A day late, a buck short (Newcastle upon Tyne to Swansea)

Hitchhiking was too far, the train was to expensive, Actually everything was. My brother bought my bus tickets from Newcastle to London, from London to Swansea, unfortunately and unforgettably twice. He graciously booked the midnight coach and I nursed a four hour beer to rent the corner of a quiet pub to stay out of the cold.

The most ironic thing happens at that point. With so much time with second language English being spoken by anyone behind a bar, it was perplexing and hardly decipherable when the same happened here. No, not Polish, Jordie.

'Huh, ah, sorry?' Was what I ended up mustering as a reply... Twice.
Eventually I was presented with a bitters, pondering over Jordie was the hardest twisted form of English, spoken by anyone this far. Still we made some conversation till the closing time of nine pm; it wouldn't be the last time I was thankful for a good book.

So in the open air shelter I sat, with my sleeping bag, towel scarf, make do stuff sack hat, feet up on the rucksack feeling rather content with life and a good book. Being dislecsic has an upside, when you have to ration out a two hundred page paperback.

The first part was smooth, getting to London's Victoria coach station. The second part of sleeping and missing my connection, not so much. Can I summarise my embarrassment by just saying "Thanks Jack"?

Long story short, I made it to Swansea, a day late, the thirteenth of December, 2013; though twelve hours at least before I needed to be. Greeted with a familiar smile and a much needed pork pie.

To Italy and beyond adventure: 13 September 2013 / 13 December 2013

Priceless Sunrise (Amsterdam to Newcastle Ferry)

There was the ferry in front of me for the crossing over to Newcastle. I was glad that I gave a little extra time to find my way to the dock, because each push on my skateboard, seemed to cover as much distance as usual, but never seen to reduce that between me and the ferry. After an hour or what felt like it, I finally made it in to the boarding gates and on board and on time, just.

I wrote my post cards, read my book and dropped off to sleep, reflecting on all the crazy adventures the last three months had held.

It was still dark when I woke up, a golden light just creeping over the horizon. So I made my way on deck to watch the sun rise over the sea. One of a handful I'd seen on the trip, and approached from the side that doesn't require sunglasses. If I over romanticised sunsets in words, I'm ashamed to not capture this as well in photos. It was something of an impressionist's wet dream (no pun intended), and something that you will have to forgive me for the blurred exposure. Though a grey sky would have been accepted, such great way of waking made a brilliant closure to the adventure over the mainland.

When mid morning broke, the sky did not stay as clear, but it was still crisp and pleasant as seagulls started to fly over the boat. A sense of familiarity started to set in as we passed the cargo ships, entering the industrial bay, there was even a little sand on the shore line. If not a whole likeness to its namesake and my home town, it was certainly enough to generate some nostalgic thoughts. That's to say, three months of that intense experience, changed me more as a person than I feel years may have at home.

One of the best wake ups

UK arrival

Well worth any cold

Window shopping (Amsterdam)

Paris ended up a two night stop over before my last continental destination. A couple of people I met were also coming to the end of there epic travel across Europe, and invited me to finish off with them in Amsterdam. I liked the idea of getting in one last cheeky country before arriving in the UK; so while they went via Rome for a couple of days, I took the night coach up to Holland. Unfortunately they got sick in Rome and had to cut there trip shit, but these things happen.

After getting off the coach in the morning, I proceeded to walk in completely the opposite direction to where I wanted to go. Looking back that was hard work to be so completely off, but it was 6 in the morning I figured I had time to explore. There were no shops or cafe's open, so I wandered into tranquil suburbs not passing a single early riser, till I finally stumbled across a train station to discover how far I was from where I actually wanted to be. A short ride later, and a point to the nearest hostel had me safe. Dropping my bags off, I was just in time to catch the calling for the free walking tour starting in fifteen minutes, so with no time lost I was out exploring the city.

What ever you're there for, you can't help but love it. From Rembrandt to red lights, history and 'highly' profitable businesses, and a everything in between is on the table. But it's the laid back mind set that makes it work like "thish ish not a problem, why don't we taxsh thish". Maybe it's my rose tinted glasses, but I don't think I have met a more chilled group of people than residents of Amsterdam, it's just as though they don't waist any time in circular arguments. Just be careful where you use your camera.

I spent a couple of days taking in the sights and it wasn't long before I was thoroughly convinced that if I still smoked weed, I'd love to move here. It's a city pleasing to the eye, with humour around every corner, sprawling parks, rich history and handsome canals, but it's the ambiance of the lifestyle here and that no one has anything bad to say that makes it such a wonderful place.

The last couple of days, didn't go out with a party, just an effort to see more as my deadline of travels end came closer. Apparently you can't see Van Gough's work while holding a skateboard, so I went to the Anne Frank house. It's a really well put together museum, non essential viewing of being there, but worth the look. I bought the book and before I knew it, my time was up on the continent. It was time to head to the ferry, and the final hotfoot through the UK.

 

Amsterdam street seen, removed, then restored by popular demand

 

The tourists might be a bit more rowdy than the locals

 

Pleasant little walk into the centre

 

Because it not all drugs and prositutes

The hole in the Swiss cheese (Lyon Part 2)

I wondered when this was going to happen? My calculations that I was about two weeks over budget were just about right. So when I did finally run out of money it was only in the order of a mild surprise. Actually I had about 1000€ left, only problem being it was in the wrong country. 

We play to our strengths and budgeting is not one of mine. When I left, Dad was kind enough to sell my car and motor bike on my behalf, and transfer the money when (if would have been a bit too self flattering in this matter) this situation arose.The 24 hours of transfer time meant unfortunately, I needed to cut out the day trip I planned across the Swiss boarder, with 70€ in my pocket and no booked accommodation the practical rout was back up to Paris.

So I greatly abused to sitting time in a cafe and watched the news. Not a particular habit of mine, the news that is. But today sadly, was the day that Nelson Mandela died. I don't really have to say much, except to read 'The long walk to freedom' if you haven't already (the last book I was reading before I left coincidentally). Just how much one man changed to world for the better, how recently these events happened in our world history. This could go into a rant, but it puts a wait with a cup of coffee into perspective.

The light fantastic (Lyon Part 1)

I wanted to squeeze in what I could into the last bit of travelling I had, so I thought Geneva was the place to go via Lyon. From the moment of arriving I had my fun and obstacles.
You know the scariest way to fall in skateboarding? Stairs? Vert ramp? Centimetre talk rock? Yep it's the third one. There's something about it, the way it will fling you off a board, on that particular angle guaranteed that you are going to either hit the ground with you face, or get the skin of your palms replaced. It was the first one, this particular incident also involving a sixteen kilo bag coming from behind to join the party. A concussion has always been an interesting way to start the day.

So with a lack of planning and double vision, I set out for somewhere to put my bag down and when it was time sleep the night. No where could I find a room except the Ibis at over 100€, reluctantly I took it after several hours of futile search. The good and bad timing responsible for the premium charge for a bed, was the annual light festival in Lyon, apparently it was the opening night.

By the evening I had recovered enough to surf the town. Viewing a few of the instillations, trying to get the most out of my stay. Like always there was a castle, on top of a hill, light up like the focal piece for the whole city, a hike but always worth it for the view. Sitting back from the top, provided the best landscape look of all that was going on, watching a silent movie projected on a screen in the centre of the ferris wheel, until the fireworks went off.

Time to go back and the second skateboarding escapade, the fastest way down is roll. This has got to be both the scariest and most fun snake rides I've done. The gradient is nothing to vicious, but the light rain fall on the tar meant that for breaking does something to regulate speed, rather than give any practical option of stopping. I won this time.

 

Something I passed on the winding walk up the hill.

 

The view from the castle

A Day in the park (Versailles)

Time for another day trip. Part of the hostel lifestyle is of course, running with people on the same page. And of the places to in the area, a girl I met Annabel and I thought 'Versailles had got itself a pretty good rap'. Centre of political power, gilded apartments and 230 acres of gardens; as Billy Connolly said about the Albert Hall "Some size for a folk club?" So off we went.

If you want opulence, the palace of Versailles is the right place to come to. Pick your flavor, when Louis was asked which colour he liked in the Dullux catalog I think he must of said 'All of them', because each of  the rooms, the 300 or so not particularly special ones has its own colour, then set of particularly crafted furniture to match. That before where the money really went, like the ball[in!] room, 20 crystal chandeliers should do it.

I'd love to tell you more about the history, little anecdotes, and trivier. But honestly I didn't do the research for it.

So on we sauntered through the grounds, giving names to the abundant farm animals and particularly ugly fish that we passed. OK they were all called Louise, but it still became a joke of our adventure. The simple advice for anyone going to take a look, is get up early, there is a lot of grounds to cover, but no shortage of what to look at on your way.

OK this is the point where it should become blatantly obvious that we're both Australian. The raw excitement, both of us had realising that one of the water features we were looking at had frozen over. It's something special, it's unusual, it means winter is coming and cold is about to start operating on a different scale then we're used to. If you don't relate, it's just our version for "it's only 28 degrees".

My camera had been dead all day so Annabel had the photos. To say that Versailles was worth a few shots wasn't justice. 500 well that might take a while to go through.

Eat some cheese have some sex (Paris part 2)

So what do you do in Paris near Christmas time? Everything. How it starts is mould wine, friendship, ice skating, some kind of epic rachlette sandwich filled with ham, potato and cheese (look at the photo, it's had its own private rant) and then moves into more artery clogging adventures, soaking up the ambiance of a city in the full bloom of festival and everything those pretty lights offer. Do your thing, wake up in somebody else's bed. Coffee at whichever artisan café happens to close by. Repeat.

That's it.

OK you should probably do the Louvre, I went there three times. And there are a dozen other attractions to do before you're bored enough to go to Disney Land, and that's not a statement hatin'. But point being, enjoy some lifestyle, the Eiffel tower is a check box. New rule, if it's not a story worth digression, is not one worth telling.

 

But what the heck, I was motivated to do it all and have little regret for time poorly spent. Buy something on the Champs Ellipse, see the city from the tallest building of its time, under no circumstances talk to a Parisian about how it is an architectural wonder unless you want a two hour argument of why you're wrong (still haven't figured that one out). Go have a look at the ossuary, Notre Dame and Sacre Coure. All of these have a place in a photo album and deserving in writing, but when it comes to ambiance, this city has got it and don't miss it.

 

Sorry, I didn't get a pick of it on the end of my finger.

 

Best Sandwich ever

 

Notre Dame. Top 5