TravelStream™ news feed for member thesaxman on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/thesaxman en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sat, 30 Aug 2008 23:46:09 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154549520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154549520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154549520/tpod.html Sat, 30 Aug 2008 23:46:09 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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London, United Kingdom

Utrecht was an enexpected gem in the journey, a special, awesome little place that, without the reccomendation of my Canadian pals that such a fantastic Bohemian hostel existed here, almost certainly would have been overlooked. It was with a profound mixture of sentiment and anticipation that i got up this morning, the last time i would conduct my conditioned ritual in this joint. I'd gotten so accustomed to the B+B hostel lifestyle that out of any other accomodation on the trip, this place made me feel like i was right at home. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and usually, equally great things are lurking around the next corner for you anyway.

Made my way downstairs after packing up my gear, whipped up some eggs for breakfast, and dripped around the lounge room and main table like the drip that i am, chatting to Martin and Sanna, chilling out on the couch in front of the tele, and taking in my last hours in this fantastic place. Getting restless, i conducted my regular walk up to the supermarket and bought a tube of juice, then hit up the hostel again and got ready for the inevitable departure. It was kinda sad to be saying my final goodbyes to the crew, to my mate Martin, to beefy Bart, these blokes were the lifeblood of the place, whether they realised it or not, and i'm a better fella for having met them and sharing time with them both. I wished Legion Dave a hearty farewell, gave Sanna a hug and bid Corey all the very best, and thanked the three of them for an unforgettable time at Walibi World. I should mention that last night my body was so pepped up on adrenaline and conditioned to perpetual G-Force motion that whenever i closed my eyes it felt like i was plunging full throttle along a roller track. It was intense. On that note, it took some time before i was actually able to get to sleep. This should give some indication as to how mad we went on those bloody rides. Anyway, i digress. So with all goodbyes complete, i took once last glance around the hostel, the wall of axes, the full band getup, the walls of computers, then once more latched on my gear, and hit the road for the last pitstop before i zoomed on back home.

Cor Blimey, this routine was starting to become all too familiar...

From the Utrecht train station, i trained it south east for an hour until arriving at the city of Eindhoven, then bussed it on to the uber-modern Eindhoven airport for a cheap and hardly sheik RyanAir flight back to London Town. Ahhh London. This would be the third and final time i would be arriving in London by plane, and my fourth encounter with Stansted Airport. The flight went smoothly and quickly, the novelty of flying now very much worn off after five flights so far on the trip, leaving Eindhoven at 7.25pm, and arriving in London at 7.30pm. Yep, a five minute flight. Now that's efficient! Arriving back at Stansted once more, i felt like an absolute veteran of European Union traval, marching through the terminal like a man on a mission, getting to the passport control before the hoard of other recently landed passengers, yet once again copping a total mental blank at the Passport Control desk when the woman asked where i'd flown in from. Seriously, every time i get asked, i blank out, i lose my nerve, hints of subconscious anxiety set in and i momentarily swear that the woman thinks i'm smuggling drugs and endangered animals into her country. Thankfully i got the word 'Holland' out after a brief hesitation, and was on my way in the quickest time yet. I was in a bit of a rush, because i had an engagement to attend, and time was a'tickin. For something totally out of character, something fresh and new, i was off to the pub!

Took the hour long bus to London city, then moseyed along in the rain, with a full pack and a black saxophone case through the very crusty, mostly quite seedy and at times criminal streets of 'Camden', paying no attention to the countless offers to purchase 'nasty skunk' from limey baseball capped degenerates, instead powerwalking until i reached the famous 'Dublin Castle'. My mate Yuri was over here in the UK touring with a band supporting Melbourne's own Cat Empire, and fortunately i was able to hook up with the man of shade himself at this fine establishent, knocking back the crisp pints with Yuri, his mates Erin and Katie the energetic lesbian, my mate Sarah, and some random shady Frenchman who was up for a bit of a chat. Feeling decidedly odd with all my possessions present with me in the pub, Yuri and Erin made the call to keep the party alive come the 1.30 closing time, and we foolishly cabbed it over to the West End of London to the notoriously edgy suburb of Sheperd's Bush. Sheperd's Bush is a shady blend of homeless and impoverished poms and an enormous population of Australians, who, following the characteristically Australian tendency to give every living thing a nickname, allegedly dub the place 'She-bu'. Arriving in the desolate main park area of Shebu, just outside the enormous 'Empire' theatre where tomorrow's gig was, we hit up the Cat Empire's luxury hotel lobby and got stuck into free rounds of Heineken cans, talking jive with the band, their mates and whiling the night away well into the wee hours.

Come 5am, the management finally booted our kiesters out, and, phenomenally delirious from having gone straight to a pub in seedy North London, essentially straight from HOLLAND, before winding up drinking cider in the main dimly lit park in the centre of Shebu....at 5.30am.....well, it was time to defrag and cart my weary, delirious body along the tube, back north to Belsize park, with luggage in hand. It is well known fact that if you choose to be follish enough to party with Yuri, you will, at some juncture, inevitably lose your health, both mental and physical. I found my way to the door of Sarah's apartment in Belsize Park at 6am, just as she was off to work. What a way to return.

Welcome Back to London, Yeeeees, Welcome Back.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1155637740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1155637740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1155637740/tpod.html Tue, 15 Aug 2006 07:03:39 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Melbourne, Australia

It's 11.32am on my final day in London, England, Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. The trip is over, the four months have elapsed, the memories of the journey are returning thick and at a hefty pace, and i cannot really believe that this time is finally upon me.
Gazing out the bus window on the way to Cadiz, Spain, looking down over Austria on a RyanAir flight back to Ireland via London, soul-searching as Italian landscapes scurried past in the train window on the way to Rome, just a handful of moments where the concept of going home seemed so unbelievably distant and elusive, so far away that it seemed like an eternity before i would reach it. In the emotionally tougher moments, i struggled to imagine how i was going to make it past the two months, let alone double that amount of time in the end. I lapped up every moment in every new, amazing location, but always had that fond, looming desire to be at the end point, and the culmination of the trip, ready to roll, home and hosed, back on the Malaysia Airlines 747 to Melbourne via Kuala Lumpur.

The trip has been remarkable, everything i expected, and then some. Again, here is another instance where words have but a nodding acquaintance with reality. It's hard to describe just how wonderful, unbelievably tremendous and stimulating the journey has been, and additionally, how great it's been to have had you guys all along for the ride. I hope you've enjoyed the stories as much as i've had writing them.
So it is with hearty, heartfelt sentiment that i sit here in the Belsize Park apartment, immersed amongst my final hours before my flight out of Heathrow, sentimentally contemplating every little memory on the reel of memory film, the extended movie in my own mind, the remarkable sights, the life changing experiences. My eyes, these days, are open wide.

So, Cheers gang. Thanks for reading. And until the next wild, transcontinental adventure, i hereby call it a day. Time to head back to the 'real' world, sort some things out, continue on the path that this trip has put me on. I'm pumped.
Farewell, Arriverderci, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen, Hasta La Vista.........baby.

A special mention goes out to the characters that made the journey, the multitide of cameos that spiced the life out of these blogs, and made the trip worthwhile:

An honorary, first class shout out to:
The Travelling Freakshow - Their excellencies, The Reverand and Brooks

Pam and Philly D the Canucks
Nick, Nick (Little salad) and Zweli
Freddy the Opium smoking Brazilian
The Herd of Spanish Mullet men
The Barber of Seville
Con the Canuck
Mamma Rossa of Riomaggiore
The Italian lass on the bottom bunk in Rome
Filippo Amalfi
Cassanova the ladies man
Big Kevin and Fookindornald
Yanni the sleazy Greek
Ryan and Catie the Yanks
Wild Bill
Michael, Berrin and Rhiannon the balloon buddies
Erika and Rudigger von Saldern
Trish the Canadian
Michael the coolest ten year old kid in the world
Harry the palm reading Tiki Bar proprietor
Chris the Preacher
The Harem of Cesky Chicks
Tubin' Mike the Krumlov House dude
Sarah, Johnny and Ben the Belsize crew
Death Metal Danish Simon
Unknown German blonde in Cork
Ernesto and Nile my coffee shop pals
The Brussels contingent
Martin, Polish Bart and Evelyn Dandruff
Macho Italiano
The Belgians
Legion Dave

And the list could go on and on....Its really is all about the people you meet along the way....

ADIOS!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154640720/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154640720/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154640720/tpod.html Tue, 15 Aug 2006 06:29:38 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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London, United Kingdom

There is nothing quite as bizarre as being thrust in the thick of a fresh city in a completely different country, heading straight to the pub from the airport, drinking all night and waking up the next afternoon with limited comprehension about where it is you actually exist. I felt weird, weird, weird this arvo, but was comforted to know that i'd once again found meself on safe ground in Belsize Park, that familiar, leafy, money end of North London, and relished in the fact that i'd made it back, my last pitstop before jumping on a place back home to Melbourne. Crazy!

Thanks to some craftily juggled budgeting, my downward spiralling stockpile of cash had held up right to the last breath, though i now found myself on a serious shoestring in the 12 days leading up to the flight out of Heathrow. But with accomodation all sorted thanks to the wonderful Sarah, Johnny and Ben, i would be home and hosed on this home stretch, in thrifty 'chill' mode until that looming date of the 15th August.

At this precise moment in space-time, i'm lying on the couch at Sarah's apartment in Belsize Park, watching yet another dose of BBC Terror reporting on what i can and can't take with me on the plane tomorrow. I've just learned that the status of alert has been downgraded from 'Critical' to 'Severe', and consequently i'll be allowed to take both my Ipod and my book with me on board. The concept of being stuck at Kuala Lumpur airport for seven hours without these two items seemed most undesirable, and it couldn't have been better timing on the part of the British Air Authority. Anyway, being my final stretch of time, the days between the 3rd August and the 15th mostly encompassed a great deal of winding down, sitting about, writing songs and reading books - hardly decent enough material to match the thrilling, white-knuckle reads that you folk have no doubt become accustomed to over the past 110 blog entries. In light of this, and a desire to go out on a high note, i present to you the limited edition end of trip LONDON BUMPER ISSUE - a day by day digest of the last fortnight in London Town. Enjoy.

*************************************************************************************

Thurs 3rd Aug
As I mentioned, I was in cognitive disarray upon waking this afternoon, after arriving back from a Yuri night at the wee hours of the morning. Pottered around the apartment, got reacquainted with the cushy confines and the leafy digs, and bummed around in a semi-hungover daze. Rocked back over to Shebu and was struck by how different the place seemed in daylight and sobriety, before marching on to the 'Empire' - an enormous, lavish theatre and band room on par with the majesty of Melbourne's 'Forum'. Hung out with Yuri and his bandmates from the 'Ross Irwin Soul Special' and met up again with the feline imperialists from the 'Cat Empire'. Yuri initially ushered me into the backstage area under the guise of 'Tour Manager and Band Spiritual Advisor', but my role of enlightenment was pragmatically downgraded to 'Camera Dude'. The show was a rocker, and I enjoyed roaming backstage with a few beers on the house as I undertook my duties with video and digital cameras in hand. Met up again with Yuri's mate Erin and another Aussie named Damon, and after the gig, frequented the highly shady 'Walkabout' nightspot next door to the Empire. Think sports bar-cum-meat market-cum shady bogan pub just outside Kalgoorlie.
The Walkabout's specialty poison was the notorious 'Snakebite' - a vile concoction of half beer, half cider and a smattering of red cordial that is guaranteed to send you loopy and make the bird you're trying to pick up pass out in no time whatsoever. Not healthy. Somehow, the 'Walkabout' pretty much summed up everything that was wrong with 'Shebu', and though Yuri and Erin decided to continue on for another consecutive night with no sleep, I was still knackered and opted for the last tube train back north to Belsize, arriving back at the far more respectable hour of 1am.

Fri 4th Aug
'Twas the usual regime of pottering about on this fine day, and little more. I woke up late, somewhat adjusting and getting used to the idea that I was back in London yet again, and made myself at home in the apartment. Was thrilled to see that London was once again yielding some fantastic, sunny weather. Yuri was supporting Cat Empire again tonight at the SheBu Empire, and I managed to once again schmooze through for free, scoring a free double pass on the door, this time minus the requirement that I shoot pictures and take film of the band. Parked myself up the front and took in the entire show, and I gotta say I really enjoyed every last minute of it. I've always had a love hate relationship with the Cat Empire, always conceding without doubt that they were a superior band, but secretly somewhat envious at their accelerating upwards success. However, tonight I finally got over my jealousy, and lapped up the awesome show, particularly their cover to Paul Kelly's 'Dumb Things', which got me in a reflective, cheesy grin mood as I stood and daydreamed about my impending return to Oz in a matter of weeks. Hooked up with Yuri post-show and hit up a pub around the corner, which was light years of class ahead of the shady 'Walkabout', though it did contain the world's worst cover band. Drank some pints with Yuri and his mate Rob, and called an early one come midnight, traipsing the familiar line back to Shebu station, with a small part of me contemplating the real possibility that I could get mugged at any impending juncture. Back to Belsize, home and hosed.

Sat 5th Aug
The day was bright and glorious, and the hangovers non-existent, and what better way to seize the weekend, than by getting' down to 'Fruitstock', a well-patronized free festival down at Regent Park put on by a the 'Innocent' juice smoothie company on par with 'nudie juice' back home. Every man and his dog had come down for the good vibes and good times, and despite the claustrophobia, Sarah and I drank pints, ate fine foods, watched bands on the enormous stage rig, and baked ourselves in the sun. After two pints, I was feeling decidedly knackered from effects of the sun, and we left the sardined crowds behind come 5 o'clock, trekking back up the hills to Belsize Park for an arvo nana nap. Spruced up after the brief kip, tuned into some Back to the Future 2 action on cable, the bit where Doc and Marty try to thwart Biff Tannen back in the 1950's by leading him full pelt into that roadside trailer of manure, then headed around the corner to Sarah's mate Claire's joint and shared a meal and a few bevvoirs with Claire, another Aussie couple Davo and Renee, and Claire's workmate Rochelle. The night was thoroughly stimulating and choc to the brim with sparkling repartee, hanging out on Claire's rooftop terrace with a sterling vista of the London city skyline, and an imposing pink and amber sunset coming down behind us. Frequented the trendy 'Washington', the corner pub on the same road and enjoyed another couple of rounds, before calling a relatively early one, hightailing back 5 minutes away to the apartment, and taking in the last half hour of 'Lake Placid', a film whose title should probably be reworked and called 'Lake Shite'. A fine night indeedy.

Sun 6th Aug
Bugger me if the last number of days haven't blended into one extended blob of memory. I regret to inform the good reader that I have slim to no recollection of what occurred on this Sunday, which leads me to suggest that not much occurred at all. Most likely it would have been a late wake up, a little brekky, a little bit o' conversation, maybe even a brief trundle up to the Primrose Hill lookout point. But to be honest, I don't know, and I can't remember, and it's probably not that important anyway. I could make something up for you if you like.
Ahem.
Took a day trip to Paris, by way of Latvia. Hung 'round the Balkans for a number of hours, before hitting up Copenhagen, Oslo, a brief stint of skydiving over Interlaken, before swimming the length of the Channel and up the guts of the Thames via Canary Wharf, and stopping for a pint at every pub on the way back up to North London.
There you go.


Mon 7th Aug
Ahhh man. Monday. Yup.....
Probably going to have to make something else up. I do recall that I was ultra pleased to be able to just hang out, chill, do my own thing and proceed with the winding down process. Got stuck into my book at some point, went down to the Internet Café and pumped out a blog entry, and....NO....wait, I just checked my wallet and found evidence of a bus ticket purchased on the 7/8/06. Today, I figured I should see London properly, on the upper deck of a double decker red bus, so I took the route from Belsize Park all the way through the guts of the city in the direction of Old Kent Rd, getting off right before Waterloo. Singing a brief chorus of ABBA's 'Waterloo' quietly to myself, I trundled along London Southbank, once again to the London Eye area, the gothic as buggery Houses of parliament by the Thames, and eventually, past Big Tone's digs at Downing number 10 and the Queen's Bucking huge abode down at the end of the Mall. I was revisiting covered ground, but I kinda enjoyed this area 4 months ago with Rev and Brooks, and felt that it deserved at least another look. Hung out by the Strand and Trafalgar square, and saw that there was absolutely no room to build any houses, let along a bloody hotel, and that Monopoly was totally full of wind. I was glad, however, that I got off before Old Kent Rd, because, well, let's face it....it's the useless purple territory that no one wants.
Last time I was here I made a fair ruckus about the hilarious names of the London tube stations. Cockfosters was always a highlight for me, but I recently noticed another few which caught my eye - Kentish Town (not quite Kent, but....y'know....Kent-ish), Tooting Bec, Wapping (Whopping!), and the terribly elegant 'Mudchute'. Go London!



Tues 8th Aug
Last night I stayed up relatively late and fell asleep to some extent on the couch watching educational episodes of the BBC 'Planets' documentary series. I can now tell you how many moons Jupiter has, why Saturn has its' eerie belt of rings, and have gotten over my childish humour regarding the planet Uranus. Sarah was off to Barcelona today on business duties, and I pretty much just held the fort back home, chilling out in the glorious sunny London sun, hanging out up at Primrose Hill reading me book and writing some stuff, and probably further outlining depressions of my bum-groove in the lounge room couch. Watched a Bill Hicks DVD with Ben and chuckled over a few glasses of red, marveling at how accurate and relevant Hicks truly is, and how furiously raged at the world the bloke would be if he was still alive today. Called it a relatively early night tonight as I recall, and little more to say.


Wed 9th Aug
The day was spent in the now customary fashion of ultimate laziness and creativity, though I did indulge in a lengthy run around the surrounding neighbourhood, a run which would have been much shorter and less taxing had I kept track of where I was going and not got completely lost. But it was worth it. Trundled down to the ol' favourite shady pub 'The Steeles' and met Sarah for an after work dinner and drinks, and was joined by Claire who joined us for a chat and a bit of quality time. Threw down another round at the Washington, then hit up the apartment once more, staying up till the wee hours learning more about the trajectory and heliocentric orbits of the planets, before hitting the hay in the early morning

Thurs 10th Aug
The London weather has been starting to move back into its' old trademark bleakness, and I fear that the sunny times are over for now, which is a bit of shame. Still, it's probably a good thing that I re-adjust to some ugly weather now so that I won't be completely shellshocked when I walked through those sliding doors at Tullamarine and cop a nasty case of the brass monkeys. Whipped up some dinner tonight, possibly went for another jog at some juncture, and hung out with Sarah and Johnny a little later in the evening. Bought some bottles of Stella Artois, or 'Wifebeater', as they crudely call it over here in London, and sat on the couch, watched 'Rushmore' on DVD and knocked back the wifebeater in happiness.

Fri 11th Aug
I went a little too far with the fitness this morning, conducting an excessive jog along the canal to Camden lock, and feeling borderline knackered and wheezychested during the hours post-endorphins. It was a real bummer that I was beginning to feel sheizer, because I'd planned to sort out my costume today for Sarah's workmate's Hen's night tonight. The theme was 'C-grade Celebrities', and though countless invitees were allegedly dressing up as the king of C-grade, the 'Hoff, I'd conjured up the brilliant idea to buy a mullet wig and go as Richard Dean Anderson, aka Macgyver. Ahh, it would have been great, but alas, despite locating a suitable wig, I ended up wigging out of the gig and opting to have a quiet one to kick the onset of sickness. Drank a bottle of Hoegaarden to keep myself occupied, and chilled on the couch watching various DVDs from Johnny's extensive collection, before have a great chat and sharing some more wifebeater with the J-man upon his return back home in the later hours of the night.
I've noticed in the last day or so just how painfully repetitive and frustrating the BBC news stations are, what with the continual barrage of windbag analysis on the 'foiled terror plot' that Uk authorities managed to avert. Being the harsh skeptic that I am of the old 'terror' chestnut, I this story struck me as being a bit of public-mind-shaping shite sandwich to say the least, and was just happy that I wasn't traveling home yesterday, or in the next couple of days for that matter.

Sat 12th Aug
The old, grimy London weather is back for good it seems, which is a bit of a shame, because my tan is wearing off and I had high hopes that I'd go back home gleaming amongst a crew of pasty, natural light deficient Melbournites. Sarah arrived back at the apartment at around 2 in the arvo, claiming a highly successful night at the C-Grade Hen's do. Sarah sensibly went as Danni Minogue. Feeling a tad shite in the lungs and head still, I relegated myself to the couch and dining table, writing, reading, watching and lazing about. Johnny rocked back a little later in the evening and we shared a few Guinness Stouts, ice cream and enjoyed 'Kingpin' on DVD.

Sun 13th Aug
Hit up a quaint, charming, full o' character little pub in Camden called the 'Crown and Goose', and enjoyed a full roast lunch and Yorkshire Pudding with Johnny, and a round of Guinness for good measure. Hung out with the J-man for the better part of the afternoon and enjoyed each other's company, bussing it up through Kentish Town to Hampstead, and eventually checking out big Karl Marx's grave up at the Hampstead cemetery. It was pretty cool. The sun come out for us, which was a nice change, and we bussed it again back down to Camden for another pint, before he went off on his date, and I moseyed back up the hill to the apartment. It was another low key night, to say the least, and though the pints went down quite well at the time, I was again feeling considerably crapola.

Mon 14th Aug
My last full day in London town! Woke up still feeling a little bit shady, but generally back on the upwards swing. Found myself on the tube heading back into the Westminster area again today, on my one last attempt to grab some souvenirs and cheap gifts for the crew back home. Returned via Camden Town and the goth-heavy marketplace, then head back up to the apartment and got my gear in order. Only now has reality really hit me with force - tomorrow I head home, after four long months of amazingness. Wow.
Leapt back on the tube around 7, and hooked up with Sarah at a pub called the Phoenix not far from Victoria station. We met up with Loan and her workmates Ros, Ava, Lexi and Megan, and once again, to top off the trip, I found myself drinking with 6 women. What can I say? Story of my traveling life.
Well, the night elapsed, we drink till the pub kicked us out, and I walked back to the Victoria tube with Loan, as light rain came down from above. I looked up ahead at the 'London Victoria Station' sign, and again felt that sparkling, tingly feeling of wonder and amazement at where in the world I was, just I had done on those first few days this time four months ago. In a terribly reminiscing mood, I did my best to take everything in, one last time, the streets, the vibe, the tube and the stations. I'd gotten so used to this place, and now it was time to bid it all farewell, head back home, and plan my next move. Somehow, I just might be back here in good time. We shall see.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154448120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154448120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154448120/tpod.html Fri, 11 Aug 2006 16:12:15 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

Whilst out on the turps with the lads last night, Legion Dave invited me to join him, Corey and Finnish Sanna on a wild and crazy day out at one of Holland's famous roller coaster parks, and needless to say, despite rapidly decreasing funds, i accepted the offer. Count me in for roller coaster action ANYTIME. I was never big on thrill rides when i was younger. Burdened with an over-cautious mind from a very young age, even the rides at Wobbies World and Gumbuya Park used to give me the heebies. But i learned to embrace the fear and the thrill. But man, it had been a small eon since i last squeezed my teenage ring into the latch of a rollercoastin' caboose, the 'Corkscrew' of Sea World i believe it was, or perhaps the 'Lethal Weapon' ride at WB Movie World on the Gold Coast. Ahhh the fond memories of getting hurtled up down and every which way along a speedy track, the wind whipping back your hair, the adrenaline dripping through your shaking body, and the last meal you ate sheepishly assessing its options inside your tossed-about gut. Good times. With excited anticipation, i awaited the return to good old fashioned roller coastery fun and the chance to act like a complete child once again.

Truth be told, i failed to rise at the designated hour of 8am this morning, getting shaken awake by Sanna who sternly informed me that i needed to get my bum out of bed quick smart for a day of wild action. At this point, i was actually i little hesitant at the concept of riding all day on a bevy of roller coasters, not so much fearful, just a little apprehensive at the very real possibility that i may vomit all over the shop come the first upside down bend. Nonetheless, i threw down some eggs courtesy of Legion Dave, farted around with the other clowns momentarily, then hit the train station with the crew, leaping on the first train to Hardewijk, some 45 minutes north east in the direction of Amsterdam. Via another connecting bus, we arrived at around 11 am at our would-be destination - WALIBI WORLD! On first impression, 'Walibi World' triggered a few too many memories of 'Wobbies World' for my liking, and the giant gawking head of the parks' wallaby mascot did nothing to suggest that the park might offer anything to budding thrillseekers such as ourselves. However, after moseying through the gates along the uber-1950's Americana themed entry area, complete with old chevvies and 'Promenade' font signage, the thrills were certainly there to be had.

Found a seemingly tame rollercoaster which appeared to be a decent intro to the day of adrenaline. Not so. This beast slowly pulled us up the track, imbuing us with a false sense of security, then pumped us down like bits of squeezed meat along the windiest, loopiest bastard of a track, sending my eyeballs into the edge of my temporal lobe and generating a great deal of profanity which was totally out of my rational control. It was awesome! I'd once again tasted the adrenaline of rollercoastering and i wanted more! Getting acquainted with the layout of the park, we lined up for far too long at the next ride, a rollercoaster similar to Lethal Weapon where your legs dangle out the bottom of the chair. It was good, but not worth the hour long wait, especially when the rest of the park was more or less people-scant due to the ambiguously inclement weather. Freqeunted the 'Pacific Express' pretty much straight after this, and again got hurtled to and fro like no ones business, lapping up the maiden voyage along a track that would become extremely familiar come days' end. Cautiously threw down some food at this point, had a coffee and all that, then got prepped for another seven hours of wild adrenaline filled madness.

No matter how old you are, rollercoaster theme parks always give you the license to act like a total kid again. After every ride, Legion Dave, an arguably mature 32 year old man regressed at least 25 years by running ahead like a fool with a wide, shiteating grin asking 'Can we go on this, Can we go on this?!'. Sanna and i were greatly amused at Dave's antics, though we too felt the pangs of childhood excitement return in great force. Corey seemed a bit put off by the force of the rides on his wellbeing, so with regret, he opted out of the rides for the rest of the day, becoming crew baglady and sipping coffee at the cafeteria as if he was our mother. But as it turned out, the rides we'd frequented up until this point were nothing. The monster of all rides was yet to be experience. Enter GOLIATH.
With a 100 metre drop from the outset, Goliath was the wildest, longest, most stomach-ravaging, teeth eroding ride i'v ever been on, and it rocked big time! A photo taken at the last few stretches of track attested to how balltearing Goliath was on our collective wellbeing, a fine portrait of three completely shellshocked and adrenaline drunk muppets with eyes wide and mouths wider. Goliath rocked my jocks (Just a saying. I didn't lose my bowels).

SO, with adrenaline coarsing through my veins, we continued on through the park, taking on each and every ride we came across, including the ultra-queasy 'G-Force', 'Excalibur', 'Merlins Castle' a water ride where you get saturated by outsiders armed with water guns, and an array of other rides where you generally just get tossed about like a human salad with the relentless sensation of the 'willies'(see post #20, May 2 - Barcelona for clarification on 'the willies'). Thinking the Mad Mouse type rollercoaster would be a walk in the park after Goliath, the sensation that you might actually tip off the edge on this one caused the three of us to scream boisterously in unison each time the caboose turned a bend. Definitely not for the faint-hearted. Anyway, ride after ride, my body was starting to feel totally whacked, overdosed on adrenaline and kinda hazy. My head felt shady, my legs seemed detached from my torso and working totally on their own accord, and yet, there was so much more riding to be done. A few more Expresses, a few more Goliaths, and come 8.15, we decided to call it a day, and head wearily back onto the bus and onto the train station. To our advantage, the bus managed to pass by a bloke snapping professional shots of a stark naked Dutch woman straddling a signpole along the way, a nice closure to the afternoon of thrills galore.

Indeed, it was a fine day, the perfect way to close the Utrecht experience, close the Holland leg, the last pitstop before London, and subsequently, back home to Melbourne town. Arriving back at the hostel at roughly 10pm, i caught up with my hombres Martin and Bjorn, and hung out in the back corner of the full lounge room and looked on at the familiar scene around me. In an ultra reflective, sentimental mood, i felt a distinctly warm wibe at the scene before me, this group of people who suddenly felt like a second family going about their normal business in a place that felt like my second home. Sitting up the back near the piano with Martin and Bart i felt like i was watching a memory in the making, an animated scene from this time in my life that one day i'll look back on with a warm grin, and feeling in my heart. Of all the places on my trip, it's here that i'll probably miss the most.

(I should add, on a slightly lighter note, that the strange Michael Jackson mask dude that rocked up yesterday was booted out by Bart and Bjorn today, after engaging in a lenghtly discussion with the bathroom door, and kicking the life out of the porcelain toilet. Evelyn was later seen laughing manically with her sister about the incident. At least he didn't burnt the place down).
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1153560300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1153560300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1153560300/tpod.html Thu, 10 Aug 2006 12:04:56 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Brugge, Belgium

I woke up this morning on a mattress on the hostel lawn looking directly up at a fairly sunny Belgian sky, feeling substantially hungover as a result of last night's wild times. But i certainly wasn't alone, as the rest of the Aus-yank contingent gripped their respective foreheads and grimaced at the preponderence of natural light hitting us with mocking force. Nonetheless, last night remained one of the best nights of the trip, and certainly one of the more memorable.

With Big Kev, Erin and Krystal, and the contingent of yanks, we picked up our heads together from the floor, then hit the metro for a belgian waffle mission. The skies suddenly opened up, and rain poured like a barman on amphetamine, but we soldiered on in the twisted weather, through the main drags of Brussels, eventually arriving in the main town square to a core of cafes serving warm, crispy belgian waffles. Served by a fruity, slightly nutty Belgian dude who looked like the short fella from 'Allo Allo', with a thin moustache and receeding hairline, we chaotically received our order, and wolfed down the waffley goodness, bringing most of our heath levels up by at least 30%. With rain still dripping down pretty solidly, most of the chicks split with the rest of the group and went on a shopping mission, while the rest of us kept trundling around town, briefly checking out a local ornate church, which was a big of a non-event for me considering how many bloody churches i've seen over the last three and a half months. Rev, Brooks and i made a pact back in Rome after witnessing the glorious magnitude of the Vatican to not bother visiting any more churches, as any other church was bound to be pretty anti-climactic.

Anyway, the team that was 'Random Aus-yanks' had come to its untimely end come arvo, as Big Kev and i split with Davey, Megan the Chicagoan, and Parisa, Big Kev heading forth on to Amsterdam, and me heading on a brief day trip to the gorgeous nearby medieval town of Brugge. They say that Brugge is known for its superior chocolate and pralines, and despite its reputation for rampant tourism, it's still a fine place to check out. Seemed like a good plan.

The beauty of travelling by train in Belgium on a weekend is that all fares are half price, a factor that appeased my dwindling budget considerably. leapt on a 2pm train and got to rugge about 45 minutes later, the sun once again making its presence known and drenching the town in golden warmth. Brugge was pretty damn nice - a warm, cosy, busy little town, with guaranteed tourists everywhere and cafe-restaurants brimming with afternoon boozers. Dudes in tight pants rode bikes everywhere, and in my semi-hungover daze i nearly got run over by one hairy disgruntled Belgian cyclist after walking along the non-sign-posted bike lane. The buildings were regal and pointy roofed, the lanes and roads were cobblestoned out the kyber, you know, the usual stuff you'd expect from a small, attractive medieval Belgian town. I spent a good couple of hours hoofing it around Brugge, but found the place to be a tad boring, and pretty much hit the rail back to Brussels at around 5ish. I was still considerably knackered from last nights frivolity, and really just needed to get back to the hostel, chill out and go to bed early.

Killed some time at the hostel chatting with me mates Krystal and Parisa, and tucked into a couple of nightcap beverages at the plush Van Gogh hostel bar. I tried two strange beers called 'Framboise', which tasted as fruity as buggery and caused me to display a cats bum face when i sipped them. One was cherry beer and the other was just straight fruit i think, but they also had a banana variety which probably would have put me off beer forever. Crazy bloody Belgians. Anyway, after downing a cheap kebab from the Turkish dive around the corner, i again witnessed the horrible bloodshed on the Al-Jazeera program on the restaurant's tv. With a boozy, hazy mind, it was time to go to schleep once and for all and get some real winks, before i trundled on my merry way tomorrow to the Netherlands. Had a chat to a random bird in my dorm from Uruguay, and a straight bespectacled German fella, before dozing off in my bottom bunk, with a cool, stormy change flowing through the open hostel windows, blowing the curtains up and down with vigour. It was pinnacle cosiness. I cant say no to a good storm, especially when im in bed and but a short wink away from a seriously deep sleep.

Belgium has treated me well, and tomorrow, the adventure would continue some short distance north to the amazing Netherlands. Let the good times roll.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154360160/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154360160/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154360160/tpod.html Thu, 10 Aug 2006 12:02:23 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

I was in full rock n roll mode today. Rock 'n roll 'n nothing else. With enough time on my hands over the past week, and forseeable weeks until my return to Oz, it had been a closet objective of mine to get some songs written, a bit of material down on paper, and some rock once and for all created, in order to cap off the trip in style and head home valiantly with a armful of new tunes. And i gotta say, it was quite a successful day for it. With enough musical instruments to sink a small vessel, i picked an electric guitar from the wall of axes, plugged in an amp in the back corner of the hostel barbecue area, and played to my hearts content for a good number of hours. Got some new stuff down, put some chords to some lyrics, and felt pretty bloody happy with all the rockin progress.

Went for a run first thing this morning, up and around town, through leafy, grassy park areas, canals pulsating through the middle of town at every turn, eventually getting somewhat lost and following another random jogger who thankfully put me back on the right path. The sun was back out to say gday today, after the brief cloudy hiatus of yesterday, and not a moment too soon. The jog put me in a fine mood for the rest of the afternoon's rock session.

So, again, aside from the musical creativity, little occurred throughout the course of the day. I hung out on the balcony in between guitaring, chatting with me old China Martin, Angus the Scot, and a new bloke with a domineering brow, a tall Swedish fella, who spoke perfect English and whose name was, of course, Bjorn. The Bjornmeister had been doing a fair bit of travelling in his time, speding a good four months down our way in Oz and Kiwiland, and recounting many a hilarious occurence of his experiences in our fine nation. One thing i have noticed on my journey is just how lucky we really are in Australia, compared to the rest of the world. At the end of the day, i dare say, aside from perhaps NZ and a handful of Scandinavian countries, and perhaps Denamark, there's very few free-er countries than ours. I've had my fair share of grievances with the place over time, but generally, these have been directed at the conniving ferret who claims to be our Prime Minister and his conga line of snaky bastards, rather than the general state and opportunities of our nation. Melbourne in particular has never more seemed like a world class city - and trust me, it is. As time creeps on by, and the 4 month mark starts to loom that extra bit closer, excitement at the inevitable return to my homeland is seeping into my psyche at a steady rate. I can't believe it's that time already.

Enduring the barely comprehensible rantings of Macho Italiano, puffing on a fat hashish scoob, and continuing to make no sense whatsoever, we chilled out on the balcony in the late afternoon and talked more jive, hung out, and threw together a big fat saucepan of penne for dinner. You meet a lot of random characters during your travels, and although Macho Italiano had been hogging the limelight for the Utrecht leg of the trip, a new contender made his presence felt this afternoon. Parked in the back corner of the common room, speaking to no one and staring silently into the inner depths of the side wall, was an oddball donning a Michael Jackson facemask, unkempt facial hair, Persian rings on every finger, rocking himself on his chair every couple of minutes, and generally, appearing like the sort of dude you might expect would set fire to a fair portion of the hostel. Though much quieter than Macho, he defintiely held a presence with that mask. One to watch, for certain.

As day once again blended into night, the sun coming down in its normal lateish fashion, Dave, Corey, Angus, some dude from Quebec, a half-cut loudmouthed yank named Jessie and i, hit the town for a few brews, sitting around a big old table and immersing ourselves in the regular agenda of jive. We entered a comfortable level of alcoholism, before heading back out into the night air, and rocking back to the hostel, for another midnight meal of French Toasty, or as Polish Bart might call it, 'Eggy Breads'.

If i thought it was humourous that i was still in Utrecht last friday, then it's damn laughable that i find myself STILL here, taking advantage of the free food, free wines and general good times. Having said that, i've not felt more comfortable in a hostel the whole way along, from Spain to now, and i have no intention of going anywhere until that flight back to London on Wednesday.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154272260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154272260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154272260/tpod.html Thu, 10 Aug 2006 11:36:10 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

I read something in a Holland tourist giude back in Rotterdam that gave a list of the things to go and places to be seen if you consider yourself to be the type of shaker who's got their finger well and truly bang on the pulse. Which is me to the tee, really. But that aside, there was one detail hidden amongst the list of clubs and happening weed bars in the fine print that took my attention, and that is, if you go to a popular club, the general custom is that you pay the no-necked bouncer at the door a tip upon leaving, otherwise, the bouncer has carte blanche to effectively kick your backside, pretty much throw you into a nearby canal or smack you right in kisser. I'm not a big fan of clubs as it is, but damned if im tipping any bouncers.

After a sterling run of glamorous, bronzing weather, Utrecht finally copped a bit of a cool change today, as the clouds came out in relative force and threw down a spray of the wet stuff to keep things interesting. Resultingly, the B+B crew and i were relegated to the interior of the place, mucking around on the internet and watching consecutive b-grade VHS tapes courtesy of the predominantly 1980's video library on the hostel shelf. I was particularly thrilled to see that Police Academy 6 was present in the collection, by far one of the greater episodes in the Police Academy series, where the zany, fun-times crew heads to Miami Beach, Mahoney kicks Captain Harris' snaky ass once again and Bobcat Goldthwait continues to make no sense and a lot of noise. Ever since i watched Police Academy 1 with my Nana when i was 4 years old i've had a shameful soft spot for poor, 1980's American b-grade humour, indoctrinated forever by this poor taste cinematic swill.

So the day elapsed in a relaxing fashion, i played cards with Sanna the shaved haired Finnish bird, Angus the Scot and Corey, Legion Dave's mate from Canada, who used to work more or less alongside the former Prime Minister of Canadia before the newer Right Wing government won the recent election. We sat around, drank wine, played cards, and hung out, a staple way to see out a less than desirable outdoor day. Come nightfall, Martin and i chowed down on a meal of pasta, and i actually went for a jog around town to combat my return to the path of alcohol-related unfitness. The gut is nowhere near the roll-levels achieved back through the mass-pasta and wine consumption of Amalfi, nor that of Prague and Cesky, but i fear that any further disregard may be to my detriment.

After feeling a little shady, i hung around in a restless mood and conceded that i should probably just hit the hay and call it a night. Well, i did that, and i couldn't sleep, so i threw on some jeans and headed back out into the mild night air, across the road to a fairly empty bar and met up with Corey and Legion Dave for a drink. Of course, one drink inevitably leads to at least four more drinks, finding a cosy joint further down the main road called 'T-Grass', and knocking back some additional rounds of tasty 'Palm' brand booze. We had a good chat, a good laugh, as Corey and Dave filled me in on their various stories back home, what Canada is like to live in, and some of Dave's many dubious escapades with the ladies. Polishing off the night with a cup of chips and curry sauce, Corey tried to convince us to have another grog, but the pubs were shut, and the night was getting on, so we returned back to ye old hostel for a dash of French Toast and a smattering of slumber.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154193060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154193060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154193060/tpod.html Thu, 10 Aug 2006 04:57:00 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

The free fried eggs and ham were a total Godsend this afternoon as i carted my partied-out kiester downstairs and into the thick of the day. The usual assortment of braindead Italians lingered about the place, Bart was busy fixing and painting something, Martin was quietly checking out the local paper, despite his inability to understand Dutch, rolling a smoke and hanging out quietly in the back corner. One by one, the Belgians rose for the day, looking extremely worse for wear, and there was no sign of Dave watsoever throughout the coarse of the entire afternoon. Cactus.

Resultingly, this would again be another day of limited itinerary and movement, though i did enjoy a lengthly walk with Maiike around the canal-lined bike tracks of Utrecht, through parks, gardens, and other leavy, idyllic surrounds. The Dutch certainly have no shortage of places to get away from it all, though the hustle and bustle they have to deal with is barely comparable to other Western countries. There is always a thick smattering of green areas for everyone to hang out and chill in, and even more impressively, parks with in-built metal recliners for people to bake themselves. Again, another little thing that the Dutch have scored points on. The afternoon barely stood a chance due to our late rising, and before we could say 'wheres the bloody afternoon gone', evening appeared to be on the doorstep.

With the usual assortment of 'beautiful people' partying next door to the hostel, and Bart crashing the party with his usual offering of a plate of fried imitation 'meatballs' from Evelyn's freezer, we sat around on the balcony bearing down on the bash and drank some beers, chilled out, chatted with Martin and got talking to a new face, young Angus the Scot. Suckers for punishment, Maiike, Styen, Angus and myself traipsed once again back into town in order to check out the 'Tivoli', the place we piked on last night due to its excessive lineup. With no line, and no real signs of any life, we made it in to an enormous interior hall, sparsely occupied by a handful of locals and randoms, giving off the impression we'd just crashed an early 90's Dutch high school deb ball. Beer was again the savior, and we boogied briefly before giving Tivoli the arse and heading on back to the hostel. The night has elapsed with speedinees, and despite a brief altercation with a shrubbery on the way back home, we headed back to hostel town, chilled out briefly on the balcony, and again, bleary eyed, hit the hay for another fine night.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154095020/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154095020/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154095020/tpod.html Wed, 09 Aug 2006 13:11:05 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

On this sunny, sweet Friday morn the hostel was underway with its usual buzz of activity, dudes moseying and lounging around downstairs, fixing themselves free meals of eggs and ham, sipping freshly percolated coffee, Evelyn shedding scalp skin about the place like the mad woman that she is, pretty much the usual. It bemused me greatly when i realised that after intending to stay here for just a night or two, this was now my fifth day in the place and there showed no signs of heading off any time soon. Caught up with me pal Martin and talked some tongue in cheek jive on the latest happenings within the hostel. Martin is never short of something to say, that's for sure, whether it be a miniscule analysis on the behaviour of the weird old Dutch dude staying there, with strange ticks and a tendency to talk to himself, the descending price of beer per unit in comparison with what you'd pay back in Leeds, or how Polish Bart, 20 years his junior and double his girth kept telling him off like a little kid for leaving his beers in the freezer and forcing Bart to clean up shards of exploded glass and chunks of frozen beer head. He always made for an easy, interesting conversation, though recently he's taken a liking to addressing me as 'Russ', after Russell Crowe. Now, I've been told i look like a lot of people in my time - in Turkey, an old headscarved Turkish woman told me i had the teeth of Jim Carrey, Irish Paul in Seville pointed out my resemblance to Vinnie Jones from Lock Stock, my Aunty Jac reckons i look like bloody Hugh Grant, a stoned inhabitant of the Normandy hotel in Clifton Hill once reckoned i looked a dead ringer for a young Bob Geldof, and countless little bastards back in year 12 were always quick to tie my looks with that of the dude who played Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I can handle all that, but Martin's Rusty Crowe call is taking it that one step too far and I just might need to throw a phone at him. Today he filled me in on the jive-ass Macho Italiano who barged into the circle of conversation outside this morning and harped on about everything from Americans, warfare, Eminem, how everything comes back to Rome at the end of the day. Frankly, i was glad i was still sleeping or i may have been forced to take to the bloke with an unopened bottle of Evelyn's cheapest.

After my usual ritual of walking up to the Albert Heijn supermarket for a tube of tasty fresh juice, i continued to vibe around the hostel common room, watching tv, writing blogs, surfing the web, and playing guitar. Its a tough life, i know. I realise. But i'm good for it. I will soldier on. The hoard of Italian stoners continued to inhabit the hostel balcony, common room and backyard seating area, and continued to appear collectively zombified and persistently ravenous. Sipping on a couple of cans of Grolsch, i got talking so a fresh round of characters on the balcony as the afternoon wound into evening time. Firstly, the 3 Belgian siblings, Maaike, Yoker and Styen, two sisters and a brother all here for a weekend trip from Brussels and Brugge, chilling out, and having a top time despite the unfavourable cretinous Italian Macho harassing them with an intense array of shite. The Belgians were all extremely tall, and explained in funny Belgian accents that they were here in Holland predominantly to shop, as Dutch women are known for their height and a subsequent requirement for larger sized clothing. Also got talking to a Canadian gent by the name of Dave, a classic dude who sort of possesed the head of one of those marble Roman gladiatorial busts that you come across frequently in Rome - his raised cheek bones, strong brow and stocky, trim cut head forced me at this conclusion, envisioning Dave on a few accounts with a toga, sandals, and Caesarian leaves atop each earlobe.

As it turned out, Dave was, funnily enough, a former member of the French foreign legion, and seemed the sort of on edge dude who was perpetually toey-er than a Roman sandal. Dave was another chamption character of the Utrecht crew. Leaving the Italiano Macho behind and saving Maiike from his slimy advances, the three Belgians, Dave and i head into canal-lined town to a rockin' nightspot called 'Stairway To Heaven', and got stuck into a few rounds of Bavaria beer. Well, though the demeanour of the Belgians was initially quite proper, not at all outrageous, and somewhat reserved, the beers went down a treat and conversation was soon flowing like a broken-locked Belgian river, delving into an intense conversation about all sorts of jive. After spending 3 and half years with the French legion and 7 years with the Canadian forces, Dave had a lot of very interesting things to say about the state of the world, and a lot of confidential insider info that caused our jaws to drop big time. Astrology and conspiracy were the topics of the night, from the military consensus that 9/11 was an inside job, to the fruition of the New World Order, to the construction of hundreds of prision camps across the United States, to how the Belgian Supercomputer that controls nearly everyting on earth is considered by many to be the antichrist....well, you name it, we covered it. Though a lot of what legion Dave was saying may have been slightly embellished and sensationalised, a lot of what he said held merit and only boosted my conviction that a lot of this stuff is true and is going on behind our backs and before our very eyes. Call me a conspiracy nut if you will. Legion Dave is on my side, and together we'll kick everyone's clacker.

After informing Legion Dave that the Belgian girls were both Libras and posessed birthdays a day apart in October, he had a great deal of fun freaking them both, 'predicting' their birthdates, to a point where they really though he was an oddball. But we kept drinking, lapping up each others' company and began to shake our rears on the fairly sparse dancefloor, rockin out to Electric 6, System of a Down, and finally, to close the night, the apt 'Stairway to Heaven'. I pondered whether the dj was contractually bound to playing this song at the culmination of every night here. Tough gig.

We attempted to keep the night a'rockin at a relatively happening club called Tivoli, but frankly, we couldn't be aggoted waiting in line, so we hightailed it back through the quaint, cobbley streets to a bar literally opposite our hostel door, and knocked back some additional brewskys. The chat continued, and Dave impressed us all with his explanation of our individual character traits based on our Astrlogical Zodiac signs. The normally critical, skeptical Belgians were taken aback at how spot on Dave was about their brother Styen, and i thought he was bang on the money when it came to my one. But alas, i'm the sort of gringo who gets into all that jive, and i'm an easy audience. But trust me, if you were there, you would have got right into it.

Well, the night was an enexpected rocker of an evening, and i found myself just loving the choice to make my presence felt in Utrecht more and more as the nights went along. We rocked back to the near empty hostel common room at about 4 in the morning, sat outside on the balcony drinking more of Evelyn's cheap red wine, giving company to a wasted Italian who'd fallen asleep on his own shoulder, arms crossed and dribbling on his crotch. The jive continued for those guys for another few hours, i believe Dave, Styen and Yoker were up until 9 in the morning, however, my eyes were weary with drunk, and with little effort, i hit the hay not long after 5.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154042580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154042580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesaxman/europe06/1154042580/tpod.html Wed, 09 Aug 2006 09:57:04 -0400 Cam's Epic tour of Europe 2006

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Utrecht, Netherlands

My dorm room smellt like wet man upon waking this morning, and i put it down to the poor ventilation, the elevated position in the second floor, and the busload of hairy Spaniards that materialised in the surrounding bunk beds throughout the course of the night.

It's been a good couple of nights here at the B+B Hostel Utrecht and i'm beginning to feel like a part of the family, or at very least, a piece of the furniture. I don't think i've come across a hostel quite as comfortable, and certainly nowhere near as inviting. Today seemed like another fine day for doing very little, and i ensured that this goal was high on my days' agenda. Henceforth, I did bugger all. With a wall of guitars and various, random instruments on offer for the budding fiddler, there was no question that i was going to spend a lot of time here in Utrecht being musical, writing songs, getting ideas out of my head and winding down somewhat from an enormously eventful and busy European adventure.

Its always tough to remember nitty details about the days where little to nothing happens...and for the first time in this blog series, i can't even make stuff up for this day. I've let this entry go for way too long and my brain has got sweet f.a idea about what went on. Free food, a walk around town, guitar, more food, internet, CNN violence in the background. The usual.

Sorry guys. Keep on moving....nothing to see here. Get on board for the next tale.
Tomorrow's is a real doozy.
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