Finding My Fix: Chronicles of a Travel Junkie

Ok, so the cold is on its way out, no pnemonia, deafness, blindness, brain infections of any sort, although I have gone back to having weird dreams of my grandmothers flying away in planes without me, volcanoes erupting in Fiji, going on a date to see a really bad play and walking out in the middle, etc., Jung would have a field day, but that`s not unusual for me. So anway, travel, right, this is a travel blog…

So I have my health back… I won`t write everything as I ordinarily would do (so Camilla claims), but I will summarize the main highlights thus far…

Oktoberfest: despite warnings from all family members, I managed to get drunker than I ever have before, though not ill. Myself with 5 Danish guys in faux leiderhosen… it was a lot of fun! I did also manage to lose my wallet, passport, a hat and pair of socks. The passport we found in Camilla`s bag, how it got there is a mystery. Luckily I had my ATM card in my pocket instead of my wallet. So yes, bring on the taunting, not like I haven`t already gotten plenty… (Rasmus did put their tram ticket in the microwave and it caught fire, I`ll have you know, so I`m not the only one!)
Although, I did manage to lose quite a few things, some of them odd… I did also manage to obtain quite a few things, most of the odd. A pin as an honorary member of Club NonSoloBirra from Milano. It was a men`s club, its members around the age of 45-50. I spoke broken Italian with them, and they adopted me as one of their own.

I also discovered a king of spades in my pocket, yet another mystery. And other than that, I won`t talk anymore… no need to incriminate myself further. If you want to know more, you`ll have to ask. I may or may not tell, though I probably will.

While I was sitting, drinking in one of the tents at about noon with the guys (I was pretty much the only girl there), a group of American girls walked in, unaccompanied by any men…. they got quite the welcome. Like dogs to meet, all the men in the tent (thousands probably) started howling and clapping. It was Italian weekend, so, true to the stereotype, the men in the tent were really rowdy. I told the girls to run while they still could! They looked rightly confused and nervous.

Prague: I spent three days there, the first day I slept for about 13 hrs, did laundry and otherwise bummed around feeling feverish. In the evening I finally got myself refreshed and headed out with an English girl from my hostel to get dinner. She had quit her job, dumped her boyfriend, sold her house and hit the road for a three month trip, and she was sleeping in the purple room with me.

Next morning she was up and out before I was, so I wandered off on my own. I found my way up to the castle, and took a tour, wandered the gardens and felt a bit lonely in the romantic atmosphere. There were plenty of places perfect for kissing and holding hands.

That evening I went on the ghost tour of Prague. 400kn. The guide told us right off the bat that the stories were all mostly false and the group surpressed laughter as she emphasized the blood on the stone steps in her thick Czech accent. We weren`t spooked and were starting to doubt this woman, that was until a couple of the girls shrieked and I spotted a man in a bloody mask and apron holding a butcher`s knife. From that point on, we were checking every corner and the face of every passersby. They all seemed to be wearing knowing smirks. I`ll have pictures later.

Ok, that`s enough for now… it`s late here… I`m struggling with the keyboard in Zagreb now in case you`re curious.

You may not know this, but I fell in love when I was in New Zealand.  His name is Tim Tam.  My Danish friend Camilla introduced me to him.  He was always there to provide his wonderful double-coat chocolate comfort when I needed it, which was just often enough to give me a layer of pudge (though I’m sure the pub-crawls didn’t help much with that either).

The “world’s most irrisistable cookie,” or excuse me, “the world’s most irrisistable biscuit,” is how they know him.  He was born in Australia.  His primary ingredient is sugar.  And, lucky for me, he’s imported to London.  It had been almost six months since I was able to down a whole box of Tim Tams in one sitting. I was studying in London (this was back in July), and I had heard tell that there were a few Australian enclaves in the heart of the city. Where were they?

I had a chance to ask that question when a speaker, whose name I can no longer recall (it’s been another eight months since this happened), came to speak at our travel writing class. He talked about American communities in Hampstead, so I figured maybe he knew of a few Australian ones.

“Try Kensington,” he told me.

So I set out one day on the Circle line to High Street and found my way into the beautiful whitewashed Kensington neighborhoods. There was no sign of any Australian shops, though I did find a grocery story that sold American food like tacos and salsa and Oreos. So I stopped in a boutique to ask the women there if they knew anything about any Australian shops.

“Oh, are you looking for things from home?” She hadn’t catch my American accent.

“Um, yes.”

“Well, you might try your embassy. They might be able to tell you where you can buy things from Australia.”

“Thank you,” I replied, excited that I had been mistaken for an Aussie.

I thought about phoning the Australian embassy and starting with a “G’day, mate,” but decided they’d be able to tell. Luckily a Kiwi friend of mine clued me in to a Kiwi coffee house somewhere in Covent Garden.

“Yes, on Berwick Street,” he pointed on a map, and I was able to navigate the winding streets until I found Flat White Espresso Bar. They were closing for the afternoon.

“Do you have any Tim Tams?”

“No. Sometimes we have them on Waitangi Day or when the All Blacks play. But we don’t have them now.”

“Are there any stores around? Like stores that sell Kiwi or Australian food?”

“You can try the New Zealand House on Haymarket, and I think there’s an Australian store on Maiden Lane.”

It was several days before I had the chance to walk to Haymarket. I had a friend along for the adventure. Little did we know the New Zealand House was the embassy. They directed us to a Kiwi store around the corner. Of course, hailing from Australia, Tim Tams were not available at the Kiwi store.

I asked the woman behind the counter, “do you have any Tim Tams?”

“No, Tim Tams are Australian!”

“I know that!”

We left and headed for Maiden Lane. We stopped in a bookstore to ask directions, but no one seemed to know where Maiden Lane was. As we walked down one street, I overheard two guys talking behind us, or should I say two blokes?

“Those guys have Australian accents,” I whispered to my friend.

“Do you think they’re going to the Australian store?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we should follow them. Here, I’ll open my notebook like we’re stopping to look at it and we’ll let them pass.” She opened her notebook.

“Hey, do you know if there’s an Australian store around here?” I blurted at them as they passed.

“I think there’s one on Maiden Lane, one street over,” one of the blokes pointed.

“Thank you!!!”

In two minutes, we were savoring Double-coat Tim Tams outside the Australian-Kiwi-South African-Canadian store on Maiden Lane. I fell in love all over again, and my friend fell in love for the first time.

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Pisa

Cinque Terra

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  Nuns with hands Vatican Fizzy Water I'm a saint... [Continue reading this entry]

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Malaga, Spain

Fashion Show

Malaga Airport

Milano, Italy

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So here is that lovely post I promised, the one I accidently deleted... I've basically cut/paste it from an email I sent my mother and edited for your benefit, it's not for the faint hearted.

28 May 2006--No, homesickness was not ... [Continue reading this entry]

My friends let me keep the crackers. They were preparing to spend the night on a warm steam vent in Rome's Termini Station, and I was boarding a train to Bari. "See you in New York" I said as we did ... [Continue reading this entry]

I wrote the following my journal on 8 June 2006 immidiately after it happened: I was waiting in front of the Florence train station for my 8pm to Milano. An Indian man just came up to me. I gave him the ... [Continue reading this entry]