Stepping out in Europe.

Dag, Zdravo, Bongiorno and Hello,
It's been a while since I last blogged, but the lure of the real world was stronger than that of the virtual so in light of that I have spent the last two weeks wandering around Southern Europe with 15 kilo's of underwear and t-shirts strapped to my back.
Apart from various stopovers in cities, towns, airports, ferries and train stations, Miss K and I spent most of our time in Dubrovnik, Croatia and Cinque Terre in Italy. Any decent travel agent or website can give you the usual details of these places and extol their benefits so I won't go into detail on that score here. Instead I'm going to try and break down some of the some of the more interesting views on my travel experience.
Before I start however, I will just say that both Dubrovnik and Cinque Terre are gorgeous and anyone reading this should be suitably jealous.
Anyway below, in more or less the order that they happened, are some of the things I learned on my travels:
-The tower in the Cologne Cathedral has 509 steps, which is how many aches my body had the day I climbed it.
-Dubrovnik's streets are made of white marble which reflects the street lights at night. The marble is clean and free of dirt crusted chewing gum spots.
-In summer, it's so busy in Dubrovnik's old town that for a roughly 10 day period, the police must stand at the two city gates and control the flow of tourists. As one group comes out, another is let in. The police are essentially door bitches for the entire city ('Sorry mate, private party. Your name's not on the door.' 'Not with that Hawaiian shirt pal.')
-Milo and Bozo are not a circus act, but the names of the owners of the two villas we stayed at in Dubrovnik.
-Staying at a villa with a Croatian family next door means that the owner's mother will bake you tasty treats and pat you on the arm in a reassuring manner. Baked goods and arm pats are included in the price apparently.
-Many of the buildings around Dubrovnik are in varying forms of ruin, usually as a result of being bombed in 1991.
-This bombing had a profound effect on the city which is still being felt today. Milo and Bozo, as well as possibly every other able bodied man were involved in the defense of the city.
-A 50cc moped with two people will go seventy kmh down a slope with a good run-up.
-The same moped will go zero kmh up a steep hill, regardless of run-up.
-I look silly in a cream coloured motorbike helmet (sillier than normal.)
-The walls enclosing Dubrovnik are two kilometres around and there are views on both sides. On the outside are the ocean, port and surrounding mountains and on the inside are buildings, streets and peoples backyards.
-Both views are equally interesting.
-The houses outside the old town cling to a steep mountain along tiny streets that are made up of hundreds of steps, each one of which caused new and interesting aches and pains to add to those from Cologne.
-Croatians can, on the whole, speak better English than Italians.


-Getting ripped off by a taxi driver who drives at 150kmh is not a good introduction to a new country.
-Neither is trying to sleep on the tiled floor of a small airport between midnight and six am.
-Miss K gets sillier as she gets tireder.
-Until she just gets grumpy.
-People flying to Milan seem well aware that it is the fashion capital of the world and dress accordingly, even at six in the morning.
-Except us.
-Not even its reputation for fashion could keep the stores open in Milan on Easter Sunday.
-This fact probably saved Miss K some money.
-However it couldn't save me from 'window shopping'.
-After Dubrovnik, the dirt crusted spots of chewing gum on Milan's street stood out like tired backpackers.
-Cinque Terre is actually a huge national park surrounding five small villages.
-These villages cling to cliffs or nestle in bays at the foot of huge terraced mountains. The terraces are planted with grape vines, olive trees and more lemon trees than I have ever seen.
-Nonna's have the utmost respect in Italian families.
-Nonna's who live on the terraced mountains of Cinque Terre not only have the respect of their families, they also have huge bloody calf muscles.
-The villages of Cinque Terre have only recently been joined by train lines, but the main way to get from village to village is by walking the mountain paths. The word 'mountain' in this scenario is entirely accurate, the word 'path' however is frequently optimistic.
-Each step on the mountain takes you higher and rewards you with amazing views.
-The ratio of amazing views to aching muscles is about even.
-Sticking your feet in the chilly spring ocean after four hours of walking feels great.
-It's probably not such a blast for the fish though.
-Telescopic aluminium walking sticks with rubber stoppers are all the go with walking groups of retirees from France and Germany.
-Actual sticks from the woods have, sadly, fallen out of favour.
-There are solar powered telephones at the top of steep climbs in case you have a heart attack.
-Despite this the start of these climbs are noticeably free of signs saying 'Climbing this hill could give you a heart attack, and at the very least will make your underarms sweaty and your feet stink.' Or words to that effect.
-Crazy, rip off merchant taxi drivers that make a bad first impression for an entire country can be offset by glamorous train conductors and generous members of the public.
-Whilst the English of some Italians is not so good, once they realise you don't understand they compensate by talking rapid Italian at you, possibly thinking that the more words they say, the more likely you are to recognise one of them.
-A week in a foreign country is just enough time to get used to thanking people in their own language.
-Saying Quanto Costa to a shop-keeper in Belgium will get you strange looks.
-Just because the airport you are flying from or to contains the name of a major city, doesn't mean it's actually anywhere near that city.

So that's a few of the things I have learned in my recent travels. I am briefly back in Belgium to wash the dust of the road from my clothes and try to get used to another pillow before we head off for a week in Cairo where I will be living all my favourite Indiana Jones memories (Snakes, why'd it have to be snakes?).

A couple of little bits of other news, I have added a new link to a blog from one of my compatriots who is eager to spread the gospel of talkin' shit. See recently sited, above on the left.
For more literary and high brow entertainment, check out the Salon held by Sleepers Publishing, a local Melbourne publisher (link also above). The one coming up has the author of one of my favourite books of recent times, Craig Silvey, who wrote Rhubarb. Check it out and support the grass-roots of publishing, details are on the site.

So that's it until after Cairo.

Tot Ziens, Dovidenja, Arrivederci and Goodbye for now.

Jeff