Hamburg

The Hong Kong Crew are slowly getting married off. In actual fact, this could be the last wedding for some time bar some shot gun, baby in the oven type scenario. First time to Hamburg, plenty to look forward to. Oddly enough an old university friend now calls Hamburg home, which was a gem of a reason to reconnect and I forgot how much fun we used to have.

The wedding itself was held one hour out of Hamburg in the private estate of Tresbuttel. Hamburg was experiencing one of the hottest summers to date and midway through the ceremony one of the most spectacular storms hit exactly the moment the bride and groom were to proclaim their love for each other. It made for entertaining viewing, as the ceremony huddle under a large tree, while the wedding harmonist belted out "Hallelujah" the rain relented as the wedding party were drenched from head to toe. Within 20 minutes, the rain had passed, the wedding was abridge but the outcome was still the same. There were tears, and they were married. The last thing I remember was "the bride and groom are really upset, we have to have have a good time!".

I am very hungover, I think I had a good time.

Israel

Less than 72 hours earlier was I on the exact same Easyjet plane flying back from Austria. The human condition is strange, what sets us apart from most other animals is our ability to adapt and adjust to conditions and surroundings. Despite this phenomena, Easyjet flights remain an outlier that I simply can't get used to. I secretly like to consider myself a EU Discount carrier frequent flyer. Flying in excess of 15 times this year I still have found the right formula to flying comfortably. I'm sad to report that this 5 hour and 40 minute flight would be no different.

Our trip coincided with the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah, the 8 day festival of lights. From our experience in Israel, this religious holiday lacks the commercial punch of Christmas but is still held dearly with the Jewish community. It's a stark contrast, the humble Menorah, Dreidels and the delectable sufganiyot, or Jewish doughnut. Then again, you can't really compare the two religious events.

I've had high expectations of Israel so much so that I feared disappointment, the Holy Land, a rich cosmopolitan of history, culture and nightlife. Our 4 day adventure would take us around the major tourist areas. Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Bethlehem as well as Masada and the Dead Sea.

Tel Aviv

Eden House, our accommodation base (well Eden Blue House on the final night). I screwed up the accommodation book a little by blindly booking double rooms as opposed to twins. Fortunately, this would not be a major issue as we would be disgustingly intoxicated and sleep would be a luxury of this trip. So, back to Tel Aviv. First impressions of the neighbour hood, quite dilapidated, I say this not with my nose turned high but as an observation. This run-down façade would later give off a romantic charm to the area. Another observation, why are there so many cats?

Food wise, very good. The produce we had was extremely fresh and tasty and the same can be said about most food throughout Israel. I've a new found appreciation of eggplant (or for you English, Aubergine) and the mixed Mezze. Spinaches, beets, cheeses, corianders, soft flat breads, hummus and the succulent meats, delicious, I could eat those as mains! We dined at two restaurants, one a local Cat Themed restaurant and the slightly finer dining Alma Beach based Manta Ray.

Due to our limited time in Israel, we only had Sunday as a free day to roam around Tel Aviv at our on leisure. With this, we decided that the Carmel Markets and Jaffa would make up our daytime agenda. Really, liking this city, such an electric vibe around the city. Most definitely consider coming back in the new year.

Party wise we managed to get to the main areas within Tel Aviv. Rothschild St, with plenty of nondescript bars, the slightly more relaxed Florentine with it's bohemian vibe and the traditional Port Tel Aviv, home of the super clubs. One of the few places in the world where a late night kebab and falafel isn't the sign of a bad night out.

As with most Middle Eastern countries, the weekend starts a day earlier with Saturday marking the start of the week. It was a nice surprise to find plenty of people out on the Saturday evening. We later found out that most people worked half days during Hanukkah. With that in mind, we headed down to Port Tel Aviv, Nemal the home of the super clubs. Feeling somewhat under-dressed and more importantly, old, we headed south to the bar-centric neighbour hood of Florentine. Excellent place to bar hop, each bar has different décor, unique atmosphere and the friendliest people you could meet. Our night ended in a convenience store with the store keeper desperately trying to persuade us to save our money and walk home. 10 minutes later we left the shop with precise instructions how to walk home, turned the corner and jumped into the first cab we could find.

The problem with Tel Aviv, is that there's so many small streets that most cab drivers aren't familiar with. Of course, our lodging's was no exception. Sure enough we found ourselves standing in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Tel Aviv. One of us, in dire need of a restroom ducked into a local pub to use the amenities. Overcome by guilt she thought the least we could do is buy a drink. A round was ordered and the bar tender decided that it would free drinks for all in the bar. We stayed late into the evening, drinking and singing. Excellent night-life!

Jerusalem + Bethlehem (Day 1 of tour)
6:45 am. Well rested with 2 hours of sleep, we checked out of Eden House and trudged over to the Mecure, to be picked up for the start of our mouth watering 2 day tour. There was no shortage of tour companies around Israel but we opted for Egged Tours which we had booked online back in London. Not 10 minutes into our journey did we have to travel to realise how rich in history and how much culture was on offer. We passed the field were David allegedly fought Goliath, learnt about the Bedwins and the significance of Olive Oil and Trees to the Israelis. Our first major stop was Jerusalem which in all honesty was a fair bit to take in. Sites included, Dome of the Rock, The Wailing Wall and the Crucifixion site, The Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Amazing tour, yet so strange walking through the three different quarters, Christian, Muslim and Jewish quarters. Unbelievable.

For lunch we were herded to a falafel bar, we weren't the only tour group eating here and the food was unsurprisingly crap. Immediately after lunch we were again, pushed into a gift store where we were encouraged to 'shop around' while the tour organised the tour guide within the Palestine grounds of Bethlehem. Sure enough, the store was filled with tourist and paraphernalia only a devotee could imagine. The wait took nearly 1 hour which was apalling! Finally we were allowed to cross over into Bethlehem.

The Israeli security was strict with passports required to be shown upon entry and exit. Crossing over, you could tell you were in a different place, kids harassed you to buy gum and postcards and there was a heightened sense of activity and alertness. The main drawcard of this part of the tour was the Church of Nativity, better known as the birth place of Jesus. The first day ended spending a night back in Jerusalem checking into Park Plaza, indulging in the hotel's buffet and passing out due to sheer exhaustion.

Masada + Dead Sea (Day 2 of tour)
Last evening's attempt to explore Jerusalem by after sunset was a failure. The trade off to this was the indulgent 8 hours of sleep we were treated to and the not so good movie, From Paris With Love. At 8:45 the following day we embarked on our tour towards Masada and the Dead Sea. We had exchanged our mini van for a fully fledged tour bus and a new tour guide. Within 30 minutes we were driving along the coast of the world's lowest point, 418 metres below sea level. Not surprisingly, we were pushed into the Dead Sea gift store and were soon caught up in the novelty and fever of dead sea products.

The UNESCO site of Masada was something else, the ruins of what was once fortress and hide out of Herrod sounded impressive back in its hay day and 2000 years later did not disappoint. Ambitiously we tried to climb up the 90 metre accent in thongs but were denied and forced to take the cable car, good call. The tour was well conducted and treated to historic recount of the great siege of Massada. Immediately proceeding lunch we started for The Dead Sea.

Armed with the knowledge of the Dead Sea and my budgie smugglers we headed down to the shore of the world's saltiest body of water. The water, if you can call it water itself was so viscous it resembled oil more than water. We had been cautioned into entering the Dead Sea gracefully and gently. There was a science to it. Slowly step in, avoiding all the sharp objects by the shore, in fact wear thongs if you can. Then, ease yourself down into the squat position and sit down on you backside. The high salinity would take care of the rest. Sure enough, feet, body were floating on the water, this provided entertainment for the best part of 20 seconds. The nutrient, rich mud proved to be more of a novelty than floating and soon we were covered head to toe in the mud. The salt was ridiculously painful in the eye not even the accidental rub of chilli in the eye comes close to the excruciating pain of having 38% salinity in your eyes.

So there it is. Israel, an amazing trip! I decided that 4 days was nearly not enough time and I've already decided this is one of the few countries I would return to.

The high level of security was also something else. On the way in we were cautious of the risks of having an Israeli stamp in the passport. On the way out we were shipped off to terminal 3, and interrogated at the airport, countless scans, particle samples and passport quizzes. The stamps of Malaysia, Dubai, Morocco and Indonesia raised some eyebrows but after convincing them that I was nothing but an Australian traveller I was granted my seat on the flight. We boarded the flight with minutes to spare and were soon flying back into London. Flight back was deadly long and uncomfortable and we arrived back in London well after midnight. Still, it was a lot earlier than the previous weekend.

Austria! Well then, G'day mate!

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I think I may have sweet talked our way through to the front of queue. Could I kindly ask that you please return to your seats and turn off all electrical items". Followed shortly by "Sorry folks, as usual, my ability to talk to women has failed and we are again sitting 4th in the queue". The last piece of commentary, courtesy of our pilot brought an ebullition of mirth that rippled through the plane's cabin. My first snow for the season had proved more of a hindrance than anything. Snowflakes clumsily tumbled to the ground throughout the evening and created a backlog of flights looking to depart. So there we sat delayed on the tarmac as the snow continued to fall steadily.

Despite being delayed by almost 3 hours it was the captain's charm that had appeased the restless passengers. The groan of disdain was in unison when the delay was announced. People whinged and complained when they were made to stand outside on the tarmac in the falling snow, yet when the pilot stood at the front of the plane looking disheveled and tired, he assured the plane that he wanted nothing more to be back at home with his family than stuck behind a line of planes. This simple act of showing that he was human lead to the unscrunching of faces as the crowd prepared themselves for the long night ahead. It may have been the charismatic nature of the pilot but the mere act of informing the people of the situation and his own desperation reveal that showing a little humility goes a long way.

Vienna, Austria. I write this, half asleep, half awake. Undecided which state is more prominent, yet I know, that sleep is the only thing on my mind. I would, at this moment in time trade my liver for sleep or possibly my first new born. Up until now I had a routine for weekend flights. It ran like clockwork, like a finely tuned machined in a Japanese factory, well a non-Toyota factory. A procedure so refined that it detailed the intricacies from waking early, to double checking documents, knowing what to pack, knowing what to charge, where to catch the bus, put simply, I had weekend travel down to a tee. This trip would not follow that procedure and be the mark of many firsts.

Saturday 4:30 am. My clothes, reeking of Korean BBQ from last night's dinner. My breath, smelling like a suspicious mix of tequila and Sambucca. My backpack, looking dangerously under packed slung over my shoulder. Me, a picture of lost youth, I collapse like a bag of old clothes on the train. It lurches forward into the darkness as I drift in and out of sleep. At this moment in time my biggest fear was not missing my flight, but waking up in Brighton at 6 am. I dreaded the weekend ahead, I dreaded the Monday. I finally arrive at the airport, it comes as no surprise that the flight has been delayed. Gatwick Airport, I'm greeted by 2 familiar and obviously under the weather faces. One gurgles before vomiting in the recycling bin before boarding the plane. I wasn't the only one feeling rough.

As planned, this trip to Vienna was to re-kindle the love of the festive season, to huddle around with steaming cups of mulled wine, ginger bread biscuits and to be dazzled by all the offerings of the Viennese Christmas Markets. The group dynamics of this trip would also be different, we had fresh faces in London and their enthusiasm and desire to travel the cities reminded us of past trips and previous vigors. I looked at myself, no longer the fresh faced traveller, it was refreshing and alarming at the same time. We were dragged through freezing winter conditions from Christmas Market, to restaurant, from palace through to the trails of Mozart. I say dragged but deep down I was secretly glad the motivation was there. In total, we managed to make it to three markets. Schnonbrunn, Rathausplatz and my favourite the charming Spittelberg.

So as I sit here and type, my focus lapsing from the meager 2 hours of sleep the night before. I force myself to finish this post. Wondering if there were any glaring omissions from this recount as well as entertaining other questions. eg. Can you die from a lack of sleep? 9:30 pm Monday evening, completely exhausted and signing out. My bed calls for me, I call back...

"I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death" - Nasir Jones, New York State of Mind

Morocco (Part 1)

A bloody outrage! It still amazes me how a trip was booked over the Halloween weekend. Unfathomable, one of the more enjoyable holiday dates in the UK was to be spent plain-clothed, civilised and sober. The inquest finished and we forlornly prepared ourselves for our four-day trip to North Africa. There would be no fetish-derived ghouls or trick-or-treating but rather an eye-opening experience that would reignite the love for travel.

The adventure begins at 2:30 am on the Friday, 29th October. This, hands down, is the earliest I've had to wake up to travel. A quick bus ride down to Vauxhall and we were soon speeding down the M23 bound for Gatwick Airport. It should come as no surprise that the flight was uncomfortable, sleep was hard to come by but these are usual traits of budget airlines. We had boarded what would appear to be some kind of Venga-plane. People were talking boisterously and joking, smiling and having copious amounts of alcohol. All the while the three of us sat, pinned up in the last row with blood-shot eyes and a longing for sleep. 3 hours into the 3 and half hour flight, it was announced that the plane had run out of beer. It was 8 am and people were getting drunk. It would be a long trip with unbearable, draining transits.

9 am, arriving in Marrakesh, we were picked up at the airport by our Riad owners and taken into the city. The drive itself was an eye-opener, camels, donkeys, motorbikes, dust and authentic North African Architecture greeted us as we entered the Medina of Marrakesh. We met with the riad owner who showed us around the exquisitely kept riad. Unanimously we agreed to get some sleep before exploring the city. Waking a couple of hours later with a mighty appetite we headed to the main Square. Our accommodation, a brisk walk away from the centre stage for all things Moroccan, Djamaa El Fna.

Of the four days, two were spent on a desert tour the with the majority of our time in Marrakesh spent in the main square exploring the Souqs and trying to find our way into the blasted the palace.

The striking thing about Djamaa El Fna is how it changes through out the course of the day. During the day there's the faint smell animal waste, all the while, hash dealers, orange juice vendors and beggars all vying for your attention, or more importantly for your coin. Motorbikes zip through the bustling streets ducking and weaving in between pedestrians. The assortment of henna artists and Snake charmers mashed in with the perpetual dusty haze. Come sunset and the place transforms. All the zaniness of the day remains however this is the time when the locals come out and the food stalls open, smoke from the grills and the steam from tagines fill the air.

It really is a sensory wonderland. The sights, the smells, the animals and the people. The locals will grab you and demand money for anything and everything under the sun. You want a photo of that, you have to pay for it. The thing is you can't brush them off with the usual lie of "I'm just taking a look" or the"I'll be back later" because they remember and they'll confront you about it "You said you would come back".

With help from our Riad owners, we signed up for a 2 day trip into the Moroccan desert for a tidy fee of €72 per person. The details of the tour were unknown to most of the tour group with the idea of camping in the desert the only intel. The drive was testing and our Berber guide aka driver wasn't particularly informative. Every now and the berber would turn to the group

"Do you want to stop and take photos?"
"What is this place?"
* incoherent ramble *
"No, let's keep driving"

This conversation took place countless times and not once did we stop aside from the occasional toilet break or leg stretch. Thankfully we had been lucky enough to have a good group on tour. The three Australians, 1 american and 4 canadians made up the group. Plenty of laughs and banter which kept the 8 hour journey bearable. Our two day drive would take us from Marrakesh to Zagora passing through the Atlas mountains, with stop overs at Quarzazete and the Draa Valley and passing a traffic causing car accident.

This brings us to the actual "desert" experience. Despite not being the Sahara, there were still high expectations of the desert, unluckily for us we arrived at the camel rendezvous point after sunset, the next 1 hour was spent riding a camel. The novelty of riding a camel wore off 2 minutes into the 1 hour camel ride. Camels are such awkward creatures, passive and rhythmic. Three things I've learn about camels, you can't fall asleep while riding a camel, camel riding leads to camel chaffing and camels can defecate while on the move. So we plod into the darkness, the longer we trekked the more remote our surrounding became.

At last we arrived and alighted the camel caravan, it was pitch black and only the faint outlines of the Berber tents could be made out at the camp site. Our epic journey had come to an end, there was sand beneath our feet but we couldn't see anything. This was until one of my friends said "oh shit, I lost my phone riding the camels". So with our berber the two us jumped into the Van (the Van drove into the desert with our luggage) and started to backtrack our way back. Two problems with this plan. 1. The Berber tour guide had no sense of direction. 2. A phone was lost in a desert. A desert! We were looking for a phone in the desert, in the middle of the night. It must have been the fatigue or the lack of food which clouded rational thinking.

For some reason during this period of driving slowly through the desert our berber coincidently forgot all English. The driver went the wrong way and ended up lost in the dessert. Not only were we lost, but the van was blogged down in sand. Lost and stuck, so we got out and started walking, after 20 minutes of walking in darkness with the flashlight of my phone the only light. Seeing this as futile exercise we were sent back to the Van (the lights were left on so we could easily identify it's location). With that our Berber disappeared into the desert night (with my phone) leaving us in the van. Mentally we prepared ourselves for spending the night in the van. Thankfully we had food, water, our possessions and hashish - perhaps why we were so blase about this predicament.

Long story short, an hour later our berber appears out of the darkness with help, a robbed man with a huge shovel. Who in turn, clears the sand from the tires and points us off in the right direction back to camp. Our hero! Enjoyed some Tagine and some singing and chatting around the camp fire.

The experience itself was amazing, no showers, no free running water. It was roughing it out at its very best. Woke up at 5:30 and it was freezing! Sunrise was amazing and it was a pleasant surprise to fling open the tent flap to reveal sand as far as the eye could see. It was spectacular. Breakfast was served as the sun rose over the mountains the dessert started to warm up, soon we were back on the camels making our trek back to the van. The drive back was tough, we were tired, dirty but the drive through the rural villages, a sandstorm and the Atlas Mountains was something else. Arrived back into Marrakesh just after 5 pm and checked into our new riad and immediately booked ourselves into Hammam and massage. So clean, so fresh. Caught up again with the tour gang for a late night meal.

London feels so foreign and regiment since getting back. Definitely one of the few countries I would return to! My camera is on Struggle Street.

Oktoberfest: 2010 release

It was billed as the rematch. 12 months ago I had passed out after a gruelling 6 hour drinking session. I had become another statistic of the 16 day event known as Oktoberfest. This time round I was determined, experienced and better prepared and I had grand ambitions to last out an entire day of drinking. Confidence is one thing, being delusional is another.

I, like many, suffer from the common problem of Asian Flush. This enzyme deficiency leads to the embarrassing situation of turning bright red after a handful of drinks. I decided I would attempt to remedy this problem at the world's most famous beer festival. Again, this was unsuccessful.

The Opening Ceremony of the 200th Anniversary of the most famous beer festival was exactly as I remembered - Plenty of drinking, the price of a stein had jumped to €9. Plenty of eating, it still amazes me how they manage to churn out quality food for the masses. Plenty of shenanigans, ass pinching, tobacco snorting, Europeans with yellow fever. Plenty of causalities. Plenty of memories, managed to catch up with my old Dragon Boat coach from Canada. Excellent times! Prost!

Oktoberfest 2009

I've officially experienced one of the busiest working weeks in my short working-career. Feature creep, misinterpreted requirements, various hacks and a tight deadline have culminated to what would either be a spectacular fail or conversely a product that would make Steve McQueen proud. To say work was busy would be an epic understatement. Let's back this up to Friday evening: 10 pm. I had just reached the 15th hour of work. To make matters worse, the air-conditioning had shutdown for the weekend and the cleaners had gone home. My eyes - dry and tired. My hands - cramping, RSI kicking in. My brain - mush. The Bulldogs - lost. My 6:20 pm flight to Munich - missed. This week - shit.

Despite this, I clung onto the only positive about missing my flight. That I would get to see my sister. At least, so I thought. Long story short, her roster had changed and she would no longer be flying to London but to Manila. This was rock bottom. I needed to drown my sorrows, I needed a beer.


What my sorrows got was not a drowning, it was asphyxiation by 6.9 million litres of smooth amber liquid. Resuscitated, then re-drowned until it was nothing but a soggy memory. On average, 6 million other people will head to Munich during this 16 day period. All with the same intention: to drink, eat and sing. It is the opposite of misery and self-wallow, it is Oktoberfest.


I arrived in Munich late Saturday evening. People of all ages were out walking the streets in traditional lederhosen and dirnl. The two days spent in Munich felt like one huge alcoholic roller coaster. It was as if the entire town was intoxicated (both fesitivity-wise and literally).

I'll try to outline a typical Oktoberfest day. Wake up early, you'll need to start lining up to get into the Beer Tents. By 9:30 most of them will close their doors until later in the evening. Activities that take place include:

Drinking: A Stein (1 litre of preservative free beer, higher-than-normal) will set you back approximately €8-10. The price of water was about €4. Prost!


Eating: Pretzels, breads, Schnitzel, Hendl, sausages and pork knuckles.


Talking: Great place to talk to people from all around the world.

Singing: Traditional Bavarian folk songs plus a healthy share of western classics make for a huge sing-a-long (Hey! Baby, Better Man, Country Road, Seven Nation Army).

Passing out: The higher than usual alcoholic content of beer claimed many casualties. Ranging from vomitting, passing out and alcohol poisoning.


Should you survive till 10 pm, there are countless after parties to take you deep into the evening. The legal drinking age is 16 and Oktoberfest caters to people of all ages. The grounds are not only home to beer tents but a Royal Easter Show-esque carnival. Amazing festival, definitely recommended and I'd consider returning in 2010.


Munich wasn't all about drinking (although it felt like it). On our final day we made the choice to visit Neuschwanstein Castle. It was a grueling 2.5 train + bus ride but the view was amazing. The tour was somewhat lackluster as was the hideous scaffolding but it added the final splash of culture this trip was missing.

Viva La Vida

The familiar yet still unsavory chime of my alarm rouses me from my sleep. Scrunching my eyes tightly together I breathe a heavy sigh and roll over to my side. I blindly fumble for my alarm clock. Prying my eyes open proves to be a less than simple task. "Just another 5 minutes". Despite having almost 12 hours of sleep I still feel completely rundown and soon find myself negotiating with my sleep deprived alter-ego for more sleep. "How about going to into work late? Actually, you should call in sick".

Snapping out of my stupor I casually slip my earphones on and listen to Coldplays' Viva La Vida. The introduction brings back a wave of memories, Spain, Bilbao, San Sebastian, Pamplona and Ibiza. In short, this trip is best described as an agglomerate, a sensory orgy of all things Spanish; food, culture and friendships old and new. Indelible and memorable, this trip will be forever held as the climax of my European travels. If my EU travels were to be analogous to sex, this would be the orgasm. Similarly, I find myself lying on my back in a state of contemplation.

I trudge into the shower and soon find myself humming the tune that will forever be associated with what was an amazing holiday. Viva La Vida, Spanish for "Long Live Life". Amen to that.

Saw us coming ...

'If you met two girls on this trip and they asked you to stay one more night in Berlin would you do it? OK, OK, how about if you met two girls and one of them was hot? What if, one of the girls was interested? What if I met a girl and I needed a wing man would you stay?' Suffice to say, I answered yes to all these hypothetical questions about the circumstances that would keep me in Berlin. Heineken in one hand, relaxing by the river as the mysterious Berlin fluff idles on a beautiful Monday afternoon. What better way to wind down another weekend trip. Monday 4:35 pm.


"Hey, I'm not going to be coming into work today. I missed my flight back to London. The next available flight is Wednesday morning". It so happened that we missed our flight home, by a lot. The S-Bahn arrived at Berlin-Schönefeld Airport at 6:30. Our flight was at 6:30. Standing disorientated and covered in sweat we stood dumbfounded staring at customs. How did we completely mismanage time? The next 2 hours was spent trying to find an alternative route home. We poured over the possibilities: Other flights to London, flights to adjacent cities, trains, buses. We even contemplated driving home, but at €1300-2000 to hire a car in Berlin and drop it off in London, this idea was quickly abandoned. Dejected and defeated we booked the next available Easyjet flight back to London (£52). Wednesday 7:25 am.

Up until now our Berlin trip had been amazing, glitch free. First two nights were spent at Hotel Berolina Kurfürstendamm (£29pn).


Diner at The Berlina Republik.


Partying at Fitz Club.


City Bike tour with Fat Tire.


Wall on the East Side Gallery.


The trip malfunction essentially split the holiday into two halves; almost like the old city of Berlin. Spent two nights in CityStay Hostel.

Dinner at KFC.


Bike riding and getting stuck in a storm. It was almost completely the opposite. Still, Berlin is not the worst city to be staying an extra night even if it's for the lousy reason of missing your flight.