(no subject)
Day: 77
Tal is: in Poland
The Chronicles of the Misadventures of Captain Talia and the Traveling Crisps
The next instalment in our saga is long overdue, and for that I am a shmuck and you have my permission to mentally smack me. But once that is out of the way, please read my life and tell me yours.
The end of our jaunt in expensive London town saw us head out a couple of times - one night to Camden Town where we saw Wade's band play at a deliciously rad venue that I forget the name of. It was so special to see and hug Wade, and Lukiss made my night when Christobel asked him something along the lines of "tell me something interesting" and he responded without a second's hesitation, "I have thrush."
We became even more familiar with the TV screen and the inside of the apartment, (the couple of beers I bought on that one night out probably cost me as much as a gold plated Angelina Jolie baby from Africa). I got through three books and started a fourth: Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk, The War of the Flowers by Tad Williams, The Game by Neil Strauss (ugh) and The Thief's Journal by Jean Genet.
At London Stansted airport on the way to Amsterdam, we checked in and then headed to the duty free candy store to try and get rid of our remaining Pounds. We spent AGES deciding on candy ("Do we have enough for Twix and Skittles? Maybe we should just get the Twix...." etc), and yep.... missed our flight. Grumpiness ensued, followed by anger at having to pay 35 Pounds to get on another flight, followed by acceptance, followed by extreme boredom, followed by exhilaration at finally boarding a plane to Amsterdam.
"Would You Sell Your Babies, Man?"
Amsterdam is beautiful, though all the streets look exactly the freakin same. I don't think it has any locals but is populated entirely by tourists, or people who haved moved there from elsewhere. Accomodation was terribly hard to come by, but luckily we stumbled upon the CouchSurfing phenomenon and didn't have to spend nights with only our sleeping bags and the comforting hard wood of a park bench beneath our heads. We even went to a CouchSurfing meet-up like the big homeless dorks that we are, and ended up at a club talking horrorcult with a guy named Hans who let us sleep on his spare mattress. Most importantly we also got to wow Amsterdam with our rock'n'roll dance moves.
There was a horror film festival on while we were there which was cool... We saw 'Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon' and 'The Hills Have Eyes 2'. Both great, both totally recommended - Behind the Mask if you like humour in your horror and The Hills if you like seeing bad actors get killed in the goriest possible way.
I did the cliche thing and got way too stoned in a smoking cafe; got stoned in a park; got stoned and ate ice cream; got stoned and confused and paranoid; got stoned and lost in the identical streets, and got stoned and spaced out for twenty minutes watching an old guy singing and dancing to himself (Bollywood moves and all).
I don't think I need to smoke weed again for about 43 years.
Schlafmeile!
Our first introduction to Berlin was seeing from the train all the rad, colourful, stylish graff pieces covering most of the wall space on the streets. The city was the complete opposite of what I expected - from the crusty punks that swarmed the streets sporting Anti Nazi tshirts, to all the dads hanging out in parks with their babies, to the lazy atmosphere and markets on weekdays, to the cheap (and tasty) food. I don't know what it was that I did expect, but it certainly wasn't the warmth and brightness that Berlin showed me. There is a complete unpretentiousness about the place - people at the markets are not there to look each other up and down. The bars don't seem to be all about superficial conversation and trying to get into someone's pants. The youth are not committing genocidal slaughter. Et cetera.
We met up with Amelia and Mikey there, and even made some new friends, Eitan and Petar. Yep, I left the Scrabble board now and then and went out and acted social (actually, no acting - I FELT social) and made people like me without even trying and without feeling anxious or cynical about the process. It was pretty cool.
Saw Spiderman 3 - possibly my favourite so far. I cried at the end and everyone laughed at me.
On maybe our third day, the boys had a bright idea and we rented two scooters for 24 hours. Zipping around Berlin while holding onto Crisps on the back of a scooter is going to be a pretty hard feeling to top - I want to say I could feel the wind in my hair, but I was wearing a helmet and I still don't really have any hair.
Slow Motion Moment of The Day:
Being coerced by loving boyfriend into trying to drive said scooter, protesting feebly due to knowledge of own lack of co-ordination, crashing into bright blue Audi, speeding the fuck away.
Czech Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself.
After having heard from hordes of people (hordes = 3) about how beautiful Prague is, I was peeing-in-pants level of excited to head there. When our bus was one hour late to pick us up from Berlin, I should have taken it as a sign and run screaming in the other direction. But it must have slipped my mind to interpret the bus' tardiness as a cosmic metaphor, and thus Mikey, Milly, Chris and I ended up naively stowing our bags on board and sinking into our seats for a six hour ride.
Prague was the biggest let down EVER, bigger even than putting off lunch for a couple of hours just so that those bread rolls you saw in the cupboard will taste even better only to find (once you have taken a plate and a knife off the shelf and prepared your sandwich toppings) that your Dad/flatmate/beloved ate the bread rolls last night without you realising.
The place was soulless, the beautiful buildings housing only bourgeois antique stores and even the old Jewish cemetery had an entry fee. Apparently washing is not a national pastime and deoderant must be in short supply, so simply walking down the street became a Dodge-The-B.O virtual reality game. Even their H+M, which is a CHAIN STORE for the love of monkeys!, was crap and stupid.
After our first day out in the middle of the city (where the only piece of salvation in the "valley of darkness" was our visit to the astounding Mucha Museum), we quickly figured out that it would be best to buy some cheap DVDs and hole up in our room for a week until we could leave stinky Prague. We loaded up on Happy Tree Friends, Lulu on the Bridge, Sexy Beast and Buffalo Soldiers, and three of us promptly started bleeding from the nose. Convinced that there was something evil in the walls, we tried to spend as much time as we could downstairs at the pub or across the road at the Chinese restaurant, but apart from the night when the Eurovision was screening in the pub (highlight of my week), there was really nothing inviting about the place. Least inviting of all were the mullet haired bartender and one-eyed bartendress that insisted on being rude to us all week long.
By our second last night, we had gone completely stir crazy and spent the evening slapping each other as hard as we could in the face, cracking up laughing, giving each other dead legs, and cracking up laughing. Video footage exists somewhere, and is probably ridiculous.
Even getting the hell out of Prague was an ordeal, requiring a traipse through the most disgusting, pee-stained, syringe-laden train station I've ever set foot in. Finally El Christophero put me on a train, kissed me goodbye, and I got to see the back of the worst city I've had the displeasure of visiting.
Krak Addict
Arriving back in amazing Krakow felt in the weirdest way like coming home - from seeing the familiar buildings to not having to fumble with a map or directions to my hostel. I simply climbed on the trusty old number 4 tram, got off at good old Batorego street, and was greeted at the hostel with a smile and a "Hi Talia! Chris isn't coming?"
Old Crisps-o Kelaart-o has headed to San Francisco where I'm going to meet him in about three weeks (much to the worry of one over-protective Jewish mother). Until then I'm wandering around with thoughts and an iPod for company, and looking forward to when Mindy gets here (yep, she's coming!) so that I have somebody to incoherently mumble the story of last night's dreams to in the morning.
Oh, Krakow. No pirate-eyed bar girls or asbestos lined walls here.
Best Thing That Happened Today: It hasn't happened yet but I'm about to go to the Massolit bookstore and buy a new book - maybe some Chuck Palahniuk.
Worst Thing That Happened Today: Nothing really... yesterday it was beautiful and sunny and today it's kind of rainy? But even that doesn't suck... rain just makes Krakow more pretty. Oh, I know. I can't find an internet cafe where I can upload my photos.
Tal is: in Poland
The Chronicles of the Misadventures of Captain Talia and the Traveling Crisps
The next instalment in our saga is long overdue, and for that I am a shmuck and you have my permission to mentally smack me. But once that is out of the way, please read my life and tell me yours.
The end of our jaunt in expensive London town saw us head out a couple of times - one night to Camden Town where we saw Wade's band play at a deliciously rad venue that I forget the name of. It was so special to see and hug Wade, and Lukiss made my night when Christobel asked him something along the lines of "tell me something interesting" and he responded without a second's hesitation, "I have thrush."
We became even more familiar with the TV screen and the inside of the apartment, (the couple of beers I bought on that one night out probably cost me as much as a gold plated Angelina Jolie baby from Africa). I got through three books and started a fourth: Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk, The War of the Flowers by Tad Williams, The Game by Neil Strauss (ugh) and The Thief's Journal by Jean Genet.
At London Stansted airport on the way to Amsterdam, we checked in and then headed to the duty free candy store to try and get rid of our remaining Pounds. We spent AGES deciding on candy ("Do we have enough for Twix and Skittles? Maybe we should just get the Twix...." etc), and yep.... missed our flight. Grumpiness ensued, followed by anger at having to pay 35 Pounds to get on another flight, followed by acceptance, followed by extreme boredom, followed by exhilaration at finally boarding a plane to Amsterdam.
"Would You Sell Your Babies, Man?"
Amsterdam is beautiful, though all the streets look exactly the freakin same. I don't think it has any locals but is populated entirely by tourists, or people who haved moved there from elsewhere. Accomodation was terribly hard to come by, but luckily we stumbled upon the CouchSurfing phenomenon and didn't have to spend nights with only our sleeping bags and the comforting hard wood of a park bench beneath our heads. We even went to a CouchSurfing meet-up like the big homeless dorks that we are, and ended up at a club talking horrorcult with a guy named Hans who let us sleep on his spare mattress. Most importantly we also got to wow Amsterdam with our rock'n'roll dance moves.
There was a horror film festival on while we were there which was cool... We saw 'Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon' and 'The Hills Have Eyes 2'. Both great, both totally recommended - Behind the Mask if you like humour in your horror and The Hills if you like seeing bad actors get killed in the goriest possible way.
I did the cliche thing and got way too stoned in a smoking cafe; got stoned in a park; got stoned and ate ice cream; got stoned and confused and paranoid; got stoned and lost in the identical streets, and got stoned and spaced out for twenty minutes watching an old guy singing and dancing to himself (Bollywood moves and all).
I don't think I need to smoke weed again for about 43 years.
Schlafmeile!
Our first introduction to Berlin was seeing from the train all the rad, colourful, stylish graff pieces covering most of the wall space on the streets. The city was the complete opposite of what I expected - from the crusty punks that swarmed the streets sporting Anti Nazi tshirts, to all the dads hanging out in parks with their babies, to the lazy atmosphere and markets on weekdays, to the cheap (and tasty) food. I don't know what it was that I did expect, but it certainly wasn't the warmth and brightness that Berlin showed me. There is a complete unpretentiousness about the place - people at the markets are not there to look each other up and down. The bars don't seem to be all about superficial conversation and trying to get into someone's pants. The youth are not committing genocidal slaughter. Et cetera.
We met up with Amelia and Mikey there, and even made some new friends, Eitan and Petar. Yep, I left the Scrabble board now and then and went out and acted social (actually, no acting - I FELT social) and made people like me without even trying and without feeling anxious or cynical about the process. It was pretty cool.
Saw Spiderman 3 - possibly my favourite so far. I cried at the end and everyone laughed at me.
On maybe our third day, the boys had a bright idea and we rented two scooters for 24 hours. Zipping around Berlin while holding onto Crisps on the back of a scooter is going to be a pretty hard feeling to top - I want to say I could feel the wind in my hair, but I was wearing a helmet and I still don't really have any hair.
Slow Motion Moment of The Day:
Being coerced by loving boyfriend into trying to drive said scooter, protesting feebly due to knowledge of own lack of co-ordination, crashing into bright blue Audi, speeding the fuck away.
Czech Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself.
After having heard from hordes of people (hordes = 3) about how beautiful Prague is, I was peeing-in-pants level of excited to head there. When our bus was one hour late to pick us up from Berlin, I should have taken it as a sign and run screaming in the other direction. But it must have slipped my mind to interpret the bus' tardiness as a cosmic metaphor, and thus Mikey, Milly, Chris and I ended up naively stowing our bags on board and sinking into our seats for a six hour ride.
Prague was the biggest let down EVER, bigger even than putting off lunch for a couple of hours just so that those bread rolls you saw in the cupboard will taste even better only to find (once you have taken a plate and a knife off the shelf and prepared your sandwich toppings) that your Dad/flatmate/beloved ate the bread rolls last night without you realising.
The place was soulless, the beautiful buildings housing only bourgeois antique stores and even the old Jewish cemetery had an entry fee. Apparently washing is not a national pastime and deoderant must be in short supply, so simply walking down the street became a Dodge-The-B.O virtual reality game. Even their H+M, which is a CHAIN STORE for the love of monkeys!, was crap and stupid.
After our first day out in the middle of the city (where the only piece of salvation in the "valley of darkness" was our visit to the astounding Mucha Museum), we quickly figured out that it would be best to buy some cheap DVDs and hole up in our room for a week until we could leave stinky Prague. We loaded up on Happy Tree Friends, Lulu on the Bridge, Sexy Beast and Buffalo Soldiers, and three of us promptly started bleeding from the nose. Convinced that there was something evil in the walls, we tried to spend as much time as we could downstairs at the pub or across the road at the Chinese restaurant, but apart from the night when the Eurovision was screening in the pub (highlight of my week), there was really nothing inviting about the place. Least inviting of all were the mullet haired bartender and one-eyed bartendress that insisted on being rude to us all week long.
By our second last night, we had gone completely stir crazy and spent the evening slapping each other as hard as we could in the face, cracking up laughing, giving each other dead legs, and cracking up laughing. Video footage exists somewhere, and is probably ridiculous.
Even getting the hell out of Prague was an ordeal, requiring a traipse through the most disgusting, pee-stained, syringe-laden train station I've ever set foot in. Finally El Christophero put me on a train, kissed me goodbye, and I got to see the back of the worst city I've had the displeasure of visiting.
Krak Addict
Arriving back in amazing Krakow felt in the weirdest way like coming home - from seeing the familiar buildings to not having to fumble with a map or directions to my hostel. I simply climbed on the trusty old number 4 tram, got off at good old Batorego street, and was greeted at the hostel with a smile and a "Hi Talia! Chris isn't coming?"
Old Crisps-o Kelaart-o has headed to San Francisco where I'm going to meet him in about three weeks (much to the worry of one over-protective Jewish mother). Until then I'm wandering around with thoughts and an iPod for company, and looking forward to when Mindy gets here (yep, she's coming!) so that I have somebody to incoherently mumble the story of last night's dreams to in the morning.
Oh, Krakow. No pirate-eyed bar girls or asbestos lined walls here.
Best Thing That Happened Today: It hasn't happened yet but I'm about to go to the Massolit bookstore and buy a new book - maybe some Chuck Palahniuk.
Worst Thing That Happened Today: Nothing really... yesterday it was beautiful and sunny and today it's kind of rainy? But even that doesn't suck... rain just makes Krakow more pretty. Oh, I know. I can't find an internet cafe where I can upload my photos.