TravelStream™ news feed for member kiemce on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/kiemce en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 28 Nov 2007 05:34:59 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1154106000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1154106000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1154106000/tpod.html Wed, 28 Nov 2007 05:34:59 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Ennis, Ireland

As lovely as Tralee was, I concluded that meandering away from the town with no clear plan or purpose was a far better prospect than staying another horrendous day there. No offence to Tralee, but there is just simply nothing to do there. I was beginning to settle on the idea of Limerick as a feasible option for the night, but during a brain-storming exercise with a few locals I uncovered the disturbing fact that Limerick was in fact cutely referred to as "Stab City" by the Irish. Brilliant. Maybe not a bad idea to just skip Limerick and head straight to Ennis...So I did. Ennis is roughly the size of a 20c coin, and not a lot more exciting. There will not be any photos for this entry. There is only one hostel so I headed there to beg for a bed, and somehow my staggering luck on this holiday continued as I snapped up one of the last available bunks. 30 minutes later I was passing by the front desk and there was indeed a sign declaring "no vacancies". The tourist information office was very friendly, and took the required 40 seconds to fully explain all the wonderful things on offer in the area. My favourite was a walking tour that took me about 15 minutes to complete and traversed around such diverse ecosystems as "a street" and "a polluted river". Realising I would have to manufacture my own good times, I hung around the communal area of the hostel, laying in wait for unsuspecting backpackers to harass into coming to the pub with me. This did not take long, as others had seemingly drawn the same unfortunate conclusions I had.We stocked up for a head start at the Off Licence (bottle shop), then headed down the road for some authentic Irish pub music and more alcomahol. It was at this point that my dashing Wallabies top enticed Michelle to talk to me - a Kiwi of course. Now, I have already declared many times in the past that the best way to flush out Kiwis is to don the Wallabies top, and this was just another prime example on a very long list indeed. The rest of the group consisted of an oh-so-cool Frenchie called Julian, a yank called Steve Power (kid you not), and a couple of brothers (also yank) whose names I can't recall right now. We started buying rounds of Guinness so it was always going to get messy, but hilariously so, as we danced Irish jigs like idiots and at some stage attracted a dedication from the band in one pub - "Land down under". One of my favourite highlights would have to be a philosophical discussion in the US corner involving the definition of a "game" versus a "sport". It was somehow concluded that golf is only a game, UNLESS you carry your own clubs then it becomes a "hike". Flawless logic I thought (I won't bore you with it here). Another fine discovery made by yours truly is that a 10 baht coin looks deceptively like a 2 euro coin, hence more than quadrupling in value. I didn't realise it sooner, but they seem to accept them here without a problem.Over the course of the night I hatched an insidious plan with Michelle to take advantage of her hire car and tent to potentially save some euros and take in some of Northern Ireland, while also escaping the suffocating boredom of Ennis. She agreed to trade for my dazzling company and scintillating conversation, so the rendezvous was set for Dublin in a couple of days.Next day I went with a few other hostelers to see a game of Gaelic Football at the local stadium. It was reportedly free entry, but was thinly disguised as 10 euro when we got there. At the game there was an old Irish bloke sitting next to me who didn't mind discussing the finer points (and some of the rules) which certainly helped in understanding what the hell was going on. I've seen "International Rules", the mongrel combination of Gaelic Rules and Aussie Rules, but never the pure Irish game before. First thing I noticed was that once you have the ball, no-one can tackle you! What the!? Instead, they run along next to you, waving like lunatics and hoping that you'll lose control when you try to bounce the ball. The game was EXTREMELY low scoring, ending in a mind-numbing 0.7 to 0.7 draw, which roughly equates to 60 minutes of shots on goal sailing ridiculously wide of the target. For the record, my team (the ones wearing red/white/green) had the opportunity to steal the win from a free kick after the final whistle. Even though the kicker was the standout for us, he still hooked it and is no doubt still buying drinks for the rest of his team as we speak.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1167797520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1167797520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1167797520/tpod.html Mon, 26 Nov 2007 09:21:47 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Jericó, Colombia

Once again suffering Itchy Feet Syndrome, Marcela proposed a road trip to a place called Jericó. Home to a disproportionate number of churches, steep cobbled streets and her Auntie's place - sure, why not? Well, cramming into a tiny car with Mum, Auntie, and a bunch of pot plants for a 4hr drive may have deterred others, but I was keen as mustard for probably the first 30 minutes... Being that New Year was rapidly approaching, I learned the sacred ceremony of Blowing Shit Up purveys itself into Colombia with gusto. The road to Jericó was periodically lined with varying degrees of death on a stick: from the poor man's bottle rocket to some sort of "Grande" cow-size explosive experience - I was in awe of the silly-dangerous fun we could be having, but my cries of "Yo quiero!" were only met with stern looks and stories of blown off limbs. It made me think: Why not dress up semi-lifelike effigies, and then pump them full of explosives? Isn't that something the whole family could enjoy? Well my friends, the reason I am but a poor traveller is because they already bloody thought of that. Hundreds of the bloody things on the side of the road - all staring menacingly and ready to maim on your command. Need a marketing angle? You buy one that looks like your boss (you can choose the one with the mo, or the one with the beard), and then you blow the friggin bajeezus out of it in the comfort of your own home. Genius. We stopped off at a surreal little "closed community" called Cauca Viejo just before we were to commence the treacherous hill climb to Jericó, which although being "closed" was in fact open to anyone with a few Pesos willing to bribe a guard (ie. us). Consisting of ridiculously priced holiday homes, the new little village was built to strict guidelines... to look like an old little village. Although it was all very pretty and full of nice rich people, I still couldn't quite see the point of it all.One thing I never fail to see the point of is hammocks, and that's exactly what was waiting for us under a setting sun once we reached Auntie's place. Although I hadn't actually done much more than be driven through the countryside, I was mentally hemorrhaging under the load of two very talkative passengers going at it for four consecutive hours without missing a beat - as if challenging the mere notion of an uncomfortable silence to dare rear its ugly head. I hid in the back garden for a few minutes in attempts to scoop my murky sanity up out of the grass, but then Marcela came to the rescue by suggesting we hover above the town on one of the surrounding hills. Viewing from above, I was finding it hard to rationalise the precarious location on which the town had chosen to rest. Still, haphazardly creeping up the valley walls as far as they dare venture, the undeniable charm of the rickety cobbles on calf-burning angles seemed comfortable with themselves and willing to take a complimentary back seat to the saturation of churches. More popular with every passing year, I imagine Jericó will soon be like one of those places you visited as a kid, only to return years later to discover the place was ruined. If there was ever a catalyst for this, then surely a bloody great teleferico (cablecar) would be a contender. Never fear - it's near completion...Ascending by foot out of the valley the following day via the "12 Stops" path (something Jesus-related), halfway up we stumbled across a homestead with an assortment of farm animals and a young boy called Daniel who was a bit of a legend. He agreed to be our guide into the National Park because he had a few hours to kill, but he was a little off the mark when describing the rest of the climb as "not too bad". Admittedly it wasn't that bad, but it was steep, slippery mud, and the ease at which he scaled it was not making it any easier for us. We made it to the top for some spectacular views and just in time for another clear sunset, but then quickly realised we were standing on top of a hill in the dark. He guided us back to his house, where we met his lovely family and arranged to meet up with them later in town for the New Year celebrations. New Year was a drunken event, culminating in a fireworks display, followed by a day in bed. I guess it doesn't matter where you are. With one more adventure on the cards, we drove around town in search of a horse rental place. As per usual, I hid in the car while the bargaining was done, only to emerge once a rate of 6000 Pesos/hr had been reached. Our poor beasts were a tad on the ruddy side - sores all over them and a few protruding ribs - but we had a waterfall to get to so we saddled up and spurred into action. About 30mins in I had lost all feeling in the arse region, and was struggling thanks to my feet not fitting properly into the stirrups - they basically slipped out at high speed, to transform me into Ragdoll Gringo. Apparently hilarious to onlookers, but less so to me as we wound our way through picturesque valleys of coffee plantations. We found the waterfall and had a bit of a skinny dip (ignore the photos - the water was really cold!), before heading back to return the horses just in time for them to become dog food. While we were paying, a spritely old timer wandered in - totally off his face - muttering about changing his hat because he had somehow sprayed blood all over it while having a casual beer down the road. Glancing down at the bar he had come from, not only was there some bloke tending to a blood nose, but all the barflies had just tied their horses up outside - Wild West style!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1175648880/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1175648880/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1175648880/tpod.html Tue, 03 Apr 2007 23:52:09 -0400 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Miami, Florida, United States

Determined not to endure another night holed up in the Miami International Airport, but still doomed to an overnight stay in said city thanks to a lack of handy connecting flights, I decided to plan a little ahead and find some accommodation. Initially I looked for internet during my stay in Antigua, but found the only internet cafe was packed with people and a waiting list, only open during the hours I happened to be at the cricket, not open on Sunday (my only free day), and ridiculously expensive anyway. Option B was finding a guidebook in a bookstore, but that search too proved fruitless.So, arriving at Miami Airport, once again without a place to stay, I could feel the nausea of an unwanted deja vu descending over me. Maybe my quiet piece of floorspace would be available for another free night of lodging? Could I again put up with the constant hounding by security for me to "move along" like some errant street bum? I think not. I am pretty sure I have already been "beard profiled" in the USA because I always seem to end up in the Red Lane for security checks. I'm pretty confident a sleeping, bearded man, strapped to his baggage in an international airport is an invitation to be detonated from a distance by the local bomb squad. Maybe "CSI: Miami" would be there to identify my itty bitty remains.So, using the free phones I called a bunch of hotels, ruled out the US$300+ bracket and focused more on the places providing more correct answers to: "seriously, what is your cheapest room?". In the end I couldn't do better than US$62.15 - a magically stupid number, devised by advertising a pleasant figure of US$55... only to have it munted up by adding some random tax figure. Immediately this brought back the painful memories of Canada with retarded systems designed to at worst baffle and mislead customers, and at least annoy the fuck out of everyone. I still have no idea what the tax rate is in Miami, and as I write this entry from Los Angeles I can assure you that the two cities differ in their rates. Apparently New York is the highest. All I know is that my wallet has a lot of friggin' 1 cent coins in it. No matter. I will be gone tomorrow, and free once again to browse menus and prices that may actually correspond with the amount I'm eventually going to pay. More importantly, once again free to tip people according to service rather than as some sort of randomly decided wage subsidy because people are paid less than they can live on. Even the driver of my "free" shuttle bus to the hotel had a sign purporting: "Tips are appreciated". It should have read more like: "If you don't tip me I will follow you into your hotel, stand way too close while staring at you for 5 minutes, then eventually steam off swearing at you in Spanish". He didn't even help with my bags or open a door for me, so maybe he was waiting for a kick in the nuts.In the end I had eaten some wonderful Burger King, checked my tickets for the following day, and waited about an hour for my shuttle bus... so I only got to sleep at around 11:00pm for a 4:30am start, and had effectively diminished any real value the crappy hotel room may have offered.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1152367200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1152367200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1152367200/tpod.html Thu, 08 Mar 2007 15:15:12 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Berlin, Germany

When Berlin emerged and swelled off the bonnet of our 200km/h turbo-charged Audi, it represented our hard-earned Mecca. Not only a culmination of more than a month's worth of dedicated obsession to Football, but also a very deserving means to an end for a country always looking to move forward. History seeps out of every building, street and conscience - an ever-present reminder to the stigma the German people are so badly trying to shake off. In a place where so often "pride in country" is persecuted, I can only hope that such a well organised and successful international event can provide a platform for the next generation to build on rather than to eternally pay for the mistakes of others. Our weary faces told a story - the same story. "It's been fun, but much more of this will certainly mean the death of us". One final time we crammed 5 to a room, argued over bedding arrangements, commented on how huge Snags was, and debated our plan of attack for a city offering so much. United by the same passion we had descended on Germany from all over the world, with the simple goal of following the Socceroos into their place in history. 1st goal in a World Cup. 1st win in a World Cup. 1st time progressing through to the Round of 16. Our team had achieved these goals with the help of our one-eyed support, and it was a great feeling of accomplishment to know I can always say "I was there". With the adventure rapidly coming to its conclusion however, my mind was elsewhere. Not pondering what might have been or what was next, but instead wishing I could once again strap myself into the rollercoaster and do it all again! I thank the members of Vinny Grella's Mum's Van Van Van for this... Brettski: decidedly moody at times, wearer of silly hats, spewed on a castle and tried to burn down the van, and would change his clothes if you "accidentally" wore the same colours as him. Drove us through a park along a pedestrian path, and decked a 12-year-old during one of our exhibition football matches. Mark: the primary instigator of games such as "dice" and "get Snags to say something". The only member to be so shit at driving that he was banned. Got on German radio saying "David Boon is an attacking midfielder", and also gave his two cents in a street-side TV interview. Always kept the tunes coming. The only member to damage the van in a way we couldn't possibly cover it up (that's why we called it "Lock Down", Mark). Snags: after seeing our skills, took it upon himself to do most of the driving. King Snorer, and able to wake the rest of us up simply by rolling over. Always seemed to be feeling "hot" or "cold" much to our bemusal. Contacted a relative he had never met, and got us a great place to stay with hot showers and an awesome family. Scratched his balls entirely too much for the limited space we were operating in. Ran into a lot of stuff and was always falling over things. Record holder for 5-pattie Whopper and fastest pint-of-beer skull. A top bloke and a good sport. Me: not sure if the others will agree, but here goes. Was most lazy member of the team. Invented the "Easyrider Position", and then used it constantly. Was most likely member to vanish during the night, only to reappear the next morning around 10am. As a result I would say I hold the records for drinking the most overall, for getting the most action, and for taking myself the closest to death any of us got. We actually did some sight seeing... While Berlin is a fantastic city, I only wish I could have arrived there with a little more energy and willingness to see the sights. I had essentially reached critical mass, brought about by more than a month of meat, salt and beer. You'd be crazy to say I don't like kebabs, but too much of a good thing... To make matters worse, kebabs were an unprecedented 1.50 Euros in Berlin - by far the cheapest we'd seen. Following our arrest and thus negative first impressions of Berlin, we were determined not to leave without at least giving it a chance to redeem itself. We started by heading to the Adidas World of Football display found next to the Reichstag (German Parliament). Aside from once again having my plastic water bottle confiscated in 38 degree heat (a policy I will never understand), the display included some fun interaction such as bending a free kick around a wall of cutouts and of course 5-aside football games. After waiting about an hour for our game, we faced some pretty serious-looking Turks who managed to stomp their football boots all over our bare feet. While we toyed with the idea of watching the Final amongst the throngs of the Fan Mile, we ended up finding a local abandoned hall with a projector which meant we actually got to see some of the game. Rather than pressing up against 1,000,000 other people in the heat of the day, we got to sit down at our own table and have beers delivered to us without getting up. A nearby table even accommodated us for a couple of spliffs. In an uninspired match, Italy eventually won in a penalty shoot-out after Zidane had lost his mind and been sent off for headbutting. Not very deserving winners if you ask me, but that's life. With that, the World Cup was officially over and the clean-up had already begun. We had fulfilled our mission to watch every game, and my football-watching quota for the next few years was already full. 64 games, 5380 minutes watched, 2898 kilometres driven. We were "all footballed out"! The next day we did the right thing and bought an all day train ticket between the four of us. I say we did the right thing, because damn ticket inspectors got on at our stop! After checking our ticket, the carriage was alive with plentiful high fives all over the place as we revelled in our loss of rebellion. You simply can't risk free-riding in Berlin it seems. The Berlin Wall, The Goddess of Victory, the Brandenburg Gate, the Holocaust Memorial and the Reichstag all got a visit. As you can imagine the Berlin Wall is not overly interesting in itself, but standing in the "death strip" between East and West it was easy to relive the amazing TV images of 1989. Only a few select sections of the original 155km wall remain, and the part we visited was decorated with murals of peace or political messages. The Goddess of Victory was not much more than a big golden statue. The short climb up the tower gave a very distant view of the Brandenburg Gate, as well as of the extensive clean-up operation taking place along the Fan Mile. The small museum on the bottom floor was not worth even slowing down for. Overall I was glad I had once again managed to scam a reduced ticket on the strength of my fake student ID. Situated somewhere in between the Brandenburg Gate and Hitler's bunker is the relatively new Holocaust Memorial, designed by architect Peter Eisenman and opened in 2005. According to Eisenman's project text, the stelae (ie. concrete slabs) are <i>"designed to produce an uneasy, confusing atmosphere, and the whole sculpture aims to represent a supposedly ordered system that has lost touch with human reason". For me, the "uneasy, confusing atmosphere" was more as a result of trying to fathom how on Earth 2,711 concrete slabs cost 25 million Euros to produce. That's more than 9000 Euros per concrete slab. Perhaps more perplexing is the realisation that the anti-graffiti protective coating was initially to be supplied by Degussa, whose subsidiary company Degesch even produced the Zyklon B used to poison people in the gas chambers. Goodbye Germany, and thanks for all the fish!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151946000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151946000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151946000/tpod.html Thu, 08 Mar 2007 15:13:48 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Munich, Germany

Our final night in Vinny Van was one of solemn reflection, spent in a carpark about 100m from the rental place. Our efforts to finish all our alcohol were valiant, but totally misguided - we had to jettison the real crappy stuff and carry only emergency booze with the rest of our gear. I was officially in a "near-death" state once again - barely able to talk and I believe actually raising sincere concerns from the rest of the usually unflappable lads. While I couldn't physically bring myself to eat or drink anything, in the back of my mind I couldn't help acknowledge the saving grace that the "Road Trip Of The Devil Of Death From Hell With Ice" was coming to a close.Waking to the task of clean-up, we were under the impression that we could possibly save some money if we made Vinny Van spotless before returning it. The honour of dealing with our Viduka Signature Ball was mine - I ceremoniously dispatched it deep into some nearby thick scrub, hopefully to be discovered by an Audi cyborg kid in the not too distant future. They could never hope to extract as much pleasure from it as we did.The hire company were only too happy to discover all our attempts at destroying Vinny, and to deduct from our deposit accordingly. They didn't seem to notice the remnants of Brett's attempt to burn it to the ground, the caked-on masking tape used for holding the flag in place, the torn cushion, the missing toilet chemicals, the broken bucket or the buckled awning. They didn't need to however, because Mark had also left them a neatly dented tabletop that they simply couldn't miss! Knowing full well that Mark would never entertain such an idea were roles reversed, nevertheless we agreed to split the damage costs for a very expensive piece of chip board (263 Euros) and compulsory cleaning charge (105 Euros). Rest assured it was not a great feeling to once again have to carry all my gear around on my back. For 35 days Vinny had carried our bags around for us, without complaint, in relative comfort and safety. Thanks for the good times! Now, here are a few "Top 5" lists to sum up the greatest road trip ever undertaken...Most annoying aspects of living in a shoebox with 3 other people:5. Not much room in there. Considering one member was easily the largest man in the world, it was no surprise that we were constantly hopping in and out of the van just to avoid unintentionally spooning one another.4. We all snored. While we all had our moments in the spotlight, only Snags truly showed the sort of consistency needed to cement him as King Snorer title holder.3. We produced a lot of bad smells. Naturally I can vouch for a healthy chunk of the smell production, but the combination of dirty clothes, dirty bodies, beery burps and kebabby farts was pretty nauseating at times. I can only imagine the living conditions had we not imposed a ban on using the van toilet...2. We all enjoyed drinking too much. Seriously. There was not one single moment where you could not openly propose a drinking game and hook at least one taker. The fridge seemed to empty as quickly as we stocked it, and all attempts to calculate our overall beer count were abandoned thanks to logistics issues (ie. we can't count that high).1. Nobody wanted to navigate. Snags probably would have taken over navigation duties but he always seemed to be too busy driving the thing. So while the rest of us got blind playing drinking games in the back, Snags kept driving until we were sufficiently lost to warrant us abusing the poor guy a little bit and taking action. In all honesty this was actually a pretty hilarious aspect of the trip - we were stupidly lost nearly all the time.Songs receiving most air time in Vinny Van:5. Schnappy Crocodile - Some kid4. Land down under - Men at work3. Are you old enough - Sleepy Jackson (Dragon cover)2. Two out of three ain't bad - Meatloaf1. Ghetto - Elvis PresleyQuotes we repeated ad nauseam:5. "Living the dream!" - accompanied by high fives or air fist punch.4. "Are you old enough...?" - sung or whistled to the Dragon tune.3. "In the ghetto..." - sung or whistled to the Elvis tune.2. "Nooooo waaaaay!" - delivered with mock surprise and maximum volume.1. "Faaaaaark ooooff!" - delivered at inappropriate times by Mark in attempts to get us all killed. Staying at the A&amp;O Hostel was like being in a barn - way too many people. The room was quite good, but the 24/7 queue in the lobby meant everything else was a struggle. Not keen to overdo the tourist thing, we just wandered around the city taking in the sights. Unbelievable luck led us to stumble across a group of "Cristian Hip-Hop" dancers. I never realised how down they were with kids of today... hilarious! We made it to the famous Hofbrauhaus, where we dominated 4L of beer to go with the enormous salty pretzels on offer. Admittedly very touristy, but worth it just for the photo op. Met some Korean tourists who were on an insane tour schedule - 3 European cities in 3 days. Ridiculous. Went to a sort of Uni student house to watch the big game: Germany vs Italy. They had set up a projector outside, but thanks to the eternal sunlight it was a little tough to see to begin with. I went inside for a piss and discovered a TV... with bloody lounge chairs! Trying not to let the cat out of the bag, I alerted the others and we all watched in comfort as Germany let in 2 goals in the last few minutes of extra time. A few tears here and there, accompanied by the inevitable bloody honking of car horns all night by the Italians. We were given the option of going out on the piss to commiserate, but declined - possibly our smartest decision yet.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151427600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151427600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151427600/tpod.html Thu, 08 Mar 2007 15:13:10 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Wiesbaden, Germany

Still licking our wounds, we arrived in Wiesbaden and immediately went searching for somewhere to park Vinny's Mum's Van Van. We were all feeling suitably depressed by that stage, thanks partly to Australia being knocked out of the Germany World Cup 2006, but also partly because for the duration of the drive from Kaiserslauten only cliched gloomy songs were permitted. After all, the dream was over. I managed to momentarily slip in "John Denver - Sunshine on my shoulders" but it was shut down with immediate effect by the grumpy old men I seemed to be sharing the van with. Moments later Meatloaf was again chiming in (for the 800th time) with "Two out of three ain't bad". The only campingplatz we could find was roughly in the middle of nowhere, so instead we opted for Plan B - free parking in front of a castle. The great thing about a castle in Germany is that it is called a "Schloss" - which is not only hilarious to continually pronounce and butcher (and don't forget the plural form!), but is also one of the two key ingredients required to "Get sloshed at the Schloss". Drinking games ensued, and Brettski had the auspicious fortune of being the only one of us to successfully spew on a castle. The hijinx continued when Mark tried to use a nearby self-cleaning public toilet but instead ended up fleeing the scene after a few too many hydraulics and bright flashing lights put him off the idea. Enough can't be said about sleeping with the Biebrich Schloss on one side, with the Rhine on the other. Although we were unsure of the legality of camping out the front of a castle, somehow the biggest camping van in the world went unnoticed and we awoke the next day with our good luck intact. We left her where she was, and arranged to be picked up by a German friend of Mark's, Beate, before all heading off to check out a winery and devour a Jagerschnitzel. Washing it all down with a bearable Rosé, it formed what was easily the best meal we had seen let alone tasted for quite some time. Although I don't have photo evidence, I swear that the meal also included a salad. That night we recommenced drinking games on the castle grounds - they had thoughtfully left out some tables and chairs for us to use. The game was once again "dice", but on this occasion it was being played with a sinister twist. Whereas the previous night we were using the remains of some of the worst beer you are ever likely to sample (seriously), this time we were using the last of a tasty Vodka/orange mix so we were all trying to "lose" in order to get a drink. I even saw a killer hedgehog (or something) as I was venturing back to get another bottle from the van. I grabbed my camera, but when I returned it became clear it was in fact the Ninja variety of hedgehogs that are capable of disappearing into thin air.Next day we met up with Beate again for another special treat - thermal baths. As well as easing the pain that had developed in our aching joints over the course of a bruising month of road tripping, the thermal baths also doubled as our hygiene salvation after quite a few days on the trot without a wash. Powerful waterjets were just the ticket for van-induced aching backs, but they were on some sort of timing system which meant a battle for position every time the "good" waterjets erupted back into action. A thoroughly relaxing day had by all - even after management put a stop to our "dangerous" practice of drinking from beer bottles at least 20m from the nearest patron or pool. With a handful of days up our sleeve before the return of the van was due in Munich, we consulted some maps and guide books to find a suitable pitstop point somewhere in between - it was hard to go past a town claiming more than 200 different local beers, so Bamburg it was...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151168400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151168400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151168400/tpod.html Thu, 08 Mar 2007 15:12:03 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Heidelberg, Germany

Celebrating my birthday with a well deserved sleep in, I eventually woke to the sounds of Heidelberg. Or more specifically, to the sounds of Mark, Brett and Snags yelling at each other in the face of yet another ill-guided campingplatz search expedition. Always entertaining, the show once again culminated in Vinny Van pointing the wrong direction down a one-way street and Snags parking the beast in the middle of the road while proposing "Well you fucking drive then!". Safe in the knowledge that we all much prefer being driven around by Snags so that we can drink in the back, cooler heads prevailed and we made it to a campsite thanks to some apt directions from random German pedestrians. We still somehow manage to get Snags to ask directions on the proviso that he is the only one who can speak some German, yet I've not yet witnessed him use anything other than English to get the job done... I hear the lads plotting against me - something about telling me we're in Hamburg rather than Heidelberg. I ponder for a moment and decide to go along with it, but also can't help wondering if it would even make a difference if I actually had no idea which town I had woken up in. I decide it wouldn't, and roll over in search of just a few more hours sleep. When I finally surface, I am in survival mode - I line my stomach with some solids, and then trot off to the showers to wash the rank beer out of my hair and clothes. Brett and Mark have ventured into town for some "alone time", so I assume the easyrider position and concentrate on getting myself up to scratch before we no doubt start hitting it again later in the evening. Fully rejuvenated, I woke the next day to the fantastic news that a bunch of rowdy Poms at our campingplatz had run amok overnight. After drinking themselves silly, they found reason to fight each other, smash all their beer bottles on the road, and of course lay some turds in the middle of the bathroom floor. Classy fellas. I really liked their Liverpool FC homemade/prison tattoos too. We all suited up and headed into town to have a look at another castle. The honour system on the bus once again saved us a few Euros, and at the castle I managed to smooth talk our entry price down from 3 Euros to 1.50 Euros using my ancient expired student card. The castle itself was not overly spectacular in my opinion, and the renovation scaffolding everywhere wasn't helping its cause. Overlooking the town, the castle is more impressive imposing its presence from a distance - hardly worth the torturous uphill climb, and doubtfully worth the 1.50 Euros. The possible highlight for us was in fact following a group of Yanks around, and listening as they made remarkably inappropriate and misinformed comments on a whole array of subjects. As game time approached we commenced the search for a decent bar, but being a game involving Germany every vantage point had been filled up well before we showed our ugly mugs. Making matters worse, Heidelberg struggles as much as most other German cities to deal with the uncharacteristic heat of this summer - once again we ended up in a smoky sweatbox, this time to watch Germany whip the Netherlands comprehensively. Argentina then easily accounted for Mexico to also progress through to the Quarter Finals. The lads headed off to dominate some Chinese "All You Can Eat", but the idea alone scared the hell out of me so I continued flying the flag in the pub with some new friends I'd made. The next day was spent indulging in more well-deserved relaxation by the river. Laying in the sun under a cloudless blue sky, Snags and I could scarcely believe the weather forecast predicting cyclonic conditions. As the afternoon approached, however, it became pretty clear that things were becoming a little more serious. Nevertheless, we wandered up to the campingplatz admin building to watch England scrape through against Sweden. In a thoroughly boring game, the highlight for us was the transmission cutting out just as Beckham ran in to take a decisive free kick, thus sending all the hooligan Poms into tyrannical fits of rage. So, as they continued to abuse the caravan park owners as if they had caused the outage themselves, the game flickered back into life just in time to catch one of the many replays. The weather really turned bad just as we were tidying up after dinner. The wind kicked up and lashed Vinny's awning around, collapsing it on poor Snags' head. We scrambled to pack it away, and once everything was in "lockdown position" we headed back to the admin building to watch the 9pm game. Of course, with fierce thunder and lightning crackling right on top of us it was no real surprise that the entire first half transmission was out. The rain really started to pelt down, ensuring that while we waited we entertained ideas of an evacuation plan should the river swell past its banks and attempt to swallow Vinny. Finally the TV came back to life, revealing an hilariously spiteful clash between Portugal and Switzerland. The referee appeared to have lost his mind along with control of the match, as he handed out red and yellow cards as if they were going out of fashion. A complete debacle that made the World Cup look amateurish - but entertaining viewing for us!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151600400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151600400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1151600400/tpod.html Thu, 01 Mar 2007 01:14:06 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Bamberg, Germany

Bamberg almost killed us.Being our final stop before returning Vinnie to the campervan rental place, you would perhaps be inclined to think that we would relax and take it easy for a few days. However, that relies on the assumption of us being intelligent in some way and not rampaging lunatics instead. Our first mistake was to arrive in Bamberg after midnight, and thinking that we didn't need a road map because after all it was just a quaint little town. We pointed Vinnie towards "Zentrum" (Central) and quickly discovered the charms of the town are best not discovered in a massive campervan. After a couple of hours of navigating narrow streets, performing elaborate U-turns, experiencing various near-misses and getting a complimentary massage from the endless cobblestones, morale was at an all time low and it became evident somebody would be killed soon. Fortunately we got the hell out of there and found a suitable parking place before armageddon, helped in no small way by some random cute locals who just happened to be strolling around in the middle of the night. They conceded that their town was indeed the most confusing town on the face of the planet.Given that we arrived a little too late to check into the campingplatz (lit. camping place), we did it first thing the next day and were rewarded with hot showers. These were "choose-your-own-adventure" showers, meaning that not only did they have hot &amp; cold taps (a rarity), but they also were free and didn't have a stupid timing mechanism that requires you to press a friggin' button every 30 seconds to turn the water back on. Brilliant. Pretty overcast and raining a little, we deemed day 2 would be for daytime relaxing and nighttime partying. For some reason buses weren't running, so we had to call a taxi to get into town later that night. We went to a cafe for a caffeine injection and quickly learned that they also did cocktails which was our starting point. We also learned from the waitress that of the two nightclubs in Bamberg she suggested trying Morph Club. We still had a few hours to kill, so found an Irish Pub with 1 euro shots and as you can imagine it was all over for us. We did eventually make it to Morph, and I managed to get us in for free (normal door charge 2 euros) on the basis that we were hilarious Aussies and not one of the Americans that seem to plague this town. Even more hilarious was that there seemed to be a "Bollywood Night" going on, with all sorts of crazy music and even crazier accompanying dancing.Day 3 did not get off to a flying start. We were all feeling a little average, and didn't really surface until afternoon. However, there was World Cup to watch so we had to get to a pub. Fortunately Snags had chatted up a chick the previous night and had done the groundwork for organising her to pick us up and give us a lift into the city. He made the call, and after some fancy parking by her we were at a biergarten (beer garden). I was keen to have just a glass of tap water, but apparently this was a foreign concept at said bar, and they insisted I buy their crappy mineral water. I went to the bathroom and just filled my glass up from the tap there. Snags bought me a free beer after foolishly betting me to slide down the kiddy slide. I'm serious - best bet ever! Germany had a lucky escape via a penalty shootout, and later in the day we watched Italy dominate Ukraine 3-0 in some cafe on the main street. We "forgot" to pay the bill, instead preferring to leg it down the street.Day 4 in Bamberg and it doesn't seem to be getting any better here. We scoured the town for a bloody internet cafe and came up empty handed. What sort of a backwards joint is this? I then had the worst meal (so far) for lunch. It will be a strong contender for "Worst Meal of Journey" later at the awards ceremonies. I thought I was getting a "Kick Football" meal, which LOOKED like a burger with fries and drink. In reality, it was some stale bread containing a circular piece of rubber with a sprinkling of brown lettuce... all of which was then lathered in sickly BBQ sauce AND mayonnaise. Mark then attempted to trounce this travesty by ordering sweet &amp; sour pork noodles at an alleged Chinese restaurant and instead receiving spaghetti. I won't repeat the colourful terms he used, but let's just say it was along the lines of "I'm outraged" and "They should be f#$%ing ashamed!".I must confess that from that point on my time spent in Bamberg gets a little sketchy. I know that at some stage that night we went to the other club and a whole range of pubs, one of which was the American servicemen stronghold of the town. We entertained ourselves for hours by taking the piss, while all these dumbass soldiers took turns in the ultimate test of manhood - lifting Snags off the ground. They were so laughably lame, but hardly worth the trouble once they began getting agitated by my abilities at the pool table. Apparently it was "their table" even if they lost. Then, while the smart folk went off to bed when the sun came up, I instead went off with some Irish girls to their apartment to continue drinking and being silly. At some stage I switched to autopilot in order to get home by around 10am, but I was then unconscious in the van for the rest of the day as we made our way back to Munich.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1148614200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1148614200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kiemce/worldtrip2006/1148614200/tpod.html Fri, 23 Feb 2007 22:50:22 -0500 Backpacking South America via the rest of the world...

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Tokyo, Japan

Back in Tokyo for my final couple of days in Japan, and I had a little spare time to reflect on the amazing time I had enjoyed while touring around a very unique country. While the natural features of Japan are fantastic in their own right, it is the people who are really the most important asset. Whether it be rich culture and living history of the shrines, temples and palaces... Or the unfathomable engineering and technology prowess of the skyscrapers, bridges and tunnels... Or simply the warm, generous, selfless and respectful nature of the overall population... It is the people who make this place like no other on Earth. Ready to face the music after trash-talking a little too much about my 10-pin prowess, I met up with "the gang" (Mika, Emi, Tomo &amp; Yumi) for a 10-pin bowling bonanza goodbye bash. I choose not to remember the scores because my leg hurt so it didn't really count. Basically I was whipped by everyone, but had a great time all the same. It was a little unfortunate for me that thanks to their contact with Australia and Australians "the gang" had all but lost their ability to win gracefully - I endured plenty of victory dances and ridicule... The following day was my last hurrah - a trip up Mt Fuji. A hire car had been organised, so I saddled up with Shiho, Yoshi and Yumi to conquer the mountain. The weather had other ideas, and completely shrouded Mt Fuji in thick clouds to make any sort of views impossible. Still keen to have a bit of a trek, I essentially dragged the Japanese contingency up the mountain through freezing heavy rains until they would go no further. I was happy enough to discover blocks of ice and to test out my new waterproof jacket under worthy conditions.&nbsp; After defrosting digits and devouring a bowl of hot soup at the refuge it was time to head home. I got to have a drive of the hire car, all the while trying to decipher what directions the GPS voice was trying to give me. An ode to the Shinkansen After spending so much time travelling on the Shinkansen trains while in Japan I have had plenty of time to reason why they are in fact so damn cool. 1. They are incredibly quiet - they raise property prices rather than lower them. No need to build a huge station in the stix, because they don't need a lot of room and can simply run straight out of the middle of a city. 2. Comfortable - tons of legroom, tons of luggage space, no turbulence, more to see out the window, fast (300km/h), and safe (zero recorded fatalities). 3. Always on time - in Japan the thousands of trains manage to run to the minute! Even after a 10hr trip I arrived exactly to the minute. Get this: calculated from around 160,000 trips, <i>"in 2003 JR Central reported that the Shinkansen's average arrival time was within 0.1 minutes or 6 seconds of the scheduled time." Not even the Germans come close. 4. While there is no "inflight entertainment", you are free to use electrical devices and mobile phones to your heart's content. No "free" food, but you can take advantage of regular passing food carts or simply pick something up at the train station. And yes, you can buy beer. 5. Environmentally friendly - well, potentially anyway. They allow the flexibility to choose how to supply the electricity, so there is not an absolute dependence on fossil fuels. Don't forget to buy your 7, 14, 21 or 28 day Japan Rail Pass before you get to Japan, because you cannot purchase one once you are there. Japan Airways offices act as sales agents in many countries, but take a look at this list for available international offices. Basically you purchase an "exchange order" outside of Japan, and when you arrive you exchange it for your Japan Rail Pass at one of the major train stations or airport. It may seem expensive, but travel in Japan is expensive! My 21 day pass all but paid for itself with a return trip from Tokyo to Kyoto, and was even valid for MetroRail use within cities. Sources: http://www.japanrailpass.net http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shinkansen
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Hakodate, Japan

With a few days left to burn on my Japan Rail Pass I decided to make the most of it and investigate Hokkaidō Island to the north. Seeing as this was very much a spur of the moment decision on my behalf, I had no real idea of what I would find there. The day started pretty badly, as running late into Tokyo station I jumped onto the platform just as the doors of a Shinkansen were closing. Seeing as I had arrived roughly 1 or 2 minutes earlier than the time on my ticket, I safely assumed it had to be my train. Or not. As I would discover later, the sheer efficiency of the Japan Rail system was my downfall, as my actual train was due to arrive and depart only a minute after the one I had actually boarded. Of course, I had no idea this was the case until the ticket inspector arrived to deliver his best "look of horror" face. No translation was needed. As another fitting display of Japanese customer service, he found a passenger with better English skills to explain where I would need to transfer in order to get the correct train. Not satisfied, he radioed ahead so that I was met at the station and escorted to the correct platform. He also managed to organise another ticket to save me later hassles. The lovely woman who met me spoke a little English, and after a little chatting I discovered that by sheer fluke she had actually visited my little hometown of Perth. It really eased the tension I felt as an ignoramus gaijin, and helped to pass the two minute wait as I asked her about her visit to Australia. Finally on the RIGHT train, it wasn't as express as my original ticket but I pretty much deserved the extra two hour travel time. The landscape out the window was drastically different to all my other Shinkansen trips - a lot more agriculture and flat land, occasionally hidden from view as we plowed through the middle of a misplaced mountain. The flora seemed to change the further north we progressed as well - to be expected as we passed into a cooler climate. Seeing as I had traversed the world's longest two-tier bridge down in Shikoku, it seemed only fitting that I would also get the chance to plunge into the Seikan Tunnel. Not content with losing 1,430 ferry passengers in 1954, planning commenced and construction finally began in 1971. A whopping 17 years and US$3.6 billion later, the tunnel under the Tsugaru Strait was opened. At almost 54km in length, and around 240m below sea level at the lowest point (100m below the sea bed), it is an impressively long time to spend in a tunnel. Unfortunately for the tunnel a lot has changed since 1971, and it is in fact cheaper to fly there from Tokyo in 3hrs rather than go by train in 10hrs (unless you have a Japan Rail Pass like me of course). The sun was setting as we pulled into Hakodate, and let me tell you the first thing I noticed is that it was a little bit chilly. Luckily, I had packed insufficient warm clothing (ie. none) and had not managed to book ahead for any accommodation. My plan was to experience a "capsule hotel" - an array of coffin-sized habitations complete with radio and TV, mostly used by businessmen who have missed the last train or I guess anyone looking for a budget option within the insanely expensive Japanese accommodation market. After asking several people for directions but only receiving blank stares in return, I began thinking that capsule hotels were in fact a myth or just an hilarious joke played by Japan on the rest of the world. I gave up at around 10pm when walking the streets without any feeling in my fingers ceased seeming like a good idea. I stumbled across a Pension (family-run accommodation) called "Happy Puppy" - the people were really friendly, the traditional tatami rooms were great, and the prices were reasonable. I didn't see any puppies. I was reluctant to remove my shoes at the front door of the building (for everyone else's sake), but it was pretty cool to wander around the hotel in my complimentary slippers. The bathroom was another matter, as I couldn't for the life of me work out what was going on. The entire room was completely automated to a crazy new level. The main lights would turn on as you entered. More lights would turn on as you entered a cubicle, as well as a fan automatically spinning on. Mmmm, heated seat. After backing one out I looked in vain for a flush button, but naturally the flush was only triggered as I left the cubicle. Luckily the fan was programmed to continue going for a few more minutes. No taps at the sink - motion detection triggers instead. I skipped showers because I simply couldn't work it out.Refreshed after essentially spending the previous day on trains, I woke up pretty early and ready to hit Hakodate at full speed. This was largely because I only had one day there before returning to Tokyo - an authentic whirlwind tour, Japanese style. Hakodate was one of the first ports in Japan to open to foreign trade - in 1853 under the conditions of the Treaty of Kanagawa the port was opened to America, and soon other countries followed suit to establish their own consulates there. Many of the consulates were constructed in the same area near the main port, and they brought with them their own individual architectural character from their respective home countries. Walking the streets I felt I had left Japan and was walking around some nondescript quaint European town. Unable to fight the urge, I hopped on the cable car to the top of Mount Hakodate to see what the view had to offer. Well worth every Yen! To the north the horizon offered a myriad of snow-capped mountains, while to the south it overlooked the very pretty port city - seemingly being squeezed by two seas at its sides. The night view is regarded as one of Japan's finest, but I didn't have the time or inclination to hang around for a few hours in order to find out. I had drinking to do.That's right, Hakodate is also a little famous for Hakodate Beer, so I decided to stick with what I know and ventured into their brewery for a taste test. Safe in the knowledge that no preservatives were going to screw with my head the following day, I dove straight in and ordered some food to make a real afternoon out of it. The sun was shining, so I headed outside to the deck area and immediately nostalgia swept over me. Subiaco, Paddy McGuire's, Sunday afternoons. Beer also swept over me, not unlike the many afternoons spent at Paddy's. But in this case the beer was different... different in a good way. Different in a FREE way. And we all know free beer simply tastes better. You see, out of sheer boredom I had begun writing in my journal, and keen to get the facts straight I asked the waitress a few questions about their beer (am I not a connoisseur after all?). Anyway, suddenly the manager appears and asks me if I am from a magazine. Sensing an opportunity I went along with it, and sure enough a few minutes later I was an international beer &amp; restaurant journalist reporting on their brewery, sampling all sorts of free seafood and their whole selection of beers. Sure, I had to take a few notes but it was a price I was willing to pay! For the record my favourite was Mori, a Belgian-style wheat brew with a light, fruity aroma and super smooth taste.
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