Hyde-Away

This week in London Town, it's the mid-term break, and school is in recess til next Monday.

It doesn't really suit me- I'd much prefer to be earning a few quid- but because I really don't have much of a choice in that department, I've decided to try and do as much as I possibly can with my time.

I had some calls to make and a few little jobs to do this morning, but shortly after lunch I decided to catch the 345 bus over to South Kensington to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum. I didn't realise just how close we are to the Royal borough of Chelsea and Kensington, but the bus trip round past Battersea Park and over the Thames, took very little time.

We made our way over to Cromwell road, and passed the National Science Museum, before reaching the Victoria and Albert Museum- and like with the British Museum and the National Gallery, the buildings themselves are incredible structures. Given that I was calling the shots on the content that we were going to be viewing that afternoon, I decided to hit up the European Galleries and history sections. The most important things to note were the Cast Courts which were remarkable, and the dress up section, where you could try on an Inverness coat, hoop skirts from the 17th and 18th century and corsets.

By the time we had finished straining our brains at the V&A, we decided to make our way past Royal Albert Hall, through the Kensington Gardens and across Hyde Park to find a Tesco sandwich or two. When we entered Kensington Gardens, we passed by the Albert Memorial which is an absolutely amazing piece of work- it is a huge, largely blue and metallic gold, Gothic inspired structure that takes your breath away. It is a remarkable memorial, facing the Royal Albert Hall, and is equally as impressive as the Queen Victoria memorial fountain that stands outside Buckingham Palace.

As we walked through the beautiful gardens with the huge leafy trees (which would be great to climb!), we passed Kensington Palace, saw two people having a fencing-dual with large sticks, stopped at a large pond to marvel at the large white swans, and check out exactly how much it costs to rent out a deck chair in the lawns (2 quid for 4 hours, in case you were wondering).
We finally found a metro-Tesco, purchased some food and found a little spot in Hyde Park to sit and eat.

Hyde Park and it's surrounding gardens are absolute gems- and I only really walked along on two paths on the western side, and am completely taken by the lawns, the trees, the gardens and the general energy of the place... if you can't get onto me from late July til September, just letting you know now, that's where I'll be :)

Bank Holiday Weekender

The last three days have been perhaps the finest in London so far- well, certainly the 'finest' in terms of the weather. Given that it's been a Bank Holiday weekend (public holiday on Monday), the wonderful weather couldn't have come along at a better time. It's been mostly sunny, and around 23 degrees Celsius each day since Friday, and I, along with every other person in this city, have been out, about and amongst it!

On Friday evening, I went to meet Caitlin and Erin in the Clapham Common area for some Friday night drinks, and I really felt like they were deserved after my week at work! The Common is extremely close to where I am living, and incredibly easy to get to by bus. Many bars and clubs align the huge park with a pond in the middle.

We decided to meet right outside the Tube station around 6:30pm, and made our way firstly to a nearby Irish haunt, for some Brothers Pear Cider (much stronger than others I had sampled, but good all the same). Despite the fact that they were playing Nick Cave in the front bar, the place itself was kind of a dive, and so we decided to head to The Sun, in Clapham's Old Town. With an extensive beer garden (providing lots of shelter), reasonably priced drinks, and a 'trendy' crowd, The Sun is certainly the place to be on a Friday night.

The following morning, I was awake early, and was keen to head on down to the Battersea High Street. Every community/suburb here in London has it's own High Street (what Australian's might refer to as the 'main drag'), which usually feature one if not all of the three 'main' banks (Lloyds, Nat West, Barclays), various coffee shop chains (Starbucks, Nero, Costa, and Pret a Manger if you're really lucky!), supermarkets chains (Waitrose, Tesco, Marks & Spencer), a Boots (chemist chain), shoe and clothing shops, off-license convenience stores (selling cheap alcohol!) and of course at least three pubs. Some are better than others, but regardless all are unique and special in their own way.

When I first went for a walk to explore the Battersea High Street, I first thought it to be a bit of a non event, compared to the High Streets in Hammersmith, Putney and up around Clapham Junction. However, on Friday I found out that each Saturday there is a Farmer's Market along the Battersea High Street, and I was keen to see what produce would be available...and I was not disappointed! There were fruiterers selling ridiculously cheap and fresh fruit and vegetables (I managed to pick up some sensational bananas and nectarines for next to nothing), a butcher, a variety of French and Spanish food stalls (featuring paella, sausages, salamis, crepes, waffles, cheap blue and brie cheese wheels and other traditional dishes from both countries), as well as lolly, fudge and chocolate stands, and nuts and eastern European desserts laid out fresh on carts.

There was also a variety of baked products, and decorated tins you could buy to fill with biscuits.

Aside from food being sold along the High Street, there was also clothing, cards and hat stands, and stalls were you could by toys and games. There was also a bloke selling crappy wooden statues (sourced directly from Taiwan), and I saw amongst his lot a little black and white cat, which reminded me of Caitlin's cat Ziggi. Given that it was only one quid, I decided to buy it for her, and when I asked the guy how much he said, "Ah, you're an Oz then?" and I said that I was, and he proceeded to tell me that he had lived just out of Coolangatta or Tweed Heads, "Oh right" I said, and smiled. "Yeah, it was the only place in the world I've ever felt homesick", he said, and took my coin... Jeepers! They're a whingin' lot these poms!

Around lunch time we headed back to Cabul road, to start getting organised to head over to Bayswater, to a friend's barbecue. The barbecue was set to start around 1pm, so we had to organise food and alcohol, and make our way across town. We made our way by bus to East Putney Station, then caught the Tube to Earl's Court, where we changed onto the Central Line, and made our way to our final destination, which happened to be an absolutely amazing apartment overlooking Hyde Park. So there we sat, on the edge of the balcony, waving to people as they zipped by on their opened roofed tour-buses, drinking stupid amounts of white wine and Moet champagne, listening to the Beatles (as well as an eclectic mix of Australian tunes) and dressing up in fur coats until the sun set late on Saturday evening.

By 10pm, it was time to head back to the South side (a trip I remember very little about, except for trying to feed a pigeon with my bare hand...). We stopped into the local Slug and Lettuce in Clapham Junction for a cheeky Pear Cider, and collected some late night greasy food from Chicken-2-Go (faux-KFC) on our way home, where we introduced ourselves to the mono-browed owner (we've been in there a bit since we moved into the neighbourhood!), and have now sworn off it for good. Dirty bird indeed.

The following day, we awoke to a magnificent Sunday, and naturally decided to return to the Clapham Common in our slightly hung-over state to lie on the grass in the massive park that the Common is, along with all the other hundred of others who were looking to soak up the sun's rays.

There were people kickin' the fuse ball, wearing two piece bathing suits, drinking cider and smoking herbal jazz cigarettes- there was laughter and ice-cream, public-displays-of-affection a-plenty, and people with their i-pod docks playing tunes. There were even people with their remote control boats having races, and doing tricky stuff in the Common's pond.

We ended up being there for most of the day, lying under trees and people watching, with some trashy magazines, cans of cider and Tesco salads, til it was time to head home to watch The Hills (series 5 is being aired in the UK at the moment!).

Monday, the actual bank holiday, was much the same as Sunday- glorious sunshine, and a chilled out vibe across the city. We decided to high tail it over to Hammersmith first, to hit up Primark (affectionately known as Prim-ani) to purchase some homewares and other items for Cabul road, before busing it over to Fulham for some Gourmet Burger Kitchen goodness and then to a local pub for a lazy afternoon.

Everywhere you look, it is obvious that Spring has sprung- the days are getting longer, birds are chirping (the same birds whose song I hear in Australia tell me that spring is on the way) and I'm recognising all these flowers in English gardens and flower pots that my mum used to grow back in the 80s before our continent started to run out of water. After beeing cooped up and locked inside during the epic London winter that I keep hearing about (from every person I speak to), I can understand why the people are busting out to enjoy the sunshine, the warmth and nature's ambience.

Veruca, Sweetheart, Angel

First there was Madonna.

Then there was Kylie.

And then... there was Veruca.

Dreamers and Silly-Hearts

Okay, so I promise I'm not going to turn this blog into an online forum for airing my grievances about my teaching jobs, but my experience yesterday was so preposterous, that I feel like I've just gotta put it out there.

I was placed out in the South London region of Tolworth, in an infant school- something we don't really have in Oz- and wound up with the kindergarten-age-equivalent class. No dramas, I thought, how hard could it possibly be?

Because I'm so paranoid about a) being late and b) getting lost/not being able to find where I'm supposed to be going (this is one big city which appears to have been organised by a series of Town Planners who clearly had no freakin' idea what they were doing), I leave my home well before seven am each day, and head to Clapham Junction to jump on a train. This has served me well thus far, and I consequently arrived early in the area, and managed to find the school, wedged in between lines of what Melbournites would describe as commission flats. When I first entered the school, I was overcome by the hardcore hospital smell of the place-very sterile- and then somewhat shocked when I walked into the staffroom to put my lunch bag in the fridge and found stacks of empty wine bottles all over the sink... I made my way to my designated classroom and met with the teacher, who was as sour as citrus, and couldn't even manage to crack a smile during the school photos which happened a little later that morning (nb: you wouldn't credit the amount of folks that have said "Ah love, you're still smilin'- ya musn't a been 'ere long then"). She barked out the plan for me for the day, and took off, while I checked out the room. Seriously, the schools here seem to be severely under-resourced, and underloved...but, what's totally strange is that they're all fitted with interactive whiteboards, whaz up with that??

Anyways, the bell rang at about 8:45 am, and in rolled my class (the "Dragonflies") of about thirty children ("Kindergarten is like the ocean, you don't want to turn your back on it"- wise words said to Arnie, in Kindergarten Cop-click on this link please, hilarious!).

Along with the children, rolled in two Teaching Assistants (also known as TAs- another thing we don't have in Oz, and I'm still trying to decided whether I think they are a help or a hindrance), who are pretty much in charge of executing the discipline, in other words, screaming blue-murder at the children until they pipe down, or as I would like to put it, make a "good choice". We all managed to survive the morning session pretty well, there were a few domestics about the buckets and shovels in the sandpit and a minor paint fight, but otherwise nothing and no-one got broken.

Just before it was time for recess, an older child from another class brought in a basket of tomatoes. These were for the children to eat for their morning tea- the children here didn't bring any food to school- not even lunch. The English government subsides fruit for all children under the age of seven, and at this school, for 10 quid a week, the children can eat lunch at the cafeteria each day (pizza, beans and ham mostly), but most of the families are on a welfare program so again, it's subsidised. It made me reflect on the comparison made in the documentary Supersize Me, between student's behaviour in an elementary school where the students ate pure junk from the canteen, and students who were considered juvenille delinquents but were being feed a diet of fresh fruit and vegetables, which yielded 'suprising' results. Hmmmm. Regardless, most of the students passed up the fresh tomatoes, and went hungry, probably just hanging out for the beans and ham lunch combo...

Following the break, I went out to collect the children from their line, and take them to the morning assembly in the hall, and a little boy by the name of George wanted to hold my hand- no harm in that, I thought, until he went to wipe his runny nose on his sleeve, and narrowly missed my hand, which put an end to the hand-holding pretty quickly.

I managed to get the thirty odd children inside pretty easily, and we started to make our way down to the assembly hall, and as we approached we could here this woman shouting as other grades as they entered the hall, "Quiet! Be quite now! Shut it!" I always find it amusing when adults shout at children to be quiet.

This woman, who I guess was the headmistress of the school, would have been in her mid to late forties and should have known better...and what's more, her resemblance to the school principal in Uncle Buck was uncanny- although the wart-melanoma-growth was closer to her right nostril, rather than on her chin.

This horrible old bat continued to shout at and berate the children (aged between three and six, mind you) until they were all sitting quietly. Then she started to shout at the reception (prep) children, informing them that they were in for a big shock when they got to primary school, and would never succeed if they continued to talk and carry on the way they did. Unbelievable.

Then, she motioned over towards the piano, and said,

"Okay children, we're going to do some singing. I thought we could start by singing 'Banana's in Pajamas'."

The children gave a little cheer of excitement and joy, and well, she lost it.

"Who was talking? Oh! Now you've ruined it all. You're wasting my time! It would serve you right if I didn't play anything today!" she shouted.

But of course, she wanted to hold the floor, and played it anyway (she was actually quite a good pianist, but obviously bitter that she never amounted to anything, and now taking out her anger and frustration on the (very) young and defenceless. Classy. She then started taking requests from the children, and said she would pick people who were singing well to choose the next song (and unless she had eyes in the back of her head, there was no way she would have known). One little boy put his hand up and said, "Twinkle, twinkle little star?" To which she replied, "You're Max, aren't you?", then little boy nodded, and his blue eyes lit up because he'd been acknowledged, and then she sqaushed him, saying "You're joking right? Your singin' was awful". I looked around at the regular teachers, all who had their eyes to the ground, lifeless, and seemed to need a bomb under them; not even reacting to this horror scene! Suffice to say I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a blur after that assembly.

This sort of situation brings out mixed feelings in me- part of me wants to write them, or the education department, letting them know that this is absolutely woeful, unacceptable practice. The other part of me gets inspired to go back and try to combat the problem, and make a difference where I can. So, at the end of the day, when I went to get my timesheet signed, the mousey girl at reception asked me if I'd be interested in coming back to do some work in the future, and I thought about what Uncle Buck would do in this situation.

Buck wouldn't back down or wuss away, in fact, he'd get right in there and set 'em straight, bless him!

So, you guessed it, I said yes.

Life in the Bus Lane

Well- it's official- I'm back on the chain gang and out in the UK workforce, and I'm going to need to get used to life in the bus lane.

My first supply teaching job took place on Tuesday, which was a half-day in the city's South, at St. Matthew's Church of England school. It didn't take me long to get out to Surbiton and up a large hill to the school, and I ended up arriving much earlier than I had anticipated. Given that there wasn't really any places to hang about (and return a few missed calls), for first time in my life I went to the pub before school! Mind you, I only stopped in at the Prince of Wales on Upper-Brighton road for a cheeky diet Pepsi, but still... I imagined myself hanging out in a pub in Deer Park before work, and had a bit of a lone-chuckle.

The afternoon was surprisingly chilled, the staff and kids were great (one grade six girl even told a boy who was giving her the irrits to "shut your rotten face"- I loved it!) and it was an all round pleasant experience. Even better than the teaching itself though, was the fact that I made it home in under forty minutes, which is excellent time for travel in this city! Just call me Ange Costanza!

Today's work 'experience' was slightly different- I was posted at Robin Hood Primary School, out around the Wimbledon boondocks, and the kids were pretty full on. The fact that most of the children are sent to school without something to eat at their morning tea break might give you an insight into the nature of the school and the surrounding community- it may just be customary here, but I don't think so. I guess what I found even curiouser, was when I expressed my surprise about this to the teacher whose grade I was teaching in first, and she didn't think it was odd! Then again, she did mention she'd recently come from a little village school in Yorkshire, and this was her first job in London, and had been finding it quite a big adjustment. Hmmm.

Travelling back and forth on the trains has been a joy, largely because Nick Drake is predominantley in my head phones. I've always adored his music, but Bryter Layter just sounds so right here- with the trees rushing by, and the quirky lines of Victorian-esque cottages and their little orange chimneys, it's like a perfect soundtrack for the South London scenary. It's blisssssssss.

'Abbey Birthday Brother!

In honour of Eugene's 24th Birthday today, we decided to make a pilgrimage to the famous crossing just down from Abbey Road Studios, and to make the birthday call from right out the front. We caught the train from Clapham Junction into Waterloo Station, and then caught the Jubilee Line out to St. John's Wood.

It was a surreal experience to see the crossing (I had flashes of Beatle-mania), and then to walk across it- many times as it turns out! Trying to get a good photo on this crossing is extremely difficult I'll give you the tip- all of our attempts to capture a quality image paled in comparison to the shot shown above- it's actually a really busy section of road (made extra busy by the cricket match being played at the Lord's Cricket Ground which is-very close by- today), and I think the Beatles must have had the road closed off in order to stage that shot- and what a shot it is! No photo shop/editing functions back in when this epic album was released back in the September of 1969.

Along the walls of the studio are messages written to the Beatles, as well as many of their song's lyrics- Eugene asked me to tell him what I saw as we spoke, and I rattled off a few of the quotes that were scrawled on the studio walls, one of which read "Pink Floyd is Better!" I was a bit taken aback until Ue was able to point out to me that Pink Floyd in fact had recorded their Dark Side of the Moon album there in 1973.

We ended up spending about an hour or so hanging around the crossing, dodging buses and enjoying the sunshine until the battery in the camera was just about empty, and we decided to head back to St. John's station.

Given how close we were to Waterloo station, and that I didn't need to start work until the following day, we decided to head back there and walk from the station to Leake Street, where the Banksy Tunnel is. The space is a disused road tunnel in south London (right near Leake Street) that has been turned into a giant exhibition space by graffiti artist Banksy.

Murals in the Bristol artist's famous stencil style appear with work by other artists in a half-mile stretch of the tunnel. It really is a phenomenal space (with classical music booming through a number of speakers in the ceiling!) where graf artists are allowed to graf what-ever and whenever (there are a few exceptions) they like without fear of prosecution. The official Banksy exhibition 'opened' in the tunnel on May the 2nd last year, and sadly (although it is ultimately the nature of this sort of art work) most of Banky's work has been sprayed over with other images.

Unfortunately, the camera battery was dead by the time we arrived at the Tunnel so I have no hard evidence, but we were able to find several of Banksy's works that have been preserved- probably because they are in hard to reach sections of the tunnel. Incredible works all the same, and although I'm guessing the Tunnel isn't mentioned in the Top 10 things you should't leave London without doing, I really rate it.

Radi-coooool.

Just to complete Ue's UK birthday celebrations in style, we decided to pop into a local Clapham pub, The Windor Castle, for a lunch of fish and chips and peas (salad, not mushy), washed down with exactly 568mls of pear cider. I just wish he'd been here to celebrate with us!

Happy Birthday Blinky :)

A Room with a View...of Cabul Road

It is with great pleasure that I write this latest post from the lounge room of my new house on Cabul Road. As I sit here, with three of my other flatties (and one ex-dosser who's just hangin' out, but has brought his laptop nonetheless), all typing away on our lap tops, face-stalking, crap talking, and half watching pay TV, I just can't believe my luck. And I don't want to put the mocchas on or anything, but it all kind of feels like it was meant to be.

I realise that the title of this blog does in fact beg a photo of the view from the gable of the room that Caitlin and I are sharing, and I will most certainly post one soon, but I decided that this image was more appropriate.


For one, I love the keys- really old school, huh? But, in the second instance, see that key ring? Well, the other day when we were eating our penultimate meal at Edward's, a man walked up behind Caitlin (I saw him approach, but she did not), and startled her when he put that key ring and a little piece of paper next to her right elbow which read,

"I am a deaf mute, and find it very challenging to sustain long term employment. Please help my income by purchasing this keyring at a price of your discretion"

After the timid fellow put the little slip of paper down, he backed off shyly, and made his way around the pub, dropping off other little slips of paper and key rings on the other tables. We'd been knocking back other hawkers that had been coming into the pub, trying to flog off their pirated dvds and other assorted rubbish (not to mention that I never really felt comfortable at the 'Lentil as Anything' vegetarian restaurant on Sydney road, where you decide what you pay for your meal), but I liked his approach and product, and I knew that I'd need a key ring soon for our new house keys in a couple of days, and so I decided to fork out a couple of quid for the little gold heart. When he came back, I handed over my coins, and he gave me a grateful smile, and went about his business.

I popped the keyring into the side of my purse, and to be honest, forgot about it completely, until yesterday afternoon when the two gold keys were handed over to me when we arrived at our new dwelling. As soon as I saw the two gold keys, I remembered the golden heart, and attached it straight away to the keys- and I guess that was the moment when I realised my key ring matched my new keys, and indeed the planets had aligned....ahhhhhhhhhh.

You're proabably thinking that I'm over tired and that I really should go and get some more sleep, but you also know I'm a hopeless romatic, who really likes it when things all come together in the end, after the many near misses and close escapes life throws you, and if you're bothered with reading my blog, then I'm guessing you do too :)

That is all.

I'll look at the sun, and I'll look in the mirror, I'm on the right track, yeah I'm onto a winner

It would seem that the planets have started to align themselves above the skies over Hammersmith, and things are starting to fall into place.


The day before last, Caitlin and I made friends with a traveller from Edmonton, Alberta (my old stomping ground), and spent half the day with her at the ever so impressive British Museum. Although we didn't know Vi's name until the end of the day when we got her e-mail over a hot-dog in a nearby park, it was kinda nice to traipse through the Ancient Egypt, Rome and Greece exhibits (although I think she enjoyed it more than we did- wanting to start a guided tour a bit after 3pm when we just wanted to get out of there).

The most important thing to note was the mummified corpse of Cleopatra of Thebes, which was in one of the Ancient Egypt domains. Personally, I just wanted to go straight to Level 3 and look at the European and Celtic exhibits (when in Rome...or London as it may be), and would have been happy to bypass all the other stuff. And it was a shame that by the time we got there, our brains were completely over-loaded, and we decided to bounce on out. However, it was good to try and occupy our selves, and pass the time, waiting to hear back from a share house we had gone to inspect, and were very interested in renting...

Caitlin and I had spent the previous Thurdsay looking at houses out in the South, particularly in the Clapham and Battersea areas. The third house we inspected was at 7 Cabul Road, Battersea- in response to an add we found on the GumTree website that had read "A Large room with two double beds for two chicks to move in".

The vibe at Cabul Road was good from the beginning- Chris (a kiwi) showed us through the house and commented that: a) He likes teachers & b) We didn't seem too strange (just you wait Chris...just you wait:)

It all looked good to us- slightly tired interior, and in need of a vacuum- double storey terrace, large kitchen, compact and clean bathroom, indeed there were two double beds in a spacious room which included cupboards, bookshelves and a full length mirror. Chris informed us that the other two 'flatties' were a girl from the Gold Coast, and another boy from Sydney; and the Brisbane bloke who currently rented the room (porn mags, spoons, scissors, lighters everywhere- the works) was being kicked out for not paying his rent. Chris asked us to have a think about it, and get back to him. We headed back to Clapham Junction, and kicked on back to Hammersmith, and over a 2 meals for £5 at Edwards pub, across for St. Christopher's Inn, we sent him a message to say that we were keen. We also decided to send an email saying that we'd like to come and meet the other housemates, if possible.

It was arranged that we would head back to Battersea on Monday night, around 7pm, to meet the other flatties- Rachel and Ben- and we were so nervous (much like getting a call back for a second interview/casting/audition), but it all went well, and after waiting through that painstaking Tuesday to hear back from them, we called on Wednesday to see what the go was, and it was sweet as- the room was ours, and we could definately move this Saturday. Yaaaa-hooo!

So it's fairwell for now Hammersmith (or what we refer to fondly as Hammered-smith).
You've been good to us this last week- but I can't honestly say I'm unhappy about moving on.
St. Christopher's Inn has been A1, and I feel compelled to write a sparkling review for it on the hostel world website, and will certainly stay at the other hostels they have in other parts of England and Europe. I've throughly enjoyed my daily, evening meal at Edward's Pub, and their cheap prices and drink deals- even though I think someone needs to point out to them that HP sauce is not Salsa. They are different products people! Further, had I stayed longer in the Hammersmith area, there was a risk I may have turned into one of those cursing, bitter peeps in the near-by internet cafe with the shoddy connection, or the constant sounds of ambulance, police and fire sirens going off 24/7 due to the proximity to nearby stations may have just done my head in completely.

But all's well that end's well.
(surely that's a traditional english quote?)

Confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur of what is known as... Parklife!

It hasn't taken me long to work out that the Parklife culture is huge here in London, and I really dig it.

The lush green grass and the leafy trees overhead make parks a perfect refuge here is this concrete jungle.

There's always a park close by wherever you are, where you are sure to find plenty 'a dirty pigeons (and sometimes sparras too), people kicking the soccer- I mean- football, mums with prams and their [rotten] children, high school students cutting classes, and joggers going round and round and round...

These parks have served me well: a place to eat your £2 meal deal lunch from the local Tesco, have an afternoon nap for an hour or three, a place to dry out your hankies or to wait until the time has come for you to check into a place- they're also ideal for drinking pear cider in when the gawd-damn laundrette is closed (nb: you can drink anywhere in this city- except for on the tube or the bus- it's an alcoholics dream...and there are many living out that dream here, might I add!).

Skulking About

Following those few minor set backs (and minor triumphs, I guess) early on, things seemed to have leveled out somewhat, and ole London town and I are at ease…for now anyway.

I’m finally starting to get my head around the A-Z book, and therefore, the way the public transport system works in this city, and have regained some confidence after settling in at St. Christopher’s. We’ve been getting down to the business of job and house hunting, and have some promising leads, but you all know about hatching chickens, so I’ll say no more at this early stage.

Given that it was a glorious spring day today, we decided to head into central London, to embrace the tourist thing before we’ve been here too long to be caught dead doing so. This morning we caught the Tube from Hammersmith Station into Embankment, where we walked up to the Golden Jubilee Bridge, crossed it and the Thames, and followed Queens Walk. The walk took us under tress and lamp-posts with huge cast-iron fish wrapped around their base (very effective, but they just looked like big old carp that we used to try and catch when we were kids), past eastern Europeans trying to flog off gourmet sausages and roasted chestnuts, whilst trying to dodge kids as young as three flying by on scooters, until we reached the Tate Modern Gallery.

The Tate Modern is an ultra-cool museum for a few reasons: it’s (mostly) free, open seven days a week, has an amazing permanent collection including the likes of Miro, Picasso, Pollack and Monet, and well as fabulous contemporary pieces. My absolute favorite was the work of Robert Therrien- his giant size chairs and table took up a whole room, as he wanted people to remember (or resonate with) how it feels to be a tiny child…I just thought of Mao.
Therrien’s The Red Room was also amazing- a room where everything is just red- equally as impressive as David Lynch’s concept! Another exhibit I fell in love with was Cornelia Parker's 'Thirty Pieces of Silver'- a piece made of thirty circles of silverware that the artist had collected over many years, lay them out in her street, and had them stream rolled- amazing!

After walking through the Tate Modern, we stopped to have a vegetarian lunch on the grass at the front of the museum, which was swarming with families enjoying the sunshine. When we had finished, we continued walking along Queen's walk- where we came across Shakespeare's Globe theatre (or at least the remake) which, although we didn't go in, was great to see- past restaurants, bars and churches until the Tower Bridge came into view. My reaction to seeing it was much the same as when I stumbled upon Buckingham Palace. It's such a striking structure, but also one I've been familiar with since I was a child.

We walked until we reached the bridge, and crossed it, and the view from the bridge, and down the Thames and into the city was superb...But what we saw next, I found even more interesting (nerd-burger-in-extremis) !! Across from Tower Bridge is The Tower of London, and ancient structure-with towers and castles built in the 11th and 12th century, with drawbridges and moats and all- that was built at the time of the Crusades. Although we didn't go inside (but I will when I start earning some £££), we walked around the structure and saw the 'Beef eaters' and people dressed in costume having an archery contest.

By this time we had done heaps of walking, and decided to jump on a number 15 bus- the ancient-red-double-decker bus took us down to St. Paul’s Anglican Cathedral- the fateful site where Charles and Diana's ill fated nuptials took place, amongst other things.

It is a breathtakingly beautiful structure, and we began by walking the perimeter, trying to cope with the sound of the bells ringing in our ears. Given that it was a Sunday, a scheduled day of worship, there was a service running and people in prayer, and so no sight seeing or tours were available. Still, it was lovely to walk through the Cathedral, and marvel at the ceilings and side-chapels.

From St. Pauls, we got back on the number 15 bus, and headed to Trafalgar Square, and visited The National Gallery. The building it's self is stunning, and it's contents, marvellous (I really sound like a touro)!

The gallery is home to the likes of (and all the real deal originals, mind you) Botticelli's 'Venus & Mars' , Michelangelo's 'The Entombment', Titian (Tiziano)'s 'Bacchus & Adriane', and (the one that made me loose my breath momentarily) Van Gogh's 'Sunflowers'. It was somewhat surreal to be standing before these works, to say the least. As well as the works mentioned above, there was pieces by Picasso, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Caravaggio, Rembrandt & Monet...makes me realise that we're seriously starved in Oz.

By this stage, it was late in the day, and we rested out weary legs and strained brain capacity on the steps of Trafalgar Square, and agreed that it was time to go and answer the call of the Pear Cider once again.

Like A Rolling Stone

It's fair to say that we didn't have much sleep that night at the Abercorn- and Cailtin and I had decided the night before, that as soon as day broke, we were hitting the street to see what we could find.

We rose around 6am (skipped the shower option for reasons I hope have been made clear in the previous blog entry) and made our way out onto the Hammersmith pavement. We thought it was worth a shot to get on the Tube over to Ravencourt station, to see what the deal was with the Globetrotter Inn- it seemed impossible that London's backpacker mecca could really be out of action. Interestingly enough, on our way through Hammersmith station, I realised that my entire 300ml bottle of water had spilled throughout my back, and I found myself unashamedly ringing out my bag on the train station platform, feeling slightly un-phased (I admittedly was concerned for my passport which narrowly escaped complete destruction) in light of the previous twelve hours.

We arrived there a little after 7am to find the gates of the Inn chained up, and sure enough, the Globetrotter was closed without explanation, and we were back to the accommodation drawing board. Caitlin knew of a hostel in Bayswater that she had stayed in before, but we were unable to contact them, and found ourselves in need of Internet access yet again. We got back aboard the Tube, and headed back to Hammersmith to see if we could find a 'cafe', and realised that nothing was open at this hour of the morning, and so we walked around the high street, looking for places to stay out of the wind. We managed to find a little staircase in behind the Hammersmith high street, where amid our laughter about the sheer tragedy of our current situation and the way people on their way to work that morning were looking at us, the tiniest bit of sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and I took that as a sign (I was clutching at spanners) that things were on the way up.

You cannot know the joy I felt when a little after 9:30am, the roller door to the front of an Internet cafe started to roll up. Despite our initial idea to stay in the Bayswater hostel, we decided that given the amount of luggage we'd need to move, we should probably look in Hammersmith first. The first place that came up was a place by the name of St. Christopher's Inn, which I had actually noticed when we came back from Ravenscourt, directly opposite Hammersmith station, but I hadn't realised that it was a hostel. From the online description, it looked clean and decent, and we didn't waste much time walking back there and booking in- I must admit, I was almost moved to tears when at about 11 am (which felt at this stage like 11pm) when the Frenchman behind the counter said there were vacancies and we could come back around 2pm to check in. I could have kissed him, I tells ya. Lucky for him there was a sizable bench in between us.

Given that my bag (phone, i-pod, passport, make-up bag, diary, travel journal) was still saturated, and that the sun was out from behind the clouds and shinning by this stage, we took off back to Stamford Brook, were Caitlin had seen a park that we could go and hang out in until our room became available. I hung out there, feeling like your regular gypsy-gal, sleeping under the trees and drying out my personal belongings. It was kinda nice.

By 4pm that day, we had cut our losses, and dealt with the fact that we had lost some cash in leaving the Abercorn a day early, but it was so worth it for regained peace of mind, and a shower, even if there was four months worth of backpacker hair clogging the drain.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?

People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"

You thought they were all kiddin' you

You used to laugh about

Everybody that was hangin' out

Now you don't talk so loud

Now you don't seem so proud

About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel

How does it feel

To be without a home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone ?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely

But you know you only used to get juiced in it

And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street

And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it

You said you'd never compromise

With the mystery tramp, but know you realize

He's not selling any alibis

As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes

And say do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel

How does it feel

To be on your own

With no direction home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone ?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns

When they all come down and did tricks for you

You never understood that it ain't no good

You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you

You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat

Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat

Ain't it hard when you discover that

He really wasn't where it's at

After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel

How does it feel

To be on your own

With no direction home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone ?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people

They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made

Exchanging all precious gifts

But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe

You used to be so amused

At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used

Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse

When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose

You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel

How does it feel

To be on your own

With no direction home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone ?

Hi[yas] & [Hel]los

Buckingham Palace

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.
-- A. A. Milne

Well I guess it's true what they say about the Highs and Lows of London town... Here's my first encounter and example of this truth.

It had been made 'clear' to Caitlin and I that it was all too much for us to stay at our temporary accommodation- in fact, it was suggested we start looking elsewhere on the second day.*

Anyhoo, we decided to get right on out there and keep on trucking. We woke up really early on the morning of May 5th as Caitlin had an appointment at number 1 Regent street. The place was right near the Oxford Circus tube stop, and I decided to accompany here into the centre of town. Caitlin's meeting was scheduled to last about two hours, and I decided that, rather than take a left hand turn towards all the amazing shops that I simply didn't have any money to spent in, I would turn right, down towards a park I could see below a large statue and at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

I noticed a path that led down around the gardens and a half-empty pond. I sat down briefly to take a call from a girl who messed me around about a meeting she scheduled for me on the previous day (the bank holiday), and I finished my coffee and re-scheduled the meeting for Thursday. I decided to get back up an continue along the path- the gardens were stunning- and I noticed a sign that said 'The Royal Parks', and didn't think much more of it until, a little way down the path, I looked up and saw a signpost that read "Buckingham Palace". I eagerly and excitedly followed the path, which sure enough, led me to the gates of Buckingham Palace! Eeeeee!

At first, I was very taken by the Queen Victoria memorial statue, and the stellar golden angel sitting on the top of it. I guess I was just really taken by finally standing in front of the Palace I have heard and seen of for as long as I can remember- and despite the gloomy clouds overhead, the gold tipped gates and the bright yellow flowers in the surrounding gardens seemed to illuminate the place.

I wandered along the front gates, and found out that the changing of the guard would be taking place at 11:30am, and given that it was just after 10, I decided to hang about. I walked around the Queen Victoria memorial fountain a couple of times, taking snaps from different angles, before I made it over to the gates that stand at the entrance of Green Park. I marvelled as I read the history of the park, and looked at the trees overhead and the lush green grass. From here, I watched 'the King's men' march out of the palace gates with a brass orchestra in tow, off on their city tour before the formalities of the changing took place.

After a while, I headed back towards the palace gates, looking to secure a place to sit and view the daily ceremony. As I went to cross the road, a policeman stopped me, and asked me to wait which I did...and in just a few moments, a black range rover flew in the the gates, driven my Prince Phillip (Mr. Queen Elizabeth to you!)- Right in front of me! I thought it odd that this was the only car that wasn't stopped immediately, searched and verified by the security guards armed with automatic machine guns- I guess he just called ahead!!!

I made my up to the steps on the Queen Victoria memorial, and sat down amongst the many tourists and high school students. A bit after 11am, the guards returned from their merry-march-around-town, and the changing of the guard got underway. It took about an hour to complete, and to be honest, I'm not really sure what was going on, but the orchestra/band/what-have-you was awesome, and those black hats that the guards wear are hilarious- they should seriously be added to the Egan Street dress up cupboard!

When all the Queenie-hoo-ha was finished, I made my way back through the St. James Gardens and along the path back to Regent Street. I needed to meet Caitlin at twelve, to ensure we could make it from Oxford Circus station, back to East Putney, out to Wimbeldon and on to Surbiton for a meeting I scheduled with a teaching agency at 2pm. Caitlin's meeting was running overtime, and so we scrambled madly, made it out to Wimbeldon, alas, no Wombles, and miraculously got to Surbiton on time. The meeting was successful, but by the time it was over with we were exhausted, and made our way back to our temporary accommodation in Putney. We didn't arrive til around about 5pm, and we needed to organise accommodation for the evening. It's fair to say that we didn't feel comfortable about using the Internet where we were staying, so we had to do most of our searching on the phone. Unfortunately, when we called the Globetrotter hostel where we had planned to stay, the phone just keep on ringing out. We ended up booking a place that was advertised in the TNT magazine, a place called 'Abercorn House Hostel' in Hammersmith.

After some crappy pizza and wine, we were driven to the hostel, as it was close to Putney, and arrived there quite late in the evening and it was dark outside. Our first clue about the nature of this place should've hit us when they said on the phone that they only accepted cash payments, but sadly, I over looked that, and I guess it was the combination of the security window, CCTV, the fire alarm sounding and the stench of alcoholics at reception that really got the clue ball rolling...

The man behind the desk gave me the keys to three rooms to go and check out, one on the second floor and two on the fourth.
"I think you'll want the one on the second" he said.
Caitlin decided to stay and 'protect' our belongings in the 'lobby' while I headed up-stairs to check out the rooms. As I walked up the first flight of stairs, past the third-world-standard toilets, and the old men sitting in the halls, drinking and smoking, I started to feel rather scared, and somewhat sick. I was stared down, and even approached by a couple of them, but I just kept my head down and made my way to room 230. I passed a girl who had her head peeped out from the slight crack in her door, who was looking to see what the commotion was (there was a fight happening on the fire escape deck between a couple of blokes), and she gave me a wayward smile- probably just pleased to see another female of the species. I made it to the room and realised that we'd have to take it- there was no way I was walking up two more flights of stairs to see what else was up there.

I went back down to confirm with the guy, to find Caitlin being harrassed by a guy in an orange jumper, and the fire alarm started going off again. I shouted to the guy behind the desk that we would only be interested in staying for two nights, rather than five, as we had first stated. He didn't seem overly impressed, which made be concerned about handing over my passport and details to him. But it was late, and we needed to stay there. By the time we carted all of our luggage up the stairs, all we could do was lock ourselves in the room, and start making plans to get out of there at day break. There was constant noise and craziness in the halls, people banging on others doors, and slamming stuff around. We lay on our beds, hoping no-one would bust through our door, clutching our bags, and decided to try and sleep...and we left the light on.

So there you have it.
From Buckingham Palace to a half-way home in Hammersmith.
Helluva day.


*I'm not going to waste my blog space on explaining this further. Contact me directly if you wanna know the deal.

Culture Vultures

Monday May 4th was a bank (public) holiday here in the London, and so it was a great opportunity for me to head into the centre of town.

We took the tube from East Putney station into Piccadilly Circus. From Piccadilly Circus (yep, took the standard photo in front of the fountain) and from there walked down Regent Street, through Carnaby Street (channelled my inner mod) to Oxford Circus. The architecture is stunning, and unlike anything I've seen before, as far as they eye can see, building after building.

We strolled through lanes ways, and popped in and out of shops, bought lunch and found a cute little park by Oxford Circus to eat our lunch in. From there we caught the underground to Embankment station, crossed Waterloo Bridge and walked along the Southern bank of the Thames; from here we had incredible views of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, again the Gothic architectural genius a sight for sore (and tired) eyes. We walked under the London eye, and crossed the Westminster Bridge for an even closet look at Big Ben, the House of Parliament, Westminster Abbey and the general Westminister area.

It is all so absolutely beautiful- the trees, gates, buildings, fences and parks-such an exciting place to be...

RACE TO THE BASS LONDON!

The flight from KL to LDN on Saturday was smooth sailing, especially with the help of some sneaky sleeping aides that Kim and I found when we were packing up Clarke Street. Although the flight was a little under thirteen hours, Malaysian Airlines made is completely comfortable, and we were able to hit the ground running when we landed at Heathrow.

We were picked up in a car at the airport, which is quite a luxury here in Great Britain I believe, and were shuttled off to our temporary accommodation in Putney, right by the Thames River in London's south. After a quick dinner and a power nap for me, we headed to London's North via the Tube and a number of double-decker buses, which is uber cool I must to say, right near the Angel Underground station.

We met up with friends of friends at a house over near Islington, and the party got underway quickly with a few cheeky ones, cans of cider, Doves on the stereo and some british lads supplying us with loads of 'spiffling' laughs. We headed out to Old Street, which seemed frightfully similar to my Brunswick street, and lined up for a club called Cargo. The line was long, and it was getting late, so we decided to head to another bar, which I think was called The Music Hall (I'll be back over that way in the not too distant future- just to make sure:) and it seemed we had stumbled across another North Fitzroy gem- a First Floor replica. The beats and bass were kickin', and the tap cider choice...but everyone just wanted to talk... so we headed back to the house, via the dodgy corner shop, which also serves as an after hours bottle shop to pick up some £1 cans of beer and cider for the night ahead.

We kicked on til dawn, dancing to wicked tunes and talking utter cod-shit until we couldn't go on anymore, and it was time to head back south of the city. By the time the cab arrived at the front steps, it was broad daylight, and I could make out where I was more clearly.

Given that we needed to travel from the North to the South of London, we headed through central London, and I could see the River Thames, the London Eye, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament from the cab window- which I had wound down and had stuck my head out of like a bloomin' tourist, but I didn't care! It was amazing so finally see it all, and it hit me I had finally made it!

Kickin' it KL Style

The first stopping point in this adventure was in Kuala Lumpar, Malaysia...and what an amazing experience it was! On arrival, I realised that (apart from not being in Kansas anymore) the heat and the humidity may in fact collapse my lungs without warning. The air was so heavy, and the heat, simply overwhelming. We jumped into a 'limo' after making our way out the main doors, and into the Bintang district of KL...so much traffic, so many people...

Given that it was quite late in the evening, we promptly checked in to the Royal Bintang Hotel, and ordered some grub, which was the first introduction to Malay cuisine. Room service sent up a plate of Nasi Lemak, and although a traditional breakfast dish, was sooo good...fresh cucumber, rice, an onion and tomato based chutney with marinated chicken and half a boiled egg and dried anchovies on the side...scrumdiddily indeedily... For the next few days I managed to consume (one too many) nasi gorengs, cuttlefish crackers, pork buns from KL's China town market, roti, vegetables and marinated chicken, a range of Halal dishes, authentic 'restoran' dim-sum of shark-fin, crab, prawn and pork, chicken curry noodles, Char Kwai Teow, seafood laksa, and the delicious Longan drink sweetened with lychees and coconut. Although we bi-passed the tanks of snails, frogs and eels, if I was to return someday, you never know...but I digress...

On our first full day in KL we decided to do a walking tour of KL, which started by taking the train from Bintang station to the Masjid Jamek mosque, the oldest in KL (Nb: we managed to use the KL underground train and monorail throughout our time in the city, and it was really impressive! Again, poo to you Connex!) The Mosque sits on the confluence of the Gombak and Klang Rivers. In view from the riverside was the classic 1930's art-deco-style Oriental Building, the former sessions and Magistrate's Court, City Hall and the Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad. Not far from here we walked along the Tudor-style Royal Selangor Club (reeking of the colonial influence) and visited St. Mary's Cathedral. St. Mary's, cooled by the ceiling fans, was perhaps the most humble Cathedral I have yet to have visited, but indicative of the country's Islamic influence. From here we walked to the renowned markets in Chinatown, passing the bright yellow shuttered windows with antiquated iron grill gates and beautiful dutch gables of the Sin Seng Nam restaurant. Chinatown and Little India were fantastic- the aromas, action, atmosphere and people! And it was somewhere here that I realised it was official...I was falling for South East Asia.

After we left Chinatown, we visited the beautifully red, Buddhist Tze Ya Temple, alive with candles, colour and incense. From here we made our way to KLCC station, which is at the base of the Petronas Twin Towers. Our final destination for the day was Carcosa Seri Negara, another colonial building that was a residence of a former British high Commissioner, which has now been turned into a luxury hotel, for High Tea. Hmmmmm....despite my disgusting humidified hair, bad clothes and sweaty-betty-self (next time I'll be working out my Country Road card and finding a local hairdresser and beautician before stepping into such a place), it was divine...if you want to skip past more food hooey, skip to the next paragraph...unlimited Earl Grey tea, egg and cucumber sandwiches, salmon buns with walnut bread with cream cheese, rhubarb crumble, creme brulle, chocolate and banana tarts, walnut bread to start (yeah...) which was followed by plain and fruit scones served with cream and jam, and concluded with strawberries and cream cheese. Yep, told ya. The food (and my obsession with it) was out of control. Then it was time for home, and pool time. Always get a hotel with a pool in KL. Always.

Every night we managed to hit up the bar in the Lobby for a standard cocktails...although consuming a local bottle of Red Bull followed by about ten dirty martinis one night made for an interesting time...each night we were serenaded by Rakim- also known to us as DJ Happy Dude- who would start his set with classic tracks like "Jump Around" and "I See you Baby", and then break out his synthesiser and head-set mic and roll out unforgettable ballads like "Wind beneath my Wings" and Enrique's "Hero")...on the Red Bull night, he even shared with us his repertoire of magic tricks. He somehow put out a burning cigarette butt in the palm of his hand, and then made it disappear. What a pro- step aside Gob Bluth! Gold, I tells ya! (I have his business card, so if anyone's interested, I'll forward you on his details) I believe that it was also on this night, we needed to make a quick stop at the local Quickie-Mart close to The Royal Bintang when I saw my first 'free-range' monkey...I use the term 'free range' loosely, as the monkey was on a leash, with a nappy on, and being forced to sit on it's owner's shoulder. The poor little thing just wanted to escape the cameras and crowds, and was scolded and smacked by it's 'carer' when it tried to find some solace, and rest it's weary head on his friend the python's back. Heavy.

On the day before we headed off, we decided to finally give into the locals harassing ways, and have a Fish Spa, and to be honest, I wish I'd done it sooner. The fish spa process involves putting your feet into a pool of fish who come to eat the dead flesh from you feet...at first just looking at the fish freaked me out, and the sensation was sheer madness, but like with all things of such nature, after a little while, you kind of get used to it...and the end result was superb.

All in all KL was a well-wicked introduction to South East Asia, and it has inspired me to return, and return I shall.

She's leaving home...again

After ten amazing years in what is colloquially known as The Rainy City, the time has come for me to move on…well, for a while anyway.

Melbourne has been so incredibly good to me, and it is home to my favorite parks, gardens, galleries, bars, cafes…and most of my favorite people.

It wasn’t an easy decision to leave, and I found it harder than I could have imagined to relocate my cat, pack up my little house and farewell my friends.

So much has changed in Melbourne since I first arrived- the scene, the population and the water storage levels- and I have evolved right along with it. The friendships, share houses, music, parties…two universities, two gyms, two cars…

More than anywhere else on the planet, I consider it to be my home, and for my concerned and loving peeps, I’ll most certainly be back.

But there’s an adventure for me to be had, that’s for sure. Stay tuned.