We have lift off.

$5 worth of beer at the local markets. And a guitar. Poser.
Very tempting.

City by the sea.

He is very deep.

Top'o'tha world baby.

Plenty boats.

Sideways.

Not even good.

Just your average day in Marseille.

If Alex Pardee was still poor.

Quite romantic really.

Botany bay. Except France.

Traffic jam.

Some guy got in my photo. And now he's famous.

On the train from Paris to Marseille. Aka when the sun came out.

$3.5 and 4hours sleep. woo.
Nafan wanted a disclaimer saying he is fakeing. Incase you couldn't tell.

Walking home from the straight gaybar.

Malintocks fridge.

Paris is way exciting.

Some freaky church at night.

View from top of Eiffel Tower. By nafan.

Cliche asian Timqth at front of tower. Beautiful Paris weather.

Coffee away from the ghetto.

Cute french girl drawing in the Luve.

Best breakfast/lunch ever.

For some reason all the photos are in reverse. So if you start at the bottom and go up then that's the order we did stuff.

No more writting. You're all sick of using your brains anyway.

Love Timqth.

This is what living like this does.

Rah!
scared ya.

Once again I have no way to show you pictures. Which is quite sad. But (yep, I used but at the start of a sentence, suck on that primary school english) I promise that as soon as I can I'll give you a photo tour of the past week or so and it'll be so awesome you'll wee your pants.

So, update you want hey? well here you go you greedy Australians. Last day in Paris we got up about 10. I think. I don't really remember. That's right we walked around for ages on thursday night trying to find a pub/club in Paris. But alas the city of lights was the city of darkness/closed train stations so at 1am after only finding one really expensive pub we started the long walk home seeing as the trrains were already closed.

Anyways, got up on Friday morning and I started off slow. Nafan wanted to go to Notre Dam etc. But I'd had enough of being a tourist. We washed our clothes at a random laundry mat and nathan was on his way. I on the other hand hung around the ghetto, checked out some shops, bought a ridculously awesome pastry, talked to some people and then headed back to the hostel to read Nafan's graphic novel, which is awesome, and now finished.

I fell asleep at some stage and was woken by two girls also staying in our room, one was NZ and the other NZ/german. So I talked with them, joined by the Aussie dudes and then eventually Nafan. The two girls then left for the Luve (howeever you spell it) and me and Nafan went and got some dinner. Together with the Aussies and NZs we all had a few drinks at the hostel ($3 for 1.5L of good tasting wine, yay) and then the two other Aus dropped the ball and went to bed. So the remaining four soilders went to a random pub, then another pub which i think was a gaybar but I'm not 100% sure. Either it was a gay bar with a lot of strait people or vica versa. Reguardless it was a good night and didn't end till about 3:30-4am.

Awaking at 8:30am (groan) blurry eyed and scratchy throat, Nafan and I lazily (but happily) away from our bollox hostel and headed to the train station to journey to Marseille. This turned out to be the best decision so far on this trip. The train trip itself was enjoyable as we were both wrecked and the scenery was awesome. The side of France I was looking for. Lots of rolling hills, massive green farmland, small towns. I actually felt really close to my dad's dad (who was a farmer) on that trip. Which was kinda weird but in a good way.

Once we arrived at Marseille we, once again, let our unorganisation take control and just guessed where to go. Fast foward two hours and a few more swear words and we made our way all the way back to our train station and took a different street, finding our hostel about 30seconds walk from the original destination. Thus bringing about our new pact to be more organised, which I am proud to say is working quite well.

So first night in Marseille we talked to a South African who told us were the good places to go were. Weighing the possibilities of a good night compared to a good nights sleep, we went with going out (mainly to show the 32yr old doctor and his 'male friend' we were youthful and full of spark). This also proved to be an awesome decision, as after a few minutes of cruising the bars we heard a couple notes of potential come from an underground sort of bar. Upon entering we were faced with one of the most entertaining/talented live bands I've come accross (also helps that it was free). Think of an acid jazz version of Protest the Hero with only drums, bass, keyboard and every now and then flute and that's kinda what they sounded like. You heard me kevin.

After about five 7minute songs they finished there set and we went to the "place to chill" pub, chilled and then headed home at about 1:30am, passing a fat night walker, then passing a massive transvestite street walker who was apoligising to a man in a car for being male. Fun times.

The next day we awoke at 9:30am to go to some bush walk, turned off our alarms, awoke again at about 12:30 and decided against the bushwalk. Instead we headed down to the port/beaches and walked along them. Weather was awesome as was the day. When we arrived in Marseille Nafan and I both had this feeling we were closer to home which we decided came from being so close to the water. Don't really know how else to explain it.

We walked for most of the day, soaking up the view and people, before heading back to the hostel and 'chillin' with the South African we'd met the night before. Early night (10:30 for Nafan, 11:30 for Timqth because Nafan snores.lawl.) and alarms went off again at 9:30am which we then obeyed and one 45min long royters shower later we were on our way to the bushwalk scene.

Another excellent decision later we were standing in front of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. People complain they can't tell if I'm being sarcastic, I promise I am not. It was rediculously aweomse. About an hour,a Nafan "bush it"and two make-shift detours later we walked down the massive, seaside mountains we were perched upon and found a little (as in one pub and about 10 houses) town settled right on the edge of the water. Dozens of boats and sparkling clear water made me want to go to Lake Conjola, which was a strange sensation, but hundreds of photos later we decided to head back and try and retreive Nafans lost credit card. Heading back was a joint decision between our brains and stomachs/mouths, we'd neglected to pack anything more than one apple seeing as we were told it was a "40min walk".

Home proved a lil more difficult than first anticipated as the road we follwed back took us in the wrong direction, but towards more awesome sights so it wasn't all bad. Using our supreme intellect we took a few short cuts and made it back to the uni campas which we'd started at. Public transport once again treated us well and we made it back to the hostel for a 4:30pm dinner.

Royters jumped straight on the guiatr and I went and found a cheap super market just up the road whiche we hadn't found on our previous outtings, probably because it was right near the crazy hobo with a massive ninja sticks hideout (that's also not a joke). I bought some nibblys and a few brewskys and here I am now. Heading to Nice tomorrow to stay at "Frances number one hostel" which should be wicked. Soon to meet up with the third Trois Bro and the yourope trip really gets cranking. Awwww yeeeea.

Love you all, Timqth.

In France: Following Trick

Hello readers!

I do apologise for the lack of output lately but there has been little time or opportunity for it. Last time I recall just having met up with Timqth. That was aeons ago it seems so much has happened. Right now, we're relaxing at THE best hostel (definitively) in the ghetto in Marsaille and it is incredible! But let's take this slow and chronologically. Plus, there is no USB drive or memory card reader so no pictures. Very very dissappointing!

Ok so going out with nato was great her dad shouted us a couple of rounds at a hotel bar on Haymarket street, ending up nicely with some flaming absinth. And we haven't even reached the bloc yet! Then we stumbled (perhaps groggily) through street after street until we found 'ronnie scotts', a jazz joint that I had been reccommended to by an usher on the train earlier that week. It was cuban night, and it was so smooth. The band members interchanged all the time in front of our eyes and just went bass to sax to vocals it was mad. There were some really terrible (older) dancers who seemed to outwiegh us young ones, and none of us were game to dance let alone the great tiredness that had set in (by 0300). So we saw nat off (the second time for me) and caught a night train. I believe there's a photo of me sleeping, because we had about an hour to burn at the station. Then, because we couldn't figure the bus timetable out we walked home to Ian and Danielles for what was never going to be the last time. Sleep came swiftly at 0600.

We awoke at 1300, and went into town before heading through the sleepy rain to our football match. And the mood was just as we'd both hoped. Thousands upon thousands of fans yelling and cursing and gesturing as one. The kids were heaps worse then their fathers which was funny as! We put in a bit though chanting 'Sefky' with the row behind us whenever the striker came within a 20m radius of the ball. The game ended nil all, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Not having spared any thought as to our route home, Tim and I headed for the nearest pub, humming with post game relaxed contentedness. Man, I miss those pints already. English pubs are so great I'll never forget them.

So we got picked up about 100m from home by E and D and went out to dinner with some of their equally quality friends for some additional beer and laughs. Oh man so much fun! The Gypsy Moth was the name of the pub and we were served by the most animated girl ever.

We tried to cram in a trip to the markets on Porto Bello road which were mostly antique and wholly devoid of activity, which ended up making us 10m late for our bus, rendering our 20 pound ticket useless. And needless to say, I was fuming. So we quietly rode out the wait until the next bus to Bath, eating our budget lunch from Sainsbury's. But Bath turned out to be a good call, crumbling stone cottages sprinkled over the deepest green of rolling hills, with crooked cobbled roads and clean country air. Fantastic. I, after getting fed up of not knowing where the hell we were, stormed into a pub to ask for directions to the hostel that had allegedly changed names, only to discover just how fateful our trip continues to be as it turned out to be the very one we had booked. So lucky!

There was only one other person in the room who was this New Zealander, and he was a freakin creep. He took like a minute to think of things to say and missed all the cues we were screaming at him. But we did survive and make it out with our innocence intact. We walked throught he markets, watching a man on a tall tall unicycle, a human statue, a really bad breakdancer who was tired every time we came back to see him, and a gaudy carousel which looked so impressive in the dusk scene.

Tim and I then wandered around, talking, finding places for me to 'find a release' for my notoriously inadequate bladder and filmed some stupid stunts around the parks. It was totally us, and totally lameass at the same time. We found out drinks were a pound fifty in the hostel bar and suffice it to say, by 1900 we realised just how liquered we were, and how embarrassingly early it was. But we pushed on, sobered up, saw some impressive avenues enjoyed by the wealthy populace and walked through the streets in the heavy cold until we found a pub that was free entry. I was talking to the bouncer and found out it was an open mike night, and after a combination of Tim pressuring me to go, the fact we were in YOUROPE, the (frankly) awkward efforts of preceding amatuer musicians and my own feelings of compulsion inspired by the thought that I wouldn't see anyone again, I took the guitar in one hand, a ruddy smile spilling across my face, and sung 'summers end' to the silent and enraptured onlookers. I got the privelidge of exiting to applause which I would like to presume was from the quality of my performance. So that was a good night.

Next day was the thermals themselves, where we soaked up the steam, atmosphere and bodily fluids of all the oldies that joined in and laughed because I, being unable to concieve an event 10m into the future, forgot swimwear and was 'forced' to stride around in my jocks. Many eyebrows and feeble heart rates were raised.

We then walked up a hillside overlooking the majestic splendour of Bath in the morning (with our encumbersome packs) and I serenaded the still scene with my trusty guitar. My alter ego itself. We actually did catch the bus this time and made our way back to England. I was left no choice but to stay at E and D's again because I couldn't reach my cousin, so we bought them some Bailey's (apparently the appropriate thing to do) and talked to the wee hours. Next stop was Paris, the city of light.

The weather was overwhelmingly underwhelming the whole time we were there, but it is a credit to this breathing, vibrant place that we still had a fantastic time. I've been trying to pick up as much French as possible and have had modest success when eating out, and will get the occassional laugh at my terrible prononciation. Our hostel here was a shi- hole. The taps were broken, the beds writhing, the rooms peeling and the bathrooms filled with a stale reek. A colony of Spanish people had commandeered half the facilities which left the rest of us in taco-less squalor. But all was well. We met many many Australians which was good and bad and got some good travel tips from a Belgiun which will undoubtedly come in handy. We are pretty ghetto savvy now, having seen more kebab outlets then Habibi and survived all the nights we were out. The first night we went to the church overlooking the hillside plaza where Amelie was filmed, and I was so excited. First day, we saw the conchord, champs de elsee, a stretch of the Seine, the louvre, and by then we were hammered. That night I went out walking cause Tim the big softy was le tired. I walked for a very very long time and got home at 0230 or something, feet soaked but heart contented.

The next day was the Eiffel tower and the Arc de Triumphe, which were incredible respectively. After that we tried to jump start some nightlife but the Parisians were also le tired and the metro, we discovered, closes very early so we walked again. Makes me so tired just thinking about it! The next day we washed our clothes (happy times for everyone), and then we split up. I hit the Palais de Luxembourg, then the Pantheon, then Notre Dame, then Seine, then Musee de Orsay which was sadly closed by the time I got there. Paris is so great I loved it! Then we bought a huge 2L bottle of Bordeaux's (truly) finest and set to enjoying our remaining hours in the world's worst hostel with a handful of boys from Oz, a smattering of New Zealanders, and a pinch of America.

Then there was this morning. That cocktail of savage hunger and uneasy stomach that I have not known for too long. We rolled out of our beds, moaning and staring at walls while each of us packed haphazardly and shoveled cereal through our tired lips. The TGV was perfectly timed, however, as we arrived at the station only to step directly onto the train.


Amidst sleep and wake I saw the increasingly sunny and magnificent countryside of Southern France, with its alps rising like spine across the flat plains and golden wheat rushing past us. We arrived in Marsaille, with the undeniable, indescribable, and uper promising scent of the sea, looking over the tops of graffiti painted cityscape to see a very coastal city with buldings tumbling down the slopes towards the waterfront and motorbikes whirring constantly in our ears. It's a beautiful place and I feel so much at home.

We walked right past out hostel as soon as we got here and were lost for many hours until locals and internet cafes steered us homeward to this exotic haven that I am currently typing in. This blog has been the product of a lot of time so for those who have read this far, thank you and know that despite me having my credit card eaten by an atm just before I began writing I am ok. All part of the ebb and flow of a perfectly unpredictable journey.

P.S we're in a Morroccan district so we ate for cheap tonight, our stomachs filled with meat and sauce that was so tasty I remembered where I was. France, the global hub of cuisine.

And I leave you with that! Too bad there are no pictures but I tried to be as lyrical as possible in compensation.

Au revoir!

Le fan.

Seeing as no one else loves you

Ill make another post.

itll be short because this keyboqrd is whak and it takes me ages to write anything because so,e of the keys are in weird spots and it makes me angry. also i cant upload photos and no one likes a book with no pictures.

so basically we got to france. are staying in a real dodgey hostel. i think the words shithole and ghetto and scabies have been said multiple times by the various people weve hung out with while staying here. eiffel tower was a lot more exciting than i hoped. the luve was wicked but really massive and destroyed our souls (both internal and external) due to size and the huge walk home because we went stinge and didnt want to pay for a train.

this is seriously really difficult to write on this keyboard and i am low on time. so i shall bid fair well. tonight is pubs/clubs with two aussie dudes, two laaaadaaaaays from NZ and an ignorant but entertaining american who wears way too much make up. tomorrow we leave at 10am for marseille which shall be relaxing/awesome.

untill then i love you all and wish you could all be hear protecting me from the latino gangs that hang out the front of our hostel and try to sell you stolen cigarettes while there friends try to steal your stuff at the train station.
=)
also cuz its fun.
xx

The Night Timqth Lost His Green Headband.

...and did other fun stuff too.

If Singapore was sideways this is what it would look like.

I just came here to answer a question. The question that has plauged everyone back home.

"What happens to your bull ring when you get a runny nose?"

Basically, it's gross. But not that noticeable until I get in front of a mirror and have a nice ol squiz inside.

Dude and his fully sick bike in Singapore.

Enough of the hard hitting stuff. I do believe last time I was on this sight I was a lil more asian and a lot more tired. Well let me tell you, that night on the plane I once again put fuel to the fire that I was autistic in a former life and displayed my ability to not sleep while next to people I do not know and thus spent a something-teen hour flight with no sleep.

hoorah!

First beer in Yourope, across from a pre-school.

So, arriving in London 5:30 am local time I settled down in a Starbucks (shut up it was the only place with seats that was open) and waited for Nafan to arrive. Our slow motion hug was a lil lacking in effort, mainly due to his early morning and my 10 hours sleep in the past four nights. Together we braved heavy back packs, cold weather, light drizzle and self-centered Londerners and enjoyed our (very hazey) first day together in Yourope, with a guest appearance from the beautiful Natalie.

Bloody tourists.

Nathan in front of that big screen in V for Vendetta.

Later that evening we staggered out of East Croyden train station and before I acknowledged how long it had been since I'd seen my cousin, we were sitting in a warm lounge room eating pasta drinking wine and being soothed by the constant worrying on Danielle that I looked ridiculously tired.

Hanging out at Nat's work.

You can look this good to if you try and see how little you can sleep for four days.

Fast forward through fried chicken, many long walks to/from Croyden train stations, expensive cocktails and absinth (paid for by Nat's legendary dad), fried chicken, a jazz club, getting home at 5 am, a very lack luster but enjoyable Crystal Palace soccer game, fried chicken and dinner with Ian and Dani's friends from Aus: Nafan and I found ourselves (on the second attempt to catch the 20 pound pre booked bus) in Bath.

Keeper sure didn't do much in this game.

Hanging in Nat's fancy hotel.

Nafan sleeping at a traino at 4am.

Quite easily the highlight of the trip so far, it was nice to breathe fresh air and not worry about getting mowed down by business people with their blue tooth ear piece and four thousand dollar (i.e 50 pound) suits. The buildings were wicked (even I took a few snaps) and the two attractive travelers wondered the streets, enjoying the shows, laughing at the rubbish they sold in the markets and regressing to the rowdy teens we once were *snickers* and running wild through one of the many river side parks.

We then began the difficult task of searching for our hostel without any directions, due to my awesome organisational skills and inability to function on little sleep. After asking a cliche english old lady who gave us directions but warned us "it's not called St Christopher's anymore, I'm not quite sure what they call it these days" we began a 20 min walk in circles in general direction she pointed. With no idea what we were actually looking for Nafan finally decided to just head into a nice looking pub and ask the staff if they knew. They did. In fact the check in area was the same counter they sold the drinks from.

6 am England; where your breath is as thick as custard.

15 mins later we were checked into our 14 bed dorm (with one other freak show occupant in it) and wandered back downstairs to watch the Arsenal vs Chelsea game (which we won, ooo yea) and take advantage of the cheap drinks they offered their guests. By about 8 pm we'd had our fill and ventured out into the night, stopping briefly for a finger licking good dinner. Coming across a pretty relaxed, young looking bar we wondered in to find an open mike night taking place, run by the most talented long haired, singlet wearing, bearded man I've come across. Between that moment and the time we crawled into bed at about 1 am Nafan performed two songs for the 30 strong crowd, I had my head band "borrowed" by the birthday girl and we recorded a dance film clip to "this is Simon Joyce" which was subsequently ruined by the weirdo New Zealand guy who lived in our hostel room (not a joke, well he was a joke but he did actually live in the 14 bed hostel dorm).

I thought I had more pictures of Bath than this.

Anyways next morning we awoke at about 8:30, had the free "breakfast" and strolled over to the spa's for a 19 year olds version of R&R. Together young Timqth and Nafan (in his jocks because he has no boardies) went to the rooftop heated pool and swam around with the old folks for a while. We ventured down into the steam rooms and inhaled many gallons of vicks vapour rub smelling steam before heading into the basement for some more fine swimming/annoying of patrons.

After our two hours was up and we were sufficiently pruned, we trekked up a fairly steep hill, chilled out/guitared at the top before heading back down and bussing it back to central London. We caught the train to East Croydon where bottle of Bailys in one hand and bag of apples in the other we endured our favorite freezing cold walk back to my cousins where all the problems of our generation get solved by young Timqth and his intelligent counter part.

Chillin in a park.

So that is a pretty good over view of my English experience. Tomorrow we head back into London and catch the Euro star to Pariiiiii.

Christmas at the Train Station.

Yay.

Noël and Saint Emilion.

Wow, i'm here again already!

I have had a fantastic, eventful few days... Bordeaux and the sorrounding area has brought out the goods again - they just put so much effort into everything.

On Saturday, Jeanne (the mother in my host family) and I went to the les Marchés de Noël (Christmas Markets) of Bordeaux. Despite the persistant rain and the damn cold it seemed like half of Bordeaux was there... and unsurprisingly, it was beautiful!

I love how much effort the Bordeaux council puts into its city's image. I was already dazzled by the city's natural beauty, its cleanliness, its big, open plazes, its modern transportation... (you get the idea) but for the Marchés de Noël, they went all out. Lights now dangle from every concievable location, Christmas trees adorn the sidewalks and clever lighting highlights the beautiful old buildings.

The bustling Marchés de Noël

Preeetty.

And there is a great atmosphere as you wander through the stalls, smell the sizzling crèpes and sip the vin chaud (hot wine). Although i was tempted (especially by those addictive crèpes!) I refrained from buying anything. I have become the ultimate stinge! haha!
After the markets we just wandered the streets of central Bordeaux - with me stopping every 10 seconds to take a photo - and entering whichever shops looked interesting...

The streets of lights ...

the open plazas ...

And Noël trees everywhere!

As beautiful as it was, we still returned home drenched and freaking freezing!
Later the night, however, i ventured back out into the rain to meet the NZer Ross from the alliance course and his friend, Rebecca (another Kiwi). We booked a table for 10pm at a lively Spanish bar the Bodega Bodega. It was another really fun night - we ordered a whole lot of different desserts and a forgotten amount of cheap pitchers of wine. The atmosphere was infectious and we were soon out of our chairs shouting with the loud, dense crowd especially after seemingly random trumpet calls. We were particularly amused by a table of girls next to us who had even more empty pitchers of wine!

As it approached 2am however, we left and followed the trail of people to a few more bars. By this point, however, we were more interested in the people around us and after getting into a lively discussion about Flight of the Conchords, we began to ask people if they knew the show. We had a little format going. We'd approach some random people, and one of us would ask in accented french Connaissez-vous l'émission Flight of the Conchords? (Do you know the show flight of the conchords) and they would look at us blankly and so we'd launch into a rendition of one of their songs - prodiminantly, it's business, it's business tiiiiime!! We thought that we'd found a kindred spirit when a girl replied 'oooooh, flight of the conchords?' and we were like YES, but then she replied 'oh no.'
Our eventual failure was so much more bitter after thinking we'd hit success.
This time i got home without a hitch and the door was much more responsive. I did find out however, on my arrival at home that i had lost the french SIM card that i had bought earlier that day so that i could recieve calls without paying and send cheaper SMS (I was very proud of myself - talked to a random french salesperson in french and understood. Yes, a nice moment). Mmmm, clever hey. Better a 10euro sim though then my wallet or something valuable!

I didn't actually drink much on Saturday night and so this morning i woke feeling tired but happy. After a delicious stew for lunch (which is like dinner here) we departed for a village near Bordeaux called Saint Emilion - I realised when we got there that this was the village that the random man was gushing about about last thursday night when he was buying us wine. And the random man wasn't lying, it was beautiful. An old traditional village set against endless fields of grapes!

The Girard Famille (minus stanislas who was playing hockey)

Emilion and I

Ahh, europe!

The Saint Emilion church..

This was the entrance to some wine making area..

The township.

And that's all for now.

Until a few days. It's time for bed.