Australia - East Coast 2009

Anna Bay, Byron Bay

Icecream Byron Bay, Dorrigo, Natural Bridge

Myall Lakes, Dorrigo, Dangar Falls

Myall Lakes

Well I thought I am overdue a travel blog update, considering today I can barely leave the house thanks to the  DUST STORM that has descended upon Sydney. I just painstakingly aligned the photos in the top image. I am sure there must be an easier way to do it, but I've always gone for improvisation when it comes to photo editing programs (for example, print screen + crop x 3 in order to shrink large files).

Anyhoo... thanks to the first person from Europe to actually follow up with their promises to visit me in Australia, I had an excuse to go on a massive 2479km drive in July.

Sights along the way: Anna Bay, Myall Lakes, Urunga, Bellingen, Dorrigo, Coffs Harbour, Port Macquarie, Byron Bay, Gold Coast, Brisbane, Natural Bridge, Boonoo Boonoo National Park, then a massive drive from Tenterfield back home to Sydney in one day, skimming through Tamworth, Armidale and the Hunter Valley. Quite an epic journey.

I'm not in a particularly creative mood at the moment so at best I can say that Myall Lakes was surprisingly great. Many sunset photos were taken, such as my favourite above. Most of the NSW coastline would have been better left as wilderness, as the few settlements that are there are not worthy of the land clearing required in order to build them.

I also had a fun time driving for hours along the Mt Lindesay Highway, taking in hours of completely unpopulated stretches of sometimes dirt roads in my tiny little car.

What did I learn on this trip? I quite like Australia's photogenic nature and wildenress, and that I need to get out of here, and come back in time to cash in my baby bonus and superannuation.

Operation 2010

I just felt the need to inform my travel blog that I have just sent off the forms that I hope will make 2010 even better than 2008. While my initial instinct at the start of the year was to hang the expense, jump straight back on a plane, and finish off my Arts degree back in Bologna, this has obviously not come to pass. In fact I still think I would have been better off if I had done this as this semester at uni has possibly been my most uneventful, unsociable and uninspiring to date. I did take a few steps to try and remedy my lack of social events, but as the semester dragged on it all petered out and I am back to approximately one real life conversation with someone outside of my household per week. In the meantime I set about plotting ways to get back to Europe, which for the moment I deem to have a far superior lifestyle, even if we do have a minimum wage and consistent sunshine here. Phase 1 of plotting: another one to two month trip in European summer. If I had more funds I would still have done this, but the necessary acquisition of a car in this expansive city of mine put that to rest. I would like to thank the world for leaving my country so expensively connected to the rest of it. Great work. It seems we are forced to spend our lives in this insular society unless we are lucky enough, or work hard enough to have significant funds at our disposal. Phase 2: Germany. I set about undertaking a beginner's course in German, in an attempt to learn a language that would get me out of the Mediterranean lifestyle. It's very interesting and all, but right now I think I am due to visit a country that can actually run on time. Just for something crazy and different, y'know. I was psyched up to spend the year learning as much German as possible, then go on exchange next year. Unfortunately I can only do this through the law part of my degree, and all partner universities in Germany only offer law in German. I do not think that I could have my German up to law-study level in just one year. Thus with much hesitation I put Phase 2 to rest, however I will work out some way to live in Germany in the future. Phase 3: Locate a non-Mediterranean European country that offers Law in English. Potentials included the Netherlands (but it's so flat and grey), Ireland (only offer certain law options which did not fit), and Sweden (but the partner universities were off in the wilderness). However I did find a few potentials, and consequently... Phase 4: I found myself intrigued by Bergen in Norway. It offers lots of courses in English, in somewhere that I might never otherwise visit, but looks amazingly beautiful. As far as I can tell any European university life has got to be more rewarding than Sydney university life, so with relatively little consideration I selected Bergen for half my law electives starting from (European) Spring Semester 2010. Phase 5: While I had initially planned to spend one semester in Norway and then extend my stay if I particularly enjoyed it, at some point I got to thinking about many students I had met in Bologna who were undertaking a year-long exchange in two separate locations. For reasons even less explicable than my selection of Bergen in Norway, I then started looking into Brno in the Czech Republic, purely on the information from the Exchange Coordinator that another law student had said it was a fantastic place. After checking out their website, exchanging a few emails with the other student, and noting the city's proximity to many places I want to visit such as Prague and Vienna, I spontaneously decided to go there too. At the end of this procrastinatory (is that a word?) ramble, I therefore announce to myself that I will be using up all of my Law electives in 2010, first in Bergen, Norway, and second in Brno, Czech Republic. I hope to visit Scandinavia, the Netherlands and Denmark (in conjunction with visiting other friends on exchange) during Spring, spending summer on another one to two month trip around the likes of Germany (always more manageable when it is not -10 degrees), and then spend weekends in the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia and Austria, as well as whatever else takes my fancy. I also hope to visit more of the UK, perhaps take another obligatory trip down to Italy, and maybe even squeeze in my childhood dream of Egypt somewhere along the line. I hope Ryanair can hold onto its insanity for another year or so. I should now return to finishing my research on the Cross-Influences of English and Italian. This has been a pleasant distraction.

Italia 2003: Roma

*Homestay friends at the Trevi Fountain
*Scootermania near Spanish Steps
*Nicola and Gladiator - Colosseum
*Advertising near Trevi Fountain
*Class in Roman school
*Homestay friends at airport
*Nicola & Denise in Rome
*Swan in Villa Borghese
*San Pietro
*School

Roma

Ahh... Roma. If not for this whirlwind experience I may not have had quite the travel adrenaline rush that has kept me coming back for several years now. Visiting cities is always a fun and valuable experience, but it is the real life experiences that really shape who you are.

After a whole day of driving from Venice to Rome we were haphazardly ejected from the bus onto a crowded suburban street corner in what I now know was the outer suburb of Ciampino. We were in a frenzy trying to retrieve our suitcases from the bus, listen for our names being called by the Italian organiser, and trying not to trample the passersby. What would transpire is a classic example of the Italian take on organisation.

Unwilling to push to the front to ask for my homestay buddy, I waited back until most people had been called, matched up, and sent on their way. Finally when the coast seemed clear I went to the list-holder.

Nicole? Oh. Nicol-A?? Oh. Hmm. Ahh. Hmm.. I talk... one moment... your teacher.

As it turned out, our dear organiser had in fact sent another "Nicky" off with what had been planned to be my buddy. However this did not seem to be a problem, as I would simply be sent with the family that Nicky had originally been assigned. I was introduced to the girl who was 4 years older than me, as Nicky was. The father seemed very nice. They packed me into their car and headed off into suburbia. Even the most simple Italian babble refused to enter my brain. Their attempts at conversation sounded like complete jibberish, despite having studied Italian for a couple of years. Upon arrival at their house I was warmly greeted and shown my room. I was introduced to her sister who was more my age. All seemed well. I felt comfortable. Yes... this will be fine. The girl said she and her friends were having a party and we all got ready. Some hours pass and we are waiting downstairs... we get a phone call.

There is a problem. The other girl is your age. You have to go to her now.

So... I awkwardly re-packed, said my friendly farewells and was packed into the car with Marco and sent hurtling back through the suburbs. I was not very pleased about this at all.... I had just alleviated the stress of finding a friendly family and then was immediately uprooted to be put through the same anxiety again. Upon arriving at the new house I was somewhat coldly greeted by a family that must have been irritated by being uprooted as well. I was hastily fed some pasta. I was not feeling so welcome this time round.

However.... apparently the best way for Italians to open up is by them helping to unpack your suitcase. Whether you consent to them rifling through your collection of underwear, holding it up for examination, and questionining me on my colour choices or not. I was then herded into the shower and had the process of the technological wonders that are taps meticulously explained to me. No sooner did they hear the water stop running were they barging back into the bathroom, ushering me onto the bed, where my feet were promptly hand-dried by them... and then I was sent back into the bathroom to dress.

Can I just say... that I am extremely proud of the way my 15-year-old self handled the week and a half with this family.

The mother keeps hugging and kissing me. Denise proclaimed me as her little sister even though I am 1.5 years older than her.

Despite being bored.. well... most of the time, school was a very interesting experience. They were kept in the same classes and classrooms all day, with only the teachers swapping.

Diary excerpts:

The first question I was asked when they sat down to talk to me was “What mean slut?”

I was also informed about how funny it is to steal things, which her friend seems to enjoy doing.

They have a weird sense of humour. I tried to make a sort of joke because I had the word “Dimenticare” written on my hand. I wrote it there because I wanted to know what the word for “to forget” is. And I think Silvia asked me why it’s there, and I go “Ah, perche non voglio dimenticare la parola ‘dimenticare’" (Because I don't want to forget the word "to forget!") And she just stares at me totally not getting it.

I can’t even remember English anymore.

They’ve already had me singing Avril Lavigne and J-Lo songs for their entertainment.

I suggested to the teacher that it seemed better to say "I have brown hair" than "I've got brown hair" to which she replied "No, no, no, you speak wrong. You speak Australian. We teach English.” She can bite me.

I just got interrupted because that Marco guy appeared with Emily and Michael from another school. So I used it as an excuse to go out of the room for a while. Apparently they’re going somewhere. And we can’t. Marco came only to tell us that they were going out, and we weren’t allowed to come. Nice guy.

Aside from school my homestay family and friends were good value when it came to sightseeing. I was taken to the Colosseum a couple of times (never did manage to find it open, however), to the Trevi Fountain, the Vatican, Piazza di Spagna, Villa Borghese and various shopping and McDonald's trips.

Damn this cigarette-filled Italian air. Hmm, that’s all I have to say for now. Oh dear Denise is doing her dancing exercise so I should keep writing or she’ll get me to join in.

I was fed so much I could barely breathe. I was forced to cross roads when every part of my intuition said that the oncoming traffic would hit us. I was driven around at breakneck speed, defying a lifetime of brainwashing about wearing seatbelts. I was hugged so much that I almost developed a nervous twitch (I was not a very touchy person... at all).

Despite being completely thrown out of my comfort zone, isolated in an unfamiliar city, unable to speak the language and freaked out by a swathe of social and cultural customs... when it came to going home I suddenly felt a huge loss.

I thought it was great that I was barely spoken to in English. When I was reunited with the old tour group the onslaught of familiar vocab was a shock to the system. I came back streets ahead of the rest of my Italian class and, if I do say so myself, remained there til the end.

I think you most notice the effects of a trip once it's over.

Which is why I asked for a second homestay in 2005....

Italia 2003: Venezia

*Bridge of Sighs *Burano *Verona *Nicola in Piazza San Marco * Gondola Ride

Venezia

At the time Venice was my favourite place I had visited. These days I'm not so sure. I was fascinated by the idea behind the city. It shocked me that most people did not even know that it was built on a series of islands, right up to the point when they were deposited ON said islands.

On the way up to Venice we stopped in Verona where I was berated for my "cynicism" as to what I would actually dub a cynical marketing scheme - "Juliet's House". In recent years this place has got much worse, with no less than three tacky gift shops. At the time it was pretty as a medieval house, a nice testamony to the play, and of course a statue where we could all grab at Juliet's boob. I was perplexed by the large star emanting from Verona's amphitheatre. Some of my associates *cough* thought it was a fantastic idea to dig a cobblestone out of the ground as a souvenir. Ah Australians... rolling in the snow like hyperactive children and digging cobblestones out of the main square.

At the time that I was in Venice the snow, proximity to water, and blistering winds made it the coldest I had ever been in my life. Layers of thermal underwear felt like nothing. We took in all the main sights, hunted for gloves and cheap glass souvenirs, were taken on a trip to Murano (glass) and Burano (lace) islands. I preferred those islands for their cute and colourful houses.

We had an exciting day trip to Padova. We were waiting to view Giotto's Chapel. The chapel was apparently so precious and sensitive that it was kept permanently dim and climate-controlled. Visitors had to wait in a glass box outside the chapel to maintain certain numbers. As we were waiting what appeared to be a group of Italian male students filed out of the chapel... as they went by, almost like an assembly line, each and every one of them gave us all a look up and down, a flirty smile and a head nod. It could not have been choreographed better if you tried.

After all our traipsing up north, it was time for a daylong trip back down south to Rome, where we would begin our almost 2-week homestay with an Italian family.

Italia 2003: Firenze

* Tower in Firenze

* View of Ponte Vecchio from Uffizi Gallery

* Friends along the Arno

* Nicola with pigeons

* Pisa

Firenze

After leaving Sorrento the bus hurtled us north. It seemed a short way into the trip we noticed some signs of urban area next to the highway. We asked what city it is. ROME? Already?! But we've only been driving like 2 hours?! Everyone tripped out quite considerably. We had a few hours to potter Siena, of which I really don't remember too much. This was made even more obvious to me when I visited recently, 6 years on, and everything had taken on a completely different light. All I remembered was the zebra-striped tower of the duomo, an extremely tiny truck, and an arty upside-down Christmas Tree. I purchased a festive flag which continues to adorn my bedroom. During our time in Florence we went around the Uffizi Gallery. I was quite underwhelmed by it all, not being much of an art conoisseur. I appreciated the famous works but other than that I was happy to skim over the miles of religious and/or naked artwork. My most treasured memory of the trip was a beautiful view of the river and Ponte Vecchio from the gallery windows. I seem to recall the largest, most expensive, and most fantastic icecream I had ever had up to that point from a Florentine gelateria. (This was only to be outdone by Gelateria Gianni in Bologna many years later). Indulging in our new freedom once more my friends and I went on various walks along the Arno, around the Ponte Vecchio, and found our way to Piazzale Michelangelo for the postcard views.

I think it may be pertinent to quote my initial raw first impressions of the trip out to Pisa:

I have to say my first impression was “How pathetic.” The lean in the tower wasn’t graceful or magnificent – it just looked like some idiot had seriously screwed up and that dodgy tower should have fallen centuries ago.

The pouring rain left us huddling under the (oh so shiny) souvenir stalls. We were overwhelmed with African guys trying to sell us umbrellas. Luke cracked and started hurling abuse at the city and all who dwell within it. It was a good day.

Italia 2003: Sorrento

When it came to the end of Year 8, and elective subjects were vying for our favour, various (sometimes unfulfilled) promises were thrown about. I can't say I regret being bought by Italian's promise of a trip to Italy, no matter how many delicious cakes Home Ec baked. I rate that little decision on an elective sheet as one of, if not THE best decisions I have ever made.

After much anticipation, with me running around delivering newspapers and accumulating finances for a good 2 years in advance, on New Years Eve 2002 I set off for Italy with a group that included several of my good friends. After a somewhat lengthy stopover in Seoul, where much time was spent curled up on the carpet, we landed in Rome before being whisked off in a coach down south to Sorrento. And here begins the recount:

* Sunburst over Pompeii * Scooter in Positano * Cliffs along Amalfi Coast * Sorrento * Me & friends on Isle of Capri

Sorrento My first impressions of Italy were of a tiny little girl calling out Eccola! (here she is!) when meeting her mother at the airport. Oh wow, they really do speak Italian here. I then noticed, as we headed down the coast, that the Italians had a passion for decorating their mountainsides with glowing Christmas stars. According to my diary at the time, we stopped at an Autogrill, but despite being quite hungry I avoided buying anything as I was too confused by their system of cashiers and receipts. The fourth impression was that, upon arriving in Sorrento at around 11pm.... we still had an audience of passersby watching our busload of suitcase wheels clunking along the cobblestones in a rather attention-drawing manner down to our hotel. Why is everyone walking around at 11 at night?! Our following few days were taken up with a rather jetlagged trip to the Isle of Capri (Quote from diary entry - "We caught a train-like thing up the mountain and looked around at extremely expensive crap") however I was impressed with the brilliant greenery which at the time was a welcome change from the drought-ravaged savannah of home. We went on a bus trip along the Amalfi Coast to Positano where we were wowed by views of the town built along the cliff, the basketball-sized citrus fruits, and were invariably amused by the hoardes of sleazy Italian men wiggling their eyebrows at us. Why was it that I got the most public male attention in Italy when I was 15? That is just not cool. I have just located a story from my diary which had been forgotten but was extremely amusing at the time. I can only hope that it translates to written form. Another amusing Chloe story from Positano is when we were in a little shop looking at postcards, and Chloe decides that she’s going to be very clever and ask how much they cost in Italian. So she goes up to the man at the counter and says “Ah, quanto costa la cartolina per favore?” And the man replies “Cinquanta centesimi” Chloe, confused by the sudden dose of a foreign language can only reply “Whaat..?” The man speaks again, this time more slowly and clearly, “CIN-quanta cent-esimi” Young Chloe is still at a loss, “Whaaat…?” Taking pity upon the poor English-speaking child, the man says “Fifty cents” “Whaaat..?” says Chloe “FIF…TY CENTS” he spells out emphatically. At this point Clancy, Luke and myself are cracking up at the situation, when it seems Chloe finally realises what’s happening. “Ohh!” she replies, laughing. “Fifteen cents! Ok!” She wasn't allowed to forget that one for a couple of years. The next day we had a few hours in Pompeii, which was quite impressive. I didn't quite realise how it literally was a functional city that had been uncovered. Didn't get to see the whole thing, nor Vesuvius, which is testament to how overcast it was that day. Later that day was perhaps the first time that we, or at least I, had been completely unsupervised in our lives. We were informed of the time that dinner was on at the hotel, and otherwise left to our own devices in Sorrento for the rest of the day. This was quite an amazing level of freedom at the time. We wandered around the town, taking in various piazzas and churches, and perusing a little religous paraphernalia shop which I long to find again and purchase its very tasteful Crucified-Jesus-in-a-Snow-Dome. I found the abundance of stray dogs disconcerting. There was a statue near the road to our hotel with a man with a severed dolphin's head under his foot. There was a pharmacy called Farmacia Farfalla. There was an enormous sparkly Christmas Tree in the middle of town. After just a few days we were back on the bus and carted up north towards Florence, stopping briefly in Siena. I thought I would quote my diary entry from the bus: They’re playing 500 yet again on the seats next to me. I’m not quite sure where we are but it’s an autostrada past Napoli somewhere. The place is so green. There are rocky grass covered mountains everywhere. The country is completely overtaken by humans and houses. Only the high mountains have no people living on them. There are spindly trees on the side of the road and these SOS things every few hundred metres. There are lots of old cottages around as well. Everyone can sit there playing 500 as long as they like, but they miss out on seeing the best parts. I knew I typed my entire travel diary out into a Word doc for a reason :) More stories to follow.

International Girl Guide Camp, January 2000

*My travel friends on the beach at Mooloolaba *The tent - I would not recommend staying in a stuffy tent in the middle of summer in Brisbane, for the record *Travel friends walking around Camp *Me at Dreamworld

Seeing as I have afforded myself a day of sleep and laziness, I thought I should delve into some more travel stories. I would write about another age-12 adventure - the week-long International Girl Guide Camp in Brisbane... but I actually can't remember too many details, thanks to a lack of proper diary-keeping skills, however I will try to piece together what I can. It was January 2000. They refused to let us fly to Brisbane because the Girl Guide Leaders, in their wisdom, didn't like the possibility of all their sweet little girls crashing and burning when all the planes fell out of the sky Y2K-style. Nevermind that we were leaving on January 2nd. Don't even get me started on the debate that happened with them in the lead-up. Basically we were all put on overnight coaches up to Brisbane. Not exactly the most pleasant journey that I have undertaken. I seem to recall being miffed by all the other fresh-faced arrivees from Melbourne, Perth... even Sydney... who laughed at our being forced to get the bus. We were set up in tent groups. I was the only representative from my city, let alone group, on my side of the massive series of fields that held all the participants. Perhaps that solidified my preference for solo-travelling, as I thought I got far more out of the experience than the girls from my group who were all put together. As for daily activities... I really have no idea what we were doing. I recall a trip to Dreamworld, an overnight trip to Mooloolaba and sleeping under the shark tank in the Aquarium, various activities such as abseiling, being driven around on motorbikes, and no doubt participating in Girl Guide-esque ritualistic songs and dances. I seem to recall being herded into huge tents for our daily meals, and that by and large the food was awful. Consequently I barely ate anything, but still spent all day out and about. As a result I returned almost unrecognisably skinny after just a week. I ended up making lots of nice friends and added to my penpal collection. It's a shame I can't find any of them on facebook, I always enjoy seeing what people look like later on. I wish I could remember more about it. A few photos will have to suffice.