Why is it that I can never have a holiday without something going
wrong with the organising part?! I rocked into London after an hour’s
flight from Edinburgh and they hadn’t put my bag on the plane. No
problem; it was only one night, and I was going back to the airport the
next day anyway. It was actually kinda cool, because it meant I didn’t
have to lug my big pack around with me on the tube.
What
happened the next day I didn’t expect – I rocked up to Heathrow extra
early to get my bag, but I couldn’t find the damn baggage office. Every
British Airways staff member I asked couldn’t tell me where to find it,
and I wandered around two Terminals for about an hour and a half,
getting more and more stressed, before finally finding a BA ‘staff
locator’ phone. After ringing about 20 times to speak to someone, they
advised me to get on my flight or I’d miss it, worry about the bag in
Singapore, and they would try to put it on the same flight.
When
I rocked into Singapore feeling totally knackered, the bag was nowhere
to be seen, and so I lodged another report of missing luggage and had to
be content trying to chase it up from Indonesia. Then, not only did I
have no bag, nor was I sure if I would get it at all, but I had to spend
an extra day in Singapore.
Before I left Indonesia,
Australian Red Cross & the Dept of Immigration hadn’t processed
my KITAS visa in time (which allows us multiple entry into Indonesia) so
I had to get an exit pass and then apply for the usual visa in
Singapore. No problem normally; but I’d already booked and paid for all
my flights and was scheduled to arrive back Monday 5th January in
Simeulue. I had to spend an extra day in Singapore to process my visa,
which meant changing my Singapore – Medan - Simeulue flights by a day.
The Singapore – Medan flight was the killer; due to the time of year
there were no flights available apart from travelling business class or
paying twice as much.
So, in the end, ARC organised for me to do this:
1. Spend the day in Singapore (no problem, wandering around the shops is ok for me!)
2. Catch a ferry to Batam Island (Indonesia)
3. Spend a night in a hotel in Batam
4. Get
a flight the next day to Medan (ended up being delayed for 4 hours -
boo! I have spent so much time sitting around in airports I’ve lost
count)
5. Stay overnight again in Medan, as my flights don’t connect
(no problem, I was happy to catch up with Wendy and Agnes, two mates
living there)
6. Fly to Simeulue the next day.
So in
the end, it cost a lot more money and I arrived in Simeulue two days
later than scheduled. What a lot of fucking around. If they’d got off
their ass and organised it properly beforehand (they had so much time!),
it would have saved all of that, plus a lot of frustration and boredom
from me. Blergh.
Adding to my woes when I got back to
Simeulue were my phone calls to BMI central baggage HQ; they didn’t know
where my bag was. Eventually they located it and after lots of stuffing
around with sending it on different airlines, my good buddy ShirShar
from Norwegian Red Cross picked it up from Medan’s Polonia airport and
brought it to Simeulue. Hooray! So when I get back from the field on
Friday, I can finally download and share all my photos (which I’ve been
dying to do – my chargers and cables and everything are inside!). Phew!
Now just have to tackle a week in the field…
Monday, January 12, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Day 3: let the drunkenness continue!
After deciding we should get up in our reasonably tired and hungover
state, Australia discovered that Canada had left the building. We had
intentions of going to see the castle today, given that our previous
efforts had failed, but thought that first we would try and find out
where Canada was. And, easy as you like, our first guess was right: in
the closest possible drinking location – the pub downstairs! With
America. I never knew the two ever got along so well.
The drinks were already flowing, so we decided we needed to join in the New Years’ Day festivities. Soon we were emptying our pints and the shots began. After the amount we’d drunk the night before it didn’t take long before we were starting to feel it again! By now America were drunk enough that they didn’t want to go back to Birmingham as planned, for their next work day; after calling up the boss they were granted permission to stay another day and drink on with us. Sweet!
And then the stories from New Year’s Eve, in particular Up the Kilt, started flowing. The funniest thing from all the reminiscing was when I pulled out the condom I had scored from Mr Health Worker Tom, and realised that it was a “GI Jonny” Condom – the namesake of our new American buddy, whom I had also pashed the night before. Absolute GOLD for Australia! It even said “To inform and protect” – very appropriate given his profession as a US army officer.
By this stage Jen was in fine form and decided to go out, with Rach in tow, to buy a souvenir that she had spied in a nearby shop. They returned not long afterwards with their new purchases: religious t-shirts, which were very funny at this stage, as well as some ultra-loud, ultra-fluorescent beanies. Jen’s t-shirt read “Don’t panic! I’m Islamic” and Rach’s read “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” These were immediately much revered by the group, and therefore Jen decided that we all needed one. Mine read “Jesus loves you – but I’m his favourite”. My own favourite however was Keith’s, which read “I’ve found Jesus – he was behind the sofa the whole time”. Gold!
After all the shots, other drinks, t-shirts, spilling drinks, karaoke and obligatory air guitar, the staff at the World’s End decided it was time to kick us out (about the 100th time for the week!). So out we went into the cold. By now Rach and I decided we needed to find some more food; on our return we discovered our pals in the nearest pub – the Royal Mile, our favourite haunt from a few nights ago. And then more drunkenness ensued. We managed to meet a few Irish chicks; their very camp friend Martin, who took a real shining to GI Jonny; and a bit later in the piece, three very also-camp Italian guys. One we immediately named Salmon, due the colour of his cashmere sweater. The other two were also great; one being a big hulk of a guy, who was extremely lovely, just like a big teddy bear, whom I subsequently spent the next few hours hugging; the other was a small, skinny guy in tight jeans and a waistcoat, quite cute actually, who seemed quite curt at first but by the end was just as fun and raucous as the others. It was absolutely hilarious.
By this stage the music was turned up, the singing and dancing had spilled over into the entire bar and we ended up dancing on the tables. Even our big gay friend, who, at the recommendation of the barman, found quite a sturdy table to jump up onto. The bar staff at the Royal Mile were absolute champs and put up with all our nonsense for the whole night without kicking us out. Eventually when the pub closed we had no choice but to leave, and all went our separate ways.
Day 4 was our last day in Edinburgh, which finished rather sadly with an extremely hungover brunch, where none of us could really string many sentences together. America had dropped in to say goodbye before departing on the train back down to Birmingham. And so I farewelled Australia and Canada on their drive back to Norwich, and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out in Edinburgh. I decided to go for a wander around the town; I was so hungover that my postcard to mum and dad fell out of my pocket and I didn’t even notice. I’d spent so long looking for a stamp for it too! After wandering up the castle, and seeing how long the ticket line-up was, I decided I couldn’t cope with waiting in line for half an hour, let alone a castle tour. So for the second time that week, I had been to Edinburgh castle but had not actually gone inside. Nice one Jac.
What I wasn’t too hungover for was wandering around an art gallery. I could try and tell you who the exhibition was by and where it was housed, but that part has also sadly departed from my memory. I do know he was a German artist and I really enjoyed admiring his work…! Upon catching the bus to the airport, it really hit home that The Big Adventure was finally over :( But it had been RAD. And definitely the best New Year’s ever!
All of the drunken evidence is here. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60781&id=543196685&l=1f6a28c582
The drinks were already flowing, so we decided we needed to join in the New Years’ Day festivities. Soon we were emptying our pints and the shots began. After the amount we’d drunk the night before it didn’t take long before we were starting to feel it again! By now America were drunk enough that they didn’t want to go back to Birmingham as planned, for their next work day; after calling up the boss they were granted permission to stay another day and drink on with us. Sweet!
And then the stories from New Year’s Eve, in particular Up the Kilt, started flowing. The funniest thing from all the reminiscing was when I pulled out the condom I had scored from Mr Health Worker Tom, and realised that it was a “GI Jonny” Condom – the namesake of our new American buddy, whom I had also pashed the night before. Absolute GOLD for Australia! It even said “To inform and protect” – very appropriate given his profession as a US army officer.
By this stage Jen was in fine form and decided to go out, with Rach in tow, to buy a souvenir that she had spied in a nearby shop. They returned not long afterwards with their new purchases: religious t-shirts, which were very funny at this stage, as well as some ultra-loud, ultra-fluorescent beanies. Jen’s t-shirt read “Don’t panic! I’m Islamic” and Rach’s read “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” These were immediately much revered by the group, and therefore Jen decided that we all needed one. Mine read “Jesus loves you – but I’m his favourite”. My own favourite however was Keith’s, which read “I’ve found Jesus – he was behind the sofa the whole time”. Gold!
After all the shots, other drinks, t-shirts, spilling drinks, karaoke and obligatory air guitar, the staff at the World’s End decided it was time to kick us out (about the 100th time for the week!). So out we went into the cold. By now Rach and I decided we needed to find some more food; on our return we discovered our pals in the nearest pub – the Royal Mile, our favourite haunt from a few nights ago. And then more drunkenness ensued. We managed to meet a few Irish chicks; their very camp friend Martin, who took a real shining to GI Jonny; and a bit later in the piece, three very also-camp Italian guys. One we immediately named Salmon, due the colour of his cashmere sweater. The other two were also great; one being a big hulk of a guy, who was extremely lovely, just like a big teddy bear, whom I subsequently spent the next few hours hugging; the other was a small, skinny guy in tight jeans and a waistcoat, quite cute actually, who seemed quite curt at first but by the end was just as fun and raucous as the others. It was absolutely hilarious.
By this stage the music was turned up, the singing and dancing had spilled over into the entire bar and we ended up dancing on the tables. Even our big gay friend, who, at the recommendation of the barman, found quite a sturdy table to jump up onto. The bar staff at the Royal Mile were absolute champs and put up with all our nonsense for the whole night without kicking us out. Eventually when the pub closed we had no choice but to leave, and all went our separate ways.
Day 4 was our last day in Edinburgh, which finished rather sadly with an extremely hungover brunch, where none of us could really string many sentences together. America had dropped in to say goodbye before departing on the train back down to Birmingham. And so I farewelled Australia and Canada on their drive back to Norwich, and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out in Edinburgh. I decided to go for a wander around the town; I was so hungover that my postcard to mum and dad fell out of my pocket and I didn’t even notice. I’d spent so long looking for a stamp for it too! After wandering up the castle, and seeing how long the ticket line-up was, I decided I couldn’t cope with waiting in line for half an hour, let alone a castle tour. So for the second time that week, I had been to Edinburgh castle but had not actually gone inside. Nice one Jac.
What I wasn’t too hungover for was wandering around an art gallery. I could try and tell you who the exhibition was by and where it was housed, but that part has also sadly departed from my memory. I do know he was a German artist and I really enjoyed admiring his work…! Upon catching the bus to the airport, it really hit home that The Big Adventure was finally over :( But it had been RAD. And definitely the best New Year’s ever!
All of the drunken evidence is here. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60781&id=543196685&l=1f6a28c582
Snogmanay, Up The Kilt challenges, ghosts, whisky tours, Americans, Jesus t-shirts and three consecutive days of drunkenness...
...aka New Years’ Eve in Edinburgh!
So, where to begin with THIS adventure. Well, maybe at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
It was awesome to see Rach, my great mate from uni all those years ago, when I stepped off the train in Leeds. We later worked out it had been five years since we’d last seen each other. And that’s way too long (so we’ve vowed to make sure the next meeting is within that time frame). Rach had driven from Norwich in north-west England, where she’s currently studying her Masters in International Development and Conflict. She had brought two other ladies with her – a Miss Audrey and a Miss Katie, two Canadians, one of which who studies with Rach in Norwich, and the other who works for a small NGO in genocide prevention.
And so we zoomed off towards The North. That’s actually what it says on the road signs. I figured it was some sort of indescribable region in an upwards direction, so we headed there given that Scotland is north of England (!). After a mammoth drive (merci beaucoup chauffer Rachael) we finally arrived at the now very dark Scottish border for an official picture of our first foray into the country.
Then the challenge was on to find our apartment with all the one way streets. Boo! In the end it wasn’t too hard, and we were delighted to find the apartment located right on the Royal Mile, the main cobblestoned drag through the town, which led directly up to Edinburgh Castle. Perfect! It was on the fourth floor (and the narrow, lighthouse-style stone stairs were a killer) above a great little pub called the World’s End, which soon after we discovered was even better inside with friendly staff and a rad menu. So our night finished after a few wines and an agreement that we shouldn’t get too drunk on our first night, especially with New Year’s coming up and a day of exploring the city to come.
The next day we were out and about exploring Edinburgh. Given how early it gets dark at this time of year, we decided to take on the challenge of reaching Arthur’s Seat, atop a lofty perch overlooking the city. So up we laboured, cameras in hand, stopping extremely often along the way – not only because the light was beautiful and the views of the city were stunning, but because we were already tired! We lost Audrey early on in the piece and after Rach and I decided to make our way to the top we also lost Katie. In the end I was the only one who made it right to the top. But that was ok, it was getting time to cruise back down the mountain and find our fellow comrades.
Some piccies at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60796&id=543196685&l=5779fd1fb7
We wandered back down the mountain and around the streets of this beautiful city, admiring the ancient architecture and the way the castle imposed itself at the opposite end of the city to Arthur’s Seat, forebodingly observing the goings-on of the city below. When we eventually made our way back to the Royal Mile we found our friends in a state of already advanced inebriation in a pub across the road, and sat down to polish off a bottle of wine with them. After we’d been kicked out of the pub (not Australia’s fault, it was those rowdy Canadians) we went back to the apartment to drop off Canada and proceeded to grab a nice, relaxing quiet dinner for two before joining a ghost tour. Edinburgh is said to have a gruesome history of burning witches, torture, poverty and other dark secrets and we wanted to find out what these were, as well as where the spirits left behind by these practices were lurking. Unfortunately due to the time of year (and the offer of a free drink at the end), the tour was packed and the company had two concurrent tours going, which meant competition for time and space and a long, annoying wait at the tour’s start for everyone to pay.
Eventually the tour began, with a wander through the streets, a quick history lesson and then into some old, dark and damp vaults which were originally designed for the storage of bulk goods such as tobacco. When this idea failed due to the influx of water through the limestone, the vaults became the hiding place of the homeless, who were not legally allowed to exist on Edinburgh’s streets, and white witches, who practiced their religion in secret to avoid being burned at the stake. The cramped conditions led to poor sanitation, high levels of disease and therefore mortality, and it was the ghosts of the poor that were said to inhabit these vaults. We didn’t see any. Nor was the tour scary in any way – even after the claims that it has featured on numerous TV shows as the most able to prove the existence of ghosts, and the lame and futile attempts of one of the guides to jump out and scare us at the end.
After being quite disappointed with the ghost tour and the shady location of our ‘free drink’, we headed out of the bar on the lookout for something a bit more welcoming. We found quite a dearth of appropriate places, so after stepping into and almost immediately out of a quite shady establishment we resigned ourselves to going back to the apartment, even though we were both clearly up for something a bit more fun.
While walking back down the Royal Mile, we passed a little pub of the same name. Fortuitously someone ahead of us just happened to step inside, and the very rad live music filtering out of the place, for just a moment, was enough to get us straight in there. Great minds think alike. After a while I had acquainted myself with a nice Italian boy and Rach had literally grabbed the arm of a New Zealander posing as a Scotsman – asking him ‘where to next?’ under the impression he was a tour guide – and we had our chaperones for the night.
Roberto had lost his mates a few hours earlier and Pete was up for some more adventures after the pub closed, so the four of us headed out into the cold in search of Grassmarket – a street downtown which was home to more drinking establishments. By the time we got there it was around 2am and the only place we could find was a very Woolshed-like (ugh!) pub-slash-club, but it did the job until it closed an hour later. Just enough time to grab a couple more drinks, talk a bit more shit and have a bit of a dance before heading home. Day one of drinking over.
So, where to begin with THIS adventure. Well, maybe at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
It was awesome to see Rach, my great mate from uni all those years ago, when I stepped off the train in Leeds. We later worked out it had been five years since we’d last seen each other. And that’s way too long (so we’ve vowed to make sure the next meeting is within that time frame). Rach had driven from Norwich in north-west England, where she’s currently studying her Masters in International Development and Conflict. She had brought two other ladies with her – a Miss Audrey and a Miss Katie, two Canadians, one of which who studies with Rach in Norwich, and the other who works for a small NGO in genocide prevention.
And so we zoomed off towards The North. That’s actually what it says on the road signs. I figured it was some sort of indescribable region in an upwards direction, so we headed there given that Scotland is north of England (!). After a mammoth drive (merci beaucoup chauffer Rachael) we finally arrived at the now very dark Scottish border for an official picture of our first foray into the country.
Then the challenge was on to find our apartment with all the one way streets. Boo! In the end it wasn’t too hard, and we were delighted to find the apartment located right on the Royal Mile, the main cobblestoned drag through the town, which led directly up to Edinburgh Castle. Perfect! It was on the fourth floor (and the narrow, lighthouse-style stone stairs were a killer) above a great little pub called the World’s End, which soon after we discovered was even better inside with friendly staff and a rad menu. So our night finished after a few wines and an agreement that we shouldn’t get too drunk on our first night, especially with New Year’s coming up and a day of exploring the city to come.
The next day we were out and about exploring Edinburgh. Given how early it gets dark at this time of year, we decided to take on the challenge of reaching Arthur’s Seat, atop a lofty perch overlooking the city. So up we laboured, cameras in hand, stopping extremely often along the way – not only because the light was beautiful and the views of the city were stunning, but because we were already tired! We lost Audrey early on in the piece and after Rach and I decided to make our way to the top we also lost Katie. In the end I was the only one who made it right to the top. But that was ok, it was getting time to cruise back down the mountain and find our fellow comrades.
Some piccies at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60796&id=543196685&l=5779fd1fb7
We wandered back down the mountain and around the streets of this beautiful city, admiring the ancient architecture and the way the castle imposed itself at the opposite end of the city to Arthur’s Seat, forebodingly observing the goings-on of the city below. When we eventually made our way back to the Royal Mile we found our friends in a state of already advanced inebriation in a pub across the road, and sat down to polish off a bottle of wine with them. After we’d been kicked out of the pub (not Australia’s fault, it was those rowdy Canadians) we went back to the apartment to drop off Canada and proceeded to grab a nice, relaxing quiet dinner for two before joining a ghost tour. Edinburgh is said to have a gruesome history of burning witches, torture, poverty and other dark secrets and we wanted to find out what these were, as well as where the spirits left behind by these practices were lurking. Unfortunately due to the time of year (and the offer of a free drink at the end), the tour was packed and the company had two concurrent tours going, which meant competition for time and space and a long, annoying wait at the tour’s start for everyone to pay.
Eventually the tour began, with a wander through the streets, a quick history lesson and then into some old, dark and damp vaults which were originally designed for the storage of bulk goods such as tobacco. When this idea failed due to the influx of water through the limestone, the vaults became the hiding place of the homeless, who were not legally allowed to exist on Edinburgh’s streets, and white witches, who practiced their religion in secret to avoid being burned at the stake. The cramped conditions led to poor sanitation, high levels of disease and therefore mortality, and it was the ghosts of the poor that were said to inhabit these vaults. We didn’t see any. Nor was the tour scary in any way – even after the claims that it has featured on numerous TV shows as the most able to prove the existence of ghosts, and the lame and futile attempts of one of the guides to jump out and scare us at the end.
After being quite disappointed with the ghost tour and the shady location of our ‘free drink’, we headed out of the bar on the lookout for something a bit more welcoming. We found quite a dearth of appropriate places, so after stepping into and almost immediately out of a quite shady establishment we resigned ourselves to going back to the apartment, even though we were both clearly up for something a bit more fun.
While walking back down the Royal Mile, we passed a little pub of the same name. Fortuitously someone ahead of us just happened to step inside, and the very rad live music filtering out of the place, for just a moment, was enough to get us straight in there. Great minds think alike. After a while I had acquainted myself with a nice Italian boy and Rach had literally grabbed the arm of a New Zealander posing as a Scotsman – asking him ‘where to next?’ under the impression he was a tour guide – and we had our chaperones for the night.
Roberto had lost his mates a few hours earlier and Pete was up for some more adventures after the pub closed, so the four of us headed out into the cold in search of Grassmarket – a street downtown which was home to more drinking establishments. By the time we got there it was around 2am and the only place we could find was a very Woolshed-like (ugh!) pub-slash-club, but it did the job until it closed an hour later. Just enough time to grab a couple more drinks, talk a bit more shit and have a bit of a dance before heading home. Day one of drinking over.
New Year’s Eve – Up the Kilt!
And so New Year’s Eve arrived. Both Canada and Australia got off to a
sluggish start, but Australia soon took the lead after breakfast and
set off towards the castle, leaving Canada to eat our dust. But
something along the way caught our attention: the Whisky Tasting Centre.
Considering we both like a drink of the stuff we headed inside to see
what it was all about, and promptly booked ourselves onto a whisky
tasting tour. We had a bit of time before it started, and we were
freezing, so we nipped into a cosy little pub and grabbed ourselves a
goblet of red. Probably not the best way to start off a whisky tour and
by the time we were done my head felt considerably lighter, but we made
it inside and learned all about the art of perfecting whisky, followed
by the tasting of a single malt and a blend. This added to that familiar
feeling of light-headedness, and feeling quite happy with ourselves we
headed back through the city the scenic way, setting up our night’s
dinner at a Japanese restaurant and grabbing ourselves a slab of fudge
from the shop up the street. And so we never actually made it to the
castle.
After finding on our return that Canada had been sleeping all afternoon, and a bit of a nanna-nap ourselves, we hotted ourselves up for a big night out at Hogmanay – the reason we had made the pilgrimage here in the first place. Hogmanay is Edinburgh’s famous street party that attracts tens of thousands of revellers every year. And in particular it seemed to attract Aussies and Kiwis in hordes – we were quite disappointed to meet more of them, and other tourists, than Scots themselves.
At dinner we formulated our ‘Up the Kilt Challenge’. Being four females, three of us single, it was always going to be a bit of a boy-chasing weekend, and so we decided we needed a challenge to keep us entertained for the night. Up the Kilt basically involved pashing people (keeping in the tradition of Snogmanay!) according to various categories (someone with a name starting with the same letter as yours, from a country on the other side of the world, someone ten years older or younger than you), getting photos of random things (ie with policemen and if possible, whatever lies (hangs?) beneath Scotsmens’ kilts), stealing things (scarves, hats), getting things from people (condoms, phone numbers) and other juvenile nonsense. Gold in the making…
So, lists in hand, we made our way down to Princes St. First off the mark was Australia, with me approaching the first policemen I saw to ask for a photo. First points to me, yah!!! And then of course we proceeded to the bar to buy beers.
Standing on the street corner at the main intersection, we set up our position for the night – and what a great one it was. We had people streaming past us from three different directions, and didn’t have to move the whole night to meet a lot of fun people from all over the world. In fact there were four different stages playing live music and other entertainment, but we didn’t see any of it because we were having too much fun at our little outpost!
Up the Kilt provided a good conversation starter and soon we had some hilarious conversations going on with random passers-by. When it came to the condom question though, many guys were quite offended and got a bit disgruntled when we asked. Weird! I started talking to an English guy called Tom, who happened to be a health worker – perfect! A person in such a responsible line of work was sure to have a condom. And he did, and even better, he was more than happy to part with it! As well as his phone number. Bonus! So I killed two birds with that stone. Thanks Tom.
In the meantime we had managed to meet a bunch of Americans who were based in Birmingham, working for the US Army and supporting the war in Iraq. Now this was a bit unfortunate for them, but they were all champs and became our mates for the rest of the night (and the next day). Jon, Keith, Dan & Jen were quite amused by Up The Kilt and after an explanation to them, Jon happened to comment that he was more than happy to help out with any point scoring. I didn’t need to be asked twice – Jon was hot, so I pashed him and he became my points for 1. having a name starting with J, and 2. being from the other side of the world. Sweet!
Then, randomly, our Italian friend from the night before, Roberto, happened to walk past with his mates. Next thing I look up and Rach is pashing Roberto! More points to Rach – name starting with same letter, and boy from other side of the world… hehe! In fact Rach and I had a competitive thing going on – Australia vs Australia – as well as with Canada, particularly when it came to attempting to get photos of Scotsmens’ wares.
The worst thing about festivals such as Snogmanay is the toilet line-up. The row of porta-loos stretched all the way to the castle (well that may be a little embellishment of the truth), and the distinction between the line-ups to each one was always blurred… elbows were definitely required! Just in front of us was one of the million Aussies in the place, easily identifiable due to the Australian flag draped over him. I thought he looked like an idiot, so I asked him (rather indignantly I must admit) ‘what are you wearing that flag for?’ He proceeded to get quite pissed off, and said he was proud to be Australian and wanted everyone to know where he was from. Then he told me I was un-Australian for bagging him! The girl in the line in front of me gave me a mouthful as well. Luckily we had reached the front of the queue by then, and escaped a likely tussle with our fellow Australians when Rach shoved me into the porta-loo. Good save!
So then midnight arrived and there were amazing fireworks over Edinburgh castle. By this stage there were plenty of Scots (and pretenders) more than happy to flash us, and then the competitive streak in all of us definitely came out. Someone managed to get some evidence of flashing, but it’s definitely not going on Facebook!
And a little while later, I found out why they call it Snogmanay. Things were winding up and Canada, Australia and America had decided to head back up to town and find somewhere new to party. We were walking up the street just talking crap; I looked up to see a guy walking directly towards us, making a beeline for me; then he was in front of me, and just grabbed me for a pash. Random! My immediate thought was ‘how old is this guy and where is he from?!’ because he looked about 18 – and I thought I might get some points for pashing someone ten years younger than me from the other side of the world :) The latter point, yes, as he was Brazilian – but he was 23, so I lucked out with that one. After solving these two profound mysteries, I decided he was cute and a good kisser, so I pashed him once more before keeping on walking up the hill. The others told me it was like witnessing the embrace of two lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. For me it all happened very fast! Hehe!
And after that brief moment, it was game on! For some reason, my actions were the catalyst for an immediate flurry of point-scoring in the Up the Kilt Challenge. Random pashes were handed out left right and centre. Scots were approached to show us their wares in an attempt to get an elusive photo! On our walk back up the hill towards the tourist strip, I proceeded to grab a hat from a random person’s head and ran off. But almost immediately after legging it up the hill, hearing his surprised shout and then pursuit, I realised it was a futile exercise and stopped in my tracks, sheepishly handing it back to its rightful owner, much to everyone’s amusement. Almost got some points. D’oh!
Eventually we found a nightclub called Espionage and headed inside. The place was huge, and on entry and setting up a spot at the bar, we ran into some Swedes who were busy slurping down their Vodka illusions, and invited us to join in. I think this set the tone for the rest of the night! So much so that at a later point in the night, after moving from our original position, I suddenly realised that we’d left our jackets at the other bar with all my money, phone and other valuables in the pockets, so I ran off to retrieve them all… only to find that I couldn’t find them, and that all four floors of this gigantic place were all exactly the same. I ended up going round and round the floors and staircases and getting more and more worried about my valuables. I finally found the bar and a pile of coats that I thought were ours, and started going through them looking for my wallet, much to the dismay of the people at the bar who thought I was trying to flog their valuables! In the end I finally ran into Rach on one of the floors, and begged her to lead me back to where we were, and where our jackets also were. What a tosser!
After a while we decided we were all hungry and it was time to go home, so we headed out to grab some disgusting – yet strangely satisfying – UK takeaway before heading back. And then the one thing that Jon will never do again, to ask me: “So what are your thoughts on America’s involvement in the war in Iraq?”
And I let loose! I think he was very sorry he asked… but I learned some interesting things about people working in this job: the main one being that they have been completely brainwashed by their government about their duty to protect America’s sovereignty, doing the ‘right thing’ by leading the Iraqi people to democracy (yeah right! I don’t think they tell them about America’s real interests in the country), so much so that they can’t see just how much damage they are doing and how the world views them. But by talking to him I also became more aware of the huge psychological damage that this war has inflicted on America’s soldiers. Something to ponder at 4:30am on the first day of 2009.
After finding on our return that Canada had been sleeping all afternoon, and a bit of a nanna-nap ourselves, we hotted ourselves up for a big night out at Hogmanay – the reason we had made the pilgrimage here in the first place. Hogmanay is Edinburgh’s famous street party that attracts tens of thousands of revellers every year. And in particular it seemed to attract Aussies and Kiwis in hordes – we were quite disappointed to meet more of them, and other tourists, than Scots themselves.
At dinner we formulated our ‘Up the Kilt Challenge’. Being four females, three of us single, it was always going to be a bit of a boy-chasing weekend, and so we decided we needed a challenge to keep us entertained for the night. Up the Kilt basically involved pashing people (keeping in the tradition of Snogmanay!) according to various categories (someone with a name starting with the same letter as yours, from a country on the other side of the world, someone ten years older or younger than you), getting photos of random things (ie with policemen and if possible, whatever lies (hangs?) beneath Scotsmens’ kilts), stealing things (scarves, hats), getting things from people (condoms, phone numbers) and other juvenile nonsense. Gold in the making…
So, lists in hand, we made our way down to Princes St. First off the mark was Australia, with me approaching the first policemen I saw to ask for a photo. First points to me, yah!!! And then of course we proceeded to the bar to buy beers.
Standing on the street corner at the main intersection, we set up our position for the night – and what a great one it was. We had people streaming past us from three different directions, and didn’t have to move the whole night to meet a lot of fun people from all over the world. In fact there were four different stages playing live music and other entertainment, but we didn’t see any of it because we were having too much fun at our little outpost!
Up the Kilt provided a good conversation starter and soon we had some hilarious conversations going on with random passers-by. When it came to the condom question though, many guys were quite offended and got a bit disgruntled when we asked. Weird! I started talking to an English guy called Tom, who happened to be a health worker – perfect! A person in such a responsible line of work was sure to have a condom. And he did, and even better, he was more than happy to part with it! As well as his phone number. Bonus! So I killed two birds with that stone. Thanks Tom.
In the meantime we had managed to meet a bunch of Americans who were based in Birmingham, working for the US Army and supporting the war in Iraq. Now this was a bit unfortunate for them, but they were all champs and became our mates for the rest of the night (and the next day). Jon, Keith, Dan & Jen were quite amused by Up The Kilt and after an explanation to them, Jon happened to comment that he was more than happy to help out with any point scoring. I didn’t need to be asked twice – Jon was hot, so I pashed him and he became my points for 1. having a name starting with J, and 2. being from the other side of the world. Sweet!
Then, randomly, our Italian friend from the night before, Roberto, happened to walk past with his mates. Next thing I look up and Rach is pashing Roberto! More points to Rach – name starting with same letter, and boy from other side of the world… hehe! In fact Rach and I had a competitive thing going on – Australia vs Australia – as well as with Canada, particularly when it came to attempting to get photos of Scotsmens’ wares.
The worst thing about festivals such as Snogmanay is the toilet line-up. The row of porta-loos stretched all the way to the castle (well that may be a little embellishment of the truth), and the distinction between the line-ups to each one was always blurred… elbows were definitely required! Just in front of us was one of the million Aussies in the place, easily identifiable due to the Australian flag draped over him. I thought he looked like an idiot, so I asked him (rather indignantly I must admit) ‘what are you wearing that flag for?’ He proceeded to get quite pissed off, and said he was proud to be Australian and wanted everyone to know where he was from. Then he told me I was un-Australian for bagging him! The girl in the line in front of me gave me a mouthful as well. Luckily we had reached the front of the queue by then, and escaped a likely tussle with our fellow Australians when Rach shoved me into the porta-loo. Good save!
So then midnight arrived and there were amazing fireworks over Edinburgh castle. By this stage there were plenty of Scots (and pretenders) more than happy to flash us, and then the competitive streak in all of us definitely came out. Someone managed to get some evidence of flashing, but it’s definitely not going on Facebook!
And a little while later, I found out why they call it Snogmanay. Things were winding up and Canada, Australia and America had decided to head back up to town and find somewhere new to party. We were walking up the street just talking crap; I looked up to see a guy walking directly towards us, making a beeline for me; then he was in front of me, and just grabbed me for a pash. Random! My immediate thought was ‘how old is this guy and where is he from?!’ because he looked about 18 – and I thought I might get some points for pashing someone ten years younger than me from the other side of the world :) The latter point, yes, as he was Brazilian – but he was 23, so I lucked out with that one. After solving these two profound mysteries, I decided he was cute and a good kisser, so I pashed him once more before keeping on walking up the hill. The others told me it was like witnessing the embrace of two lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. For me it all happened very fast! Hehe!
And after that brief moment, it was game on! For some reason, my actions were the catalyst for an immediate flurry of point-scoring in the Up the Kilt Challenge. Random pashes were handed out left right and centre. Scots were approached to show us their wares in an attempt to get an elusive photo! On our walk back up the hill towards the tourist strip, I proceeded to grab a hat from a random person’s head and ran off. But almost immediately after legging it up the hill, hearing his surprised shout and then pursuit, I realised it was a futile exercise and stopped in my tracks, sheepishly handing it back to its rightful owner, much to everyone’s amusement. Almost got some points. D’oh!
Eventually we found a nightclub called Espionage and headed inside. The place was huge, and on entry and setting up a spot at the bar, we ran into some Swedes who were busy slurping down their Vodka illusions, and invited us to join in. I think this set the tone for the rest of the night! So much so that at a later point in the night, after moving from our original position, I suddenly realised that we’d left our jackets at the other bar with all my money, phone and other valuables in the pockets, so I ran off to retrieve them all… only to find that I couldn’t find them, and that all four floors of this gigantic place were all exactly the same. I ended up going round and round the floors and staircases and getting more and more worried about my valuables. I finally found the bar and a pile of coats that I thought were ours, and started going through them looking for my wallet, much to the dismay of the people at the bar who thought I was trying to flog their valuables! In the end I finally ran into Rach on one of the floors, and begged her to lead me back to where we were, and where our jackets also were. What a tosser!
After a while we decided we were all hungry and it was time to go home, so we headed out to grab some disgusting – yet strangely satisfying – UK takeaway before heading back. And then the one thing that Jon will never do again, to ask me: “So what are your thoughts on America’s involvement in the war in Iraq?”
And I let loose! I think he was very sorry he asked… but I learned some interesting things about people working in this job: the main one being that they have been completely brainwashed by their government about their duty to protect America’s sovereignty, doing the ‘right thing’ by leading the Iraqi people to democracy (yeah right! I don’t think they tell them about America’s real interests in the country), so much so that they can’t see just how much damage they are doing and how the world views them. But by talking to him I also became more aware of the huge psychological damage that this war has inflicted on America’s soldiers. Something to ponder at 4:30am on the first day of 2009.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Stomp and chomp: a random Mancunian Christmas
Lucy Gash is a champ, and I love her to bits. It was the second time
I’d been adopted into someone’s family during this trip, and for
Christmas it is even more special to spend time with ‘family’. Lucy
lives in Marple, a small town about half an hour south of Manchester,
and I was stoked to have been invited to spend Christmas with her and
her family. Her house is absolutely gorgeous – it’s half of a lovely
renovated old heritage home at #1 Lime Kiln Lane, with big bay windows
overlooking the park, and is constructed as three split levels. She
bought it from her parents, who live in the other half – which is
perfect for nipping next door to attend Christmas dinners! – but still
allows for more than enough privacy.
When I arrived, I was introduced to Brian and Mary, Lucy’s parents, who were both champs as well (seems to run in the family!). Brian reminded me so much of my grandpa Mel, it was great, and like my grandpa, he likes a drink and making sure that everyone else around him is enjoying one too. Our Christmas Eve lunch-slash-dinner was also shared with Lucy’s sister Katherine (aka “boobs” – I love sisterly nicknames!) her boyfriend Olly, Lucy’s brother Dan and his girlfriend Jane. By mid-afternoon we were all a bit jolly and had stuffed ourselves with a usually unacceptable amount of roast turkey, vegetables, gravy, chocolate roulade and pear jelly. The pissiness continued into the evening (which begins at about 4pm, it gets dark so early. I couldn’t handle it) when we traipsed down to one of the two local pubs to meet up with Lucy’s new man, Robbo. Speaking of champs, add another one to the list!
Christmas Day involved a lot of food, again! I was a little surprised when Lucy gave me a couple of cute Christmas gifts – which was totally unnecessary considering just having me there for Christmas was present enough. I had bought her a small present though, so that made me feel a bit better! The presents kept flowing when we arrived next door, and were clearly a big part of the Christmas ritual for their family. I always find it interesting to see how different people do it, because for my family, presents aren’t a big deal, especially now that we are all (apparently) grown up. But everyone had clearly put a lot of thought into what they bought each other, which I really value. The Quality Streets chocolates and champagne were also flowing!
After stuffing ourselves for the second Christmas lunch in a row, we went for a wander up the garden path – oops I mean the lane – to visit some friends’ of Lucy and Robbo’s. We spent the night playing Guitar Hero on Playstation, as well as belting out a few tunes on the karaoke channel. It was good juvenile fun for big kids!
Boxing Day we finally got our asses off the couch and headed off to “Stomp & Chomp” 2008. Great name! This is an annual event organised by a local, which is basically an orienteering expedition through the Mancunian countryside, in teams of up to five, based on clues and observations. This year’s route took us along stone walled public access paths across rolling fields, through sloppy, muddy patches, up the hill to a big cross monument, via an obligatory mid-way pub stop-off where I was able to try the local “bitter” brew, along a lake and river, through a golf course, and back to the pub we started at for some much-needed beef hotpot. It was great fun, and definitely a unique way to see the countryside.
It was just as I imagine rural England to look like: green rolling hills criss-crossed by ancient stone walls, small villages with their local pubs dotted here and there, woolly white sheep with fat tails wandering about. And there was something refreshing (although it was bloody freezing!) about traipsing around the place in a big jacket, boots, beanie, scarf and gloves, totally warm on the inside but feeling like your face is going to freeze off.
On the 27th Lucy had organised to meet some friends for lunch at the pub (where else?) over yonder. “Over yonder” in this case is as it sounds – over the hills and far, far away – well far enough to walk for a couple of hours. Robinson, who I’d met the night before, joined Lucy, Robbo and I on our trek across the countryside. It was a great day for walking and we crossed over our route from Stomp and Chomp via the cross memorial on the top of the hill. Nothing like crunching all the glass-like ice on the surface of the puddles when you’re rugged up and walking around in the cold! I enjoyed meeting all of Lucy’s childhood friends, and they’d all kept in touch even though many of them lived away from Marple and now had families of their own.
Later in the day two of Lucy’s friends Lara & Courtney, who had driven up from London, joined us at the pub. He is a Jamaican that has made his money in the UK as a DJ. The poor buggers recently had to postpone their Christmas holiday back to Jamaica because Courtney had lost his passport, and wasn’t able to replace it in time! But the good thing was it meant they were able to spend some time with us. After heading back from the pub, a bit of chilling out, wine in hand, some traditional Christmas game-playing (in this case Jenga!) and some food at Lucy’s, we headed down to the other Marple pub for more socialising and beer drinking. It was another fun night of just hanging out and talking rubbish which ended in a random visit to the other pub once ours closed, and managing to flog a long blonde wig from one of the Marple locals. I must say Courtney looked particularly ravishing in it – being Jamaican and all!
Check out my pics! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=64727&id=543196685&l=10e1866171
And then it was one last brekky – Robbo’s famous bubble (of the bubble and squeak fame, but said with a Mancunian accent, hilarious!) topped with a poached egg being the new food of choice – before boarding the train for one last adventure: New Years in Edinburgh.
When I arrived, I was introduced to Brian and Mary, Lucy’s parents, who were both champs as well (seems to run in the family!). Brian reminded me so much of my grandpa Mel, it was great, and like my grandpa, he likes a drink and making sure that everyone else around him is enjoying one too. Our Christmas Eve lunch-slash-dinner was also shared with Lucy’s sister Katherine (aka “boobs” – I love sisterly nicknames!) her boyfriend Olly, Lucy’s brother Dan and his girlfriend Jane. By mid-afternoon we were all a bit jolly and had stuffed ourselves with a usually unacceptable amount of roast turkey, vegetables, gravy, chocolate roulade and pear jelly. The pissiness continued into the evening (which begins at about 4pm, it gets dark so early. I couldn’t handle it) when we traipsed down to one of the two local pubs to meet up with Lucy’s new man, Robbo. Speaking of champs, add another one to the list!
Christmas Day involved a lot of food, again! I was a little surprised when Lucy gave me a couple of cute Christmas gifts – which was totally unnecessary considering just having me there for Christmas was present enough. I had bought her a small present though, so that made me feel a bit better! The presents kept flowing when we arrived next door, and were clearly a big part of the Christmas ritual for their family. I always find it interesting to see how different people do it, because for my family, presents aren’t a big deal, especially now that we are all (apparently) grown up. But everyone had clearly put a lot of thought into what they bought each other, which I really value. The Quality Streets chocolates and champagne were also flowing!
After stuffing ourselves for the second Christmas lunch in a row, we went for a wander up the garden path – oops I mean the lane – to visit some friends’ of Lucy and Robbo’s. We spent the night playing Guitar Hero on Playstation, as well as belting out a few tunes on the karaoke channel. It was good juvenile fun for big kids!
Boxing Day we finally got our asses off the couch and headed off to “Stomp & Chomp” 2008. Great name! This is an annual event organised by a local, which is basically an orienteering expedition through the Mancunian countryside, in teams of up to five, based on clues and observations. This year’s route took us along stone walled public access paths across rolling fields, through sloppy, muddy patches, up the hill to a big cross monument, via an obligatory mid-way pub stop-off where I was able to try the local “bitter” brew, along a lake and river, through a golf course, and back to the pub we started at for some much-needed beef hotpot. It was great fun, and definitely a unique way to see the countryside.
It was just as I imagine rural England to look like: green rolling hills criss-crossed by ancient stone walls, small villages with their local pubs dotted here and there, woolly white sheep with fat tails wandering about. And there was something refreshing (although it was bloody freezing!) about traipsing around the place in a big jacket, boots, beanie, scarf and gloves, totally warm on the inside but feeling like your face is going to freeze off.
On the 27th Lucy had organised to meet some friends for lunch at the pub (where else?) over yonder. “Over yonder” in this case is as it sounds – over the hills and far, far away – well far enough to walk for a couple of hours. Robinson, who I’d met the night before, joined Lucy, Robbo and I on our trek across the countryside. It was a great day for walking and we crossed over our route from Stomp and Chomp via the cross memorial on the top of the hill. Nothing like crunching all the glass-like ice on the surface of the puddles when you’re rugged up and walking around in the cold! I enjoyed meeting all of Lucy’s childhood friends, and they’d all kept in touch even though many of them lived away from Marple and now had families of their own.
Later in the day two of Lucy’s friends Lara & Courtney, who had driven up from London, joined us at the pub. He is a Jamaican that has made his money in the UK as a DJ. The poor buggers recently had to postpone their Christmas holiday back to Jamaica because Courtney had lost his passport, and wasn’t able to replace it in time! But the good thing was it meant they were able to spend some time with us. After heading back from the pub, a bit of chilling out, wine in hand, some traditional Christmas game-playing (in this case Jenga!) and some food at Lucy’s, we headed down to the other Marple pub for more socialising and beer drinking. It was another fun night of just hanging out and talking rubbish which ended in a random visit to the other pub once ours closed, and managing to flog a long blonde wig from one of the Marple locals. I must say Courtney looked particularly ravishing in it – being Jamaican and all!
Check out my pics! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=64727&id=543196685&l=10e1866171
And then it was one last brekky – Robbo’s famous bubble (of the bubble and squeak fame, but said with a Mancunian accent, hilarious!) topped with a poached egg being the new food of choice – before boarding the train for one last adventure: New Years in Edinburgh.
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