Krakow

It's time to dust off the keyboard and re-invigorate the fingers. My hiatus has been warranted, at least I believe so. November, simply put has been consumed by work. It gnaws at my patience, infiltrates my social life and leaves me in a stupor incapacable of discerning reality from office life. In other words, work has been busy. The exodus of expats has slowly come to a halt and despite the reduced numbers each weekend unfolds like the many before: hazy, distant, reckless and spontaneous. Of course, we can't forget one of the mains reason for being in the UK.

To travel. Next destination, Krakow. We had heard good things about Poland, relatively cheap, decent grub laced with plenty of culture. Unintentionally this had somehow ended up as a lad's trip and the had been billed by some as Bucharest, part 2. It turned out to be an intense 30 hours in Krakow and one of my favourite weekend trips to date.

Relatively cheap. We managed to get flights for around £68, one night at the Holiday Inn for £33 including tour prices and spending money the trip cost approximately £250.

Food. Not too many surprises here, follows the traditional Eastern Europe cuisine. Plenty of meat, potatoes, sauerkraut. There were a couple of gems that we stumbled across.

Mushroom Soup - Served in a loaf

Zapiekanka - The perfect after hours snack

Plenty of culture. I'll spare you the details but since coming back I've found myself immersed WWII history.

Auschwitz Concentration Camp

Salt Mines

Hookah - 30 minutes before the leaving for the airport

Home. Early flight back, time to meet my new house mates!

"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" - George Santayana

Sydney Goodies!

Nom nom nom - Thanks sis!

Cheddar

We left work early, left London late

to explore more of England and farewell a mate.
With provisions of noodles and Vegemite to snack
our luggage and boardgames we had in the back.
For three hours we drove through the highway darkness,
the GPS useless; we had no address.

Like the old man who wandered the street
we were lost, disorientated and suffering defeat.
It was dark, it was cold we'd driven for miles
our only landmark a pub with red tiles.
Four doors from there, we were told
West Moor Cottage our haven, our shelter from the cold.

We promised her eleven, twelve no later.
She revoked the contract, that old hater.
Enlisting the help of our local Saviour
we bargained and negotiated and asked for a favour.
Until she and her husband made amend
they agreed six could stay for the weekend.

The following day we woke to eggs and bacon.
A man in the kitchen, we were mistaken.
Saturday the caves, the goats, the cheese and the tower.
All trip long we argued the word 'flour'!
An afternoon of Cream Tea, the scones were unreal
before retiring to Wells for the evening meal.

Factoids, Humdingers and Cameos the attraction.
Cheese and Gin the main distraction.
Huddled, we sung under the starry night sky
Two shooting stars, why would I lie?
We readied for bed. Too tired to shower.
Revelation! It's daylight savings, lets stay up for another hour!

The house was cleaned and the men left last.
Glastonbury's Vegetarian breakfast - what a plastic farce.
Wookey Hole was rubbish so we unanimously agreed
to head back to Cheddar for a Sunday roast feed.
The drive home was easy with no need to hurry
so we opted for a Korean Dinner in nearby Surrey.

So there it is, our road trip in poem.
An epic weekend to Somerset then back home.
The singing, the cheese and the Nintendo DS
not to be forgotten, until next weekend's fancy dress.
A great trip. Good company. An indelible time.
So much so, I blogged this awful rhyme.

Always take the weather with you

This week marks two departures from London. Firstly, I think it's safe to say that London has felt its last ounce of warmth; Winter has set in. It's become bloody cold, bloody quick. Temperatures have dropped below 10 degrees and with that we bid farewell to the thongs and t-shirts and become reacquainted with jackets and our radiators. The upside is that I no longer have to properly iron my business shirts. A quick iron over the collars plus a fresh sweater and I'm ready for work; Little consolation really.


Over the last 18 months I have been fortunate enough to have met some really awesome people. I usually categorise my close friends as people I've shared life-changing experiences with or those who have been with me over a life-defining period. The two groups that immediately spring to mind are: High school friends and University friends.

So to this I add a new group: The London expat group. I had expected to come overseas and gain a greater perspective on the world. Live independently, travel abroad, open my eyes. What I had not expected was to meet people that I would share with me some of the best times of my life. The red eye flights, the same over crowded hostel, the same lousy discount carrier experience, the smiles, the laughter and even the tears of seeing friends leave.

The second departure ushers in the end of an era. My London initiation was void of the usual heartache of having to re-establish a social circle. Upon arrival I had the luxury of knowing people from Sydney here in London. It made the first couple of months bearable. I had a couch, advice on being an expat and for me, the most desirable, familiar faces. The last 6 months has seen people slowly return back to Sydney with the last person leaving this week. All the people I knew prior to coming to the UK have all but gone home. It just means less chance of somebody trying to derail your detox plans for the week; Little consolation really.

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss

My Birthday cameo

I celebrated last year's Birthday completely sober. Read: Completely sober. After 7 successive Birthdays being utterly intoxicated 2008's sober experience felt alarmingly foreign yet somewhat appropriate. This was a sign of things to come, I had mindfully pulled the handbrake on the reckless train of self-destruction. Maturity and self-preservation had prevailed. Unfortunately this was not a forecast of future Birthday processions. It would be a premature call and nothing more than an outlier; a statistical exception.

My recollection of October 9th is hazy at best. I remember being seated at my desk, a head popping up from the monitor in front of me saying "Are we going to the pub for your birthday?". I also remember rocking up to my birthday dinner at the Crown and Goose one hour late and extremely tipsy. I recall ordering the Roast Chicken and Pavlova. I remember not eating the pavlova. I remember a heartfelt Birthday speech. I remember being called "true blue", "a piss pot" and "a bastard". I remember drinking. I also remember being in a cab. I distinctively remember and vomiting 4 times at various places in Trafalgar Square much to the screaming of delirious passersby. I recall spending the best part of 5 minutes in Thai Square. I remember that SMS.


What a Birthday: Bring on 27!

Why are you going there?

An impromptu trip over to Romania for a 30th Birthday weekend. Weather was miserable - I only took one photo (from inside a cab).


Not much doing - Stayed what can only be described as the Bucharest projects. Had a tour night guide. Typical boys' trip out to Eastern Europe.

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.