Ok. So Wales is beautifual. Those of us who have been all agree. But I think I might have forgotten a bit.
I might also have forgotten about how amusing my childhood friend Julie is, who has brought her amusing Spaniard, Abraham, along for the journey into the long and dark distant past.
We have just spent the last the last few days in the Brecon Beacons having the most fantastic time with Roy and Judith at the Three Cocks (which is also the name of the town on the A430 (or something) between Hay-On-Wye and Brecon. Despite a night of weirdness on the last night, the Three Cocks is an inn you must go to. Nestled within a valley of the Brecons it is a wonderful, foody, home away from home run by an ex-advertising man and his wife. Who, by the way, could cook nearly anyone we know in the cheffing trade under the table.
Jules and Abraham were absolutely delightful and it was like no time had passed since Jules and I last saw each other (which I have calculated as some 17 years). That's the test of how good friends you are, I tell you.
Now I must caveat this blog with the explanation that the 65 year old woman that mans the internet station at the Lancaster (which is where we're staying until we leaves) is regaling me with an over the top story of a Phillipino woman who got picked up by, and married to, an ex-guest of the hotel who looks like Pierce Brosnan. Now she's telling me about some bird who married Carrie Grant. She gets one date and bag of chips and can of coke - I just informed her that by the time her prince comes she will be on a zimmer frame. No point lying - she is 65.
So Damo has been to Pont-y-Pool now - the birth home of his father. I thought Dapto might be a step up - so Norm has done well. I have a few amusing photos of Damo standing astride Nicholas Street.
Update on old lady manning internet station - I am an unusual guest because she wouldn't normally speak to me this way (i.e. giving me solid updates on which guest asked for what and why and wondering why the fuck they would've asked in the first place, and then in the same breath praying that I'm not from the Tourist Board (probably full of bastard Torys)).
Pont-y-Pool is a place in SE Wales which has clearly suffered from a fast Thatcher-ian closure of the coal mines. Perhaps Norm left at just the right time. I'll be honest and say that I didn't feel entirely at ease there, but that's perhaps just that I was a foreigner in their town.... Jules fealt the same. But anyhoo it was indeed very interesting from heredity point of view and Damo would like to spend more time there so it can't have been all bad.
The Beacons on the other hand are utterly beautiful and full of lovely quaint little towns ready to serve you inappropriately large pints of home brewed ale. Which we drank (or in some cases, pinky skulled) quite a few of. Damo, Abraham and Jules weren't shy in showing their skulling prowess. I would've to but for the bastard Spanish Flu I caught that has impeded my drinking fitness in a way embarrassing to my reunion stadards.
Jules of course was very forgiving and pinky skulled her way through a few pints on my behalf. Thank god because otherwise someone wouldn't have been able to tackle Damo on the finer points of idealistic politicism. And other words Jules used because she is a philisophical writer.
It's only because I am currently maggotted after visiting our hotel's bar (where they had half price drinks) and then a little jaunt to OXO Tower (and every bar on the way there from Lancaster) that I haven't mentioned how awesome it was to see Jules and Abraham. Jules was my childhood bestest of friends and it really was a fantastic 'as it was' reunion. And Abraham - despite being Spanish ;) - is a dead-set legend, and cono. It warmed my heart greatly to firstly see a very old friend whom I loved and see that it was like we saw each other yesterday, and that her wonderful partner was the same. And I could practice my bad Spanish on him. Bonus (poor bastard).
Ok I think I have rambled on in a paraletic way enough. We fly out on Thursday night just in time for an arrival at Davey Mac's 40th. Better start hunting for a shocking latex wound tomorrow.
Did I mention that I am blind drunk? Yeah. I just reread my blog and can't remember writing any of it. Happy Davey Mac?
Ciao, Auf Wiedersehn, Good Nacht!
xxx
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
G'day from Ol' Blighty
It's right to say G'day here. A distinctly large proportion of the population appears to be Aussie. I suspect none of you are surprised to hear that.
We made it out of Espana, with some mixed feelings - on one hand, it was a fun, vibrant and colourful architectural and culinary mecca. On the other hand, there wasn't a whole lot more cured meat I could stomach, not at the price it was being sold at anyway.
We had expected Spain to be the 'cheap leg' of our journey, and therefore spent up with gay abandon in other countries. But oh no. Touristica have made this place positively the most expensive city I have visited (even Damo says he'll retract his review of Zurich as the most expensive). Two beers were costing us about 16 euros on average - that's nearly AUD$30! I could eat pretty cheaply if I ate 3 small pieces of tapas (not three small hot portions of things on plates - 3 little bocadillos, which are sort of like canapes of tasty things on a small slice of pan) which was on average about 6 euros, or nearly AUD$12. But they weren't enough to last more than a few hours when were trotting all around the city en-foote). Our 1 bedroom apartment was the cheapest option for accomodation (save the dreaded bed-bug ridden hostels) at 800 euros for 7 nights. The Espanolas like to sting you for everything, and I'm surprised there's not a tax on crossing the fucking road. No free museums, tours, or art galleries - they all cost 16 euros to get in. Flat charge. Oh except Park Guell, which I must admit was pretty cool.
Yes I would've laid down my life to see the fab buildings and museums we went to. But it shaved $4.5K out of our bank account without blinking an eyelid. Ouch. When I came to Spain (albeit nearly 10 years ago now) it was SUPER cheap. Was I just not paying attention? Or has it gotten a lot more expensive over the years?
Anyway I'd go back - perhaps not to Barcelona, but I really do love Espana with a passion. It's choca-block full of interesting people and things to do. And some of the most mental of artistas have derived their inspiration from it's old religious ways.
Enough about Espana. An uneventful flight from Barcelona has brought us back to the shores of the mother country, and we have been cruising the streets looking for promised knife fights and postcode gangs. Apparently they've set up a 30-strong team of armed personnel (armed with state of the art semi-automatic weaponry, mind) to deal with the latter. Nice!
Yesterday we did the Sezzlechest Cultural Tour for the Mildly Interested. Spitalfield Markets were zany and interesting. Unfortunately it went a bit pear from there... Sezzle we'll give you a full rundown of our tour from there - you'll be amused. Suffice it to say we abandoned the tour when we got to Blackfriars bridge and decided to get changed and reset. We ended up at The Forge in Soho for a delightful dinner and bottle of wine, which set off my cold and flu tablets nicely (yes, Spain has given me a little gift to remember her by) so we stumbled off home all glassy eyed on the tube at midnight. It's the English way innit.
And we'll be doing more of the same tonight, as we are off to meet Damo's friend Amy for drinks. That's drinks right after our Nicky French tour of Pubs of the Norf. Should be out of control.
Tomorrow we are cruising off in our hire car to Wales and the Brecon Beacons for the weekend, where I will also be meeting up with a very old friend Julie, who I was bestest friends with when I was a young teenager. I should imagine there will be much hooting and singing of Mel and Kim songs when we greet.
Love to youse all in 'Strayla from Ol Blighty land xxxx
We made it out of Espana, with some mixed feelings - on one hand, it was a fun, vibrant and colourful architectural and culinary mecca. On the other hand, there wasn't a whole lot more cured meat I could stomach, not at the price it was being sold at anyway.
We had expected Spain to be the 'cheap leg' of our journey, and therefore spent up with gay abandon in other countries. But oh no. Touristica have made this place positively the most expensive city I have visited (even Damo says he'll retract his review of Zurich as the most expensive). Two beers were costing us about 16 euros on average - that's nearly AUD$30! I could eat pretty cheaply if I ate 3 small pieces of tapas (not three small hot portions of things on plates - 3 little bocadillos, which are sort of like canapes of tasty things on a small slice of pan) which was on average about 6 euros, or nearly AUD$12. But they weren't enough to last more than a few hours when were trotting all around the city en-foote). Our 1 bedroom apartment was the cheapest option for accomodation (save the dreaded bed-bug ridden hostels) at 800 euros for 7 nights. The Espanolas like to sting you for everything, and I'm surprised there's not a tax on crossing the fucking road. No free museums, tours, or art galleries - they all cost 16 euros to get in. Flat charge. Oh except Park Guell, which I must admit was pretty cool.
Yes I would've laid down my life to see the fab buildings and museums we went to. But it shaved $4.5K out of our bank account without blinking an eyelid. Ouch. When I came to Spain (albeit nearly 10 years ago now) it was SUPER cheap. Was I just not paying attention? Or has it gotten a lot more expensive over the years?
Anyway I'd go back - perhaps not to Barcelona, but I really do love Espana with a passion. It's choca-block full of interesting people and things to do. And some of the most mental of artistas have derived their inspiration from it's old religious ways.
Enough about Espana. An uneventful flight from Barcelona has brought us back to the shores of the mother country, and we have been cruising the streets looking for promised knife fights and postcode gangs. Apparently they've set up a 30-strong team of armed personnel (armed with state of the art semi-automatic weaponry, mind) to deal with the latter. Nice!
Yesterday we did the Sezzlechest Cultural Tour for the Mildly Interested. Spitalfield Markets were zany and interesting. Unfortunately it went a bit pear from there... Sezzle we'll give you a full rundown of our tour from there - you'll be amused. Suffice it to say we abandoned the tour when we got to Blackfriars bridge and decided to get changed and reset. We ended up at The Forge in Soho for a delightful dinner and bottle of wine, which set off my cold and flu tablets nicely (yes, Spain has given me a little gift to remember her by) so we stumbled off home all glassy eyed on the tube at midnight. It's the English way innit.
And we'll be doing more of the same tonight, as we are off to meet Damo's friend Amy for drinks. That's drinks right after our Nicky French tour of Pubs of the Norf. Should be out of control.
Tomorrow we are cruising off in our hire car to Wales and the Brecon Beacons for the weekend, where I will also be meeting up with a very old friend Julie, who I was bestest friends with when I was a young teenager. I should imagine there will be much hooting and singing of Mel and Kim songs when we greet.
Love to youse all in 'Strayla from Ol Blighty land xxxx
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Hola! ¿Com es tas?
We haven´t died - We have been chillin in Barcelona, drinking and taking in el sol meditereniene. So I don´t know any Catalan and my español is bad - ¿so what?
In short. Damo has killed his love of potatoes, seeing as that´s about all he can eat here. I, on the other hand, can eat any animal I want. And oil. If I want to or not. But the cava is muy bien and the sun is hot, so I don´t care if a 100gm meal equates to a 25kg expansion of my ass.
Today we went to Palau Guell and some fancy pants apartment block on Gracia which I should know the name of but can´t remember because I had two cavas dos momento ago. Yesterday we went to Sagrada Familia (awe inspiring) and Park Guell (quaint and slightly nostalgic). We´ve been here 8 days but for some reason only decided to do a bunch of sight seeing on the last two days of our stay.
It´s certainly been amusing drinking grande cervezas on La Rambla and picking which nationality the hombre´s y chicas are from. I´m sad to leave, but looking forward to food that is not sausage, queso, jamon or aglio olio. Or gazpacho for that matter. How about a food without tomatoi? Impossible para mi!
We will provide you with a better rundown in the future. But for now - adios, for we are about to visit the Dali museu.
Adios!
In short. Damo has killed his love of potatoes, seeing as that´s about all he can eat here. I, on the other hand, can eat any animal I want. And oil. If I want to or not. But the cava is muy bien and the sun is hot, so I don´t care if a 100gm meal equates to a 25kg expansion of my ass.
Today we went to Palau Guell and some fancy pants apartment block on Gracia which I should know the name of but can´t remember because I had two cavas dos momento ago. Yesterday we went to Sagrada Familia (awe inspiring) and Park Guell (quaint and slightly nostalgic). We´ve been here 8 days but for some reason only decided to do a bunch of sight seeing on the last two days of our stay.
It´s certainly been amusing drinking grande cervezas on La Rambla and picking which nationality the hombre´s y chicas are from. I´m sad to leave, but looking forward to food that is not sausage, queso, jamon or aglio olio. Or gazpacho for that matter. How about a food without tomatoi? Impossible para mi!
We will provide you with a better rundown in the future. But for now - adios, for we are about to visit the Dali museu.
Adios!
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