an explanation of the movie's most glaring plot hole, before declaring Superman both an emo and a rapist.
- The horror script isn't written yet, but is planned to be more visual and less dialogue dependant than his usual movies. He also cited Race With the Devil as a contemporary for his idea. And it will have gore.
- His new comedy script is finished, or close to it.
- Clerks: Sell Out has been put off due to The Weinstein Company's reluctance to fork out for the rights from Miramax. Instead, a new animated movie idea is on the burner.
Tonight's show was much shorter than the one I saw in Melbourne, which went on well past midnight but did also include a screening of Clerks 2. Tonight was wrapped up at 11pm. I think I enjoyed this show a little better as there were far fewer idiots asking stupid questions and taking too long at the mic (although tonight wasn't free of this either).
Unfortunately, I pussied out again and didn't get up to ask a question (and I had a good one this time), but as it turns out I wouldn't have had the chance anyway as there were still plenty of people lining up when the night was wrapped. Maybe next time.
Back to reality, Kylie is taking me to Brighton this weekend so I can see the English seaside. I'm looking forward to it a lot, and not just for the day out.
I've also been contacted by a German magazine to ask for permission to use one of my photos in one of their upcoming issues. My first thought was that I haven't posted any photos that a German magazine might be interested in, but when they got back to me to tell me which one they wanted it all became a lot clearer.
Pretty happy with the offer: no cash (this time), but not only do they print my photo but also a portrait of me as well as a description I get to write. The last time I was featured in a magazine was when I was co-editor of the Celluloid Superheroes mag I worked on, so it's good to be back in the printed media.
Finally, just in case anyone reads this for the Kevin Smith coverage: his favourite dinosaur is the velociraptor because it can open doors.
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