Showing posts with label Getting from A to B. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Getting from A to B. Show all posts

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Retrospective #10 - Ooooh la la


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I went to Paris with my sister and brother in November when they came to visit. I loooooved it. I'm not sure anyone could hate Paris. How the hell could you?

I was getting so ridiculously french while I was there. I had a glass of champagne before every meal as an apertif, bought red lipstick and wore high heels every day.

I accompanied my sister shopping, and in turn took them to the European photography museum and went to a cool little tea house. We also ate some kickass Vietnamese and Japanese food, and had a totally luxe 3 Michelin star lunch at Hotel Le Bristol where the pre G20 summit meetings were being held and we saw Gordon Brown. I sat up straight, wore a skirt and ate 9 courses for lunch.

I also had a sneaky lunch of escargots and french onion soup by myself!

These are some highlights from the mobile phone. I took my Fish eye camera but most of the photos are real duds.



The Chosen one - street art in Paris



OMG. Macarons and other assorted cavity inducing perfections at Pierre Herme.
I had a citrus tart for breakfast and I was not ashamed.



Escargots



The 11 Commandments of living in Paris


Garden of Luxembourg

Garden of Luxembourg


Garden of Luxembourg

Playing peekaboo with the Eiffel Tower


Dream come true






Friday, August 5, 2011

I like to move it, move it.

I wish

a) it was me in this video
b) alternatively me, and the boy in this video, together
c) alternative number 2; I had helped make this video

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Watch it full screen.

Seamless. Amazing. Enviable.

Monday, January 24, 2011

A travel to do list

Lonely Planet recently published an article called "10 Essential stops for Europe first timers".

Basically the list is below, and I just felt like crossing off some of the places where I have been already and recording it.

LONDON - been, and wouldn't mind going back but not going out of my way
PARIS - to do
BARCELONA - done, and still want to go do more
ROME - done, and will go back again one day for Pompeii and more
VIENNA - to do
BUDAPEST - to do
BERLIN - done, and want to move there, but not now
DUBROVNIK - to do
ATHENS - to do, but more keen on the islands
ISTANBUL - to do, but more keen on the beaches

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Don't think. Just do.

Amsterdam today, Zurich and St. Gallen tomorrow.

Booked my ticket yesterday afternoon on a whim, after a day and a half of some internal debate.

8.30pm train, 12 hours of travel.

3 days with Laura in her home town.

Back on Monday morning - I will literally get off the train and go straight to work.





Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Kudos to me

Tuesday 11th May, 19:03pm

I find myself at the beginning of a 15-20 minute cycling journey on Laura's mountain bike, in 6 degree weather, with the wind blowing a gale, and fat, blobby rain hammering my whole body, as I try to get from my house in the West to a restaurant in the North.

I have been advised that it has no sign, no buses get there, nor trams, and it is is only distinguishable by it's admirable architecture, as it is built on stilts over the River Ij.

I am wearing a little black dress, stockings and high heels, a scarf and my paddington bear coat.

I am also, running very late for this four course dinner with a bunch of strangers, that was supposed to commence at 7pm.

If I'm not giving it everything I've got to put myself out there in this city and make it work, I don't know what you would call this.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Train mishap# 432

8.12 am
-3 degrees

I am frantically boarding the train to Den Haag, via Schipol, I've just made it with seconds to spare. Usually I get off at Schipol and transfer to the train to Hoofddorp. I am sweaty, puffing, but smug, I am going to be on time... nee, EARLY this monday morning. Yes! Life is good.

8.22 am
Amsterdam Sloterdijk station: Announcement.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Please depart the train here to change trains to Amsterdam Zuid, and Station RAI. A special announcement; this train is making an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today, an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today."

Hmmm... Did he just say what I think he said?

8.29 am
Amsterdam Leylaan station: Announcement.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Please ensure you take all your belongings with you as you depart this train. A special announcement; this train is making an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today, an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today."

Ok, it was definitely clear that time. Today is my lucky day! No need to transfer.

8.35 am
Schipol : Announcement.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Amsterdam Schipol International airport. A special announcement; this train is making an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today, an extra special stop at Hoofddorp today."

Ok, I need to be sure about this. I am NOT, repeat, NOT going to Hoorn or Leiden this morning, or Den Haag. I am GOING TO MAKE IT TO WORK.

I turn to the guy next to me;
"Did he just say that this train is going to be stopping at Hoofddorp today?"

"Yes, he did"

"Ok, great thanks."

8.40am
Train approaches Hoofddorp station and slows slightly, and then speeds up again. I am standing at the doors waiting for the train to stop, and notice there doesn't seem to be any intention for the train to actually cease moving.

8.41am
"Ladies and Gentlemen: we've decided not to stop at Hoofddorp station today. We'll be letting you off at the next stop where you can board the next train back to Hoofddorp."


8.45am
-4.5 degrees

I am standing at a train stop (not even a station, it's a platform with a sign post in the middle) in the middle of nowhere, amongst snow covered fields, continuing my mental cursing of NS - the dutch rail company- the train driver, his wife, his dog, and any children he might have, vowing that I will seek his name, and start mastering a grand plan for him to be dumped at this very train stop at 3 in the morning, in nothing but his little train driver hat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen: The next train to Hoofddorp will not be arriving until 9am. We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause you."

Late when I was meant to be early, on the morning my boss comes back from holidays, and cold. Oh so cold.

Fuck You NS. Fuck You.

Monday, December 28, 2009

I know I look about 16, but....

Cathay Pacific Flight CX 272 - AMS - HKG

(1.5 hours into the flight)

Me: May I have another glass of champagne please? (staring at my third empty glass)
Flight atttendant: Certainly Miss Rani**...(pause) You are over 18 right?
Me: Errrr,Yes.
Flight attendant: Great, here's a top up.

What I really wanted to say was "Yes, I'm actually 27, I've just never been in Business Class before, so just keep the champagne flowing."

** After mulitple attempts at trying to say my last name, I told her to forget about it and just call me Rani.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

I just got upgraded to business class to hong kong

Just thought you should all know

A letter to the Universe on a strange Christmas Eve

Dear Universe

I know I'm running late this morning, and I have a very important flight to catch.
I know I'm always running late to everything, no matter how significant the occasion.
I know I shouldn't be blogging but I thought there are some things you might want to know.

I woke up this morning to look outside my window and see light snowfall. Again, wow. Snowfall on Christmas Eve? Thanks. You really turned it on for me before I left Europe.

As I frantically pack a host of Summer clothes, I wonder if I am going to fit into many of them, seeing as I moved here with them, and I know that the dutch comfort food has slightly eroded my metabolism. (That, I ain't so thankful for.)

I'm off to the tropics, to the big bad city of Jakarta, and it's going to be quite the culture shock.
Before I leave, and spend 24 hours that I'm never going to get back experiencing the human equivalent of physical limbo in a tin can, just wanna say, thanks for everything so far.

I'll leave Amsterdam shortly, and when I get back it will be the very beginning of 2010.

What I've experienced in Amsterdam is always surprising, often overwhelming, and mostly a little random. But I'm always safe, and always have the basic necessities at hand, and moreso, I found one of the best friends I'm ever going to have in my life, to experience it with.

I could reel off a wishlist that I would like for the new year, but I think I will leave that for later and create my wishlist for the near future instead.

I hope all my family and friends have a fantastic and safe Christmas and New Years, and that they happen to find special moments throughout the whole period with their loved ones. I hope they know I'm thinking of them always, and hope to with them again soon one day.

Look after Amsterdam while I'm gone- perhaps you can allow someone else to tear the town to shreds in my absence.

Love,

Rani ( You know, the one that always talks to you when she's drunk in bar on Thursday nights, mostly screaming "Why?Why? WHY?!". Yeah, her. Sorry.)

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

There's no difference to staggering home drunk, and walking in slushy snow

Because you always end up slipping, sliding, walking in an unpredictable path.

Keen observation for the night.

Another observation is that it's warmer when it's actually snowing, than when it's not snowing, and the skies are clear and the ice all around you, along with the wind, just makes it bitterly cold.

Like last FRIDAY AND SATURDAY night... man, IT WAS COLD.

Minus 15 degrees or something.. 'Twas not fun.

Ok, so a recap on the last week.

Let's start with Wednesday night:

Well, I had my department Christmas dinner at the Hermitage Amsterdam museum (which is a "satellite" branch of the Hermitage museum in St Petersburg - random concept - bringing Russian stuff to Amsterdam, but apparently there are some significant historical ties between St Petersburg and Amsterdam - like did you know the town planning of St Petersburg was loosely based on Amsterdam's town structure? Hah. Bet not... well either did I really.)

My bosses had organised for a tour of the museum for an hour, and then dinner in the museum restaurant.

The tour was fascinating, with genuine restored Russian army uniforms and portraits and interiors like vases and arm chairs, but it was the gowns that were the most interesting part for me.... Gorgeous, delicate, intricate, over the top, emboridered, feathered, bustiered, non bustiered, flowing, sequined, gowns.... luscious to look at.

Just to put it into perspective, good meals in Amsterdam at a reasonable price are few and far between, and even if the restaurant is expensive, there are no guarantess that the food will be any decent, because of the whole "Tourist city" thing...but this restaurant was spectacular! I was feeling very lucky to be dining there with my workmates.




Me, Matthijs and Evelien a little bit tipsy after dinner

First course; pan seared scallops, with cauliflower foam, and then second course was roast partridge with lentils and a witlof something or rather, and then vanilla rice pudding with caramel sauce, topped off with french white and red and port at the end.... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. Bliss.

I topped off the night by "checking in" to Pia and Romain's houseboat, which I am housesitting for a week, before I head to Indonesia for Christmas, and then when I get back, I am living here for a month. It is Amazing.

The first night I was here, I dreamt that I was swaying and I couldn't figure out why, until I realised that "Duh, you're on a boat!"

This beautiful, old boat, sits on a canal, 2 minutes away from Heinekenplein, which is a really really central part of town. It's a 5 minute walk to Rokin which is an arterial street in the centre, and Rembrandstplein, which is a bar area. The canal street itself is cobblestoned, lined with trees, old Amsterdam townhouses, and lightposts.





The canal at the moment is nearly frozen, but not quite, with ducks, swans and storks just hanging out, by the kitchen window, waiting for scraps or just hanging out on the boat itself.

Pia's a stylist, so the boat is just beautifully cosy, and just such an intimate little space that is full of love. I am glad to be chilling out here, in this floating respite amongst the madness that Christmas time and the snow chaos can bring. I saw my first snowfall from the kitchen windows of this boat, and it was more perfect than words can describe.

I keep meaning to bring my camera everywhere, but I just haven't!! The city looks so pretty, but my battery camera is dead and I can't find the Australian adapter that goes with it to charge it.

Anyway, I digress. So, that was Wednesday night. Thursday morning, I woke up, almost in rage with the lack of light, because it felt like 4 am. I thought nothing of walking out the front door of the boat for work, and literally almost slipped into the canal, and then looked around and realised that everything was covered in snow! I was sooooo excited!!

I literally walked down the street, skipping (almost), down the dimly lit cobbled street, when I saw a guy letting his dog out. This little bull terrier came trotting over to me, sniffed my feet, and I sort of smiled, and the guy said something in dutch. Usually I would give a polite smile and keep walking, but I just sort of walked over and said "Sorry?" and he laughed and he switched to english and he said "Oh, I was just saying that it's the first time he's seen snow." and I grinned and I said "Me too!!" and then turned and kept skipping.

At the office, I watched the snow fall all day, and I didn't want to be indoors. I went out for a walk at lunch, and shuffled my feet in it, drew my name in it with my feet, and did lots of slipping and sliding.

On Thursday night, Laura and I got Italian takeaway from a great place near the boat, (Oven baked swordfish with tomatoes, and spinach; Spinach ravioli with eggplant...and 2 bottles of Chianti) and we had our last girls night for the year, before she went to Switzerland.

On Friday night, I cooked dinner for my friends Leon and Sam and we went to a birthday party in about 15 minutes cycle from the boat, on the west side, at a bar area/park called Westerpark. Cool bar where they play swing, zoot suit music mixed up with some other stuff. On arrival, I immediately felt the vast difference in temperature inside and outside. It had to be minus 5 outside and 35 degrees inside. I felt so overdressed in jeans and a thermal, thermal, thermal and a black long sleeved top and boots, all the dutch girls were swanning around in teeshirts, and nice tops, and skirts with stockings, and berets. I immediately went to the toilet and took off 3 layers, and my thermal stockings because I felt like a retard. Even minus the layers I still felt like a frigid nun.

The after party at 4 am was at a really seedy, small dutch brown bar where the leathery dutch bar maid was dressed in a backless top, frosted pink lipstick, and highly teased blonde hair, and she looked like she had been raised in the bar, probably had her first drink suckling from a bottle of Grolsch on the bar stool I was sitting on. The cycle home was ATROCIOUS, despite my many layers, if it had taken any longer I would have purposely just run into a car so an ambulance would have had to take me somewhere as opposed to cycling for any longer.

Leon and I stayed up until about 6 in the morning, drinking wine and talking crap. He crashed out on the boat, and I had the thermostat up quite high apprently (it's quite tempermental), and when I looked at the clock the next day, it was 3.40pm. I bolted upright and called over to Leon who was crashing on the day bed;

"Leon!! It's almost 4 o'clock!! I had to be at brunch at 1!!"

Shit. Who missed brunch from sleeping in ALL afternoon?! My day was just getting started at 4pm, which was quite the concern.

The day was so dark, it was so hot inside, it was like we had created a tropical island in the middle of the artic, and the warmth and cosiness had fooled us into believing it was mid morning still. We then spent the afternoon, eating omelette, drinking tea, and listening to music.

On Sunday, Karl came over to the boat, where we sank some red wine, and then dragged ourselves outside for Christmas shopping. But all the shops were closed ( we got carried away drinking red wine I guess) and so we went to another couple of bars and hung out.

The ground was in this weird "it hasn't snowed for an hour so the snow is kind of melting and people have been treading over it all day so now it's grey slush/puddles" phase, and I literally slipped every 30 seconds. Karl eventually insisted I hang on to his arm the entire evening if we were walking together somewhere because after the 3 time I fell over, he felt like he might need to help the retarded Australian girl that had never seen snow, or clearly, ever learnt how to walk in snow. Even after I clung to his arm, I managed to fall 3 times again, and take him down with me once.

Overall, such a lovely weekend on the boat. Perfect for friends and chit chats and watching the day pass and the snow fall!

I hear a rumour that it's supposed to snow another TWENTY centimetres of snow tomorrow! Hahha - awesome. If it only snowed 5cms today, and the train system was wrecked, perhaps I just couldn't possibly make it to work tomorrow - lucky I brought my laptop home then. Tee hee.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Initial Copenhagen observations


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1.Everyone is fucking beautiful. And cool. Really fucking cool.
2.Everything is fucking expensive.
3.My hostel seems to be deader than a doornail, even though they claim to be full.
4. The Canadian guy that just checked in is a wanker.
5. I want to be back in Helsinki.
6.My phone doesn't work here and it's really fucking me off because I don't know why.
7. I think I am cranky because I'm all alone, even though the sun is shining in Copenhagen and it's a beautiful city, with beautiful people, and beautiful shops and buildings, and I should be happy.
8. I need to do washing and the nearest laundrymat is a 20 minute walk away.
9. The only thing I could smell for about 2 hours after I checked in was cheap men's spray on deoderant because I am sharing a room with 7 boys, and an old American librarian from Denver, Colorado that wanted to share his life history with me as I was settling into the room. Do I sound thrilled? No? Probably because I'm not.
10. As for point 10, apparently this is the only bed that was free for 3 continuous nights. Mixed dorm, poo.
11. I hate my suitcase more than I hate being by myself.
12. Re-reading point number 8 makes me even more annoyed.
13. My ears are still trying to clear themselves up after the bashing they took on the flight over here.
14. KFC still uses their old branding here. It's retro.
15. Burger King are offering hamburgers for 10 DKK. Approx $2.40. I might be on a Burger King diet for the next 3 days as even a hot dog costs twice this much. To put it into perspective, I bought a bus ticket from the airport to the city and it cost 35 DKK, and an ice tea cost me 25 DKK. I spent almost $15 on a bus ticket and a drink. That would have at least got me a hamburger in Helsinki.
16. I acknowledge this has been a whingey post, but I don't care.

Hopefully I will feel better tomorrow after I eat and check out this jazz club at the end of the street.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Party time in Sausage central aka Helsinki


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Helsinki? Hell yeah!

Having had no sleep the night before I left ( i was too nervous I was going to miss my mini cab), it would suffice to say that I was slightly tired when I got to Helsinki, but there's no rest for the wicked, as my friends Outi and Jukka (twin brother and sister) have been showing me a good time here in Helsinki with all of their friends.

On Friday afternoon, Jukka and his friend/Outi's boyfriend, Hannu, picked me up from the airport. I had a little bit of trouble with immigration because they were a bit confused as to why I had a 90 day Schengen Visa in my passport, that started on 7th of August (for my dutch working visa), but I had arrived on the 24th of July. Anyway, not to worry, the nice man let me into his country.

We subsequently got something to eat in Helsinki's town centre, after catching a bus in, and then met another one of their friends, Matti for a couple of drinks.

I wasn't quite sure what I thought about Helsinki when I first got there. Having no knowledge of the city (I have this really bad habit of doing no research of the city I am in until I get there. I wonder if this is the right way to go about travelling? I suspect it might not be.), I wasn't sure at all what to expect. I only had a broad understanding of the history of Finland with their connections to Sweden and Russia. I'm heading out in a little while to check it out more, and form more of an opinion on it. I can comment at this stage that it's green; very very green. Alpine trees, wild rasberries, and lots and lots of foliage. It's beautifully fresh.

Well, one thing is for sure, I learn everyday that I am more naive than I actually think I am. My first expectation was that I was going to be visiting the land of the nordic supermodels, where every single person roaming the streets was going to be a super chic, super hot, blonde, tanned, insert scandanavian steroetypes in here... . After knowing Outi, and Jukka, with their pale blonde hair, and blue eyes, slender frames, and seeing photos of their partners and friends, I was sure that the nordic gods had balanced out their curse of the weirdest seasons known to man, with blessings of a lifetime of always looking like they had effortlessly stepped out of an Armani catalogue.

"You shall see light for 24 hours a day in summer, and then, never again in the winter. But you will all have the faces of angels and bodies that will rival the most renown marble sculptures in all of the art world."

Not everyone looks like them. They just look like... people. Brown hair, red hair, green eyes, brown eyes, tall, short, fat, skinny, Finnish people.

Outi and Hannu threw a little dinner party for me at their apartment on Friday night, and we drank cider, wine and scotch until the wee hours of the morning, before waking up on Saturday a little bit worse for wear.

Hannu, Jukka and their guy friends from their home town (and one of the girl's this year!) were having their annual golfing tournament with their hometown crew, a tradition that stems from about 7 years ago. They headed off for some friendly competition, and Outi and I met some of her girlfriends for a picnic (in the summer everyone takes as much opportunity to head out and bask in some sunshine as much as they can, because come winter, it's "see you later sunshine, hello endless darkness and freezing cold" - thus the picnic here is as common as a barbecue.), before we headed off to do some (alcohol) shopping for our big Saturday night. Because it costs so much to drink here, everyone drinks at home before they go out, so we stocked up on cider, wine, and lemonade for the Pimms that I had bought at Heathrow.

After the golf tournament, the boys have an after party, to be organised by last year's previous winner. This year, the winner this year (and last year), Eric, rented the basement floor of his office building, which just happens to have; a sauna (or three), an olympic sized lap pool, a gym, showers, a kitchen, and a den for drinking. Riiiiiight. We got there at 9.30 pm, and the light was just dying, but still very clear. The sun doesn't set until about midnight here.







I asked if it these were built here so that Eric and his colleagues could have lunch and sauna in their lunch hour. Everyone laughed, and said while the Finnish love their sauna's, that wouldn't be common, although a lot of Finnish men do business in the sauna. Apparently most office buildings have them.

"So, I'd like to buy your accounting firm, and merge it with mine, I'll see to it that no redundancies are made, and the two companies merge seamlessly as one. Let's discuss prices, however, in the meantime, throw some more water onto the heater thingy will you? Ahhh, feel the steam...."

Just after we arrived, Jukka was keen to put on some sausages. Just sausages. No bread, or onions or anything, just sausages. Oh, and mustard from a tube.



Jukka and Outi taught me a saying which is the equivalent to the English saying "Piece of cake."
The Finnish saying is "Easy sausage." I understand why now. There's a massive culture for sausage here. More on that later.

I met all of Jukka and Outi's awesome friends, Vendla, Eric, Sini, Esco, and Kata. The best thing about being here at the moment, is that everyone has been really nice and interested in getting to know me, and it feels really nice to be able to get to know a really great group of friends. Luckily for me as well, they share my twisted and dry sense of humour, which I thought was really interesting, since I'm on the other side of the world, perhaps I expected them to not really get me?

We then headed out to find a good compromise where the boys could drink and talk, and the girls could dance. Perhaps it's a universal thing, but the good old irish pub seemed to do the trick. I can't remember the name of the pub, but it was "something Malone's."

We were out in the beer garden, and just chatting, and this guy came up to me and asked me if I was Australian. I was really surprised, and we got to talking, and it turns out he was from Bendigo. What was more surprising is that his accent was very much part british, part scandanavian, there wasn't a hint of an aussie accent in his voice at all. I had to leave the guy with his Finnish girlfriend afte a few minutes, because the liquor license had changed and at midnight, I couldn't drink outside. I think I was saved by the liquor license, because he was about as interesting as 3pm reruns of 'Different Strokes' during school holidays.

I am ashamed to admit, that the night ended with me rocking out to a rock cover band that were playing Bon Jovi, and ACDC. Oh, the shame. But such a good time. When we left the bar at 3am, the sun had already risen again. Light was breaking.



Walking to the bus station, Outi decided to get a hotdog, and everyone concurred, except me. I stood in line and realised everyone was getting 2 sausages.

"Is that normal here?" i said, looking around and inspecting everyone's hotdogs.
"Yes." Jukka said, walking to the hot dog man and placing his order
"But why? Why do you get 2 sausages? I don't get it." I asked. Jukka shrugged.
The hot dog vendor looked at me in a bored way, and looked me straight in the eye.
"Because one is never enough." he said in a totally deadpan voice.
I just looked at him, and looked at Jukka, and pissed myself laughing.

I would think a few horny girls out there might agree with him. One sausage is never enough. That's why shows like Jerry Springer and Ricki Lake exist. Perhaps my confusion at such a notion of a double sausage hotdog proves that I will never be one of those girls.

Yesterday, everyone woke up late. Outi and Hannu woke up at 4pm, and then we decided to go on another picnic near the ocean, where Jukka met us later. Bliss!








We were there until about 9pm, when it started to get a bit darker and cooler, then we walked home along the bike track and paths in the suburbs. Outi called out to me because she had found a wild rasberry bush. We picked some to eat along our walk home. What a great day!


Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Hollywood Paris?!? ... Oh... You said 'Holyrood Palace'

So after a lovely couple of days in Cambridge, (where I was constantly spoilt with Ellie's cooking), I parted ways with Josh and Ellie, but not before I

a) became the first person to break a piece of their wedding China set... *sigh*

and

b) they took me to lunch at a very picturesque pub called 'The Plough', right next to the River Cam. Or the Cam River. I forget what it's called.

A bottle of rose between us, and some lovely cottage pie (yummm) on the banks of the River Cam, was luuuuuuverly.

Ellie and Josh convinced me to start a restaurant/food blog in conjunction with this blog.So, stay tuned, I am in serious consideration because I think all the 'food porn', (so to speak) on my camera needs to be exhibited somewhere. And I will ATTEMPT to write about the food, and my impressions of the restaurants.

After we concluded lunch, and a little deliberation as to whether we had time for some pudding (Everything dessert in the UK is referred to as Pudding. Whereas in Indonesia, pudding is an agar jelly derived dessert with custard poured on top. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, Stop the train! Stop THE Train! I MUST HAVE PUDDING!!"), they drove me to the train station, and in true Rani tradition, we were cutting it fine for time.

Ellie got me to the train station on time, however, I did almost miss it, due to my curiosity about 'Prawn Cocktail' flavoured Chips, and wanting to capture, not one, but two brands of the damn things on my camera. In my search for a thirst quencher, I chose Strawberry Ribena, from a fridge where sugary juice imitation drinks and sports energy drinks outnumbered spring water, 5:1. I boarded the train, and 2 station transfers and 5 hours later, I was in Edinburgh.

From Cambridge to Ely, I sat next to a girl who worked in London but came from Ely. She worked in research for the Defence Department at their local hospital, for returned soldiers and mental illnesses. She was nice.

Ely to Peterborough, I sat infront of two toffee little teenage girls, wearing pearls and polo, talking about what model of Blackberry phones they were going to buy their boyfriends, and what they were going to sell on ebay that weekend. Meh.

I didn't mind riding the train; admittedly, the scenery was scenic (especially when the train was going through Scotland), however, the train seats were deceivingly uncomfortable. The carriages looked modern but they they were a bit stuffy, and from the untrained eye, the seats looked like the were an ergonomically obsessed person's dream, but they were awkward to lean back into, sit upright in, and slouch in.

I had purchased a 5 pound food voucher over the internet, for 4 pounds. I had bought it in Indonesia, when I had no idea how much anything cost. I thought 5 pounds might have gotten me a spring water and maybe a packet of tic tacs. When I got to the carriage with the bar in it, I asked for a bottle of spring water, and when I tried to pay for it with my voucher, he said I couldn't get change, and I would have to keep buying stuff to use up the voucher.

"Ok, how about a packet of cookies."
"Errm, yes that takes you to 2 pounds."
"Ok, add some cheese and onion chips then."
"3 pounds."
"A twix?"
"Just take a mars bar too." he said, and threw all these items in a shopping bag.

I was gobsmacked. I had just spent $10 on enough junk food to feed a ravished boy scout troop in the midst of a blizzard. Luckily, a little girl was getting on the train with her dad, crying her eyes out.

"What's with all the crying then?" The bar attendant asked her, pinching her cheeks.
Her father rolled his eyes, and said, " She's sick of trains. She liked the first one, but not anymore." She was also carrying a shopping bag of junk food.

"Here you go kid." I said, throwing the mars bar her way. Her eyes grew and the wailing stopped. Her dad looked gratefully at me.

"Better her chubby cheeks growing, rather than my ass." I thought, as I walked off.

At 8:45pm, with the daylight still in full force Fran picked me up from the train station, but not before I paid a visit to the most beautiful public toilets in the UK, at the train station. Fresh cut wildflowers adorned the reception area, and the toilets were pristine.

I managed to catch a conversation between two scottish tweens, and almost got a headache trying to decipher if they were speaking english or some ancient celtic language. Their accents were as thick as minestrone soup.


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Fran lives in the New Town area, as opposed to the Old Town area. She lives a stone's throw from all the major attractions and the town centre, about 5 minutes drive from the train station, and the Royal Mile, and pretty much everything. However, Edinburgh is pretty small, with only 500,000 people, and it's a 20-25 minute drive from one side of the town to the other.

All the buildings in Edinburgh are old. Like dating back to the 17th century in the New Town area, and the 11th - 12th century in the Old Town area. So are a few of the streets, some still narrow, and lined with cobblestone instead of asphalt.I found this both exhilirating and eerie. (More on this later.)

When Fran was driving me to her house, I wondered why there were so many people leaning out of windows, chatting and smoking, on the 2nd and 3rd stories of buildings, thinking that people were living in old banks, and this was quite novel.

Then I got to Fran's house, and she lives in the same type of building, massive, Georgian(??), stone buildings that have been divided into about 6-8 flats.

Her actual flat has ceilings that are about 15 feet high, with tall windows, and 5 bedrooms,kitchen, bathroom, and a gigantic living room.

We spent the night having some drinks, and listening to music, and chatting, before her boyfriend came to pay us a visit.

He asked me what I thought of the castle.

"What castle?" I said, in all seriousness. This is what I said, despite the fact that I had glanced over my guidebook, and it sort of rang a bell.

His face bordered on somewhat disbelief, and amusement.

"You know that massive fortress type building to the right of the train station?" he joked. "You can't miss it."

I furrowed my brow.

"No." I looked at Fran, "You didn't mention any castle, or point anything out when we were driving here."

The next day I realised that he was right, you can't actually miss the bloody thing.

We debated about whether we should go out, then I looked at the clock and realised it was 1 am. But the darkness had only fallen about 2 hours ago.

"All the pubs close at 1am, and all the clubs close at 3am, except for when it's Festival season." Fran said, so we decided to stay in since we were already pretty tipsy anyway.

The next morning, Fran made me breakfast.

She was preparing breakfast with her back to me, and I noticed a plastic wrapper on the dining table. "Genuine Scottish Haggis." I read.

My grip loosened in shock.

Fran turned around.

"Oh, by the way, you're having Haggis."

I started my day with Haggis, poached eggs on toast and bacon.

I quite liked the Haggis. It was sort of peppery and familiar. We mooched around the house a bit in the morning, wondering when the drizzle would stop. Fran advised me that it probably wouldn't. I not so quietly longed for the Australian summer.

Fran than took me for a drive around the Castle, and we walked down the Royal Mile, which is one exact mile from the Castle, and Holyrood Palace.

"Holyrood Palace, that's where the queen stays when she is in town."
"Huh? Why have they named it after somewhere American, and French? I mean, Hollywood Paris? That's weird."
"No Silly. Holy- Rood, PALACE."
"Oh."

Back at Fran's house, we solicited her flat mate to do a shop run while we watched DVDs on a tv show called Peep Show, and I requested a packet of Prawn Cocktail chips.

I report back that they taste like a tarter and sweeter version of Thins Light and
Tangy. I think they are supposed to taste like thousand island dressing, however, I wanted them to taste more like prawn.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Roll out the Red Carpet London, with your grizzly border control and buckets of rain


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13.35 hours on a flight, with a good seat ... I needn't have worried too much, i had the right hand side front row of economy class, right next to the emergency exit... leg room a plenty.

The guy to the right hand side of me struck up a conversation early on in the flight - he was a Pro Rugby League player from New Zealand (but actually Tongan), living in France, playing for their team. He was sweet, and a little bit quiet, but offered to share his french fries from burger king with me. I politely declined. We chatted a little bit. When I told him I was from Adelaide, he told me his girlfriend was from Mount Gambier, and asked me if i knew her.

"Quite possibly..." I mused. We chatted a little bit more, but I quickly tuned into my headphones, not wanting to be stuck in awkward conversation for the next 13 hours.

Otherwise, a very uneventful flight, which was fantastic, however, my only complaint being that my sleeping pills didn't knock me out hard enough. (When I got to London, Michael said "his name wasn't Sunny was it? That guy was in some sort of sex scandal recently..." - come to think of it, He was mumbled his name a little bit when we introduced ourselves, and when i thought long and hard about it, it did sound like Sunny or Sian or something.... hmmmm)

Just as the plane was about to land, the girl to my left struck up a conversation with me. She was pretty nice, from Sydney, she was in publishing but studying psychology and visiting her best friend in London for a month.

When we disembarked the plane, and got to Immigration, I was a trifle concerned that I hadn't memorised Lauren and Michael's address to put on my immigration card. I was no fool, I had seen 'Border Control', I was gearing myself up for a possibly heated inquisition.

I tried to call Lauren from the pay phone at the immigration reception, but it didn't work. The lady overseeing the que told me not to worry, if they really cared, I could just give them Lauren's number, and they would call her for me.

So, stepping up, I was cool, calm and collected, until I saw the woman that was going to be processing my arrival.

"Errrr..hi. I have a slight problem. I don't know the address of where I am staying."

She glared at me.

I awkwardly tried to smile, and continued. " Ah ha, well you see, I am staying with a friend of mine, in Hammersmith."

She was burning a hole through my forehead with that glare.

" Whadchya mean, you dunno where you are stayin? She pickin you up?"
" Uhhh, he he, well, I'm not really sure... our plans were a little loose...(awkward pause) Oh! I have her mobile number here, I just tried to call her and the payphone isn't working, just ask that other lady over there...."
"What are you going to do if she's not here to pick you up?"
"I was going to catch the tube to Hammersmith."
"Then what? You think its safe for a girl like you to be 'angin round a tube stop by youself. What's her name then? This friend of yours?"
I told her.
" How do you know her?"
"We went to highschool together...."
She flicks through my passport. " Where?"
"St Aloysius College?" I muttered, searching for some sort of pathos in her eyes.
She rolled her eyes.
" Yeah, where's that?"
"South Australia....?" I was starting to doubt my own answers.
"So, you planning to work here? It says here that you are an... Advertising person or something?"
"No, no, I'm just here on holiday for 3 weeks, and then I'm off to the Netherlands."
"Right." She sighed.
A momentary glance at me, and silence, before the rustling of passport papers and the thump of a stamp connecting with paper.

I've arrived.

I was slightlt surprised to stroll through customs and see NO ONE there and all the Xray machines turned off. Eeri. It was quite the contrast to Singapore that had body heat scanners at every arrival hall, and scary looking uniformed people, dying to rifle through your luggage. I know I arrived early in the morning (5.45 am) but surely the english are not that lazy that they don't care about disease, contraban, and other nasty surprises that may lurk in one's baggage?

A quick tube ride from the airport to Hammersmith station, and I was welcomed by Lauren's big bright smile, and a walk from the station to her gorgeous flat. On the drizzly walk to her flat (I was stupid to think that Summer here would mean anything other than umbrellas and jumpers),
I loved everything about her suburb from the moment I set eyes on it, however there was a moment where I stopped dead in my tracks. The little park on the way to her house, Brook Green, was so familiar. It was a seriously weird sense of de ja vu, it gave me tingles up and down my spine. I couldn't stop staring at the houses that face the park, I swore that I had been in one of them before.

Anyway, after some gossip, tea and cereal, we headed to her 'high street', where she introduced me to Primark(?) - possibly the cheapest store in the world, filled to the brim with .... STUFF! Lots of STUFF! It was like a trendy Valley Girl meets Target, and it was ridiculously cheap. It was just like the old days, when Lauren and I used to hang out for a full Saturday afternoon in Target and Big W, and spend hours just trying stuff on, flicking through cookbooks and telling each other we were going to go home and make the recipes with full knowledge that neither of us knew how to cook properly, tell each other funny make believe stories about the people that were shopping in the store, trying more stuff on, goading each other to buy stupid shit and buy each other little chocolates, and leave with big smiles on our faces, and little momento of our afternoons.

Then, we went to.... Westfield, about 10 minutes walk from her house.

I found it hilarious, that I had just left the land of the monstrous malls, and arrived to the other side of the world, to in fact, go to another Mall. But I was tired, and didn't want to venture far from home.

Needless to say; Lauren was excited to be there, since it supposed to be a big deal in England since they don't have much of a mall culture (and good on them I say), saying, "Look, a champagne bar, Look, Marks and Spencer.", enthusiastically pointing out all the things that are different to what is in Westfield in Australia. I am so desensitised to Malls and brands after a month in Jakarta, all I wanted to do was go to H&M for the first time, and trawl Top Shop quickly. The rest was just... a mall. But a mall without any fast food places ( so as not to attract unwanted gangs of teenybopper thugs), but what looked to be a very expensive food court. I was more excited that I had found a Pho restaurant inside the mall, than the plethora of designer shoe shops and european and english brands that were around.

As we left Westfield, we met our friend Georgina, and met Michael (Lauren's boyf) halfway home.

"Wow, those clouds look dark", George mused as she looked up.
"Let's beat the rain home" I said, worried about our lack of umbrella.

We didn't make it, and two thirds of the way home, the heavens opened, and poured a bucket of water on us. We stopped at the closes pub, and had a cider each, waiting for the rain to stop.

After a big day out, Lauren made wild mushroom ravioli pasta, and I swiftly fell asleep on the blow up mattress as the others watched 'Katie (Price) and Peter(Andre)' on itv. All in all, what a wonderful introduction to London life!

Monday, July 6, 2009

London Here I come

Changi Airport, T1.

9.10pm: Waiting in line to check in to my flight, I am reasonably concerned about the amount of children I see around me with tired, nonchalant parents. Cranky children. Screaming children. Naughty children. Of all ages. I beg the girl at the counter, for an aisle seat at the back.

She shakes her head.

A window seat.

She shakes her head again, without sympathy. Obviously the screaming broods of infants are getting to her too.

She said she'd talk to her supervisor to see what she can do. I am without hope as she walks across to see another pissed off looking ground crew chick person.

I discover I was right not to hope, when she returns.

Shit out of luck today.

Eventually, I resort to begging her to put me somewhere, ANYWHERE that doesn't have a child within a 6 seat radius of me, at least.

She gives me a thin smile, and just hands me my boarding pass.

I guess there's no chance of an upgrade then, huh?

10.15pm: Deliberating whether to eat or not. I dare say that if I purchase something here it will be the best and most reasonably priced asian food I will have for a long time. Right, having just written that, I am off to get some food.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Aviation jitters


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My parents and I are off to Central Java tomorrow for my mum's high school reunion. (just outside of Jogjakarta.)

I don't care much for going to the reunion, so hoping I get to lay low, and just wander off with my camera somewhere.

I am sure I will find other ways to entertain myself in the city of Javanese arts and culture. Trawling the street markets should be interesting, however, I just spent large at my favourite department store, Metro. Hmmmm.... and I don't think suitcase will be able to take much more. Oh well. Maybe a nick nack or a new pair of earrings or something. Oooohhh, postcards, I will find some cool postcards!

I am slightly concerned that we are flying Garuda, having vowed never to fly Garuda again since about 1999. When I raised this with my parents, they told me that they had chosen wisely, since it was the better of the aviation offerings. I raised my eyebrow at such a dubious statement. They then explained a couple of the budget airlines have recently had a string of ... unnerving incidents.

Better make sure I pack my St Christopher travel charm.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

"This is the final call for Rani to haul ass to Gate 7..."

"You don't need the maracas" my sister said


" I know I don't need them, but I want them..."

Ok, so the urge to take the maracas was clearly the part of Rani that just couldn't leave home without the kitchen sink... or the 29th top... or the blue eyeshadow palette that I have never worn, but thought might be useful, should I need to trade or barter with a drag queen door bitch in my travels (" if you let me into this club for free, i'll give you this limited edition eyeshadow palette with ocean dreams shadow AND turquoise waters....")



Unfortunately I was left with no choice but to leave the maracas, and 9 tops, a belt, 2 eyeshadow palettes, 2 pairs of shoes ( i guess 4 pairs are enough), and a whole lot of other random shit behind with my sister, because the suitcase I said I would not fill to capacity, I actually didn't fill to capacity, but still managed to weigh about 28.9 kilos. My ticket allowed for a generous 23 kilos. I negotiated with the very kind Qantas check in dude to allow me to take 23.6 kilos.



Adelaide to Sydney was pretty uneventful, although i did notice a particularly kind flight attendant called 'James Tongue', who gave me a bottle of water with a wink and a smile after notcing my blotchy, puffy eyes, and noticeably distressed sniffles as i boarded the plane. Note to self; must write to Qantas advising them that he derserves a promotion.



When I got to Sydney Airport,I thought perhaps a breather was in order, and proceeded to go outside where I met a nice couple; Richard and his girlfriend Mel.

"So what do you do when you're not travelling, Rani?"
"I used to work in Advertising." (DAMN, that felt good to say!)
" Oh really? I'm an Account Manager at BWM here in Sydney."

More career chit chat, and it turns out they are going to Bali. A quick exchange of travel tips, and I looked at my watch. Hmmm... 3pm. I do believe I have a flight at 3.50pm. A quick time calculation leads me to offer a rushed goodbye as it dawns on me that my watch is still on Adelaide time, and it's actually 3.30pm . Shit.

I run to immigration, and go through security where a german family of 6 are talking to a security guard about how much water they can take on board, and slowly unpacking their bags. S.L.O.W.L.Y.

Finally I get through security, and make it to the duty free shop, and remember that I promised my little cousins in Singapore some Australian chocolates. No time, so I run for Gate 7. I make it with minutes to spare.

7 hours, 3 bad chick flicks later (2 of which I didn't finish watching), I arrive in Singapore. Hauling my suitcase onto a bus on phase 1 of journey to cousin's house was embarrassing. Mainly because I couldn't do it, and the annoyed bus driver just stared at me until I looked at him helplessly, before he grunted and picked it up and flung it to the middle of the bus. He then told me he only took exact change for the fare, and he didn't distribute change, and I would have to ask the other passengers on the to change my $5 note.

"Does anyone have any change for five dollars?" I mumbled around the bus. Pretty much everyone stared at me, except for a group of three girls in their twenties that kindly fished around in their purses and between them, found me the right money.

Phase 2 meant catching the MRT train to his apartment, where I got off at the right station but couldn't remember what to do after that. Luckily my great sense of direction based on nothing more than the memory of going there about 4 years ago, led me straight to his front door.

Apart from that, I am proud to say that I didn't get lost AT ALL getting to my cousin's apartment. I might be really good at this travelling thing after all.