TravelStream™ news feed for member redbikini on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/redbikini en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 23 Jul 2009 10:16:46 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243062180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243062180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243062180/tpod.html Thu, 23 Jul 2009 10:16:46 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Mechelen, Antwerpen, Belgium

The surprising thing about Mechelen is that it has a beach.  Inland sandwiced nicely between Antwerp and Brussels typically you would not expect this. ...I spent a lazy weekend here with my Belgium friends Wannes, Geert and Natalie, we trawled around the fish market...a cafe cultue area lining the many lovely canals ...the next night we celebrated Mecehelens defeat in the equivalent of the FA cup final.....in the beautiful and very grand Grote Markt. The party went on until the early hours....dancing to cover sounds of band Frituur Paula...the next day we took some bikes and cycled round one of the many beautiful lakes close to the city centre...and it was there to my biggest suprise I found the beach..... full of sunnbathers, swimmers and ice cream stalls....Belgium is that little country full of big suprises....
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1247136836/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1247136836/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1247136836/tpod.html Thu, 23 Jul 2009 09:34:37 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Tarifa, Andalusia, Spain and Canary Islands

Its another scorchingly hot day as i leave the small town of Casares behind and head down the hills towards the coast and Algeciras.  I'm picking up three couch surfers ...an American, a German and an Estonian.  I'm beginning to regret offering the lift as having stowed two tents, two thermarests, a stove, water, wetsuit, a cool box and my own gear there is little room for anyone else's luggage.. By chance the railway station and the bus station are opposite each other in Algeciras on Calle San Bernardo. Things are looking up.The train is delayed an hour but i meet Nicole a tall blond German girl off the bus and together we wander the streets..in this sprawling, "regular" port town.Somehow i manage to cram everyone and all their luggage into my car, Ants the shy Estonian is wedged in the back with Nicole, Emy the American chatters to me from the front seat.  Shes the oldest of the CS group ..at 57 shes sold everything in the US and wanders the world.with the kind of bag that wouldn't even do me for a weekend.  I make a mental note to throw more stuff out.  The road from Algeciras climbs steeply towards Tarifa, the most south westerly point of Spain...its reportedly the most dangerous stretch of road in the whole of Andalucia.  Notices convey this strongly. The road twists and winds through dusty brown hillsides covered in the majestic windmills until just before Tarifa we are treated to stunning panoramic views of  the North African coastline .  There's a  look out point along the way but we continue driving our eyes scanning the horizon. We pass Tarifa and continue on another 5 kilometers to Rio Jara...our campsite for the next 2 nights. Its the first of a number of campsites on the road from Tarifa -  in my opinion the most beautiful stretch of coastline in mainland  Spain. Miles and miles of white sand beaches, unadulterated by the gross and ugly urbanizations of the south. Most likely it is the famous strong vientos of Tarifa - which has saved it from this massacre, but also gives it its deserved fame. The skies are peppered by a mass of brightly coloured sails, the brand mark of the kite surfers .  We pitch up and start to assemble  the tents.  As i am puzzling over where to put my poles..a swarthy unshaven Italian - Vitorio - comes over and ask me for a lift to the supermarket...i protest feebly that i have only just got here.  But this is couch-surfing where the philosophy is to share everything (including my car) and they have nothing to eat. I glimpse over to his two other friends from Seville watching me patiently ..Elvis, a young Austrian from Vienna with piercing dark eyes and Luce another Italian. I give in. and they all in turn thank me profusely.Nicole prepares an order .. The lads slickly sweep round the supermarket buying beer, hams, bread and wine. On the way back...I almost decapitate Elvis as i fumble with the lever on the roof of my convertible.He rubs his head and politely assures me hes fine...I'm not so sure...With no more incidents we get back to  find my tent pitched - with the minimum of tent pegs and only a few sags that Nadia points out are not important as its not windy (now!) .  We crack open the beers, share some tortilla..and prepare for some fun.Couch surfers are some of the friendliest people on the planet.  At least it seems that way.  Everyone politely introduces themselves but soon I realized i hadn't a hope of remembering everyone and gave up.... There were around 50 in all gathered for the annual Tarifa couch-surfing meet organised by a young gregarious Spaniard Alejandro....who has one of those self inflating tents for speedy camping ...minimum faff maximum drinking time!We drank warm beer and chatted, apart from the travelers everyone appeared to be working or trying to work along the coast, most spoke Spanish but they' also enjoyed learning English so we'd switch between the two an arrangement which seemed to suit everyone. At 3am I left the hardened party goers to it and headed for the comfort of my tent and sleeping bag...snuggled up, listening to the wind outside gently blowing i could imagine staying here the whole summer...pitched up in an old camper-van beach by day, flamenco and Tango by night.... The next day we relax on the beach  and swim in the deliciously cool Atlantic waters. We lit a barbecue on the beach not realizing how close the tide is.  Here the water races in...comparable to some of the Northern English beaches and San Malo in France where the tide is known to gallop in like horses thundering accross the beach. We manage to cook and feed about 8 people before someone spots the sea is just a  few meters away..there is some frantic wall building to no avail.  The next wave breaks through and smothers the barbecue...despite this...like a soldier who carries on running long after hes been shot..i race holding the sodden barbecue in front of me with two inedible soggy burgers..I collapse in a heap and laugh....The next day we head for Valdevaqueros..A beautiful beach with high sand dunes, and the highest density of kite and windsurfers in the whole area.  There's a really nice beach bar which serves huge salads for 8 euros...relatively expensive but they can easily be shared. There's also great horse-riding here you can even cover yourself in grey clay for a do it yourself spa treatment!As we sit out drinking cold beers watching the macho kite surfers racing backwards and forwards across the sea I wonder how they ever miss each other...but somehow they do.. an image of tangled strings, decapitated bathers and being hurled the 13km to Morocco flashes  accross my mind ..I  think perhaps this is one sport that I resign to staying an enthusiastic spectator...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1241540940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1241540940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1241540940/tpod.html Sun, 12 Jul 2009 15:26:00 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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st Anton am arlberg, Austria

I wake suddenly from a&nbsp;nightmare which&nbsp;is so vivid and strange that i sit for a while&nbsp;contemplating its meaning ..outside clouds hover over the majestic peaks of&nbsp;Rendl&nbsp;and a damp mist clings to the slopes...now largely &nbsp;green. &nbsp;Fang chair lies stationary...like an old ghost train....the streets previously buzzing with the early morning hardcore skiers ...are now empty except for a few locals. &nbsp;...so unlike the snow covered ski village&nbsp;I'd driven into some&nbsp;several&nbsp;months ago.....I'd set off from the port of Dover in my trusty Golf Cab, more suited to warm summer days pottering to Brighton than mountain adventure. After almost 20 hours hurtling across the German motorways and now close to the Austrian border, i hit a storm full on, great swathes of snow driving horizontally at my windscreen. I'm desperately tired, I've only managed 4 hours sleep&nbsp; - stretched out across the front seats,&nbsp; a pillow firmly wedged under my back. But I continue on aware that I have a 6o'clock rendezvous ....With just a &nbsp;few kilometers to go i mistakenly veer off the highway taking&nbsp;the Arlberg pass...a high mountain road - fine in spring weather, but treacherous in snow without winter tyres..... cursing,&nbsp; i skid to a stop...the snow already piling up on the road. I stare blankly at the instructions on the snow chains ..no matter what way i turn the sheet i can't fathom them out...A passing motorist kindly turns me round, throws my chains back in the car and gives me directions to the tunnel..but by now I'm so hopelessly tired i again miss the turn and end up on the highway back to Bregenz.&nbsp; As I'm beginning to lose all sanity and at the point of tears i catch sight of a&nbsp; rescue truck on the side of the road ......The driver...a swarthy dark Austrian in his mid 50s, with deep furrows lining his forehead is scribbling some notes on a pad. He looks up at me curiously, "<i>I'm English " I say as if that explains everything, my eyes wide like a deer trapped in headlights... he takes pity on me, loads the Golf up and tows me to the tunnel. &nbsp;"<i>if you don't make it on the&nbsp;other&nbsp;side ...take a taxi" he says to me smiling reassuringly..."<i>Thanks.."i say ... I could have kissed him.&nbsp; I finally manage to crawl the&nbsp; last few miles to my alarmingly expensive ski apartment just off the end of St Anton's pedestrian area ....my home for the next few months, utterly exhausted but euphoric.&nbsp; My key man does not appear so happy when i point out the largest bag for him to carry, he disappears as soon as he can probably thinking I'm gonna ask him to unload the rest of the car...but I'm done ...I collapse on my sofa a big smile spreading across my face.....The next few months I follow a pattern of rising early, eating huge breakfasts of porridge, eggs, cheese and muesli...packing my bag with nuts and fruit, then skiing hard for the morning when the snow conditions are best.....I search out the powder, ski off piste in areas I know are safe or when my German friends come out I ski runs with long names like Jungbrunentobel and Zeischenabfahrt which I always forget and have to ask them to tell me again...I meet Martin on Gampen chair lift, he asks to ski with me - down Mattun, an off piste itinerary and I tentatively agree. From the top of Schindler you have to&nbsp; traverse across a ridge and down a red to reach a steep T-bar that takes you to the top of Mattun.&nbsp; That morning for some inexplicable reason we managed to miss all the signs which would have told us it was closed....reaching the bottom we were told the bad news by the young attendant...it was too windy and they'd had to close the lift.&nbsp; We had no choice but to climb back up the red run we'd just skied down....the wind was increasing and carrying my skis i was puffing and breathing hard with every step.....half way up i suggested we stop and pulled out a thermos of tea ... much to Martins amusement...and as we sat and drank the tea I gazed out towards the beautiful snow covered peaks...alone with the mountain I could imagine then how mountaineers must feel ..Living in a ski resort like St Anton is something you need to be fit for.&nbsp; Its 24x7 fun and intensely physical both the skiing, partying and work ...if you work ....so that by the end of the season i counted up no less than 4 colds, one bout of flu and a touch of either tonsillitis or scarlet fever .....Anton is a friendly place though ...skiers comes from all over Europe, the majority Scandinavian, Dutch, German and English. The first week of the New Year the Russians invade in their furry hats and fancy outfits, the Scandinavians who out drink and out party most of the other skiers prefer January and early Feb when the snow conditions are good, the Germans pick the powder weekends and ski hard off piste, the Dutch come to party and take trips to Lech, the friendly Belgians come in packs,&nbsp; the English pick the cheap weeks, buy take outs from the supermarket and frequent bars where other English frequent......! But all come for the challenging skiing, the huge amount of off piste - much of it close to the main marked runs...and the lively apres ski scene.&nbsp; Slope-side bars like Krazy Kangaroo and the Mooservir are popular haunts where dancing to cheesy German tunes is de rigueur and the end of the evening is marked by a drunken ski descent ....(I have perfected the art of sliding down on a plastic bag for the occasions when i don't have skis with me). &nbsp; Ski bums prefer bars like Taps which from March onwards is a real sun trap ...and you can sit out on a deckchair with a cold beer and plate of chips to watch the sun set and throw snowballs at each other....In town its common to see large groups of men dining out at smart wine bars like the Kandahar or crammed into the excellent tapas bar Bodega...their blokey exuberance a mark of St Anton.&nbsp; Women here are outnumbered ...so much so that there are now certain weeks in January set up to encourage women to come...offering discount drinks.food, clothing and spas&nbsp; ......In a lift queue I overhear a group of Dutch girls warning one of them&nbsp; "not to get drunk.. and not to snog the first boy they dance with .." a good girls survival strategy for St Anton ....As the the April spring sun gathers strength and the snow finally starts to melt, St Anton goes into festival mode....sofas are spread across the slopes at Rendel beach, a DJ sets up camp, boarders and skiers compete for Big Air and ski bums start to talk about their next adventures in the sun.... The week long party culminates in the famous Weis Raus a grueling descent from he top of Valluga - some 2,800 metres, ending in an obstacle course cruelly placed for the audience viewing pleasure.&nbsp; Skiers and boarders run the last section holding their skis...climbing onto a narrow ice wall and then descending over the finish line. In their rush many crash into each other ...and some push past slower competitors on the wall...Totally exhausted, every last ounce of adrenaline used up, the lactic acid burning in their thighs they collapse face down as they cross the line, often not moving for several minutes until they are dragged away for safety&nbsp; ... but in true st Anton spirit later on they can be seen drinking and dancing into the early hours in the one final mother of all parties.........And for me.... I like to ski off-piste away from the crowds and with the mountain to myself...to watch the light grow low and radiate iridescent colours in the trees and snow, to sit behind Ulmer Hutte and watch the clouds rising up over the peaks enclosing the skiers in a hazy mist, to ski by avalanche debris and wonder at the forces of nature, to sit on plastic sofas at the top of Galzig when the storms close in and the snow blows horizontal..to watch skiers venturing out in their balaclavas only their eyes peering out through their goggles, and in the evenings I love to dance to Gunar in the Pic, or dance on tables in the Mooser,&nbsp; to flirt and tease and dance and then retreat to my favorite bar 37 run by my Mexican friend Enrique who calls me the English multi millionairess...and I look forward to the weeks when my friends come to see me and relish my own space again when they are gone...in St Anton it is always the excitement of not knowing what is ahead, but knowing I don't want to go back to the claustrophobia of the city, the routine...here I can breathe in the mountain air, feel the sun and cold on my face, fall giggling in huge drifts of powder...Each day with the different patterns of the snow I see the mountain change...and every day I think how lucky I am to be here ...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631332/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631332/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631332/tpod.html Wed, 01 Jul 2009 09:08:21 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Casares, Andalusia, Spain and Canary Islands

The final drive to Casares from Cordoba is stunning.&nbsp; The road runs up through the mountains behind Malaga, a fitting spectacle for the last part of my trip ....the sun is setting and the air is again refreshingly cool after the oppressive heat in Cordoba. From Malaga I take the highway...its now dark and I'm tired.&nbsp;&nbsp; The last part..is a 12kilometer bumpy stretch of road littered with potholes that can rupture your car suspension ...the municipality periodically patches it up but never makes a good job of it. After Casares the road smooths out and winds on up through the hills to Ronda...an historic town perched above the 100 meter deep El Tajo canyon. Its gone 11 by the time I arrive. My parents greet me warmly...this is going to be my new base for the next couple of months. Looking out from the Finca enclosed by the steep rocky hillsides I can see out towards the strait of Gibraltar and Africa,&nbsp; and much closer still the Pueblo Blanco town of Casares hangs from the rock face, the small white houses lit up by 100s of lights...i know the villagers will be gathering on the streets and i the square about now..the men drinking the women chatting, children still playing...Spain comes alive at night just as i am searching out my bed...I fall asleep and when I dream I'm still in my car, i feel the motion like that on a boat...and I crash it several times......&nbsp;
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321260/tpod.html Wed, 01 Jul 2009 06:00:59 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Utrecht, Netherlands

Daaf calls me up and offers me a bed .&nbsp; I'm staying in Utrecht and rather last minute&nbsp; have decided to give couch surfing a go again.......it turns out to be a good decision.&nbsp; He lives just 30 minutes walk from the centre .&nbsp; ...when i arrive we share some wine and dinner and swap stories until the early hours... &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hes an interesting guy has travelled accross America on his BMW bike which he shipped out there and has a great passion for Colorado. He speaks with an English accent that he has cultivated . He is also a great advocate of the whole couchsurfing experience ....I feel relaxed and at ease ...The next morning Daaf offers me a lift into the centre on his bike.&nbsp; he asks me if I've ridden a bike ..."<i>just one thing....don't try to keep it upright on the bends" ..I assure him Ive done this before and&nbsp; "Ive only fallen asleep once" ....we take off down a rather long and uninteresting road....but once we reach the river the scenery changes,,,, the old centre of Utrecht is delightful -&nbsp; the medieval canals and wharves run through the centre&nbsp; and you can walk right down on the water edge if you don't mind sprinting the steps every few hundred yards or so....as its a national religious holiday the streets are sleepy, but students still fill the bars and coffee shops....giving it a relaxed buzz...The next day I say goodbye to Daaf who is off to buy a piano for his girlfriend . ...and I head&nbsp; for the winkel van sinkel&nbsp; : http://www.dewinkelvansinkel.nl...an art house type Grand Cafe which feels like the centre point for the city..I'm meeting a friend for lunch..its sunny but there is still a chill to the air and as im wearing an inappropriately thin summer dress we choose to eat inside...it has a grandiose feel to it...yet the food is inexpensive and tasty. Mid afternoon&nbsp; I drag myself away from this relaxed friendly city which is often overlooked - in favour of Amsterdam..and embark on the first leg of my 2,500 kilometer trip to Spain, as predicted my ride share has cancelled on me so im gonna be doin it on my own .but.in fact im starting to relish the idea of the driving solitude...at least now i have the freedom to go where i like and do what I like...2,500 kilometers to Spain...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631228/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631228/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243631228/tpod.html Mon, 22 Jun 2009 16:05:51 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Córdoba, Andalusia, Spain and Canary Islands

The road out of Madrid is busy, almost frantic.&nbsp; A car ahead of me appears to bounce off the central reservation . Drivers repair punctures perilously on the side of the road as cars and trucks swerve around them. Signs confirm what i already sense...this is a very dangerous stretch of road ... &nbsp; But then the landscape changes once more ...wide open space and the dry rolling campo .&nbsp; Tapas bars are strewn regularly along the route ... drivers drink beer and munch on seriously bad but tasty pork scratchings .. ....&nbsp; Its stiflingly hot even with the top down..I slather on more suncream...roll down the seat and rest in the shade. Tired and hot I finally arrive in Cordoba. A network of cobbled streets and shaded boulevards - at first impression it is a&nbsp; very attractive city.&nbsp; But once again i find myself encountering a maze of one way streets and dead ends as i try to find the youth hostel......I abandon my car and set off on foot. I find some Spaniards playing in a fountain by the old city walls and go to join them.&nbsp; I dabble my feet and legs in the water which is deliciously cool....the temperatures has now reached a stiflingly hot 36 degrees. It seems that everyone i meet in the old city is a lost tourist.&nbsp; They gaze blankly at maps dished out at the tourist office.... i ask some Belgians the way, they study their map for a moment and then accost another couple with a better map.&nbsp; The second couple gesticulate randomly in a vague direction it appears they too have no idea.&nbsp;&nbsp; I set off without a map wondering if I will ever see my car again. It appears -&nbsp; take note - that the youth hostel instalacion juvenil Cordoba advertised in Lonely Planet no longer exists...at least i never found it but i found the square it should have been in . There is instead just a bar and staff who look bored...&nbsp; I see other backpackers looking equally confused.&nbsp; In the end i decide to cut my losses and make the final drive to Casares where I'd have a bed waiting for me ...on the outskirts of the city as i leave the tourist enclaves behind i encounter run down housing estates where i imagined a lot of the true populace lived...Cordoba is a nice city but it is hot and touristy....i am sure i will come back but right now i want the cool breezes of the coast and the beautiful little pueblo blanco Casares...265 kilometers to go.....(note i did find a backpackers in the old city but it was full...and i also have no idea which street it was on but if you find it..it looked really nice place to stay...hotels are about 40 euros a night.)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243544724/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243544724/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243544724/tpod.html Mon, 22 Jun 2009 15:55:10 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Madrid, Madrid, Spain and Canary Islands

I&nbsp; take the route from San Sebastian to Madrid diverting through the Pico mountains. I am unprepared for the simply breathtaking views that await me.... . &nbsp; The majestic rounded peaks of the Picos loom overhead as the road skirts through tiny hamlets and over crystal clear rivers.&nbsp; Here travellers stop to fill large water containers at fresh springs.&nbsp; I roll the top down slather myself in sun cream and pump up the volume.....this is the essence of driving in inland Spain.... At a small bar I stop for a coke and Tortilla savouring the simple yet delicious taste&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; ....a TV in the corner blares out football anthems rehashing Barcelonas victory in the Champions League..I make a mental note to return here for several days hiking and camping...but for now i've made arrangements to visit my irish friend Johnny in Madrid.&nbsp; After San Sebastaian i dont want to arrive too late ...&nbsp; driving in Madrid is a bit like stock car racing, I grip the steering wheel , put my foot down and drive like an aggressive London driver...the only way it seems to survive the complex network of roads in Madrid...i decide to use my GB right hand drive to best effect and assume everyone will give way to me. It works. Arriving at his appartment,Johnny suggests i reverse into a space the size of a pram so i spend about 10 minutes manoeuvering inches at a time. Years of London parkiing and an automatic helps here...but as i proudly get out of the car - mission accomplished -&nbsp; I turn to see him holding the vans bumper in his hands. It seems I may have nudged it a little.&nbsp;&nbsp; I&nbsp; collapse into giggles...."dont worry" he assures me... "era asi cuando llegue!"&nbsp;&nbsp; ......we deal with it Manana ..because for now the wine is waiting.....644km to go...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243458114/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243458114/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243458114/tpod.html Mon, 22 Jun 2009 15:52:01 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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San Sebastián - Donostia, Basque, Spain and Canary Islands

Exhausted and flummoxed i circle one more time the maze of one way streets of San Sebastian.&nbsp; It is now gone 10 O'clock and the match is well into second half ...I should have been here hours ago but Id started off late, detoured round Carcassone and Biarritz and now i'd wasted more than an hour trying to find my hotel.&nbsp; A better decision would have been to camp in Biarritz but tonight was the Champions final and i had to be in Spain. What had fooled me was the sheer size of San Sebastian and the total lack of parking . In desperation I call up the hotel...in broken Spanish i tell the receptionist...&nbsp; "<i> no puedo encontrar el hotel...." after a brief consultation the manager is sent to find me. .&nbsp; Miraculously after a few&nbsp; minutes a man appears smiling at me.&nbsp; He gets into the passenger seat..."<i>is on the wrong side" ....."<i>yeah I know I know...but thanks anyway" ...we drive to an underground car park.&nbsp; In two nights I have accepted two strangers into my car.. somehow this just woudl not happen in London...I stumble into bed...exhausted.&nbsp; Barcelona have won but I'm too tired to celebrate . Pension Edorta is in the Parta Vieja which is why i couldn't reach it - there is no access to cars. Situated just a couple of minutes from the harbour and the beautiful swathe of beach...that makes up the Bahia de la Concha.... Its a great location except if you are driving. The next morning i have breakfast in Constitution Square ...a nice airy square which is a good place to get your bearings.&nbsp; The toast was the thickest piece Ive ever eaten and the friendly waiter kindly made up my thermos for me with "<i>aqua caliente".&nbsp; &nbsp; I stroll down to the harbor...awash with small bobbing boats, its pleasant and the sun is hot but here is a stiff breeze rolling in off the sea .&nbsp; San Sebastian has a grand, refined feel about it and would be worth a couple of days to stroll the numerous bars which serve pintxos...like tapas ..from 1 to 4 euros Its all done on an honesty basis after you've eaten they add up the cocktail sticks on your plate...and you tell them what you drank....Later that morning i try to remember which underground car park i left my car in...a french traveler&nbsp; I'd helped earlier kindly helps me with my bags into the car.&nbsp; he peers at the passenger seat...I know what hes gonna ask so I just smile and say y<i>eah ..its English...its the wrong way round....I know" ....1,121 Km to go...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1243321740/tpod.html Mon, 22 Jun 2009 15:45:52 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Geneva, Geneva, Switzerland

"That will be 35 euros" ouch that hurts. I try to explain to the officious man in the suit&nbsp; that im only gonna be on the motorway for 5 minutes and i will be leaving Switzerland tomorrow...."<i>you can turn around madam but it will take you an hour".&nbsp; Its dark and Steves spag bol is beckoning.&nbsp; Plus the large glass of wine im gonna have after almost 7 hours on the road - with only a brief but broken sleep on a grass layby - interrupted by the gardeners wielding chain saw like strimmers...it was bloody hot but the last drive into the Alps was as always spectacular and I welcomed the fresh coolness in the air..<i>"Where shall I put it?" the suit asks me fiddling with the glass on my passenger side "<i>wherever you like" I reply not caring anymore... ...I allow the guy to neatly stick the one year tax vignette to my windscreen and hand over the dosh. After just receiving a stiff toll charge on the french motorway that hurts....if noting elses at least I can now afford to take the Swiss route to st anton next season...Geneva in summer is spectacular ...and worthy of a longer stay.&nbsp; However im only here one night ....tomorrow i head on to the South of France.&nbsp;&nbsp; Now sitting with Steves and his family.. looking out from their balcony over the Soleve and Jura mountains&nbsp; I lose my self in a half bottle of red wine and some seriously good spaghetti Bolognese...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1244149131/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1244149131/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/redbikini/1/1244149131/tpod.html Tue, 16 Jun 2009 08:26:29 -0400 "Dance me round the World"

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Uzès, Languedoc-Roussillon, France

The road to Uzès heading inland towards the Cévennes mountains,is one of those unforgettable drives.&nbsp; Lush green fields overflowing with wild spring flowers like i imagine Provence to be, the falling light casting a warm vibrant glow accross the landscape.&nbsp; I was meeting Theo, a young musician and fellow couchsurfer...to stay with him and his mum... sleeping in their 800 year old appartment, formerly the castle prison .&nbsp; I meet him in a car park....below the city walls. Hes carrying bongos casually strung round his neck, a mass of dark curly hair squashed under his cap... smiling he greets me and jumps in beside me.&nbsp; "<i>Its the wrong way round" ...he says indicating the drivers seat..."<i>yes ..I nod..its no problem ..really ive got used to it" ... He warns me his mum - Marie -&nbsp; is quite bohemian ..and i realise Theo has not had a chance to forewarn her of my arrival.&nbsp; But she is lovely and greets me warmly.&nbsp; I have a comfy mattress on the floor in one room adjacent to the chapel which Theo shows me.&nbsp; The noise vibrates and echoes around the room the acoustics changing depending on where you stand.&nbsp; Selfconsciously i utter a few notes which seem to do nothing but Theo just smiles and says if "<i>you're a musician you will notice"..... Here some prisoners would have&nbsp; spent their last moments praying for salvation...I turn away, shake off the ghosts and go to make tea with Theo. Theo turns out to be an excellent cook...he rustles up some great vegetarian&nbsp; pasta in a kitchen that would not look out of place a centuiry ago....His mum lays the small wooden table and we drink tea and chat about life..later we go out and eat ice cream in the old square as its too late to order wine. Theo tells me about his last girlfiend, his passion for travel,his quest to find his Dad and his desire to help his mum...and I tell him about my my failed marriage and my father...and how I dont think I will return to Australia very soon, how at some point in time you accept things as they are and stop trying to change them.&nbsp; Only then can you find some kind of peace. .. I admire this young guy, his directness and his relaxed philosopy on life ....I sleep soundly ...and if the ghosts appeared i never heard them...The next morning i chat to his mum as she arranges flowers for the market - she calls them Zoe's flowers - she invites me to come back and stay longer and I say I will .......I have some time to spare so&nbsp; i wander around the market stalls filled with a huge variety of delicious truffles, wines, asparagus, olives, nuts, meats, veg&nbsp; and olive oils ..I manage a confused mixture of&nbsp; French and Spanish and translate for some Australian tourists.... I fill my bags, return to my car and turn one last look at Uzes and my castle for the night, leaving the ghosts behind me....
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