TravelStream™ news feed for member shanemilli on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/shanemilli en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 03 Nov 2009 04:38:41 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/shanemilli/9/1257241073/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/shanemilli/9/1257241073/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/shanemilli/9/1257241073/tpod.html Tue, 03 Nov 2009 04:38:41 -0500 feel like I've done this before..

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Nong Khai, Thailand

Milli says;

Our next leg was to fly to Nong Khai. As we left and travelled through the city to the airport, we noticed at most intersections there are not officers patrolling but dummies dressed as officers. Not sure if this is a joke on the capability (or lack of) from officials in Thailand, or if they are there to worry someone into conforming to the rules as they initially think it's a real person and when they realise its too late – they have already obeyed the law. Hmmm. Will have to look into this unusual phenomenon. Flying was an exciting experience of us this time as we had left our big bags in storage and were only taking small backpacks for the week trip. Yay!!!!



We arrived, got out of the airport quickly, and then sat in a mini van as we waited for others from the flight who had to get their luggage before it was go time. Damn. Plan foiled. We will get our chance again on the way home perhaps. But saved us waiting at the luggage carousal looking like fools. Hehe. Driving to town I saw a big gold Buddha and one that was grey stone, seemed unfinished. There were lots of ornate road arches. We got a room, cheap considering it came with a TV, air con, ensuite and fridge – love small towns. We were just off the Mekong, the town is right along it and looks out to Laos on the other side. Very cool. Lovely walking around there, we went all the way to a temple about 3 kilometres down the river one day – in the beating hot midday sun of course. We passed an outdoor public gym with all the bikes and equipment bolted to the ground beside the river. That would be cool!!! But we never got back there….the laziness we have now is only made acceptable because we vow to move to a Melbourne apartment with a gym and pool when we return from holidays. And will obviously use them every waking moment that we are not at work. We will see.

The temple we walked to was very sweet, and was the first one I have seen that had all the different types of Buddha statues – one round faced and fat, one tall and skinny, one laying on the side, one eyes closed, one with snakes leaning over it from behind. I liked it.

Had some nice cheap food (breakfast one day of eggs and home made bread was a dollar each. YES A DOLLAR. Aussie not US. Not that there is a huge difference at the mo but anyway.

We wandered around town and found a nice market, tried some local juices and Shane got some sunglasses.

We had some nice meals and relaxed in Nong Khai, though the town is full of old Western men and Thai girls. They are generally in proper relationships and its not sleazy like Pattaya is reported to be, but not really our cup of tea. We moved on soonish and it was good we did because Vientiene in Laos was a pleasant surprise after previously being a few years ago.

Shane says;

Meh, Nong Khai was ok, it was very cheap but it wasn’t the place for us. We cut our trip short in this city by about 2 days, there was a lack of vegetarian food or sites to see, and it was full of OLD western men with their Thai wives/girl friends. Not really in a sleazy way but still just not something we could relate to.

We did manage to walk the length of the esplanade to go see a temple, and it was nice sitting on the river having a beer and looking over at Laos, but we were happy to leave the next day and cross over the friendship bridge into laos.
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Bangkok, TH.40, Thailand

Milli Says:



The getting to Surat Thani ended up being quite expensive and we would have saved most of the day if we had paid more to fly from Samui. You live, you learn.

We arrived into Khao San Road as it was getting to evening, after having some coupon lunch/dinner which was great – from the airport! They like their coupons!

We went to the place we thought was the guesthouse we had booked, but it was not. Luckily the one we booked was just further down the street and ended up being cleaner and cooler! Yay.

Finally ended up on 'the street beside Khao San road' and it was good. Things have changed quite a bit in this whole area, it is cleaner and generally more sanitised, and there are new funky bars and restaurants all over the place. Even the crappy T-shirts now are outnumbered by cool arty ones. So its not as gritty as before, but this part of backpacker paradise in Bangkok is quite fun and groovy. Not Thai of course, but Thai-ish.

We spent the next few days relaxing, eating and drinking yummy things and figuring out our new itinerary. We met up with Aila and Glen – fourth time since we met them in Ecuador?! – and Aila’s mum, which was fun! We found out Shane’s dad is coming to meet us in Thailand and then coming with us to Vietnam for a bit, rather than just Vietnam. And we realised our Thai visa will run out before both Shane’s dad and Cally get to us. So we did some reworking of our itinerary and organised to pop into Laos for a few days for a visa run. Cheaper flights from the Thai border town near Nong Khai though only a 15 day visa if you then go overland into Laos rather than 30 day visa coming back but we made it work. Go us.

We had some great cheap noodles, soup, vodka redbulls, pancakes, shakes, you name it. And the piece de resistance was the all you can eat Japanese for cheap cheap cheap. Unbelievable and we are DEFINITELY going back there with Cal!!

Shane Says:

It was time to leave the islands, on Koh Pha Ngan we stayed at a quiet fishing village up at the northern village of the island. We splurged for a place with a pool, which while very handy was asking far too much money. We went back to Haad Rin – home of the famous full moon party and it’s still the backpacker Mecca that it was 2 and a half years ago. Friends and Family guy on the tv’s in every restaurant, banana pancakes everywhere, and free wifi at most pubs (very handy for little old moi) we decided to move on after realising we had spent 8 hours in one spot surfing the net and eating pizza.

Yep, the flight from Surat Thani was once you added on all the ferry and transfer costs to get to the mainland, about as expensive as it would have been to just fly from Samui, and would have saved about 4 hours too. Rookie mistake which you’d think after this long on the road we would stop doing, but I’m getting sloppy with my usually fastidious research.

It was great to get back to Bangkok, possibly my most favourite city in the world. The Khao San Road tourist slum area has really cleaned up abit. There are some funky bars, the streets are clean but there are still makeshift market stalls cooking up tasty Thai dishes for about $1. We feasted at the all you can eat Japanese place, noted which clothes we wanted to buy when we return in a week, caught up with Glenn, Aila and her mum and then headed up to Nong Khai – gateway city to laos.
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Ko Samui, Thailand

Milli says:

It poured as we waited for our van to pick us up to go to Koh Samui, thebeautiful coconut filled island. Hmmm. Rainy season. Cheaper prices but then there's the rain. Most of the time its only an hour or two per day though and its always warm. So we sloshed from the hotel to the van, and from the van to the bus where more soaked travellers were getting on. It then stopped raining and we drove to the other side of this skinny part of Thailand’s mainland, and
then took a ferry to Samui.
It was a long day of travel in the end, and the
ferry itself was about as slow as the one on lake Titicaca, but we were really
happy to be on Samui and even more so when we arrived at our hotel. It was
gorgeous, and though the room was small it was the comfiest bed I’ve had in a
while. I think it really helped my back! The next few days, despite being about
twenty metres from the beach, I didn’t get there except for one drink on one of
the three nights we were there. We lazed around, stayed by the pool, read a
lot, I finally got started on my mess of photographs on Shane’s laptop, and we
just ate and drank and were generally heartily living it up in one of our
favourite places in the world. We sadly left this hotel and went to the other
side of the island to the next one Shane had booked. His Virgo skills had found
and organised some great and amazingly cheap places and this was no exception.
On a quieter beach next to the main Chaweng beach, our room was HUUUUGE and it
was basically like an apartment. We had a fridge, couch, king sized bed,
bathroom, TV, cupboards and wardrobe. So we settled in and made use of
everything. Did I say I love Thailand? It was nice to have a home after so long travelling, so being a Cancerian
I made it all homey and we just pottered about. Some days it was hot hot sun,
others it was cloudy and warm. I made possibly my last stop for sending off
postcards (they were ones I hadn’t been able to send from Morocco..oops) and I
walked for both the exercise and to be able to see what this part of the island
was like. Passed lots of cutely named restaurants and shops, some temples with
quite a few Chinese inspired statues, lots of locals and tourists on
motorbikes, and dogs of course. Not on motorbikes, just smartly strutting
around. Ahem.
As the walking increased I asked a few people just how far the post officewas and got various responses. 1 Kilometre, 3, 5, 100 metres. Language barrier possibly.

Walked some more and then ended up taking the offer of a taxi motorbike as
he passed and looked at me sweating along. I paid for him to wait and return
with me too. I’m not stupid! As I came out of the post office my driver was
standing near his bike and peeing so I walked back inside and came out again a
minute later. Couldn’t very well stand there tapping my watch or chatting
obliviously to him could I?! Or could I? Hehe.Shane got a motorbike himself for a few days and it meant we could popover to Chaweng beach, or elsewhere, shop, eat, and come home. Stopped at ourbeach, Lamai, which had some nice bars and restaurants, while the main dragcertainly had its fair share of red light girly bars. Lots of places includingones called Big Mamma’s, Camel Toe, and Sexy Girl. Catchy. Unfortunately for business most places were empty and the girls were chatting to each other fromtheir counters and over the top of the competing blaring music.
Had some fantastic, though expensive, Italian food, and found a place thathad the best Thai noodles I’d had in a long while, and the presentation wasgorgeous. Sitting in a package made from egg! Hard to explain but think about it. At two dollars it was my favourite place.

The days passed nicely, we even stopped by a Ska bar one evening and made
friends with the British expat who owned it. (Though selling it if anyone is
interested). His two kids were up and coming Thai boxing champs and a little
nutty, but very cute. Made me think I definitely want girls hehe. It was
interesting to hear him and his friends talk about Thailand from the long term
foreigners side. Traffic laws and police there ineffective, businesses
collapsing with the financial crisis, business under water at rainy season,
gossip, and issues of domestic violence with Thai guys. But it still didn’t
deter us from our dream of buying something here, just need some money…… (hint
peoples. HINT).

We had watched a UK documentary on British tourists in Thailand during
this time on Samui, and it was quite depressing – idiots being drunk and
horrible, Thai’s being surly and stooging them - so I needed something nice to
make me happy again. Answer: Butterfly House!!!!

Shane dropped me at the Samui butterfly house, the one I had gone to on my
first visit alone to Samui – it had been closed then and the taxi had driven
off and it was so isolated (the expensive resort the only place nearby which
had not helped me) that I had walked down the hill looking for a taxi. This
time the place was open and though small, it was lovely to go in. Being
Thailand, the air inside did not need to be heated or made more humid as it
does in the Melbourne butterfly house at the zoo, and it was funny to see
butterflies on the outside as well. Those inside did have some nice landscaping
so couldn’t really complain, though I saw a couple innocently sitting on the
doorway to the outside. I was on to them.They also had a bee house which was random but interesting, and the little café sold the honey. It was very quiet and I bought an icecream from the guy there and looked at the old displays of dead pierced butterflies and moths and beetles. Bit sad that part. Some were from South America for some reason, beautiful almost glow in the dark wings, made me want to go back.

They even had lots of little boxes with caterpillars munching happily onleaves, reminded me of mum as she was always doing these sorts of things at home and the school she taught at. After Shane picked me up we went past an area where two elephants were eating and some tourists were looking curiously at them. We moved on. Bit touristy for my liking.

The next day we left Samui and I was sort of sad, but very happy and
excited to move on to Pha Ngan. Its a little more rustic and less developed,
and catering better to veggies like us, hurrah! Shane says:

We waited for the songthaew to pick us up from the hotel in Krabi. It was
late as usual, and I was starting to get a bit nervous as usual, I don’t know
why I bother, this always happens and it always works out ok. Anyway it started
pouring down rain, just as our chariot arrived. I lugged the two big backpacks
in the back and climbed in after them. Also in the back was a older British guy
and his Thai girlfriend. The roof of the songthaew really didn’t help much and
we were all saturated by the time we got to the drop off point at another
hostel.

We waited for other groups of travellers to arrive, and were issued
stickers stating what island we were going to. Some big buses started arriving
to ferry us to those islands, when one of the buses was reversing it backed
into the front of a minivan parked behind it, then sandwiched the van into the
front of another bigger bus. The sound of metal twisting and plastic breaking
followed by lots of swear words in Thai. They couldn’t close the boot of the
minivan afterwards so everyone had to cram into our bus.

We arrived in Samui late that afternoon and got a taxi to our amazing
hotel. A pool, breakfast, bar and restaurant right on the beach and a air
conditioned bungalow for us. For about 22 Australian dollars a night. We spent
a lot of time poolside, me looking like a douche with the laptop on but the
wifi was free you see, and ‘Parks & Recreation’ wont download itself.

After a few days we moved to a busier part of the island, to a very
spacious comfy room, again free wifi, but no pool. Sometimes you just have to
make sacrifices, you know?

One night we stopped by Ska Bar – which was owned by expat Steve. Steve is
an Irish, left leaning skinhead with a penchant for Ska music. He dresses
roughly, big red Doc boots like mine, and it’s not exactly an inviting
environment when he’s sitting out the front of his bar getting pissed with his
other skinhead mates. But they are all actually really nice, and slightly
effeminate with each other, it’s funny and pretty cute seeing this rough guys
call each other ‘love’.

Steve has had 8 kids, to a few different women around Asia in the past 20
yeasr. 3 have died, and he lives with the two youngest as his most recent wife
has left him. The kids are mental, they’re Mai Thai champions apparenty and the
oldest one packs a mean punch, where the younger one likes to head butt people
that pissed him off. I was sure to give the kids a 20 baht note each (about 66
cents) last time I was at Ska Bar. Best to keep the little devil in the good
books, yeah?

After dropping Milli off at the butterfly factory or whatever it was, I
went for a drive around that part of the island and stumbled across a local rum
distillery. I partook in a
sampling and then stumbled out of the distillery, with a bottle of
coconut flavoured rum in my hands.I found Milli, we went home and watched downloads of Masterchef while eating two minute noodles. bliss!


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Tangier, Morocco

Milli says:

We were up very
early to make sure we made our train so we could organise places to stay once
we got there. Though dads snoring had meant we had been awake on and off for
hours. Joy. One of the guys in our riad kindly woke up with us and made us a
really good breakfast of honey roti, yoghurt, and mint tea. Leaving him bleary
eyed and ready to go back to sleep (as I wanted to) we walked to the nearest
road and got a taxi. We drove through the new part of town which was big roads,
clean, even a McDonalds. The train station was big new and clean, we bought the
tickets easily and were on the train.

We got a cabin to ourselves until about
ten minutes to departure and then it filled up with late comers. Grr.

We left the
beautiful rose city and went out into arid hills and paddocks. There were
overgrown spiky cactus everywhere, and I recognised the bright flowery fruit on
them as the ones dad and I had eaten on the first night. We passed many herds
of goats too. After a while dad was joking with everyone and people were
sharing foods they had brought on, it was really nice. Dad had smartly got
heaps of dried fruits and nuts for such an occasion. We left dad to go it alone
in Casablanca and it was exciting to spot a sliver of the sea in the background
to the shanty towns that made up the outskirts of the city there. We kept going
along the coast as the sky darkened, mainly flat land with lots of rubbish and
donkeys around.

The train
stopped on and off but it was the last one that we sat for two hours that made
us think perhaps our luck had run out. We spoke to a girl about our age who was
from the next city coming up – Myknes, just before Fez which was our
destination – and she had some nice things to say about the place. So when we heard
through the grapevine that half the train had got off and were walking, we
joined the girl and decided to go to Myknes instead. It was late and we had
been on the train for about 7 hours, a spoilt child in our cabin had been
screaming with his mother and grandmother smiling on, and we were fed up. As it
was, we had to walk to the next train station and then take a taxi to Myknes.
The taxis filled themselves up to bursting point (four big adults like us in
the backseat and two in the front) and though cheap enough it was a long hour
plus drive through countryside towns. We were overjoyed to get to Myknes and
picked a room too quickly but didn’t care about the price. An art deco hotel
mentioned in Lonely Planet as cheap, it had since become famous and busy it
seemed so the prices were up though the beds remained lumpy.

We wandered
around for the early evening, nice in the modern part of town but we didn’t
make it to the old town as we couldn’t face the hard sellers. We had our first
beer at a bar that served the only Moroccan brand, had pizza and went to bed as
the large groups of men all over the place were not giving off the nicest
vibes. Just too much staring, nothing more sinister, but hard to enjoy the
place.

The next morning
we got up and went to check out the train. We wanted to get to Fez but had seen
enough of Myknes which was supposed to be very similar. We were looking forward
to stopping a while on the coast in Tangier, and there were markets and stalls
aplenty there so we decided to go straight there.

We got on the
train to Tangier in the rainy cool weather. We passed rural farms with people
living in little tents on the edge of their crops to more easily tend the land.
There were fields of the big yellow fruits we had seen for sale, and often the
train stopped for twenty minutes here and there by these paddocks. At one point
it seemed we were stopped because another train was coming our way and we
realised there was only one railway track – hello?! We are in FIELDS, there is
PLENTY of room to make another track!!!!!!! And Morocco was supposed to have
the best train system in Africa. Freaking hell.

So we hobbled
along and finally made it to Tangier. We were VERY excited about this, I think
we are drawn to places on the coast and we could smell the sea air.

We took a taxi
to a place a little further away but supposed to be good. Our room had just
been freshly painted and the fumes made us feel sick. Two homeless men were
sleeping along the street the hotel was on, and looked at us strangely when we
passed them on the way to explore. We then decided to find a new place.

The next one was
family run, in the centre of the new town and was much nicer. When I explained
to the reception of the old hotel we weren’t staying he hardly looked at me –
maybe he gets it a lot.

We wandered
around Tangier and immediately were happier and more relaxed. The feel was
completely different to where we had been and I’d say the fact it was on the
coast and had a heavy Spanish influence had something to do with it. The place
was bustling, exciting, and there were people from everywhere going about their
business. There were lots of cafes on the streets like in Europe too, and it
was an amazing feel to look out across the water and see land – Spain. Looking
from Africa into Europe was one of the strangest and coolest moment in the
trip! The port down below looked like Splits, with lots of big ferries moving
in and out, and some hilly land nearby that looked like Marjan.

We popped into a
bar near our hotel, called the American bar but decked out with British
memorabilia inside.

We ended up
chatting with a self proclaimed ‘businessman’ who finished off a mysterious
discussion with an Englishman who left to catch a ferry to Spain, and then made
sure the staff provided us with copious amounts of the best tapas. Tapas are
free when you drink at bars here we found (something of an oasis in a
backpackers trek through the desert of restaurants and bars!) but he got us
whole fish and lots of repeat serves that night...we are sure he was mafia,
needless to say. We found people in Tangier generally speak four languages,
most of Morocco knows three, and we felt quite stoopid. We resolved to work
hard on our Spanish back home.

Upon going back
to our hotel we saw a tiny shop front selling one thing. Spanish donuts which
were round rather than long that we know from Vic market. This place was next
door to our hotel and we subsequently found our new addiction.

They were
delicious and we ate them morning noon and night during our stay in Tangier…possibly
developing another roll on our bellies entirely from them…quite likely
actually…

We got up early
the next day and quickly realised no one else does. The old town markets are
not open and shops in the new town are mainly closed too. Slowly things came
alive, as the day warmed up with a gorgeous blue sky and a light sea breeze. We
wandered down to the port, lots of it closed off as it is such an important
international hub. The beach was quite industrial, not pretty for swimming.
Lots of hills, some nice park areas and we found heaps of places that famous
rockstars and writers had been known to frequent. One café was a scene from one
of the Bourne movies, and we had a very expensive drink at a plush bar in a
gorgeous hotel – the bar had been the inspiration for Sam’s bar in the movie
Casablanca.

The city is one
of the more liberal, with lots of locals wearing Western dress and the girls
often in quite skimpy clothing. A lot of people sold tissues, strangely enough.
Not sure why but it was a big thing. There were lots of beggars and it
certainly wasn’t one of the most traditionally African cities. The food is really varied here, lots of
pizza, Spanish, French, even Austrian, Japanese, Chinese. Maybe it was because
we are from Melbourne which has so many immigrants and different shops, food
dishes etc, but Tangier was a favourite definitely.

We found a
fantastic little Italian restaurant and ate fresh handmade pasta. Later we
found dad had emailed and did not like Casablanca, so we told him to come to
Tangier early.

I ate quite a
few delicious pastries in these days (yes, on top of the Spanish donut
injection each day), the French colonisation certainly leaving its mark. Other
cakes which were more like ones in Turkey like Baclava were also everywhere.

As the time went
on, we didn’t hear anymore from dad apart from that he was thinking of coming
early. We wandered around looking for him and waiting, growing a little worried
and not being able to do anything about it. We had a last sleepless night and
got up early to go to the airport. We didn’t know what we were going to do if
he wasn’t there, we all needed to get that flight and he knew the times but I
worried he was stuck on a train in the middle of nowhere or something.

As we pulled in
with our taxi we saw his unforgettable figure waving to us and clapping.
Unbelievable relief split with frustration was the feeling we left as we flew
out of Morocco. Turns out he had come early to Tangier but not found us in his
wandering around the city, and the first internet café he found had stairs so
he hadn’t gone in (leg pain from arthritis and polio)…but he also hadn’t gone
looking for another cafe….

Bloody dad.



Shane says:

Nick snores like
a fucking 2 stroke engine. It is so loud and so persistent that when he stops
snoring briefly I think he is dead – either through choking on his own tongue
or I had an out of body experience and suffocated him with his own pillow. The
USA should have used him instead of water-boarding to extract ‘secrets’ from
alleged terrorists. It’s more inhumane.

So after three
weeks of this in Croatia and a few nights in Marrakech I was tired, cranky and
ready to split up for a few days.

We got the 7am
train, which would be 3 hours before arriving at Casablanca, Nicks stop, and a
further 4 to Fez, where Milli and I would get off. We found an
empty carriage, and thought we would be lucky and have it all to ourselves, but
it turns out the train was quite packed and we soon had a full house. A woman
came on with her husband or father, who said farewell to her, joked with Nick
for a bit, then left, leaving her with us. She was very friendly, and didn’t
mind showing off her henna designs on her hands and feet so Nick could take a
photo. We were then joined by another woman who looked like an older version of
my Friend Charlene (who has a Seychelles background so I guess it sort of makes
a bit of sense) so was also very friendly and another couple who sort of kept
to themselves. Then we stopped
for about 2 hours. It seemed everyone had finally given up any hope of arriving
in Fes that day and disembarked the train, heading up the tracks for a few
kilometres to the next station. We followed suit and it was I admin, pretty
funny walking down the tracks in the lightly falling rain, everyone carrying
all their luggage on their heads.

We arrived at
the station of the nearest one horse town and debated whether to wait for the
next train, get a hotel here or continue onto the nearest town that even gets a
mention in the guidebook – Meknes.

Lots of desert
on the way to Casablanca. It didn’t seem like long until we were there and said
goodbye to Nick, we continued on, the train slowly becoming late at each stop.
A 15 minute wait in the middle of no where, then a 20 minute on again a bit
later, until we finally came to a standstill for about 2 hours, a kilometre
from a little town. People finally gave up and started walking for town, so we
decided to follow to, and walked along the train tracks until we found a
station and taxi rank. We gave up any hope of getting to Fez that day, and
decided to stop for the night at the town of Meknes, a laidback imperial town
an hour and a bit from Fes. A girl who shared our train carriage for the
previous few hours was from that area, so we thought we would give it a go. We told the taxi
driver that was where we wanted to go and we were off. But only for about 2
kilometres until he chucked us out on a dirt road, surrounded by old Mercedes
Benz’s and their drivers. Apparently the little taxi’s only stay in town, and
if you want to go a further distance you use these long distance taxis. We told
a driver where we wanted to go, he charged us 15 dirnhams each (about $2.50)
and we got into the back of the car. Then another huge guy got in the back. And
another. And there were two sharing the front passenger seat. So not including
the driver, there were 6 passengers (all off the back seat ones easily over 6
ft), in a old Mercedes with no air conditioning, speeding along a dusty
Moroccan road, in the middle of a sweltering afternoon, the driver staring at
us constantly through the rear vision window. Good times. After about an
hour (or two, I have no idea) we arrived at the outskirts of Meknes. The driver
kicked us out (a reoccurring theme) and we found a small city taxi to take us
to our hotel. It was nice, and recommended as the best budget hotel in Lonely
Planet, which of course means the prices had jumped about 20% but we were so
tired we took it anyway - it was close the train station. After we checked in
we went in search for food, found a pizza place but as they weren’t serving
pizza until later, we had a beer instead. Moroccan beer is good, but as it is a
Islamic country you can’t get it in the Medina’s or anywhere near Mosque’s.
This is why Ville Nouvelle’s (new towns) are very handy. We walked around for a
while, had pizza at another place, then crashed in our bed (or what deceivingly
looked like a bed, but was more likely a cement block with sheets on it. Moroccan
mattresses are very hard) We weren’t sure
what time the train left, so after breakfast we just wandered down to the
station to find out. The next train to Fez was in 2 hours, and the next to
Tangier was in 3 and a half. We decided not to go to Fez in the end, while
renown for its Medina (Morocco’s most intact, as well as being a medieval city)
we didn’t feel like all the hassles of the hustlers and touts. 9 months into
this trip and we’re just tired now. It takes a lot out of you, always converting
currency, finding a place to stay, speaking in foreign languages, blah blah
blah. I know I shouldn’t whinge but it’s my blog and I’ll do what I like. Bite
me, sue me, or just stop reading…. ….Please don’t
stop reading, I didn’t mean it…. Anyway we
decided to go to Tangier, it would give us an opportunity to have some Spanish
tapas and sangria, and I was looking forward to being in a Mediterranean town
again, so we opted to wait the 3.5 hours and head there. The train was
late, again, and continued to become later as the trip wore on. We had to change
trains at the same town we were stuck in the day before, and we scrambled to
find a place to sit, all of the carriages were full, and we though we would have
to spend the next 5 hours standing, until someone told us that the last
carriage, past where the platform finished, was free. We quickly, though
discreetly power-walked down to the end carriage, very aware that the train was
about to leave, and we boosted each other up onto the carriage. This car didn’t
have compartment, just seating, so we grabbed the only two seats that were by
themselves and settled in. This train too was suffering delays in the middle of
nowhere quite a lot, and we had one that lasted about 45 minutes. Thinking that
it was going to be a repeat of yesterdays performance I was packing my stuff up
and preparing for a long walk somewhere (like a few people in the carriage had
already embarked on) when a train passed us and then we moved off. Seems that a
portion of the railway line has only one track and we were waiting for the
train to pass. Very happy that I didn’t get off.Finally we arrived in
Tangier about 2 hours late, and as Milli said went to one dodgy hotel and
quickly left for another in a good area. We met a Mafioso, ate lots of free
tapas, drank lots of not free booze, walked around the medina a few times and
watched movies on the laptop. Four days passed pretty quickly, and we were
starting to get worried when Nick didn’t turn up as planned. But he was just
wondering around doing his own thing and we found him at the airport waiting
for us before we all flew to Paris!



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Krabi, Thailand

Shane says:

Our flight from Tangier to Paris left early in the morning, but due to time differences we arrived after lunch, leaving us only a couple of hours to make it into the city centre and onto our train bound for London. The Eurostar train flew through the countryside and before long we were under the channel, in the tunnel bound for dreary England (which incidentally had better weather than France.. go figure)

We left Nick at Liverpool St Station and we caught the airport train, found a British pub and sat there for hours waiting for our check in to open.

Our plane left at 1:05am so after about 6 hours of waiting, and then after 2 hours of checking in/Immigration stuff we were finally taking off bound for Asia.

Despite leaving at 1:05am and the flight taking 11 hours, again due to the time difference we arrived in Kuala Lumpur at 10:30pm that night. It's a weird feeling looking out the window of the plane and seeing that daylight only lasts for about 4 hours. It’s like it’s on fast forward. I booked us a night at the Tune hotel at the airport, owned by air asia. Comfy bed, aircon, ensuite all for about 10 dollars a night. We were so impressed with our stay there that I have booked us 5 nights at another Tune hotel in Bali, later on this trip.

The next day we left early for our Beloved Krabi, this time we were staying in Krabi town proper, were we feasted on shrimp noodles at the night marked, bathed in small pool at the hotel, Milli dyed her hair at the hairdresses for cheap, and I wandered around. Krabi is renown for their particularly nice locals, who just say hello to you without trying to sell you anything or get you to agree on a massage (this still happens but when you say no thanks, they still wish you a good day). We had a few days in Krabi to get over some jetlag before a trip to Koh Samui to see how it’s changed in the two years since our last visit to the island.

My mind frame shifted the moment we arrived in Asia, with over 6 visits to Thailand in two years, it’s feeling more and more like a second home. In fact we’re looking at property here, it’s not that expensive for a brand new home… I think expat life is calling…

Milli says:

It was a strange day that went forever and began with a bad nights sleep as we worried about dad. But we got to the airport and found him waiting happily there so we all boarded and were happy as lambs in a paddock.

We flew to Paris and then had very little time to make it from the airport to the train station to go to London for our next flight.

Amazingly we flew through Paris airport (not literally with the plane but through the queues and customs silly) and were then buying tickets and boarding the ever so frequent trains out of the airport. Melbourne really has to pull its socks up.

We then had to go through the unusual situation of immigration into England while still on French soil. Had not done it before, quite fun! They hassled dad as they always do (should try not to look like a dodgy bum!) and then we bought some food at exorbitant prices and off we went! The train was so smooth it seemed like a joke. We sped along, no rattling, no stop start, no clanking. Wish I had pounds coming out of my ears as I wouldn’t have left London!

But we were forced to leave dad (he was on the flight home the next day) and trundle down to the airport where Air Asia would whisk us away. Boooooooo.

We then had to wait there for hours, ours was the last flight and everyone eyed each other off from their little waiting spots in bars or food outlets as we counted the minutes down. FINALLY got on the flight – this was the longest one we had taken for the whole year as we initially went to Asia and then took the transsiberian. It was craptacular to say the least.

But when we got to KL we were so happy to just BE in Asia we got a new burst of energy and everything made us happy. The humid bear hug of warmth as we left the airport, the smells, the people, the hotel and most of all the food. Noodles, noodles, noodles.

The next day we completed our flying for a few weeks and arrived in Thailand.

Krabi Town was somewhere we hadn’t stayed at before, its by the river but only NEAR the sea and most people go to Phuket or Phi Phi or Ao Nang, so they miss this town. We found it fantastic and quiet with lovely temples, great night markets, and minimal tourists. Most of the streets had animal figures on the lamp posts, and all elephants held knives with their trunks! Have no idea what the significance was. I realised I had missed all the dogs as for some reason Morocco was more about cats.

Our hotel was great (though the pool was mostly packed with screaming kids, BLERG) and we really properly relaxed for the first time in ages. Though it was cloudy it worked in our favour as we found we got quite a bit of jetlag. Lots of sleep ins, eating curries and chilli noodles, and lots of fruit shakes and beers. Ah Asia.
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Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Shane says:
Our chariot to Bosnia turned out to be a rattling old Minibus, but I had a water and Burek ready for the trip, so I could have been travelling via donkey and I still would have been happy. Burek (and in general, potato and bread heavy Croatian cuisine) is not good for our waistlines, and we are turning into little porkers. C'est la vie)

It wasn’t long until we reached the immigration post at the border. The Croatian authorities had a cursory glance at every ones passports then waved us through, and we drove 20 metres up the road to repeat the process with the Bosnian ones. The Bosnian border checkpoint was not as nice as the Croatian one, and even their uniforms seemed more tatty, with the ‘immigration’ badges sloppily sewed onto their faded blue shirts.

Milli and I were not sitting next to each other, we decided to spread out as the bus was so cramped (it seemed weird to have such a small bus for such a tall race) so when the immigration official looked at the passports, he didn’t collect Milli’s to be stamped, but he did take mine, and some other foreigners, which annoys Milli greatly as she wanted the stamp as proof she had visited. I on the other hand am quickly running out of pages in my passport and could have done without the guy stamping on one of my few remaining blank pages, instead of squeezing it in on some of the half empty ones. Again, c’est la vie.

The first thing you notice when entering Bosnia, perched on a hill 200 metres passed the Croatian border is Restaurant Most. Most what? This half finished sentence restaurant irked me, but there wasn’t any time for a resolution as we zoomed passed, bound for Sarajevo. The second thing you notice in Bosnia is the bullet holes predominately featured in most, if not all buildings that are still standing 15 years after the war. It’s a sombre reminder of what these people went through, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty of being an Australian citizen, we’re so removed from this sort of thing, tucked away in our little corner of the world. Makes me wonder why we have an army at all? Then I remembered it’s so our ex leader could follow the USA’s ex leader into a war that we had no business being in. Why can’t we be like Switzerland, neutral and good with cheese?

It was about 7 and a half hours from leaving Split before we arrived in Sarajevo, and I was glad to get out and stretch my legs. I had read that Baščaršija – the Turkish quarter – was where it’s all at, so we got a cab there, found a place to stay - run by an Aussie/Bosnian couple and then went exploring. And I fell in love. It was such a beautiful area, tiny cafes – people sitting on little wooden stools sipping Bosnian coffee, men in small workshops belting metal into shape, people selling silks, middle eastern lamps and tea sets, and lots of pastry shops selling burek. There were bazaars aplenty, fragrant smells ahoy and I immediately wanted to move here and starting devising business plans in my head so I could set up shop. It was a short lived dream and when I came back to planet earth we were standing in front of a restaurant talking to a man who introduced himself as ‘reeking of charisma’ – he wasn’t kidding. Probably the most interesting person to talk to that I’ve ever met, we spent a while chattin to Kovacs about his life –(he was burn in Turkey, lived around the world and has been in Sarajevo for the past 3 years) his languages (10, thanks for asking) and would his boss mind if he snuck off to have a beer with us (fuck the boss, and then fuck the boss’ mother. Lets drink.)

Kovacs took us to the ‘Balkan café’ a funky bar/live music venue that later on that night would host a evening of jazz meets Sevda (local Bosnian music - a bit soviet, a bit middle eastern, very cool) and we talked some more. It was hard to understand a lot of what Kovacs was saying (he’s prone to a rant or two) but from what I could understand he considered his religion as ‘Heart’, he enjoyed drinking šljivovica (local brandy) which he keeps in a mini flask around his neck – a gift from a travelling Scottish lady who though he was hilarious (modest, he is not)

He’s a blues singer and guitarist and invited us to have dinner at his restaurant the following night, where he would serenade us. He wasn’t joking. Sitting in the Balkan café with Kovacs, I wished I had my Dictaphone as I thought if I could just get a small bit of what he was saying down, there would be a story in him. I just couldn’t write down notes fast enough to keep up. Giving up, we just drank beer and laughed.

Kovacs had to run back to work before the boss noticed he was gone, and we stayed and had a few drinks at the Balkan café, the owner talked to us for a bit – he came up when he noticed us admiring some of the cool artwork on the wall. The café had only been open for a month, and it seemed to be to cool place to hangout for alternative, black rimmed glasses owning, crazy hair having, black turtle neck wearing young Bosnians. It was primarily a jazz place, which was interesting, because it’s usually the older crown that go to the underground jazz clubs in Melbourne. We stayed to watch the first band, and it was a really cool experience being in a smoke filled room watching a funky jazz band play. I understand the necessity of the smoking laws we have in Australia, but it does take away the ambience a bit.

The next day was spent walking around a bit more, a trip or two to the Pirate Pub, inspired by the Pirates of the Caribbean, adorned with merchandise from the movie and other pirate paraphernalia, and then we went to have dinner at the restaurant where Kovacs worked. As I mentioned earlier, he did serenade us as we sipped a very nice red wine and ate grilled veggies and trout.

We went back to the Balkan café at midnight when Kovacs finished work at the restaurant hoping to see him again before he left. He didn’t show, but we had few drinks anyway watching the young crown dance and make out to the jazz, and I wished I could stay longer.
The next morning we were up early to catch the bus to Mostar, famous for it’s bridge and funky little town. Unfortunately when we arrived we noticed that the only other bus to Split which we could take that day departed in half an hour, and seeing we spent way too much money in Sarajevo, we had to miss Mostar. We grumpily purchased onward tickets to split, and jumped on another cramped minibus, wishing we were back in Sarajevo, or at least Split.
you can read another entry on my time in Sarajevo at www.sanchezjalapeno.com

Milli says:
I was excited to visit Sarajevo and while the bus was cramped it was interesting to see how the landscape became more mountainous and with green forest after leaving coastal Split. There are so many rivers running through Bosnia-Herzegovina and lots of little towns, it was really sweet but quite wild. We passed many fruit vendors on the roadside and lots of people selling honey – the wooden honey boxes were dotted all over the place as we drove by. Lots of bullet holes in old buildings and yet also lots of new buildings or houses which was good. There is a huge valley where lots of things were going on, lots of new business sprung up from when I had gone through there on my way to Mostar a few years ago. When we arrived in Sarajevo there were a couple of big apartment blocks that were still post war and gaped open with ripped walls and holes. But again there were lots of new hotels and buildings in the centre which indicated there was money and possibilities here. I had read there was money coming in from Arab countries for the Muslims to help rebuild mosques which was good. Cars and trams were everywhere and it was bustling.

We were on our way to the Turkish quarters and it was a great place to stay. Tiny cobbled streets, arts and craft shops, little cafes, restaurants and beautiful mosques ran alongside a river flowing through the city. One of the bridges over this river was the one where Franz Ferdinand and his wife were killed, signalling the start of World War One. I also visited a huge Islamic cemetery which information told me had also taken in any Muslim travellers that had passed away while travelling through Sarajevo. It was a nice place. There was a signature cat cartoon graffiti that I found all over the city which I took some photos of, quite random and quirky! But it was the Turkish quarters that I stayed in most, we spent our time wandering around, ducking in for food or a Bosnian coffee (complete with Turkish delight), and just loving it there.

Despite it being chilly and overcast and often raining throughout our stay, and despite having only brought thongs (for our feet yaar) and light clothing, despite not having money to do so, we stayed an extra night and had an overall fantastic time. The local trout and veggie plates were fantastic, the wine was beautiful, the beer good and the people we met were lovely. Kovacs was quite the character and introduced us to the owners of the Balkan bar as well as the local big musicians playing there that night. That first night we had great music and tried some of the local brandy in medicine test tube type glasses – the owner happily said that it IS medicine to them of course – and we couldn’t get enough of the place. The next night there was a variety of music at the bar, and indeed at other places we stopped at too. Just outside that space were lots of designer clothing and make up shops, and then further on there were churches, more mosques and market places.

People sold all sorts of things by the side of the roads and it still makes me wonder that cigarettes are so cheap in Herzegovina that Olga saves money when she buys them there – despite having to pay a bus ticket there and back to Split she still comes out ahead. So it was interesting to see how things were working or not working in Sarajevo, and the small towns we passed as we drove to get there. Locals agreed Sarajevo is a special place with a mix of people and religions, but for now there are still issues which have to be resolved. We got there during Ramadan and the bar owner said he was chided by a Muslim who wasn’t happy that he sold food and alcohol during the day, but as he pointed out its not just Muslims living there.

We really were sad to have to leave, made all the sadder by not being able to stop in Mostar on the way home as the bus timetable didn’t work out. So we left with some great memories, and determined to return.


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Brac, Croatia

Milli says:

We hopped on a
ferry to the nearest island from Split, Brac. Not wanting to wait for the 4pm
ferry that went direct to the town of Bol where we were to meet friends, we
took one of the more frequent ones to Supetar which was right opposite Split,
and then a minivan guy found us, filled the car up with other travellers and we
were off to Bol.We were to meet my old boss Greg, and his wife Rimma. We had stayed with Greg at his apartmentin Moscow earlier on this trip (for those readers that are attentive you would
already know this – and for those that did not…shame on you). It was good to
catch up again, they loved staying in Croatia and they had a couple of weeks
holidays so it worked out well for everyone involved. We drove over Brac, which is the largest island and the highest, with lots of pine trees, vineyards and even an airport. The guy drove fast and overtook a lot, all thedodging and swerving did a little number on my neck again but I lay down later and got rid of that. Blerg.

We were dropped off and went to find our accommodation. Turned out to be a living set up with alot of rooms, but still with a homely feel to it. It was up a little hill but had a lovely courtyard with grape laden vines, a vegetable and herb garden, and a scatty cat finding jumping bugs.

It was hot and sunny so we wandered round town looking at every tall guy with a dark haired
woman by his side and thinking it was Greg and Rimma. None were, though the
town was small enough that it was possible, so we settled down at a café near
where the direct ferry was to come (as he had thought we would take that one)
and waited. The town was similar to others in that it was white limestone
buildings, little churches, lots of boats moored, cafes and restaurants dotted along
the water and the water a stunning clear blue. All very inviting. We decided
quickly that we would stay an extra night as it was gorgeous and we had
travelled all that way to get there…also some time alone was nice!

We had begun walking towards the beach that Bol, and indeed Brac was famous for – but it was
a fair distance and we left that for the next day when we would devote more
time to lazing and swimming. As it were, we lazed by at cafes by the water in
town and I indulged in an icecream.Ah, this is the life.
We caught up with Greg and Rimma as the direct ferry pulled in, they had kindly thought of buying some things from the market and eating in their room, then going out forsomething small – so us poor backpackers would not have to spend much money.

Super sweet (and good for us because Brac was expensive and we STILL ended up spending far more than we anticipated), and it was fantastic. We ate fresh bread, the renown
cheese from the Croatian island of Pag (beautiful), olives, paprika paste, and
of course wine. White AND red, thank you very much! Oh and an aperatif to begin
with! Bring on the bitters!After this feast which we realised was only the entrée, we went down to the water and shared pizza and salad at a lovely outdoor restaurant. There was a local musician playing acoustic old songs which most people knew and hummed to, the air was cool but still and you could hear the boats rocking a couple of meters from you.

We parted ways there, went for a nightcap of grappa and then went to bed. The next morning it was bright and sunny, of course, and we wandered down to the beach. Of course there were little areas all the way along the walk with people swimming or sitting, but the main beach was a couple of kilometres away. The road along the water was nicely paved with the white limestone, unlike most of the road on the island of Hvar from town to a popular bathing hole, and the ferry further on. More money here me thinks.The water
sparkled, the pine trees smelt beautiful, and even the rocky shoreline looked inviting. Ok maybe that’s just me seeing it all through rose tinted glasses as Shane was most certainly NOT feeling the love here but anyway. As we walked there were less houses and more big resorts which had pools and walls to shut us riff raff out, and were all inclusive Shane tells me. In this situation I
was glad we weren’t doing that, though I would do the resort thing again in
Cancun as it was fantastic – but here it wasn’t necessary. We kept going and got to The Beach – Zlatny Rat.

Zlatny Rat is famous because it has lots of small smooth pebble rocks instead of big chunky
hard ones oft found along Croatian coastline, and these pebbles are sand
coloured and its actually a pleasure to step on them. Massages the feet I tell
you! The other thing at this beach is that it sticks out of the coastline like
a sandy tongue type peninsula thing. So from above the pine trees stop and the
pebbles jut out around the trees and down to a tip, like an isosceles triangle
that curves slightly. That’s the one, right? Maths HAS come in handy to
me!!!!!!! Who knew?! All those classes have finally paid off! I feel complete.

Anyway, we got down there and sunned. There were some restaurants, drinks shacks, and even an internet café amongst the pine trees. They were playing loud music so we went to the quieter side, only to find it was also a nudist beach down the end. Shane groaned about the view and I laughed at him groaning. We stayed at the other end of this part of the beach, but still were lucky enough to see a lot of middle aged Europeans bending over to find….well what, really, what –
pebbles? Why were they continuously bending over to look at the ground??
SPECIAL pebbles?! What, extra curvy, extra smooth, an unusual black one?!!? I
couldn’t for the life of me figure out WHY they would have to bend over time
and time again, or just stay bent over with their toosh and package for all to
see, and as Shane laughed at me I came to the conclusion that they were bending
over just to irk me. Yes, everything revolves around moi. Don’t you forget it. I then got off my soapbox and had a gorgeous day. We hired deckchairs, the sun rose and was perfect and dry and hot but not too hot. I swam in the gloriously clear water, it gets deep quickly and there isn’t much seaweed at all so you can see for ages and really have no idea how deep it is until you try to reach the bottom. All blue and green and lovely.

Shane went
swimming once – if you call standing to your waist so you can pee swimming – and we stayed in this happy spot for hours. We then met Greg and Rimma for lunch, me trying sardines for the first time (strange to be able to eat the WHOLE little beast but tasty fried with lemon) and then we wandered home. Another icecream and cold drinks and then it was almost dinner time! We did the opposite with Greg and Rimma for our last meeting, buying most of the food and having them to our accommodation – out in the courtyard. Shane had gone to thehouse next door to ours that had a sign selling wine and had come back with two soft drink bottles full, one of white and one of red. He also had a little soft drink bottle of grappa that was gorgeously decorated with little sticks of herbs inside, very aromatic!

The difference this time was we ate heartily our cheeses, bread, pickles, figs, paprika and
biscuits, but got too drunk and full to leave for ‘dinner’. Which was just as
well really because Croatia always makes me a porky little piggy I tell you!!The evening turned funny when we invited a guy to our table, he had been sitting alone eating a pizza on the other side of the courtyard for half the night. Turned out he was Macedonian, worked in TV and was on holidays, and did not speak English. Rimma was Russian so they clumsily conversed in a hodgepodge of words and she advised us not to mention Albanians as he had gripe with them. Not unusual for that neck of the woods really. He was quite drunk and as we shared the rest of our food and drinks the lady who ran the place returned home with a friend. Here he got more rowdy and ended up getting cosy with the owner (seemed he stayed here every year so they knew each other ‘quite well’) and as they began yelling national anthems with their arms around each other we took to bed.

We woke to our nasty alarms going off and stumbled down to the ferry terminal to get the only
direct line out of the town and back to Split. Turns out that day was a
different time for the ferry and we waited an hour, sipping morning drinks and
trying to get over the hangover of last night. It was nice to see the sun rise
over the islands as you can see Hvar close by and the water was still. We returned to Split, had a couple of days to say goodbye to the place and gather up our goods, and then we were off to Morocco.

Shane says:

Yeah, what she said.







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Marrakech, Morocco







Milli says:



Shane, dad and I
were seen off by Olga on another warm clear morning and it was sad to leave. We
flew from Split to London, had a stereotypical curry in an airport pub and then
flew to Marrakech. The immigration queues were achingly slow (literally in
dad’s case as his legs were killing him standing still for so long) and the
Moroccan stamp was crap in the end. But we were there.

Coming in we had
seen quite a lot of greenery but later when asking people they said it had rained
a lot for this time of year but hadn’t really thought things were THAT green.
Later I thought what we probably saw were olive trees and cactuses, which are
abundant but don’t need a heap of water. Case solved, mission complete.

We went to meet
the sign with our riad’s name on it, and the man holding the sign, and got a
lift to our accommodation. Very excited!

The city is all
built from the same red mud so it has a gorgeous rosy glow and we loved it
straight away. It was very dusty and dry, lots of people about, and very clean.
We went into the old town, through thick outer walls and were dropped as close
as we could get to our riad with the car. Then we were told a guy would take us
further, and he put our bags on a trolley. Too quick and then we were off,
knowing by the end he would ask for a tip even though we hadn’t wanted him. It
was getting dark by the time we got there and he took us to the wrong one.
Luckily the lady who answered showed us to the correct one. We were deep in the
narrow lanes of the medina and it was exciting but I was exhausted. We finally
got there and plopped our stuff down. The riad was very pretty, unassuming on
the outside and then with a little courtyard inside and rooms situated around
it. Lots of cushions, lounging areas and a rooftop too. Our room was very nice,
if low lighting, and dad had a bed too. The bathroom was mud brick and the sink
had a brass bowl that looked like gold so I felt very luxurious.

Dad and I went
to get some water and we had a little look around. People were all over the
place, lots of bikes squeezing through the streets and lanes. Tiny shop fronts
and light bulbs hanging over them, carts selling fruit (dad got some cactus
fruit to try, delicious though lots of pips!) and then we came home (taking a wrong
turn of course first). I was exhausted and crashed to sleep quickly. Dad made
friends with some German boys and played chess with them, then came up later.

The next morning
Shane and I were up early and went to explore. We were up very early and when
we got to the main market square it had some orange juice stalls and donkeys
but mainly people going to work and school. It was all rosy and big and
exciting, we walked through it to a large mosque but saw some homeless people
who were on their way to us so came back via a park with lots of horse drawn
carriages and then back home to pick dad up.

We had breakfast
at the riad and then dad and I had a very productive few hours of our ‘only one
day to visit Marrakech’, seeing as much as possible. Big sights to see were
fortunately located within walking distance of each other so it was good. We
first went out of the medina to the Bahia Palace which had lots of cats roaming
around and was very unassuming from the outside (something that Moroccans
appear to love to do). But once inside it was an amazing building with
intricately carved wooden arches, beautiful ceramic tiles, cool breezy rooms
and sunny courtyards with lots of orange trees. Unfortunately lots of tour
groups too but you had to pick your way around them and try to block the sound
out. It was a beautiful place but on the way out there was a mummy cat with her
babies jumping around, except for one sitting quietly in the middle of the
walkway. As tourists took photos I realised it was a sick kitten, probably
dying, but nothing could be done. I told someone about her but I later realised
he was a tour guide and probably had no interest in helping or at least moving
it out of the way. Should have found an official but seemed silly. So we left a
little sad and went back to the medina. We then found Shane and walked through
the souq which was fantastic – very much like the grand bazaar in Istanbul.
Lots of little stalls selling clothes, music, sweets, tiny turtles and geckos,
feet seats, leather shoes and bags, old antiques and lamps, and as we moved
further on there were vegetables and huge pieces of meat. Shane did offer to
sell me for camels (couldn’t get Mercedes this time) and dad joked with some
guys while buying a T-shirt. We kept walking, Dad took a small interest in a
wooden mask and then boy then followed him for hundreds of meters through more
stalls trying to get him to buy it. The boy looked like he was half asleep and
his fly was undone, not really someone up and coming who you would buy an antique
off. Finally got rid of him by the herbs and veggies and then we left Shane and
went into the museum of Marrakech.

It had lots of
beautiful old knives, clothing and art, even some contemporary stuff that was
on sale. Some of the contemporary paintings were of Asian images which was
interesting. Made me get excited about getting back to Thailand soon!

The building
itself was beautiful and had a big cool courtyard with a water feature. But
again tourists were milling like there was no tomorrow.

On to the next
sight which was part of a three ticket showdown that included the museum and
something else which we weren’t sure of. Ended up being interesting old ruins
that possibly were to do with water. But the second thing was the Quaranic
school. We couldn’t go into the mosque but the school nearby was open and –
again – full of tourists. It was an amazing place though with lots of tiny
rooms for learning and praying, and big breezy halls and courtyards. Again lots
of intricate wooden panelling and lovely tiles. I was very happy after seeing
all this and both dad and I were stuffed. It had become very hot and we had
walked quite a lot. We stopped for a while at an antique store as dad asked
about old military medals. Didn’t ask why but as a collector he often requests
or houses some random things.

I had some mint
tea at this place, on the rooftop overlooking things. Dad has a way with people
so there was lots of joking and poking at big stomachs (like he can talk!) and
general cheekiness. People who know dad will know exactly what I’m talking
about. Funny but also can be a bit much. Today it was ok…even though I’m sure
he was offering to sell me at one point.

We found Shane
again and had lunch at a restaurant on the edge of the market square. Lots of
cats paraded under foot and it was interesting there were very few dogs around.
Just cats. Different to other places like Asia and Mexico.

There were
additions to the market square – snakes and their charmers. Oh and monkeys on
leashes. These I kept well away from, fascinated but not wanting any part of
it. The snakes were either on the ground being kicked occasionally so they
would flare up and look interesting, or hanging in a circle from one of the
charmers hands looking dead. The monkeys were sullenly following their masters
or sitting on their shoulders. We went home for a rest as it was super hot at
this point.

Back at the riad
we were made mint tea and checked out all the channels Morocco gets on TV. Lots
I tell you. Many middle eastern, lots of Arabic and even MTV music channels,
news, soaps, the whole shebang. All of this is quite obvious but I was more
interested in the types of soaps they had. Some were slapstick comedies and
others were serious ‘Days of Our Lives’ types. Then we discovered a Looney Tunes
channel and I realised just how patriotic and embarrassing they had been. And I
watched them every evening as a kid! Bah.

Shane and I went
out in the later afternoon for a drink on one of the terrace rooftops
overlooking the main square. Stalls were just being set up for dinner that
night, tarpaulins and strapping, seating and big pots. We went to get dad and
came back out for a big dinner that ended up costing us quite cheap. Olives
were great, fresh bread, eggplant and couscous. The prawns we got weren’t the
best but maybe that’s because we are so far from the sea.

There were lots
of ladies doing henna tattoos, more tents and lights up, and one lady giving
quite a speech to a tonne of men listening eagerly. Strange!

We got some
things for the train trip the next day and then went to bed.

We were off to
Fez and dad was off to Casablanca!



Shane says:

Only two nights
in Marrakech, and we arrived late the first day. A painstakingly long delay
before we even got to the Taxi, enormous Immigration and Customs queues, as
well as Nick exacerbating the delay by stopping every 5 metres to take photos.
The taxi driver patiently waited for us, and I impatiently paced to and fro.

We finally
arrived in the Medina, and were met by a local guy and his cart. He took our bags
before I even had a chance to say no, and we were following him through the
maze to our hotel. We finally reached it and I gave him a tip but of course it
wasn’t enough, I gave him a bit more
- using lots of small denomination coins so it gave the illusion of
being lots of money, but of course he was onto the rouse and kept demanding
more Euros.

Our hotel was
nice. The photos of our room on the website were deceiving, giving the
impression of a huge, elaborate Palace of a room, but in reality it was much
smaller and plainer. Still nice though. I was tired, and frustrated from the
days proceedings, and opted to stay inside the hotel while Milli and Nick
walked around and then when it started storming Milli and I had a early night.

We woke pretty
early and went for a wander, then back to the hotel for a breakfast of jam,
bread, spongy pancake thingies and coffee. Milli and Nick wanted to see some
sights, all I wanted to do was walk around the souqs so we split up for the
day.

Marrakech is
dusty and hot. Really hot. I had a mint tea under the misguided assumption that
a hot beverage would cool me down, like chai tea does for the Indians. It did
not, and I was sweating like a bastard and really feeling the heat, so I
retreated to café for a cold water and a Moroccan Salad (much like Mexican
salsa, consists of roughly chopped cilantro, tomato and onion), which came to
about 60 cents. Great lunch.

Found Milli and
Nick later and we had lunch, well I had a fruit salad – trying to be healthy
and trim that damn Croatia doughy waistline.

More walking
around in the afternoon followed by a siesta.

Milli and I went
to watch the sunset and have a soft drink in one of the rooftop terraces,
watching the tourists dodge the snake charmers who seem very quick to put a snake
around your shoulders so you can get a photo taken, a prospect that didn’t
exactly overwhelm me with joy. We managed to dodge them luckily.

Watching
everyone set up the night food market made me very hungry so we went back to
get Nick and set off for dinner, finally choosing a place where we I had
vegetarian cuscus, shrimp and olives. While we were eating dinner a monkey
escaped from his owner and there was a big hullabalou as the monkey ducked
under stalls and ran, his owner chasing after him. Just as the owner caught him
another monkey on a lead jumped onto the guy to try and help the other monkey
get away. Good teamwork. Unfortunately they got the monkey back and you could
tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t happy about it.

Early night back
at the hotel as we had to get up at the crack of dawn to get the train to Fez
and Casablanca!









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Split, Genève, Switzerland

Shane says:

We arrived in Split at about 9pm, Milli's dad and Aunt waiting for us. So after 26 hours of travel, tired as bastards, we smiled while Nick took photos of us arriving through the customs doors into the waiting area. It was good to see them both (we haven’t seen Olga for over 2 years, and Nick for about 9 months) and we were looking forward to some home cooking. Latin America’s food is great, but after 5 months of dodgy tummy upsets you do start craving some stewed potato’s and spinach.

Not much has changed in Splits old town. Prices have gone up, but I guess that’s universal. I had some Burek (cheese pastry) yesterday, something I’ve missed since my last trip. I greedily ate that while listening to my iPod at the cement beach, and the promptly fell asleep while sun baking.

Today Milli and I decided to cook lunch, thinking we would give Olga a break. We should have remembered that Olga likes to feel needed, so wasn’t overly impressed that we were stepping in on her territory. Didn’t help that Milli accidentally burnt too much oil on the bottom of one of Olga’s pans. From now on, Olga can cook. It seemed all too difficult at lunch today, Olga sulking in the corner, Nick destroying one of the two bolws of salad that Milli made by putting about 10 times as much salt as necessary on it, rendering the salad useless to anyone else, and other general dramas. But I don’t care; being here is probably the most relaxed I’ve been in the 9 months of my trip so far, I don’t have to worry missed connections, people going through my bags at the hostels, or getting ripped off. I can’t speak a word of Croatian, except for beer (pivo) wine (vino) and hi/bye (bog). I’m happy.

Milli says:

We arrived in Split along with a few other flights at the same time and it was a huge messy queue to get through immigration. It actually went quite quickly considering – probably because they were so lax about it all the almost just waved us through as one big group. Very cool.

It was great to see dad and Olga again, they were so cute to meet us late at night. Dad paced up and down trying to see how much longer we were going to be, and Olga stood on tiptoe just trying to see us. Dad pushed us towards the local bus stop as we tried to convince him a taxi would be ok, but they really were quite expensive. We did have a renewed energy from arriving and seeing them but we were still a bit zombie-ish. When the bus didn’t show for a while and a taxi pulled up offering us a lift for cheaper we took it straight away. It was so nice to be driving closer to Olgas flat, smelling the fresh warm night air and seeing the lights twinkling on the base of nearby mountains.

We then slept for about 14 hours straight and missed half of the next day. Cant believe I got jetlagged!!

We groggily got up and pushed ourselves to go into town. As the summer has pretty much gone, the hot days are not the crazy heat of before and the nights are not still, baking and sleepless. There is a strong breeze and its really lovely. Harder to swim (though in Shanes case it was never going to happen anyway…little beach connoisseur) but I have still gone in and it is cold but fantastically refreshing! Things are still the same and its like we were here last week instead of two years ago. I love that about Croatia. There is a new shopping centre and unfortunately one other Maccas (to make two in Split) but the roads are still cracked and the markets are still busy full of locally made clothes and honey and burek. Ice-cream places make a killing and the white stone of the palace ruins make everyone look even more tanned. Little nonnas stooge me when I buy fresh fruit at the market and there seem to be Aussies everywhere! Tourists in general swarm but not as many as midsummer had been dad says, and there is actually a place that claims to sell nachos and burritos – a dish that isn’t pizza or grill!!!!! We had that idea but alas too late – closer and closer to the Euro and expansion but I hope most things stay the same!!!!
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Geneva, Genève, Switzerland







Shane says:

Almost back in
our European home. Over 30 hours of travel and no sleep to get there, but
hopefully worth the pain. We had a
1:30pm flight from Mexico, arriving in Brussels at 6:30am the next day. As we
were travelling in the opposite direction of the sun, we had about 4 hours of
darkness and arrived to a beautiful sunrise, 9 hours after departing Mexico at
lunchtime. So basically Europe was just waking up as we were ready to sleep. So
of course, being my birthday we had some celebratory beers. For breakfast.
Which really would have been a nightcap if we were still in the same time zone
as we were when we left, 9 hours earlier in Mexico. Confusing.

Those few hours
went awfully quickly while waiting for our connecting flight to Geneva, Switzerland
where we had to wait around for 8 hours before our flight to Split.



It was my first
time in Geneva, and while happy to be back in Europe I almost cried when my
Burger King meal at the airport came to about 13 dollars. However, I can’t say
that it was unexpected, every other airport in Europe has prices about the
same, so I think you just need to brace yourself and hope you come out of it
without having taken out a mortgage to pay for lunch.



Our plane was
late in departing Geneva, of course, which meant about 2 hours extra waiting
time, but I passed that time by drinking beer and eating stinky cheese, much to
the discomfort of those sitting around me. Woo. Hardly worth it’s on blog post,
but it was my first time in Geneva, and my birthday, and my blog, so I’ll do
what I like.



Milli wrote a
new article at sanchezjalapeno.com – on the interesting people we meet whilst
travelling. Check it out – it’s good for what ails ya.



Milli:



Brussels airport
was annoyingly busy with security queues but we had a nice birthday breakfast
of various Belgian beers for Shane’s special (or not so special) day.
Switzerland was sunny and warm and we could see the beautiful mountain ranges
as we came in to land, still with lots of snow on them of course. Geneva airport
had a strange policy of dogs allowed anywhere and everywhere so that was
curious. All types acting like they owned the place – what do they do with
poops I wonder? Food was horrifically expensive as we expected so we tried to
lay low but ended up having some free vodka shots of a new Swiss brand and
bought a bottle….yes we are poor backpackers just take no notice of what we buy
and which resorts we stay at….give us money…

The toilets at
Geneva and Brussels were fantastic (it’s the little things), full clean
isolated cubicles with tonnes of space in them, and even some soap in there for
you to clean your own seat after you’re done! We all feel part of the big
picture. Noice.

By this point we
were having a lot of trouble staying awake and I bought a 1.5 litre Coke to try
and help me. I then got the shakes and had to pee a lot but I think the sugar
(and whatever else in there) did help.

Towards the end
we changed some leftover money and almost cried at the fees and exchange rates
– not to mention the currencies they WONT change no matter where the FRIG the
country is and if where we are trying to change it is BORDERING the country the
currency is from. #$^#$^@$^@#$^!#$^$%&$%&@#$

So we are
accumulating unusable currency as we are decreasing in our pathetic reserves of
spending money. Woo.







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