So I do post again after all. I arrive at Heathrow on Wednesday, check in, sit down, relax. Or try to. A message flashes up on the screen: with typical German precision it tells me my flight to Frankfurt is delayed by 58 minutes. Whoa, that makes my connection to Bangkok a bit tight, doesn't it? I ask at the desk. Apparently my flight isn't really delayed at all, and that message was just a precaution due to the bad weather. And, you know, my connecting flight will probably take off late anyway, so on average I'll be fine. Huh?! I don't care about on average; I want to know about this flight.
Anyway my plane takes off, we end up in an electrical storm, we spend some time circling at the other end, then finally we get the OK to land. Phew. But at the last minute the pilot pulls out of the landing and we head towards Stuttgart where we spend an hour or so on the ground to refuel. I'm philosophical about this: if the pilot isn't comfortable with the conditions he shouldn't land. We arrive at Frankfurt three hours late to a round of applause. At 2am, after much faffing around by Lufthansa (to me the airline epitomise German unhelpfulness but don't show much sign of German efficiency), I get put up in a rather swanky hotel and in the morning I have an equally swanky breakfast.
I'm rebooked on a Thai Airways flight and I'm happy about that, though that would mean I'd miss my Air Asia flight from Bangkok to Bali by minutes. I try to phone Air Asia from my room to change my flight - I'd written down several phone numbers before just in case - but the "press one, press two" thing didn't work and I'm billed ten euros for a bunch of pointless phone calls. I then use the phone at reception but Air Asia tell me I can't change my flight at such short notice. My god. Maybe I'll get something back on my insurance but I wouldn't bank on it.
Frankfurt airport was horrible: their thermostat was turned up to max and everyone had to drink bottled water, ridiculously priced at two quid for a small bottle, just to survive. I have to say that the Thai flight was excellent and I thoroughly recommend them to anybody. When I arrived at Bangkok I had one question: where the hell are my bags?! I was told they'd be coming on the next Lufthansa flight in, uh, half a day. I hadn't changed since London and was feeling decidedly dirty.
A couple of hours after arriving at the hotel, my bags magically turn up with the word RUSH on them. It felt great to change into some new clothes. Who knows what flight my bags had been on. At the hotel I use the internet to book another Air Asia flight to Bali (I could have gone with Thai but that would have cost me megabahts). I'll be staying a bit longer in Bangkok, and nine nights in Bali instead of the twelve I'd planned.
My hotel room is huge: it's got two double beds just for me. I've got the opposite problem to the one I had at Frankfurt airport: the air con is set to freezing, but I can live with that. I played with the controls for a while, then noticed the air con remote has the number of the room next door on it. Perhaps my neighbour has my controls. "Air con wars" has a certain ring to it. "You think you can make me sweat, well take that, mister!" Next to my bed is a price list. It seems everything in my room is for sale. A hand towel is 100 baht or about two quid. The fridge is 7000 baht. Maybe I could buy the fridge and hitch-hike around Thailand with it, then write a book about it.
Last night I grabbed some food from a street stall across the road. It was cheap and tasty though I couldn't quite tell what the meat was, and as I ate it I was surrounded by dogs. Breakfast this morning included Spam and didn't quite match that hotel in Frankfurt. I'm now about to take a taxi into central Bangkok; the hotel staff have assured me that it's OK.
Living with my gran meant living in a clockless, calendarless world. With all that messing around with planes I now have very little idea of what time it is, or what day. Whether it's night or day is about all I can handle.
Showing posts with label May-June 2010 trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label May-June 2010 trip. Show all posts
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Heading back
I'll be flying out of the UK tomorrow. I've got mixed feelings about that. My gran is understandably upset that I'm leaving: she has no family to look after her. On the other hand it's damn near impossible to do anything with my gran about and I need to get on with my own life.
I've booked twelve nights in Bali to avoid the whole Thailand mess. As a kid we used to stop over in Bali on the way to and from New Zealand. I'd rate our '89 and '90 stopovers as the best holidays of my life, so I'm hoping this trip will bring back happy memories for me.
Last weekend I stayed in Birmingham (which is a million miles from Bali) and met up with some friends from university. One of my friends, the one I've been in touch with the most, was kind enough to put me up, or at least his parents were (he still lives with them). He qualified as an actuary in no time; he's an incredibly clever bloke whose knowledge extends to music and popular culture, not just academic stuff. I spent a few days in Italy with him in 2008. His mind worked at such terrific speed that I couldn't help but feel stupid most of the time. We spent some time on Saturday at the Lickey Hills, playing some weird batless version of cricket. One of the (many) great things about Birmingham is that you're never far from the countryside.
I don't know if I'll have much computer access in the next two weeks so this will likely be my last blog post for a while.
I've booked twelve nights in Bali to avoid the whole Thailand mess. As a kid we used to stop over in Bali on the way to and from New Zealand. I'd rate our '89 and '90 stopovers as the best holidays of my life, so I'm hoping this trip will bring back happy memories for me.
Last weekend I stayed in Birmingham (which is a million miles from Bali) and met up with some friends from university. One of my friends, the one I've been in touch with the most, was kind enough to put me up, or at least his parents were (he still lives with them). He qualified as an actuary in no time; he's an incredibly clever bloke whose knowledge extends to music and popular culture, not just academic stuff. I spent a few days in Italy with him in 2008. His mind worked at such terrific speed that I couldn't help but feel stupid most of the time. We spent some time on Saturday at the Lickey Hills, playing some weird batless version of cricket. One of the (many) great things about Birmingham is that you're never far from the countryside.
I don't know if I'll have much computer access in the next two weeks so this will likely be my last blog post for a while.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
It's all too complicated
Yesterday I parked the grannymobile - a bright red '96 or '97 Nissan Micra - at Huntingdon station. Right, now how much is it and how do I pay? I had great fun trying to interpret a sign with a long list of prices ranging from £6.20 to over a grand. How on earth do people manage? I sat in the car waiting for 10:00 to pass - missing the 9:59 train in the process - so I could get a cheaper rate. The next train stopped at every station including some that I'd never heard of.
At 1pm I met up with my old flatmate (we flatted in Birmingham in 2001-o2) at the British Library where we visited the Magnificent Maps exhibition. I like maps (as art perhaps more than as a tool you use to get somewhere) and I once had a job that involved making them. New Zealand featured on very few of these maps because it hadn't been discovered. We saw the world's biggest atlas - a book about as tall as me - and a huge labour-of-love comedy map of London.
We then spent a short time at Covent Garden:
It was a perfect day in London yesterday - there literally wasn't a cloud in the sky. How often, anywhere in the UK, can you say that? We walked along the Thames and visited some bars whose prices were very similar to what I've seen in Auckland, just in a different currency. My flatmate is a doctor and has a lot of disposable income but very little disposable time, so I was lucky to get to see him. We finished up at a Turkish restaurant where we had some very tasty food, just far too much of it.
Then I found I'd lost my return train ticket. My flatmate called that a disaster, though that was a bit strong (I now realise I used that word inappropriately myself in my last post). I searched everywhere but the ticket had vanished. I nearly jumped on the train and took the risk (I'll be out of the country in no time), but in the end I bought another ticket. Train ticket pricing makes no sense in the UK - a return costs about 1.05 times a single (so what are you actually paying for when you buy a ticket?). Whatever, I could kiss goodbye to another £22. I'm burning money on this trip. When I boarded my train at platform zero, I felt a lot like this bloke:
Today I've been all over the place, and let's face it, a bit depressed. Gran and I went into Huntingdon. The last thing we did was visit the supermarket, something I don't enjoy doing at the best of times. But my gran only wanted three items: gin, tonic and milk, so it would be easy. Yeah right. To begin with I offered some resistance, but not wanting an argument I gave up as my gran made sure she got at least something from every aisle, even though she had identical items untouched at home in the fridge. "Put this in, we're running short of that, you really can't have enough of the next thing."
Tomorrow I'll be taking the grannymobile to Birmingham. I've been looking for a road map, but the only maps I can find here could almost belong in that exhibition. The most recent of them is dated 1985.
At 1pm I met up with my old flatmate (we flatted in Birmingham in 2001-o2) at the British Library where we visited the Magnificent Maps exhibition. I like maps (as art perhaps more than as a tool you use to get somewhere) and I once had a job that involved making them. New Zealand featured on very few of these maps because it hadn't been discovered. We saw the world's biggest atlas - a book about as tall as me - and a huge labour-of-love comedy map of London.
We then spent a short time at Covent Garden:
It was a perfect day in London yesterday - there literally wasn't a cloud in the sky. How often, anywhere in the UK, can you say that? We walked along the Thames and visited some bars whose prices were very similar to what I've seen in Auckland, just in a different currency. My flatmate is a doctor and has a lot of disposable income but very little disposable time, so I was lucky to get to see him. We finished up at a Turkish restaurant where we had some very tasty food, just far too much of it.
Then I found I'd lost my return train ticket. My flatmate called that a disaster, though that was a bit strong (I now realise I used that word inappropriately myself in my last post). I searched everywhere but the ticket had vanished. I nearly jumped on the train and took the risk (I'll be out of the country in no time), but in the end I bought another ticket. Train ticket pricing makes no sense in the UK - a return costs about 1.05 times a single (so what are you actually paying for when you buy a ticket?). Whatever, I could kiss goodbye to another £22. I'm burning money on this trip. When I boarded my train at platform zero, I felt a lot like this bloke:
Today I've been all over the place, and let's face it, a bit depressed. Gran and I went into Huntingdon. The last thing we did was visit the supermarket, something I don't enjoy doing at the best of times. But my gran only wanted three items: gin, tonic and milk, so it would be easy. Yeah right. To begin with I offered some resistance, but not wanting an argument I gave up as my gran made sure she got at least something from every aisle, even though she had identical items untouched at home in the fridge. "Put this in, we're running short of that, you really can't have enough of the next thing."
Tomorrow I'll be taking the grannymobile to Birmingham. I've been looking for a road map, but the only maps I can find here could almost belong in that exhibition. The most recent of them is dated 1985.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Cambridge
Here's a picture of a demonstration from Monday's market in St Ives:I wouldn't want to play badugi with that bloke.
Yesterday I went into Cambridge on the Whippet bus (in America they have Greyhounds, here we have Whippets). Cambridge is an amazing city and I'm proud to say I was born there. Its academia seems to attract all kinds of oddbods, so you can be yourself there without ever feeling out of place. Yesterday I got a real buzz just from browsing the bookshops and clothes shops, even though it was a wet day. I bought nine books, a few clothes and a Glenn Miller album for my gran. I even found a fair-trade clothes shop called Wombat which must be one of the coolest words in existence. It's easy to forget that just like any other city Cambridge has its problems, such as homelessness, depicted in Alexander Masters' excellent book Stuart.
The World Cup starts next week, and every other car has a cross of St George flying from its aerial. Can England win it? Of course they can. But so can, realistically, a dozen other countries. New Zealand might struggle, but they did just beat Yugoslavia. I reckon there's a lot more luck involved than people realise. Qualify from your group, maybe winning it to get an easier draw in the second round, make it through that, then what? You'll be facing one of the big guns, and quite possibly a penalty shoot-out.
Tomorrow I'll be seeing an old university flatmate in London.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Living with Grandma
I get on well with my gran but it's hard work at times. She's been largely immobile for some years, but lately she's lost much of her mental sharpness too. She gets confused very easily and her short-term memory is almost non-existent. Sometimes I feel I'm living in some kind of Alice in Wonderland world. My gran has lost all sense of time, so effectively while I'm living here there's no clock and no calendar. She'll make herself breakfast at 3:30 am, then pour me a cup of apple-flavoured instant tea at 5:30 (which I tip down the sink when she's not looking), then she'll sleep most of the day.
Friday was her 88th birthday. I gave her regular reminders of this as the date approached. She would recite her date of birth - "twenty-eight five twenty-two" - but without knowing what it meant; it might as well have been a car number plate. And then the big day came. We - myself and the absent members of her family - made a fairly big deal of it. I'm glad we did. In all she got two birthday cakes, three bouquets of flowers, two punnets of strawberries and numerous cards. And the phone hardly stopped ringing. I even took her to the village pub for lunch (it was good to see her eating well). But later that afternoon she wanted to know what day her birthday was!
What makes it hard for me (and anyone else) is that she's unwilling to accept help from others. She still thinks she can be in control of everything. Every morning a carer briefly visits her for a quick check, but whoever this person is (unfortunately it changes) my gran doesn't trust them.
I should point out that her emotional responses to other people are just the same as they've always been. There's no point trying to pull the wool over her eyes; she can read you like a book. And occasionally all the circuitry in her brain magically aligns and everything, for a few minutes, returns to normal.
Conversation often makes little sense. For instance I'll hand her a bowl of strawberries. "I think I'd better leave these to stand for a while." Stand? So they can brew? Ferment? Dance?
On Saturday disaster struck as she developed a severe pain in her lower back and she could hardly move at all. Suddenly simple things like getting into bed or using the loo became a major operation. On Sunday I called the doctor who came round and prescribed some painkillers.
Not that he should have bothered. There are painkillers, and just about every other kind of prescription drug under the sun, all over the house. She has a cupboard jam-packed with diazepam, clonazepam and nitrazepam, although I couldn't find the one we get in New Zealand called sweetazepam.
Most of the dates on the boxes are from last century but if I dared throw any of them away I'd be in big trouble. My gran is a rampant hoarder (I'll get on to her ancient tins of food in another post).
If you're wondering what diazepam (a.k.a. Valium) is doing in her cupboard, she's suffered from anxiety, panic attacks and depression for sixty years. Her thirties sound like they were a living hell. Things haven't been anywhere near as bad recently but she still gets the odd "attack" such as today when the realisation that the cleaning lady will be arriving tomorrow sent her over the edge.
I love my gran a lot, she was very good to me as a boy, and I'm happy to help her (so long as she'll accept my help!). Funnily enough after cutting her toenails today (she's unable to do them herself) she thinks I should pursue a career as a podiatrist!
Last night I watched Andy Murray's disappointing loss to Tomas Berdych in the French Open (normally I'm watching on a TV with no clever red button, and it's at night anyway, so I don't get that luxury). Murray's body language wasn't good - it was as if he couldn't wait to get off the court (and I know what that feels like). This year's Roland-Garros was the seventh time I'd been to a Grand Slam (I went to Wimbledon in '98, '99, '01 and '02, and the Aussie Open in '05 and '08). It's been a real shame to see so many empty seats in Paris this year. Apparently the tickets have been sold but people don't turn up. Something similar happens at Wimbledon with all the corporate fat-cat tickets, but not to such a ridiculous extent.
Today was a bank holiday so St Ives had a special super-sized market. This time we even had people giving demonstrations of their products. I had a look around, but as always, restricted my purchases to food.
Friday was her 88th birthday. I gave her regular reminders of this as the date approached. She would recite her date of birth - "twenty-eight five twenty-two" - but without knowing what it meant; it might as well have been a car number plate. And then the big day came. We - myself and the absent members of her family - made a fairly big deal of it. I'm glad we did. In all she got two birthday cakes, three bouquets of flowers, two punnets of strawberries and numerous cards. And the phone hardly stopped ringing. I even took her to the village pub for lunch (it was good to see her eating well). But later that afternoon she wanted to know what day her birthday was!
What makes it hard for me (and anyone else) is that she's unwilling to accept help from others. She still thinks she can be in control of everything. Every morning a carer briefly visits her for a quick check, but whoever this person is (unfortunately it changes) my gran doesn't trust them.
I should point out that her emotional responses to other people are just the same as they've always been. There's no point trying to pull the wool over her eyes; she can read you like a book. And occasionally all the circuitry in her brain magically aligns and everything, for a few minutes, returns to normal.
Conversation often makes little sense. For instance I'll hand her a bowl of strawberries. "I think I'd better leave these to stand for a while." Stand? So they can brew? Ferment? Dance?
On Saturday disaster struck as she developed a severe pain in her lower back and she could hardly move at all. Suddenly simple things like getting into bed or using the loo became a major operation. On Sunday I called the doctor who came round and prescribed some painkillers.
Not that he should have bothered. There are painkillers, and just about every other kind of prescription drug under the sun, all over the house. She has a cupboard jam-packed with diazepam, clonazepam and nitrazepam, although I couldn't find the one we get in New Zealand called sweetazepam.
Most of the dates on the boxes are from last century but if I dared throw any of them away I'd be in big trouble. My gran is a rampant hoarder (I'll get on to her ancient tins of food in another post).
If you're wondering what diazepam (a.k.a. Valium) is doing in her cupboard, she's suffered from anxiety, panic attacks and depression for sixty years. Her thirties sound like they were a living hell. Things haven't been anywhere near as bad recently but she still gets the odd "attack" such as today when the realisation that the cleaning lady will be arriving tomorrow sent her over the edge.
I love my gran a lot, she was very good to me as a boy, and I'm happy to help her (so long as she'll accept my help!). Funnily enough after cutting her toenails today (she's unable to do them herself) she thinks I should pursue a career as a podiatrist!
Last night I watched Andy Murray's disappointing loss to Tomas Berdych in the French Open (normally I'm watching on a TV with no clever red button, and it's at night anyway, so I don't get that luxury). Murray's body language wasn't good - it was as if he couldn't wait to get off the court (and I know what that feels like). This year's Roland-Garros was the seventh time I'd been to a Grand Slam (I went to Wimbledon in '98, '99, '01 and '02, and the Aussie Open in '05 and '08). It's been a real shame to see so many empty seats in Paris this year. Apparently the tickets have been sold but people don't turn up. Something similar happens at Wimbledon with all the corporate fat-cat tickets, but not to such a ridiculous extent.
Today was a bank holiday so St Ives had a special super-sized market. This time we even had people giving demonstrations of their products. I had a look around, but as always, restricted my purchases to food.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Euronating IV
I left Venice on Sunday evening and boarded the night train to Paris. This was quite an experience. First I got in the wrong cabin. The number 85 referred not to the cabin but to the carriage; this made no sense to me - how can there possibly be 85 carriages? These were six-man cabins (with bunks on three levels) and I soon 
found myself sharing a cabin with four Argentinians. Patagonians in fact, and you could say they were in fairly high spirits. ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba! They also had ridiculous amounts of luggage. I tried to communicate with them using what little Spanish I could remember, but I felt shy and boring in comparison to them. We talked briefly about the upcoming World Cup. They said they had a soft spot for England and that some sort of bond (!) between the two countries had been created following la Mano de Dios in 1986. I grabbed one of the top bunks (¡arriba!) and slept reasonably well, despite the appearance during the night of the sixth member of the cabin, whom there simply wasn't room for amongst all those suitcases.
In Paris I stayed at another overpriced hotel (I was getting fed up of this) and attempted to get myself a ticket to Roland-Garros. Unfortunately it was a public holiday (I didn't know this until I got there) and all the daytime tickets had gone. However as people leave the stadium their tickets can be resold to people who arrive later, so I tried to get one of those evening tickets. I queued for over three hours.
It was chaos, and arguments broke out involving people accused of queue-jumping. I'd almost reached the front of the queue when an intimidating line of gendarmes suddenly appeared, blocking off the entrance. Bugger. But then I saw some people run round the police towards the other entrance which they had neglected to block. I did the same. At 7pm, and with a stroke of luck, I was in. I saw the tail end of Murray's five-set win over Gasquet. Murray was playing so well that it was hard to 
imagine he'd earlier been facing elimination, down two sets and a break. I caught the last few games of Alicia Molik's brave fight against Jankovic before moving to Court 14 to see another fifth set involving Mardy Fish and Michael Berrer. It got very dark out there, Wimbledon 2008 final kind of dark, and I was amazed the players completed the match (Fish the eventual winner at around 9:40). All in all I'd had a good day. I'd spoken to more people on that day than during the rest of my trip combined, and I surprised myself with the level of French I was still able to speak.
Yesterday morning I got the Eurostar to London. At King's Cross I waited for the platform number to show on the departure board, but it just showed a zero which I assumed meant they didn't yet know what platform my train would leave from. But then I twigged: in true Hogwarts Express style, King's Cross now has a Platform 0!
I had a good and varied trip, but not without a couple of misgivings. Firstly I couldn't believe how much I was spending on sleeping, eating and drinking, all basic human needs. Secondly I found the whole business of travelling rather stressful. Well, not the travelling so much as the arsing around with hotels. I stayed in seven different hotels. Maybe I could have relieved some of that stress by booking my accommodation in advance, but I've always tried to avoid planning if I can help it. Finally I needed more company. Hopefully next time I go anywhere I might have some.
found myself sharing a cabin with four Argentinians. Patagonians in fact, and you could say they were in fairly high spirits. ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba! They also had ridiculous amounts of luggage. I tried to communicate with them using what little Spanish I could remember, but I felt shy and boring in comparison to them. We talked briefly about the upcoming World Cup. They said they had a soft spot for England and that some sort of bond (!) between the two countries had been created following la Mano de Dios in 1986. I grabbed one of the top bunks (¡arriba!) and slept reasonably well, despite the appearance during the night of the sixth member of the cabin, whom there simply wasn't room for amongst all those suitcases.In Paris I stayed at another overpriced hotel (I was getting fed up of this) and attempted to get myself a ticket to Roland-Garros. Unfortunately it was a public holiday (I didn't know this until I got there) and all the daytime tickets had gone. However as people leave the stadium their tickets can be resold to people who arrive later, so I tried to get one of those evening tickets. I queued for over three hours.
It was chaos, and arguments broke out involving people accused of queue-jumping. I'd almost reached the front of the queue when an intimidating line of gendarmes suddenly appeared, blocking off the entrance. Bugger. But then I saw some people run round the police towards the other entrance which they had neglected to block. I did the same. At 7pm, and with a stroke of luck, I was in. I saw the tail end of Murray's five-set win over Gasquet. Murray was playing so well that it was hard to 
imagine he'd earlier been facing elimination, down two sets and a break. I caught the last few games of Alicia Molik's brave fight against Jankovic before moving to Court 14 to see another fifth set involving Mardy Fish and Michael Berrer. It got very dark out there, Wimbledon 2008 final kind of dark, and I was amazed the players completed the match (Fish the eventual winner at around 9:40). All in all I'd had a good day. I'd spoken to more people on that day than during the rest of my trip combined, and I surprised myself with the level of French I was still able to speak.
Yesterday morning I got the Eurostar to London. At King's Cross I waited for the platform number to show on the departure board, but it just showed a zero which I assumed meant they didn't yet know what platform my train would leave from. But then I twigged: in true Hogwarts Express style, King's Cross now has a Platform 0!
I had a good and varied trip, but not without a couple of misgivings. Firstly I couldn't believe how much I was spending on sleeping, eating and drinking, all basic human needs. Secondly I found the whole business of travelling rather stressful. Well, not the travelling so much as the arsing around with hotels. I stayed in seven different hotels. Maybe I could have relieved some of that stress by booking my accommodation in advance, but I've always tried to avoid planning if I can help it. Finally I needed more company. Hopefully next time I go anywhere I might have some.
Euronating III
When I arrived in Venice at 2pm on Thursday I asked at the tourist office for available hotels. The cheapest they had was a three-star €120-a-night 
affair a minute's walk from St Mark's Square. The hotel was slap-bang in the epicentre of the action, but I couldn't believe cheaper hotels didn't exist, so I quickly set about finding one. I still stayed at the expensive place for one night but my last two nights were spent at a cheaper and more rela
xing hotel towards the east of the city. At first I found Venice rather intimidating. Even with a decent map I got lost all the time. Things improved towards the end, but I would still walk for miles without really going anywhere. The boat - or vaporetto - was a life-saver for me, and I had almost perfect weather all the time I was there.
I tried to speak as much Italian as I could in my time there, but when they insisted on replying in English I began to think my lessons had been purely an academic exercise. In Venice, where it's almost expected that Italian won't be your first language, I virtually gave up with the whole Italian lark. And I certainly would never dream of using a public toilet in Venice:
Just like every country, Italy is full of graffiti, but as graffiti is an Italian word, maybe it originated there. Whatever, the graffiti I saw was very different to the stuff I was used to. The main difference was that I could actually understand it. A lot of the messages were a simple "I love you". I saw this one in Pisa:
In Italy I saw an impressive collection of clocks. I like clocks, or indeed anything with a nice analogue display. Some of them had only one hand - presumably they pre-dated the invention of the minute hand - and the single hand would waft around, pointing at nothing in particular. Others would have a face with hours numbered all the way to 24. But there were two clocks that for me stood out:
affair a minute's walk from St Mark's Square. The hotel was slap-bang in the epicentre of the action, but I couldn't believe cheaper hotels didn't exist, so I quickly set about finding one. I still stayed at the expensive place for one night but my last two nights were spent at a cheaper and more rela
xing hotel towards the east of the city. At first I found Venice rather intimidating. Even with a decent map I got lost all the time. Things improved towards the end, but I would still walk for miles without really going anywhere. The boat - or vaporetto - was a life-saver for me, and I had almost perfect weather all the time I was there.I tried to speak as much Italian as I could in my time there, but when they insisted on replying in English I began to think my lessons had been purely an academic exercise. In Venice, where it's almost expected that Italian won't be your first language, I virtually gave up with the whole Italian lark. And I certainly would never dream of using a public toilet in Venice:
Just like every country, Italy is full of graffiti, but as graffiti is an Italian word, maybe it originated there. Whatever, the graffiti I saw was very different to the stuff I was used to. The main difference was that I could actually understand it. A lot of the messages were a simple "I love you". I saw this one in Pisa:
In Italy I saw an impressive collection of clocks. I like clocks, or indeed anything with a nice analogue display. Some of them had only one hand - presumably they pre-dated the invention of the minute hand - and the single hand would waft around, pointing at nothing in particular. Others would have a face with hours numbered all the way to 24. But there were two clocks that for me stood out:
The one at the top is from the campanile in St Mark's Square in Venice; the bottom one is from the Piazza di Garibaldi (of course!) in Parma.
Euronating II
From Lucca I spent a very pleasant four hours or so on a train through Tuscany and up to Parma. It's an inexpensive and relatively stress-free way of getting around the country: a ticket to get from London to Huntingdon cost me £21; getting from Bologna to Parma - almost the same distance - set me back just a fiver.
In 2008 I visited Bologna and I liked the place a lot. I thought of going back there this time but went to Parma instead, another city whose name screams food. And I have to admit I pigged out a bit. Pizzas, pasta, gelati, plates of ham and cheese. I also bought ham, cheese, salami and balsamic vinegar for Gran who turns 88 on Friday, and (now this is a real rarity) a few items of clothing for myself. I even managed to find a cheap hotel, a place that did have two stars but one of them had been Tipp-exed out. It was only €35. I made a note of the hotel in case I ever visit Parma again.My first taste of Parma wasn't so good. When my train pulled into the station I was dying to use the loo, but the station loos cost 70 cents. That's $1.30 where I'm from. A dollar thirty to have a pee! As they say, in France or Italy you don't spend a penny any more, you euronate. In fact in Europe it's very easy to piss money away full stop, especially if you're a one-man band like me. The cost of accommodation for a single person is a real killer.
A couple more hours on the train and I was in Venice, which was like nothing I'd ever seen before. A fantasy land. If it was simply a giant water maze covering a few square miles, with none of the history, Venice would still be incredible. But around every corner there was a photo opportunity. I found it hard to believe that people actually lived there.Euronating I
In the last ten days I've been busy travelling, so I've had very little access to a computer. I'm back now, so in theory I have unlimited access, but in reality I only get a decent run when my gran decides to take a nap.
From Pisa it was a short train ride to Lucca, an ancient city with a wall surrounding it. I spent several hours walking around the centre of town, ending up at the stunning amphitheatre. Lucca was a great town - if anything it had more to offer than Pisa - but like on many occasions I could have benefited from having someone with me.
On the 15th I flew from Stansted to Pisa where I spent two nights. The city is world famous for its Leaning Tower, which I climbed at a cost of €15. In the past there were no railings at the top, so scaling the tower would have been something of an adrenaline rush, but when it reopened in 2001 safety was made much more of a priority. I'm glad I went up, just so I could say that I had, but my favourite attraction was the Camposanto, a large cemetery that was destroyed in World War II and later restored. I spent a good hour looking at th
e frescoes and inscriptions, trying to figure out what all of it meant. There was also a statue of Leonardo Fibonacci, the famous mathematician.
e frescoes and inscriptions, trying to figure out what all of it meant. There was also a statue of Leonardo Fibonacci, the famous mathematician.
I didn't have great weather in Pisa, but there's not much you can do about that. Pisa has quite a large student population, and it made a welcome change on Sunday night to see crowds of students in the Piazza di Garibaldi (doesn't every Italian town have one of those?) eating their gelati. When I was at university various substances were consumed at weekends, but I don't remember gelati being on the menu.
From Pisa it was a short train ride to Lucca, an ancient city with a wall surrounding it. I spent several hours walking around the centre of town, ending up at the stunning amphitheatre. Lucca was a great town - if anything it had more to offer than Pisa - but like on many occasions I could have benefited from having someone with me.Monday, May 17, 2010
On tilt
I'm in Pisa on a wet, stormy evening. I'll write more when I get the chance. It isn't easy trying to upload images from my camera in an internet café, so I'll just post this one:
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Made it
Well I made it. From beginning to end the journey took forty hours including a ferry, a bus, a train, a taxi and that six-hour wait at Hong Kong. I can have no complaints about the Air New Zealand flight out of Auckland. I was lucky enough to have an empty seat next to me, so I managed to doze a bit and see two very good films (Precious and A Single Man); the 11½ hours went by quickly. Coming into Hong Kong I didn't realise how mountainous it was, even though I'd landed there before. The airport is vast but it seemed the various shops selling designer goods were repeated throughout. You can only stare at banks of Cartier, Gucci and Omega watches for so long, although this time I was able to say, wow, with my poker winnings I can almost afford half this watch! Unlike the Air New Zealand 777, the Lufthansa Jumbo hadn't been brought into the 21st century with seat-back screens, and the flight to Frankfurt did seem to drag. The final flight to Heathrow took barely an hour, then I hopped on the underground. Having been out of the country a while, I always find the tube a bit of an eye-opener. I was greeted by a mob of vocal, alcohol-fuelled Chelsea fans whose team had obviously won the Premier League a few hours earlier. Campione, campione, olé, olé, olé! At the time I had no idea that they'd just thrashed Wigan 8-0. More striking were the women, the likes of which don't exist in New Zealand. How long did it take you to get your hair like that? And how much do those earrings weigh? It was hard not to stare. I wonder what they thought of me, looking washed-out and dishevilled. They must have thought I'd come from the other side of the world or something.
I arrived on my gran's doorstep, in Houghton, at 11:30 on Sunday night. It was great to see her. So far she's managed better than I might have expected. Things aren't easy - she gets confused a lot - but as long as my aunt stays out of the picture I think she'll be OK. On Monday morning I took the bike into St Ives. It was great to see the town again, especially on a Monday which is market day.
I'd planned to leave the country this morning, but realising I might upset my gran if I left so soon, I changed my flight (at a cost of course) and will now be flying to Pisa on Saturday. This lunchtime I got a surprise phone call from my brother. It was a pleasure to talk to him. We even talked politics for the first time I can remember.
We now have a government. Having voted in two MMP elections in New Zealand, I found it mildly amusing that the process of forming a coalition government caused such consternation here. I think a cobbled-together alliance of Labour, the Lib Dems and a bunch of nationalist parties would have been a disaster and I'm glad the Lib Dems went with the Tories in the end. There are clearly some major differences in policy between the two parties, but who knows, it just might work. I hope so.
I arrived on my gran's doorstep, in Houghton, at 11:30 on Sunday night. It was great to see her. So far she's managed better than I might have expected. Things aren't easy - she gets confused a lot - but as long as my aunt stays out of the picture I think she'll be OK. On Monday morning I took the bike into St Ives. It was great to see the town again, especially on a Monday which is market day.
I'd planned to leave the country this morning, but realising I might upset my gran if I left so soon, I changed my flight (at a cost of course) and will now be flying to Pisa on Saturday. This lunchtime I got a surprise phone call from my brother. It was a pleasure to talk to him. We even talked politics for the first time I can remember.
We now have a government. Having voted in two MMP elections in New Zealand, I found it mildly amusing that the process of forming a coalition government caused such consternation here. I think a cobbled-together alliance of Labour, the Lib Dems and a bunch of nationalist parties would have been a disaster and I'm glad the Lib Dems went with the Tories in the end. There are clearly some major differences in policy between the two parties, but who knows, it just might work. I hope so.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Lift-off
I'll be on the plane pretty soon now. I'm a bit nervous to tell the truth. For the first time in a long time I'm actually going to miss people. Even back in 2003 when I shifted my whole life 12,000 miles, I wasn't particularly affected emotionally. With the notable exception of my grandmother who I saw maybe every other weekend, I simply didn't have anyone around me to miss.
I'll be flying out at 11:15 tonight on NZ39. It's a great time of day to leave because I'll feel like falling asleep then. Whether I actually do is another matter of course. I'll then touch down in Hong Kong (assuming my plane successfully negotiates the skyscrapers) and I'll be stuck there for bloody ages. Six hours. I'll be cursing the fact that none of the cafés and shops will be open when I arrive (they'll have opening times of 8am till 8pm or whatever, even though when you're flying there's no longer any sense of a.m. or p.m.). I then fly Lufthansa to London via Frankfurt; when I finally get to my gran's it'll be elevenish on Sunday night. I hope she won't mind.
I'll only have a couple of days in the UK before I take a Ryanair flight to Brescia. From there I'll catch a train to Venice, which will be an amazing experience I'm sure. Hopefully I'll be able to get accommodation there for two nights, at least, before exploring a bit more of northern Italy. I then plan to travel through France on the TGV, maybe catch some of Roland-Garros if I can somehow get hold of a ticket, then take the Eurostar to London on the 25th.
I'll spend as much of my remaining time in the UK with my gran as I can (I feel a bit bad that I'm not spending longer there) although I'll want to catch up with my brother as well as some old friends from university in Birmingham (with the exception of one bloke, I've almost fallen out of touch with them).
I leave London on June 9th and then head to Bangkok. Hopefully the political situation in Thailand will have improved by then, or else I'll have to cross the border into one of the neighbouring countries, meaning all kinds of fun and games getting visas. I get back to Auckland on the 24th when the big job search will really begin.
I did follow the British election yesterday, quite intently. I was shocked to learn that many people ended up in long queues at badly understaffed polling places and were unable to exercise their democratic rights. Heads will roll I'm sure. And some of the results from individual seats were frankly bizarre. It reminded me a bit of the 2000 US election when all those people in Florida accidentally voted for Pat Buchanan. I really do hope they get things sorted quickly.
The poker win. It's not like I hit six numbers on Lotto or anything, but I can't deny it's a significant financial boost to me. I hope I can enjoy it.
I'll be flying out at 11:15 tonight on NZ39. It's a great time of day to leave because I'll feel like falling asleep then. Whether I actually do is another matter of course. I'll then touch down in Hong Kong (assuming my plane successfully negotiates the skyscrapers) and I'll be stuck there for bloody ages. Six hours. I'll be cursing the fact that none of the cafés and shops will be open when I arrive (they'll have opening times of 8am till 8pm or whatever, even though when you're flying there's no longer any sense of a.m. or p.m.). I then fly Lufthansa to London via Frankfurt; when I finally get to my gran's it'll be elevenish on Sunday night. I hope she won't mind.
I'll only have a couple of days in the UK before I take a Ryanair flight to Brescia. From there I'll catch a train to Venice, which will be an amazing experience I'm sure. Hopefully I'll be able to get accommodation there for two nights, at least, before exploring a bit more of northern Italy. I then plan to travel through France on the TGV, maybe catch some of Roland-Garros if I can somehow get hold of a ticket, then take the Eurostar to London on the 25th.
I'll spend as much of my remaining time in the UK with my gran as I can (I feel a bit bad that I'm not spending longer there) although I'll want to catch up with my brother as well as some old friends from university in Birmingham (with the exception of one bloke, I've almost fallen out of touch with them).
I leave London on June 9th and then head to Bangkok. Hopefully the political situation in Thailand will have improved by then, or else I'll have to cross the border into one of the neighbouring countries, meaning all kinds of fun and games getting visas. I get back to Auckland on the 24th when the big job search will really begin.
I did follow the British election yesterday, quite intently. I was shocked to learn that many people ended up in long queues at badly understaffed polling places and were unable to exercise their democratic rights. Heads will roll I'm sure. And some of the results from individual seats were frankly bizarre. It reminded me a bit of the 2000 US election when all those people in Florida accidentally voted for Pat Buchanan. I really do hope they get things sorted quickly.
The poker win. It's not like I hit six numbers on Lotto or anything, but I can't deny it's a significant financial boost to me. I hope I can enjoy it.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Please Mum, try to understand
Mum left this morning. For four days we got on like a house on fire, or almost, as she tidied and organised my flat and made lists for this or that. On Friday we saw Boy which I found quite moving; it certainly lived up to its very positive reviews. On Saturday we ate at Manna, the local Thai restaurant. My curry was predictably very tasty. But yesterday afternoon everything kicked off. I was depressed and wasn't in the mood for doing anything. We went to the supermarket. Now I don't do supermarkets when I'm depressed, and certainly not in the daytime when it's busy. An exception to this was after last Saturday's tennis disaster when I needed basics like bread and milk. That time I literally ran through the supermarket aisles, grabbed my bread and milk, and got the hell out of there as fast as I could. Yesterday I told Mum I needed to get out of there, fast, and that's when all hell broke loose. She was very upset and angry with the way I acted in the supermarket. I was dumbstruck. What did I do wrong?! When we got back to my flat we had a three-hour argument, if you can call it that. I made the fatal mistake of trying to reason with her and explain my depression. "But I get depressed too, you know." No you bloody well don't. "You've got no respect for your mother!" Of course I respect you. "All I get from you is hate, hate, hate!" What?! Are you serious? I love you. Unfortunately Mum's understanding of depression is in the dark ages, and I hate to say it but after thirty years I sometimes wonder if she really understands me either. But I love her. A lot.
Last Tuesday I saw Career Services. My advisor was clearly a very clever woman. We talked about all the various options, and finding a suitable job this side of Christmas suddenly seemed possible. I'll be seeing her again on Friday.
I'll be leaving the country in under five days and I'm starting to actually think about my trip. I'm a bit worried about the Thailand bit on the way back, with all the unrest currently happening there. If I decide to hop over to any of the neighbouring countries I'll need a visa, but things might be fine in Thailand in a month's time.
Tomorrow I'll be playing the low buy-in SCOOP badugi tournament. I'm lucky that it's a 9am start on a day when I don't have to do anything, and it's happening before I go away. It's a much deeper tournament than anything I've played before and I could be playing for several hours. Or not. I'll give a report in my next post.
Last Tuesday I saw Career Services. My advisor was clearly a very clever woman. We talked about all the various options, and finding a suitable job this side of Christmas suddenly seemed possible. I'll be seeing her again on Friday.
I'll be leaving the country in under five days and I'm starting to actually think about my trip. I'm a bit worried about the Thailand bit on the way back, with all the unrest currently happening there. If I decide to hop over to any of the neighbouring countries I'll need a visa, but things might be fine in Thailand in a month's time.
Tomorrow I'll be playing the low buy-in SCOOP badugi tournament. I'm lucky that it's a 9am start on a day when I don't have to do anything, and it's happening before I go away. It's a much deeper tournament than anything I've played before and I could be playing for several hours. Or not. I'll give a report in my next post.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Panic stations
I had panic attacks both yesterday and the day before. At least I think that's what they were. One moment everything was normal, then the whole room started to spin, as if I'd been drinking, and I couldn't feel my arms or legs. Yesterday's one happened at around 9pm. I felt sick and lay on my stomach on my bed for a while. I then felt very weak and exceptionally hungry, like I hadn't eaten for days. What can I have that's quick? Weet-Bix. But that milk container is so heavy! I unplugged the phone (it was about the time Mum was likely to ring), ate my Weet-Bix in bed (the sugar tasted much sweeter than it normally does) and then went to sleep. This morning I'm fine.
I've had an up-and-down sort of week. Hopeful one day, utterly hopeless the next. On Monday night at Takapuna I played my last pair of interclub matches for the season. In my singles I was totally outgunned by a 17-year-old whose father coaches the game and whose 12-year-old sister is ranked second in the country for her age group (and can now beat her big brother). Man did that serve come down fast. His forehand was an equally effective weapon; I aimed everything at his backhand which, unfortunately for me, he was often able to run round. The Takapuna courts had ample space between the baseline and the fence, which was just as well because I needed virtually all of it. I lost the first set 6-2 in 22 minutes (yes I timed it again). The second was closer: at 3-3 I had a point to win each of the next two games. Had I won those points the outcome might have been different, but in the last game at 5-4 he slammed down four more booming serves to snuff out any chance I might have had. I broke his serve just once in the match; in that game he double faulted twice to give me a love-30 head start, and even then I only just won it.
What happened next, in the doubles with Superman, was quite a surprise. We played well but we were up against two young guys (including the one who had just beaten me) who were only interested in the singles. Once we were on top, they simply didn't care, and we won 6-1 6-1. The night's other matches also reached a swift conclusion and we were able to have a few drinks afterwards. Being a Monday night, and ... er ... New Zealand, everything is normally shut by the time we get off the court. After Saturday's experience which I found pretty horrible, I can almost say I enjoyed my tennis on Monday.
I spoke to my dad last night (my panic attack, or whatever it was, happened almost has we hung up). We had a good chat, mainly because we never talked about me. My grandmother isn't as bad as my dad had feared, but she's losing her memory and that is upsetting her. In fact she lived in morbid fear of losing her memory long before it actually happened.
Yesterday I started to think about the ins and outs of my trip for maybe the first time. I really don't like to plan things. The future, even a positive future such as a holiday, tends to scare me. I booked a Ryanair flight from Stansted to Brescia for May 12th; my plan is to spend nine days or so exploring the north of Italy, then visit Marseille, get the TGV up to Paris, go to Roland-Garros if I can somehow wangle myself a ticket, then catch the Eurostar (which I haven't booked yet) back to London.
Talking of UK flights, due to the volcanic eruption in Iceland, nobody in or around the UK is currently flying anywhere.
This afternoon I'll be meeting Richard and the rest of the Asperger's gang for their monthly meeting. I'm looking forward to it. It's one of the highlights of my month.
I've had an up-and-down sort of week. Hopeful one day, utterly hopeless the next. On Monday night at Takapuna I played my last pair of interclub matches for the season. In my singles I was totally outgunned by a 17-year-old whose father coaches the game and whose 12-year-old sister is ranked second in the country for her age group (and can now beat her big brother). Man did that serve come down fast. His forehand was an equally effective weapon; I aimed everything at his backhand which, unfortunately for me, he was often able to run round. The Takapuna courts had ample space between the baseline and the fence, which was just as well because I needed virtually all of it. I lost the first set 6-2 in 22 minutes (yes I timed it again). The second was closer: at 3-3 I had a point to win each of the next two games. Had I won those points the outcome might have been different, but in the last game at 5-4 he slammed down four more booming serves to snuff out any chance I might have had. I broke his serve just once in the match; in that game he double faulted twice to give me a love-30 head start, and even then I only just won it.
What happened next, in the doubles with Superman, was quite a surprise. We played well but we were up against two young guys (including the one who had just beaten me) who were only interested in the singles. Once we were on top, they simply didn't care, and we won 6-1 6-1. The night's other matches also reached a swift conclusion and we were able to have a few drinks afterwards. Being a Monday night, and ... er ... New Zealand, everything is normally shut by the time we get off the court. After Saturday's experience which I found pretty horrible, I can almost say I enjoyed my tennis on Monday.
I spoke to my dad last night (my panic attack, or whatever it was, happened almost has we hung up). We had a good chat, mainly because we never talked about me. My grandmother isn't as bad as my dad had feared, but she's losing her memory and that is upsetting her. In fact she lived in morbid fear of losing her memory long before it actually happened.
Yesterday I started to think about the ins and outs of my trip for maybe the first time. I really don't like to plan things. The future, even a positive future such as a holiday, tends to scare me. I booked a Ryanair flight from Stansted to Brescia for May 12th; my plan is to spend nine days or so exploring the north of Italy, then visit Marseille, get the TGV up to Paris, go to Roland-Garros if I can somehow wangle myself a ticket, then catch the Eurostar (which I haven't booked yet) back to London.
Talking of UK flights, due to the volcanic eruption in Iceland, nobody in or around the UK is currently flying anywhere.
This afternoon I'll be meeting Richard and the rest of the Asperger's gang for their monthly meeting. I'm looking forward to it. It's one of the highlights of my month.
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