Day Tripping: Battambang.

Our final stop in Cambodia is the small city of Battambang, pronounced ‘Bat-um-bong’. I had not heard of the place before my visit, and when I arrived I think it was easy to figure out why. There’s not too much going on. but yet again, the lovely people have made it a nice place to visit for the day.

Sunset over the fields.

I didn’t spend too much time in the city itself. We went and had lunch by the water and saw a few of the colonial buildings that the town is known for. During the afternoon we stopped in at the local market. This was a very different experience than the bright and tourist focussed markets of Ho Chi Minh and Siem Reap. Here, the market is dingy, dark and stiflingly hot. I did find a few things to amuse me, in the women’s clothing section there were a range of underwear with padded bums for shape. In Australian ‘shape-wear’ is for sucking all the fat in. I love all of these opposing ideas about beauty, I find it fascinating. A local man (who I will discuss more about later) said to us “Cambodian women want the pale skin and the long nose” he paused and then looked at me and said “you’ve got it!”. All my life I have hated my long nose and inability to tan. It seems that little did I know I was a Cambodian beauty queen. Even the images on advertisements in Asia seem extra unattainable, especially considering how western most of the women look. The have impossibly big eyes, and pale skin. In fact, most skin creams and sun blocks I have seen for sale have whitening ingredients in them. Back to the market: it sold everything, out of the clothes section was bright sparkly jewellery, fabrics and beauty products. As we moved outside we came to the market’s food section. This was a rather confronting experience. big slabs of red meat sat in the sun, whole chickens (heads included) were strewn on a table and were covered in more flies than I have seen in one location, there was also dried fish, fruit piled up on the ground and one of the worst smells I have encountered in my life. A combination of hot vomit and rotting meat. Many Cambodians live without refrigeration, so a place like this is a reality. However, all the hygiene rules I know so well were seemingly abandoned. Culture shock strikes again!

The market.

The tourist highlight of a trip to Battambang is a ride on its famed bamboo train. Flat bed bamboo carriages sit on top of two wheel axles which fly along a single track rail line powered by a small petrol engine. The train was used to transport people and goods across the province. It was a great invention which helped people get from A to B with relative ease. It is still used for getting goods to market, but tourists can take a ride though the jungle too. We sat on cushions that were mildly comfortable and set of on the clicking and clacking track. I seriously felt every track connection as we sped along. I thought we were going really fast, as the bugs were slapping into my face and the wind was blowing my hair, the driver told us we were going about 40ks and hour, which was not nearly as impressive as it felt. As it is a single track you often come face-to-face with other trains. The lighter one (usually judged by the number of people on board) is quickly disassembled and the passengers hop off to let the other one pass. Then the train is put back together and the journey continues. Very fun. I even saw some fireflies as the sun set.

Going too fast to take a good photo.

But my highlight in Battambang was going to the homes of the people (invited of course). We visited two houses that were called ancient by their owners. One was 87 and the other 93 years old. So not too ancient by my standards, but lovely all the same. We also met a man and his family who offer a traditional Cambodian dinner of eggplant fritters, Amok, Banana flower salad, curry, rice and mangoes at their home just outside the city limits of Battambang. The home dinner was delicious. We ate ourselves into food comas on what was, probably unsurprisingly, the best Cambodian food I have tried. But he was the real highlight, a charming and funny guy, who really believes that it is tourism that will help the Cambodian people escape poverty. He told a story about his previous job as a moto-taxi driver; about 15 years ago he met a Swedish backpacker who asked him if he spoke English and if he could show her around the town. She paid him $6 for his trouble, enough to fill his petrol tank and feed his family. From there he was inspired by what had happened and the possibility of the tourist trade and now he does small tours of the area, cooking classes and dinners in his home. He was an interesting guy. He led discussions in everything from arranged marriages, HIV, ghosts, beauty (which led to his admiration of my ample nose), tourism, family, love, Cambodian customs and a whole manner of things. He was great. At the end of the night he offered me a glass of snake whisky. After trying spider whisky in Phnom Penh I was a little apprehensive, but I can safely say that snake whisky is much nicer than spider. It was very smooth.

Our gracious hosts.

A few highlights in Battambang which had very little to do with the town itself. I enjoyed meeting the people and admiring their ingenuity.

Croatia Sailing.

This entry is particularity hard to write. Not just because most of the week that I cruised from Dubrovnik to Split there was a fair bit of booze flowing, but because it’s hard to tell this story. It is too personal for this blog. It is too full of in-jokes that no-one will really get, but will still make me smile in the years to come.

Our noble vessel.

I genuinely have great affection for everyone I met on that boat. I was so afraid I would be stuck with a bunch of people who I didn’t want to be for a week bobbing around in the Adriatic. Fortunately it turns out they are people with humour, vigour and spirit; the type of people I like to be around. We laughed, often. and I know it sounds cliché to say, but after a week, we were a family.

An early morning dip.

So, I could write about: “you go girl”. Sad Jack. Daphne. The game of life. Raves in Caves. Crazy girl dance floor antics. OSB vs YSB. Serenading strangers with Whitney. Being smowesome. Keeva. Ricky Gervais. Ciko’s playlist on repeat. hugs. Gaudi. Chopping it. Scavenger hunts gone wrong. Inbox. C-strings. Low water. Dos Locos. Boom Booms. ‘quiet’ nights. Being ‘obnoxious’. Out of control canoes. Dance-floor tears. Bike hire. Love-fests. Tiesto. Pirate parties, engagement parties, birthday parties and failed pirate weddings. Poorly attended breakfasts. Campbelltown. speeches, (so many speeches). Green-light Milly the baby bear. Crazy scales. Not swimming in the port. The list goes on.

Classic Croatia.

Instead, I can say all the places we visited were gorgeous. (SEE ABOVE!)

Our first stop was in Mljet National park that had gorgeous salt water lake and greenery. We continued on to Korcula, a mini-Dubrovnik walled city with lots of back-streets to explore. Then it was on to Hvar, playground for the rich and famous and where we took part in a tasting at a local winery. After that we had a fun day of water-sports at Makarska. I went Para-sailing, which was so much fun and something I had never done before. Then we had a day in Omis, where we climbed up to a mountain top fortress. Before our final stop in Split with its amazing Roman palace ruins. An amazing week. Croatia’s Islands are a beautiful place. But this trip was made all the better by the company I kept.

Sunset at Omis.

I loved my days in the boat. Every day had the same 4 components: swimming, lying in the sun, exploring and partying, but every day it was different and there was a new story to tell and a few push ups to do (sorry, another in-joke slipped in there) So, this 7 days worth is actually the shortest entry in my whole blog so far; but it is also one of the best parts of my trip too. I love you, OSB. We destroyed that scavenger hunt too.

Kotor: A great base.

Kotor is beautiful, quiet, chilled out, fortified the perfect place to explore Montenegro from.

The Bay of Kotor.

Over the last few days I have used the gorgeous Montenergrin town of Kotor as a base for exploring the country of Montenegro. When I was originally planning this trip, Montenegro never came into my mind. That’s one of the reasons I have loved these last few months of wandering around Eastern Europe and the Balkans. I have planned as I went, a few extra days here? Sure! Heading in another direction? Why not! It has been liberating and for a person who is prone to be addicted to organising, a welcome relief.

Bay of Kotor.

Montenegro, meaning ‘black mountains’, is a small country. the population doesn’t even crack one million people. The cities and towns are not on the scale that I have come to expect in Europe. However, that is not the draw of this place. Montenegro is beautiful: mountains, canyons, rivers, forests, bays, beautiful views and some of the best scenery I have seen on this whole trip.

Kotor.

As I mentioned, my base was the small fortress town of Kotor. Here the contrast between old and new is prominent, but charming. The enclosed old town is built behind high fortified walls, with a moat. outside of these walls are expensive yachts the bob up and down and the towering fjords of the bay. inside the walls it was reminded a lot of the charming cobbled streets of Italy. All my favourite things, the stone walls, window boxes, shutters, winding alley ways and, of course, the stray cats (some so friendly they will jump on your knee if you sit for longer than 5 seconds). Above the old town is a towering mountain. perched on top of that is the old fortress, which is the highlight of the town. Climbing up the fortress will cost you 3 Euro, but not if you’re a resourceful backpacker. if you walk outside of the city walls you’ll find a goat path that leads up to a woman’s kitchen where you can drink home-made rakjia or pomegranate juice or chow down on bread and cheese. Just for the record, I went for the pomegranate juice. The view from her patio is spectacular and it was a great place to rest my unfit bones that had just scaled a mountain. From here you can sneak across and enter the fortress from a hole in the wall and continue the climb to the top. Up here, the view is even more amazing. the climb down is actually hard. the pathway is rocky and slippery. so I’m glad I didn’t climb up it. Other than that in Kotor I wandered, went to the cat museum, meandered and walked the city walls. Inside the walls this is very much a tourist town, so local interactions were only really with the awesome staff at the hostel and the team who took us on the day trips who were funny, charming and silly. I like the Montenegrin sense of humour. Kotor is a comfortable day trip, but I’m glad I stayed here a few days, because that meant I was able to see even more of Montenegro.

Streets of Kotor.

The hostel offered two trips across Montenegro which I was able to take. By doing this I have seen a big chunk of the country without the hassle of moving from hostel to hostel and catching public busses. Maybe as I am getting further into this trip, I am a sucker for convenience at a decent price. The first trip journey up north to Durmitor National Park. On this day, we crossed from one side of the country to the other to see turquoise lakes, giant mountains, deep canyons, pine tree forests and winding rivers. The drive took us from Kotor, to party town Budva, through the forests and windy roads around the mountain ranges. We saw the Morača River canyon which is over 1000 metres deep. Nearby there is a quiet monastery that sits in the mountains. It was so peaceful here and Orthodox priests in robes wandered around tending to the garden and the water supply. After Monastery Morača we visited the Djurdjevića Tara Bridge. The bridge is gorgeous, is over 350m long and it stands 150m above the Tara river. So of course this is the perfect place for a zip line. This was amazing fun. I ‘flew’ from one side of the canyon to the other, past the bridge and mountains and over the river and trees. I’m so glad I did this. take off was a bit scary, but from there the view was magnificent. We also ventured to Crno Jezero (known as the Black Lake) for a hike. This place was so beautiful it was like being inside a postcard. the water is turquoise blue on the edge and black in the middle, the mountains surround the water covered in pine trees. The day we were here was rainy and misty, which only added to the mystique. Unfortunately for me, I had clearly done too much fun and adventurous stuff that day so I took a tumble on the hike down the rocks and almost into the water. I have huge bruises on my legs and arms and I’ve pulled a muscle where I tried to grab the rocks to stop myself falling. It seems I should remember how unadventurous I actually am and not extend myself! Seriously though, it was a great day and the sights were amazing.

I zip-lined over that!

The second day trip went through central Montenegro. Again, the landscapes were simply stunning, but it was not the thick pine forests and canyons here; it was soaring rocky mountains and winding roads. We stayed a short while in Lovcen National Park to visit the Mausoleum of national hero and writer, Njegosh. But the important thing here is not the man’s grave, it is the stunning view across the whole national park that people come here for. In fact, I didn’t even go inside the crypt; I spent my time enjoying the view that went all the way to Albania. As it often is, one of the highlights for me today was the food. Firstly, we visited a village famous for its smoked ham called “prshuta” as well as smoked goat cheese; served on two thick slices of sour dough, it was simple, but amazing food. We washed it down with some not-so-delicious rakjia and oh-so- delicious home-made honey wine. Secondly we had amazing fresh fish caught that morning from the river by the restaurant. All amazing and quite cheap too. From there we stopped in at the old capital of Cetinje where we wandered the streets and visited a monastery. Sorry if I sound nonchalant about that monastery, but our new stop eclipsed most of the monasteries I’ve ever been to. Ostrog Monastery is a pilgrimage site for believers of Orthodox Confession and for Catholics and Muslims as well. It is carved in the cliff in mountain Byelopavlichi by St. Basil of Ostrog in 17th century, the most notable Montenegrin saint. His bones are kept inside the chapel, which is actually a small cave. They are considered a relic, a sacred item, and are said to have healing powers. I walked into the room where the bones are kept. They are covered by an embroidered gold blanket and many pilgrims kiss the bones. I felt quite awkward at this point, not because of the kissing of bones, but because I felt I had no right to be there as a non-believer. I shuffled around the cave and when I was told to approach I sort of backed away. it wasn’t that I didn’t feel welcome, it was that I felt like a fake being there. I have been to a lot of religious sights on this trip, but I have not felt this way before. it was very strange. When you climb to the top of the Monastery there is a beautiful view (are you sensing a theme?) over the Byelopavlichi plain. From the monastery we finished the day at Lake Skadar is the largest lake in the Balkan Peninsula, which of course was, you guessed it, beautiful to look at. Our driver on this day was a proud Montenegrin who had a talent for mix tapes. When he found out I was Australian he pulled out a CD and winked at me, saying, “you’ll like this”, after a lot of rock ballads, on came Midnight Oil, Savage Garden and Natalie Imbruglia. I was like being home, but in the 90s.

Lovcen.

I have really enjoyed bouncing from one side of Montenegro to the other, mainly because everywhere you look is towering mountains, impossibly deep canyons, turquoise rivers, lush National Parks, cliff-face monasteries and dense forests. Maybe I should have called this entry ‘Montenegro: always a beautiful view’.

Day tripping: Varna

Varna Beach.

After days wishing all I could do was jump in the water to escape the heat, I finally got my wish in the form of a day off from my farm work and a trip to the beach. Just 15 minutes drive from the farm where I have been WWOOFing is the sea side town of Varna. Set against the black sea, the town is an interesting mixture of development, tourism and poverty. I don’t think I have experienced culture shock at any point of this trip, but there was something so different about this day at the beach that it actually left me with a lot to think and write about!

Cobu.

Arriving at the beach, there is no moment when you see where the water hits the sand, instead you are faced with high concrete walls. The development on Varna’s main beach is so plentiful that you have to walk through a ‘beach bar’ or restaurant to find your patch of sand. I found this really strange. In Australia, we wouldn’t dare touch our beaches and bars, eateries and even our surf clubs would only exist on the grass off the sand. In Varna it is a different story. The beach bar we sat in front of called ‘Cobu’ took up so much space with it’s wicker furniture, large market umbrellas and folding chairs that there was only a couple of metres of bare sand to actually enjoy before the water. The story was the same as you looked along the headland. Bars, umbrellas and masses of people all the way along. Locals and holiday makers from all over Europe come to Varna to lay on the sand and frolic in the turquoise (or close enough) waters of the Black Sea and with them comes the money that Bulgaria so needs. It makes sense that they would use this asset to their advantage. Unfortunately, for me, who loves that natural state of beaches, it felt kitsch and over the top.

The packed beach.

Speaking of those holiday makers, to say the people watching opportunities were endless would be a gross understatement on my part. People of all ages, shapes, sizes and states of undress frequented the area around the little patch of sand where I set up shop for the few hours I can be in the sun without getting burnt. No rash vests, hats and floaties for the little ones, if you were under 10 you were swimming in the nude. Many older men were so tanned and glistening that they looked like they had just been dipped in gravy. All the girls seemed to have the exact same style of bathers: strapless bandeau bikinis. Seriously, the only difference in them was the colour. I felt like quite the prude in my sensible one piece, and I drew more than a couple of odd looks from some women on the beach. Many of whom were wearing exactly the same bathers as their friends. I guess they didn’t realise bathers came in a different style! It reminded me of when I was in Brazil and a perplexed group of locals asked “why is there so much material in your swimsuit?”, I guess it’s the same here. If you’ve got it, flaunt it and even if you don’t, have a crack anyway. Sadly, through a number of factors with self image (though probably no more than most) I really lack this body confidence that seems to come so easily to our European and South American friends. When I think about my female friends, I think many of them feel the same way about themselves. Little niggles, parts of their bodies they hate and just a general feeling of dislike towards your body are commonplace where I am from. The build up to go to the beach and be in bathers in front of actual people is a daunting prospect for many women. But why? Women double my size were getting around in bathers that had about a quarter of the material of mine with limitless confidence. This made me think – what are they teaching these Bulgarian girls about loving themselves that we are not getting over on my side of the world? Why are Europeans so happy to get their gear off to achieve the ‘all over tan’ I saw many people attempting? I don’t think I have the answers to these questions, but it really made me think. Hopefully some of that confidence will rub off on me and I’ll get the opportunity to really embarrass my friends in a string bikini on our next trip down the coast. But probably not, I do love my one piece.

Varna Beach.

Away from the beach Varna is very contrasting. The main street that leads to the beach is a wide pedestrian avenue with stores, eateries and food carts. This is obviously a place for tourists. It didn’t really look like Bulgaria. It was to gentrified and clean. Walk a street over and you’ll find hordes of labourers working feverishly paving the ground to achieve the same look as they have on that pedestrian avenue. Walk over another one and it will begin to look more like Bulgaria again; you’ll find those same potholes, cracked pavement, dilapidated apartment blocks and stray dogs. So, while the beautiful people tan themselves by the Black Sea and while I buy another Snickers ice-cream from the ice-cream cart, just a few streets away is the reality of the town. Walking away from the crowd has become my favourite past time on this trip. Sure, it means I get lost a lot, but I feel like it helps me understand a town or city better.

Downtown Varna.

So far across Bulgaria, I have found the people kind and helpful. Directions, helping me with my bag and even little kids are charming me at the bus stop have been commonplace. I have found the people here to be nothing but lovely. In Varna, however, I came across my first piece of rudeness. 2 people decided we were sitting too close to them on the beach and told us to move away from them. Even though we were sitting under one of the bar’s beach umbrellas to protect the small child we had taken to the beach from the sun while she played in the sand and they were sitting out in the open next to the umbrella. It was very strange. There has been so little in way of jerk-ish behaviour so far on my trip I was quite affronted. Well, I suppose you get them everywhere.

In Varna there is a beautiful old Cathedral, market stalls on the street and some interesting monuments in the parks and gardens. But that is not why the tourists flood the town. This is certainly a beach town, so unless you want to achieve that all over tan there isn’t much to do away from the sand. But believe me, down there it’s very interesting.

Day tripping: Vilnius

From the castle.

We continued on to our 3rd Baltic capital, Vilnius. Capital of Lithuania is on a smaller scale than its fellow Baltic states, but still maintains the old time charm of its neighbours. We drove past many storks making nests, tiny country houses and rolling green hills. Our drive took a detour to a sight known as the hill of crosses. More of a mound, really, but a place where people have left crosses of all shapes and sizes to commemorate loved ones. Lithuania is said to be easily the most religious of the Baltic states and here, it shows. Hundreds of thousands of crosses adorn the hill stacked on top of each other. I am not a religious person, but there was something about the devotion of this sight that moved me.

The hill of crosses.

Our visit to Vilnius started with a walking tour to see its famous sights, Market square, the gates of dawn, the cathedral and more. From here it was obvious to see it is a small city and much less crowded than its Baltic neighbours (which weren’t very busy themselves). Again it was the same cobbled streets of an old town, lots of churches, narrow streets and no-so-intact city walls. One street was a mere metre and a half wide. Buskers roam the street, seemingly all playing Knocking on Heaven’s Door, and there are lots of outdoor cafes, bars and restaurants. There also seemed to be a lot of alternative culture with more blue hair, band t-shirts and loitering youths than I have seen in weeks.

Flying the flag in Market Square.

Outside of the walls of old town is a castle that is perched on top of a hill. Of course, I climbed the hill and was amazed by what I saw. One one side of the river, the gorgeous old town with red roofs and church spires; on the other, a modern city with high rises and modern architecture. I could have stayed up there for ages, but with a storm threatening, I could only admire for a limited time.

New Vilnius.

 

Our day in Vilnius ended with a feast of Lithuanian food, an excellent reprieve after Russia. I had dumplings in creamy sauces, fried cheese and bread dip and potato pancakes with salmon. It was so tasty and completely unhealthy. I loved it. We ate until we were full to bursting, which was of course the perfect time to document the event with a photo. We asked a local to help is out. He obliged. One of the members of our dining party yelled out “cheese”. The young Lithuanian then exclaimed ‘chinksy!’, we returned the favour and yelled it out heartily ourselves. He then gestured to us that he had huge breasts while saying chinsky and therefore revealed what we had yelled so loudly in a crowded restaurant. It was hilarious. Vilinus was not the most exciting of the Baltic capitals, I think I give that honour to Tallinn; but it was a lovely day’s visit. Good views, food and jokes with the locals certainly kept me happy.

Day tripping: Novgorod.

In between St. Petersburg and Moscow we spent an afternoon in a small city called Novgorod. Home to a Kremlin, a beach and some interesting hangovers from the soviet era.

The Volkhov River.

We left St. Petersburg with a new Russian guide. this time an older woman with a gruff exterior but some dynamite gags and big opinions. As i mentioned in my St. Petersburg entry it is a requirement that we are taken around and given a local perspective by a Russian person. She is not backwards in coming forwards with her political opinions and the fact that she really dislikes a lot of things like rock music, Russian roads and especially the mayor of Moscow, whom she seemed to have some personal vendetta against. Despite this, she really did make me laugh and her intelligence and knowledge was amazing.

The Cathedral of Holy Wisdom.

Novgorod is a small place, it has the concrete communist housing and the layer of grime that seems ever-present in all Russian cities. As well as this it seems to have a lot more Soviet-inspired architecture. Like many other parts of Russia, Novgorod suffered during WWII and had to be rebuilt. Those concrete apartment blocks were the order of the day and there are other things around the city like statues to Lenin and an extremely strange and futuristic theatre. The theatre is a strange building with odd shapes and silhouettes created out of white-ish/grey, you guessed it, concrete. It is futuristic but some how very 80s. The building is unfinished and abandoned. Overgrown weeds peek through the concrete and the build up of grime is starting to take over.

The abandoned theatre.

Other than this there is a quiet old town. Here you will find a number of Russian churches. One place even has 3 of them lined up in a row. There is also a lush park, with fountains, statues and a dense forest of trees; this is where the people of Novgorod come to relax. There are a lot of things happening here that I was not quite prepared for, like people who keep wild animals like Monkeys and Cotis as pets and parade them around the park. It is so strange to me that I have to stop myself staring at the poor animals wearing suits and ties and being poked, prodded and held awkwardly by their ‘owners’. It seems animal liberation is yet to catch up with our Russian friends. There is also a Kremlin, which I always thought meant parliament, but in fact means fortress. inside the high red brick walls walls is a beautiful old orthodox church called The Cathedral of Holy Wisdom. again, a stunning example of art and architecture in the Russian Orthodox style. Frescoes adorn the walls and there are a number of relics. I was amazed that after the Soviet era many of these things survived and are now able to be enjoyed by devotees and gawking tourists like me. Also inside the Kremlin was an interesting collection of bells, a statue dedicated to 1000 years of Russia that featured some of the country’s favourite sons and a number of towers that run along the Kremlin’s high walls. Walking around in here was completely different to what was on the outside walls. On one side there was a beach on the Volkhov River with locals cooling off from the 30 degree day; on the other, more Soviet-style high rises. It was a crazy contrast.

The Kremlin walls

Novgorod was an interesting place to stop because it allowed me to see a bit more of the real Russia and not be swallowed up by the big city. It was not the most riveting of towns, but i appreciated it’s quietness and the glimpse it gave me into the real Russia that exists outside of its big cities.

Day tripping: Wolfsburg

In between our trip from Berlin to Hamburg we stopped by a town in Lower Saxony called Wolfsburg. We did this so my partner in crime could see one of his favourite bands (who he’s not sure would make it to Australia), Iron Chic. I had not heard of Wolfsburg before this trip and to be honest, there was less than a day trip’s worth of stuff to do there. Our exploration that we envisioned would take a couple of hours, took just half of one. Although I must say the older part of town looked gorgeous. Wolfsburg is famous for manufacturing VW cars. The buildings around the plant on the river are modern and sleek, to the west of the train station there are some charming classic German houses, parks, playgrounds and quiet streets. In many ways, away from the train station (and near where we stayed) it created a village-like atmosphere where as closer to the station Wolfsburg looks more like a modern up and coming town. a interesting contrast just a few kilometres apart.

Town Hall.

We arrived in the afternoon from Berlin and after a relax (read: nap), had dinner at the hotel. In Berlin we had not had too much in the way of traditional German fare, the cuisine is very international there. Here we were faced with gigantic traditional dishes on giant plates, full of delicious carby goodness that filled you up til you were fit to bursting. I ate an amazing schnitzel that has probably changed my life for the better. The ‘welcoming’ shot of schnapps, however, did not have the same glorious taste. I have never had anything so strong. it gave me a shiver when i sniffed it, let alone when I downed it. When he offered us the second one, I tried to opt out, but was told in a very matter of fact tone that: “the first one is strong, the second one clears your mind”. How could I say no? For the record it was just as strong and horrible. In the morning as we left at check out time, there were 3 older men having a 10am schnapps. I was equal parts impressed and horrified. Our waiter, bar man and hotel owner was a very kind man, and not just for his penchant for giving us free booze. He discussed travel, work and life with us and laughed heartily at our jokes. He made us feel at home, which is a nice feeling.

 

The streets of Wolfsburg.

The whole point of being there of course was to see the band and they did not disappoint. The show was played in a squat; an old, abandoned house covered in graffiti inside and out, getting through to the front door there was a mass of overgrown plants to contend with. Iron Chic played to around 170 people crammed in a tiny room that was probably the house’s old living room. It was hot, and with good reason. Everyone was dancing, moshing, stage diving, crowd surfing and yelling along to the music. This was one of the more interesting gig going experiences I have had. The band played well, the sound was good and the crowd had a great time singing, jumping and enjoying the show. There was probably some alarm bells ringing for a couple of you (Mum and Nanna) when I said was seeing music in a squat, but there were lots of different types of people enjoying the same thing, so there was no trouble from anywhere. Music unified everyone from the hardcore punk with blue hair to the 10 year old girl who had come to the show and stood side of stage so she wouldn’t be caught in the crowd.

Iron Chic

A fun detour an interesting to see a real town, not a tourist centre.

Day tripping: Versailles

The royal palace at Versailles is billed as a must see for any trip to Paris. As you approach the gates, past the statue of the ‘Sun King’, Louis XIV, you see that the place is covered in gold. It glimmers under the sun. The opulence is obvious from the outset and only gets more ridiculous when you get inside.

The Sun King, Louis XIV.

Speaking of getting inside, the line was so massive that we were in it for over an hour and a half, even with pre-paid tickets. When we went inside the palace the shuffling and lining up continued. Don’t get me wrong, I like people (this may or may not be true), but being around them in a space like this is frustrating to say the least. A place like Versailles, just like the Louvre or the Vatican brings out the worst in people, including me. We shuffled from room to room, views were disrupted with cameras and it was impossible to get to the signs to see what the rooms actually were. It was frustrating and unfortunately it took away from the experience. But even with the huge crowd you could not miss the fact that the items and rooms on display were opulent, beautiful and gold-plated. As you went from ‘salon’ to ‘salon’ the roof in most rooms was painted with an amazing scene and the cornices and ceiling roses were painted, of course, in gold. Several massive chandeliers hung in each room. Art and copies of famous works hung in every room, royal portraits, historical paintings, sculptures and busts adorn the walls, shelves and tables. The hall of mirrors was even more grand than I had imagined. It had all of these features and more. The scale of the wealth was ridiculous. No wonder the people rebelled. But possibly more interesting than that is the fact that it survived the revolution, I would have thought that something so powerful and symbolic of the regime would be lost, but I guess you should not underestimate greed.

Inside Versailles.

Once outside of the palace Versailles is more spacious, but still just as opulent. The large gardens can be enjoyed by many and it’s hedges, trees, statures, fountains and canal are breath-taking. It is vast and extremely well-maintained. Entrance to the gardens is free so many families spend the afternoon picnicking there. You can hire a bike, a golf buggy or take a ‘train’ if you don’t wish to brave the long walk from one side to the other. We walked down to Napoleon’s pink marble palace The Grand Trianon in the back of the gardens and to Marie Antoinette’s house and farm that she had built in the 1780s so she could play peasant. These areas were fascinating and because they were less crowded, much more enjoyable. The farm was my favourite part. The small houses were built by the same architect were for a fantasy so their structure and style was interesting. There are also a range of animals to pat and more cat fish than I have ever seen swimming in it’s lake. Marie Antoinette is the star of the show at Versailles. There are gift shops dedicated entirely to her and sell bags, fans and coffee mugs with her image on them all in pink, of course. Having studied the French revolution at school I found this hilariously ironic, considering how hated she was during her reign. Now she is an icon and people are more interested in her story, her farm and little house than anything else at Versailles.

The gardens.

There was lots of construction work going on, so some areas were not easily accessible or open. This was ok, as it didn’t take away from the visit. The people who run Versailles have set it out so that it is easy to navigate and have it so well maintained that barely a blade of grass is out of place.

Marie Antoinette’s ‘English Garden’ from her residence, the Petite Trianon.

Versaille was a must-see, but unfortunately for me it was too busy to be enjoyed properly. The over-the-top opulence was also difficult to swallow when you understand the symbolism of the palace. It was amazing to be in a place that I had read so much about, I just wish it was with about half of the people who had decided to go to Versailles on that Wednesday morning!

Day tripping: Giverny.

Giverny is a small village in Normandy that is famously the home to Monet’s garden; the ‘backyard’ he designed himself to be his subject matter. Aspects of the space are the inspiration of many of his most popular works. I’ve been wanting to visit Monet’s garden at Giverny for a long time. I studied the impressionists as a wide-eyed 10 year old, and although Degas was my favourite (and what 10 year old girl wouldn’t love him? He painted my favourite things, ballerinas and ponies), I was always very interested in Monet; I find his realistic style and the subsequent fading of it fascinating. I love the way he understands light. Maybe I didn’t understand why I liked that as a 10 year old, but I get it now. 18 years later I was able to see many of his greatest paintings at an exhibition in Melbourne called ‘Monet’s Garden’;  no prizes for guessing the subject matter. The exhibition showcased many of his works, but the focus was on the garden as his inspiration. I loved the exhibition and I knew that if it was possible I would love to see where the genius found his stimulus.

Some of the colours of Monet’s garden.

The day began with a train ride from Paris to the Normandy town of Vernon. From here it is 5ks to Giverny.  Shunning the tourist shuttle bus, we hired a bike and after my partner in crime taught me to stay upright and turn right (something that has alluded me since the late 90s) in the train station car park, we rode on the old railway line through beautiful French country-side.  Cows, hills and tiny houses under a grey sky made for a beautiful picture. It was a relaxing ride despite my constant fear of running over small children and animals.

Along the bike path.

Once you are in Giverny it is quickly apparent that there is not much going on, except Monet-related tourism. The epicentre of the town is Monet’s house and garden which is on ‘Rue de Claude Monet’, the fancy French way of saying Claude Monet street. Again proving my theory that everything sounds better in French. Along the street are small art galleries that sell works from artists who have come to the town to be inspired, cafés, a gallery dedicated to impressionism (I’ll get to that later) and of course, the house and garden itself.

Our bikes in Giverny.

Stepping into Monet’s garden is like walking into one of his paintings. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the only way I can think of to describe the overwhelming mish-mash of bright colours you see and the way the light and shadow reflects on the water. The garden beds are awash with colours. Sometimes, like-tones can be found, like a range of purples and pinks or reds and oranges will be in the same bed. In other cases there are spaces where there is a rainbow of colours in an area. The famous waterlily pond and Japanese bridge can be accessed by a tunnel under the road that was clearly a bit quieter in Monet’s time. Monet spent a lot of his time studying this area and the garden here was the muse for a range of amazing works. The beauty of the spot is incredible, especially when the sun shines down and the reflection shines up from the water. It is a strange phenomenon being in a place you’ve seen so many times in photos, it is stranger to be somewhere you’ve only seen in paintings. Here, you can pick out even the smallest pockets of the garden that were used in Monet’s works, which is a special thing to be able to say. The waterlilies were not out, but it didn’t really matter. The garden still managed to dazzle the senses.

Lilies and bridges.

The house itself housed many pieces of art. Some of Monet’s works hung on the walls of his study and his extensive Japanese print collection hung everywhere else. The foundation that maintains the house has tried to leave as much of it in place as possible to reflect how it looked when Monet lived there. There is evidence of that from a small photo on display in the house of Monet in his kitchen in front of 4 vases all lined up on the mantle with prints of all shapes and sizes hanging above it. When you enter the kitchen those 4 vases are still sitting on the mantle and those same prints are hanging above it. It was a nice touch.

Monet’s house.

A short walk up the road from the garden there is a gallery dedicated to impressionism. Although there are some interesting works there, including a great temporary exhibition on the birth of impressionism in America, there is only about 30 minutes of gallery to explore. There was also only 4 Monet pieces; even the room named after him had only one of his works in there.  It was not as fulfilling as I would have liked.

The trip to and from Vernon on the train was easy, the bike ride was a fun (and after the disaster that was trying to ride in Barcelona, a personal triumph) and above all Monet’s garden was as pretty as a picture. Literally.