Megan's Lilliana

Flickr Slideshow of Slovenia and Croatia

On to Llubjana (which Megan can pronounce 100 ways but the correct one) for lunch, which is an awesome, funky city, although the drivers did make David brown his pants a couple of times.

Lunch on the Llubjana river, and a beer or two to soften the impact, like Ford Prefect hitchhiking. Megan was distracted by some wicker baskets, so we ended up at some markets selling wicker, things made out of coloured glass and more scone holders. I'm sure all these traditional scone holders are made in China somewhere - ther is too much uniformity in them for Nannas' old fingers.

Post-lunch - off to Croatia. Breakfast in Austria, lunch in Slovenia and dinner in Croatia (Zagreb).

Zagreb looks so much like Melbourne. It's not just the trams, it's the shops and buildings that look like Brunswick Street, the mix of people - even the cobblestones on the street look like the bluestone of Melbourne. We stayed in Hotel Ilica, which was really a group of old offices, stripped back and decorated in low quality grandeur. This is shite maximalism at its best (here I'm talking about the hotel, not Zagreb which is lovely). Our room (an apartment with 'gold beds') still had the old office sign etched into the reception glasswork (EMC if you're interested).

Neil and I had the bed that faced the reception area, and the light was turned out at the front desk at 1 in the morning. Needless to say the front desk lady with the sideburns had her humour removed in 1982. Our passports were safe with her.

Dinner was at Tip Top Cafe, where the wine is served with a water mixer to soften the blow. The healthiest thing on the menu was a plate-sized wiener schnitzel. Megan ordered something which we feared was a kilo of scallops, but turned out to be lettuce surrounded by various impenetrable sea life. Breakfast in Zagreb was a mixture of cubic zirconia chandeliers, gold-painted plastic chairs, frothy meat and syrup. Wwwwrrrwrwrwr.

Gutenberg Greetings

Flickr Slideshow of Slovenia and Croatia

Okay, so now we are in Slovenia, at Lake Bled (13C castles and churches remember?). According to LP:

Its attraction is an absolutely idyllic setting on a 2 kilometre long subalpine lake with a castle crag and romantic island exactly where you'd want them. It's a scene that seems designed for some god of tourism, not for the 13C bishops of Brixen.

It also has a castle on a 100m cliff, with a Berber monk selling wine (with its own certificate), and - more exciting for me - a replica Gutenberg press complete with slivers of lead slugs! Although "Mr Gutenberg" didn't show us any typesetting per se, he did have a lithograph of the wine bottle certificate, which he was churning out with the ping of a bell on every run. Very exciting, although my memory card was already full of pictures of Berber monks selling novelty wine, so fortunately for you, I don't have many photos of lead type blocks to fill up Flickr with. You could have had individual photos of punchset Poliphilus blocks as used in the Hypnerotomachia, but alas, fate was against me.

So we made the boys row us out to the romantic island, hee hee. Neil's tongue did most of the rowing. On a gondola it takes 1.5 hours, but the boys slammed it home in 1.25 hours, including time on the island for hot chocolate and a good old-fashioned bell ringing. Thumped it in romantically.

 

Fairytale Castles and Farchs

In Austria, after our little piece of magic in Tieschen, we strolled down ribbons of highway through election posters and coloured houses, through fields and fields (countries really) of corn (only used for corn-fed chickens we found out from a rampant Dutchman in Austria), we end up at the Sound of Music town of Ferlach, nestled in between foggy mountains.

I think the towns look so toy like because the pitched rooves make the houses look exactly like the drawings kids do of houses - two windows and a triangle for a roof. And the primary colour paint jobs help.

Strangely, every house seemed to have an outdoor (non-heated) pool, and a Hills Hoist, so we felt quite at home. Neil and I went for an extended walk on arrival, paying no attention to where we were going, and hence had to use The Force to get home (which seems to work quite well in all driving situations where the EU hasn't posted signage).

Our guesthouse needed a bit of Megan-nudging to get them to turn on the heating, and surprisingly for a student town, we could pick up a single wireless network, so no dunnybudgies for you. It is not possible.

From Farchen Land across the border to Slovenia: destination Bled. Not an uneventful trip.

Firstly, a deceptively invisible tree rammed the right hand side of the car as we pulled out of the parking spot, smashing the right hand side lights and making a dent way beyond the capabilities of the home panel beater.

Then, the road through the mountains across the border (which is really a series of hairpin bends connected alternately) required some tree trims, so we were stuck at the front of the queue (although, not the first through, as as soon as the workmen let us through the car behind us - who had been sitting there for ten minutes - overtook us on a standing start!) for some time waiting for some men to look at a tree, establish that it was a tree, decided it may need chopping at some time in the future, decide it was the future, then chop it.

Then, for the rest of the trip, the cars heading to work thought they'd play 'Let's Overtake on a Hairpin Bend at 2 degrees with Zero Visibility Due To Fog'. Awesome.

Then, on reaching the border crossing and seeing no one in the control box (because no one was in the control box), Dave shuffled forwards, only to be asked by the border guard who had had his humour lobotomy earlier that day: "Did we not see the stop section and do we not know how these things work?".

Nevertheless we got to Bled, which is a lovely lake town with a beautiful island in the middle with a 13C church on top of it. More later...

Titsengroeven

Oh, the magical land of gingerbread houses and strudel. Due to a remarkable run of deviations - road diversions, empty guesthouses and a run of cute little Lego towns, we ended up at Tieschen, where gingerbread children skip down the licorice streets and pillows are made out of strudel. For 55 euros we stayed at Kolleritsch, a winery in Tieschen that was 30 years old but looked brand new, except for the wine barrels, and had the world's best service. Issa (not Larissa) even did our disintegrating bag of week-old Moroccan washing and wouldn't accept anything in return. So, out of the goodness of our hearts we bought a lot of wine from her.

---more coming, run out of airport time!

Issa said she could post wine back throughout Europe, but Australia would be prohibitively expensive for us. However, she did suggest we try posting it to Australia with our home address on it, because if you put 'Austria', and not 'Oosterich', they think you mean 'Australia' and will 'Return to Sender'. She's have many wines delivered ti her from Europe with Sydney postmarks on them. Interesting...

So, on the topic of wine, if Hungarian wine is a conservative, gracious, 1 out of 10 (or as Megan says 'minus zero'), the service (added to the taste) of the Austrian wine gives it a happy 9 out of 10 from the Russian judge. At Kolleritsch they make their own wine and everything involved, down to the label press. They conceded and outsourced the foils, but even the graphic design and photography is done in house (to an extremely high standard).

For dinner we went to the local restaurant, and ordered as many local foods as we could. Fortunately for us, the chef was just brilliant. Unfortunately for us everything was in German so we guessed a little and got David to translate, but we really could have shut our eyes and pointed and come up with something great. And, of course, the world's most amazing apple strudel.

Unfortunately our inn was uphill and the pub was down hill, but even in our strudel-schnapps-strodden state we managed to stagger home. Home to our wonderful European pillows and balcony overlooking the toytown and cows, while our washing swirled in the dryer. Everything smelt much better in the morning thanks to Issa, despite the fact that Neil had nearly ran over her son Angelo four hours earlier. Perhaps she just hoped we were typical Hungarian drivers and hoped for the best.

"Wow, those mountains look like tits" - David.
"We've taken a non-existent road which doesn't exist" - frustrated David.
"Klagenfurt. Let's go there. Sounds like a fart" - heard in the backseat.

On the road everywhere we went were lots of election posters (ie in Hungary, Slovenia, Austria and Croatia). Should we be allowed to vote we've settled on Starsky and Hutch.

Humour Lobotomy

Next day we packed up our car and took off to Dumbledore in southern Hungary, heading for Austria (it is so hard to type that without typing Australia). We tended to be highly culturally insensitive and call the Hungarian towns by their nearest Engligh sounding equivalents, which meant most towns were called Slartibartfast. We cruised on down to Pecs (pronouced Paitch), but it looked too much like a big town to stop, so one by one we found a different town all with different combinations of pub, restaurant and hotel, but none with all three until we climbed a very, very windy hill to Dumbledore.

The hotel could conservatively be described as basic, but it existed which was a bonus. Megan thinks it was possibly an old nurses quarters, but hey - they had Buffy in Hungarian and one unit of toilet paper.

Today, off to the Lake Bartola, where the mud at the bottom of the lake cures Locomotion disorders, so soon we will all be over our Kylie afflictions, thank god. The Lake is the 'Dunsborough' are for the Hungarians, and has, amongst other important attractions, an egg decorating museum and puppets made out of snail shells...

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Bollocks!

No snail shells and by puppet museum they meant doll museum. On this occasion the boys were much more clever than the girls and after handing out their 800 farts entry fee (which they did with vigour) the boys headed off to the pub to be spearheaded by a nasty crooked-toothed waitress while us girls went off to be scared by highly Chucky-like dolls NOT made out of snail shells.

Yes, there were three eggs hanging from the roof, but that does not an egg decorating museum make.

What the boys did miss out on was the Marzipan Museum - 25 kilograms of real life-sized marzipan statues of Naomi Campbell and Karl Lagerfeld. Yoda. Xena. And Hercules. Which is much better than a snail shell marionette.

Now, off to Austria for some magic.

IT IS NOT POSSIBLE!!!!

Morocco - Casablanca - Heathrow - Stafforshire - Amsterdam - Budapest in a day and a half.

We cleverly locked ourselves out of Amanda and Dave's house in London on arrival from Morocco, so had to sit outside and wait until Amanda sprinted home in time for us to pick up our gear, change out of our very wet clothes (yes, it was raining in London) and catch three trains to Telford to Megan and Dave's. Luckily while we were waiting we had just enough juice in our laptop to book some accommodation in Budapest and to do some chores, so yay for that.

Megan and David collected us from Telford station at 11pm that night, and took us back to their gorgeous new house in Staffordshire. Although it was dark when we got there and dark when we left the next morning, we could see enough to see an Enid Blyton novel - the Magic Faraway Tree must have been nearby. They do have cows, and really good pillows. Mmmm, not sleeping on concrete. Sweetness all round. But our names aren't Jo, Bessie, Fanny and Rick.

So the next morning in the dark we all shuffled with frosty breath out to Birmingham airport, and on a plane to Budapest via Amsterdam. We were greeted by a very gruff Hungarian wrestler who was reluctant to give us our hire car because we paid for it over the internet and not by the traditional local carrier pigeon-based transaction method. Actually, in my short experience there, everyone looked like a Hungarian wrestler, all genders included (sorry!).

Despite the gorgeousness of most of the buildings in Budapest, there are a few little reminders here just how poor the country is. For example, generally you will find re-rolled toilet paper on your roll, and the paper itself is not dissimilar to dimpled, recycled newspaper. Lights are off unless required (a good thing) - including reception areas of hotels, bins don't have liners, that sort of thing. Our bedspreads at Hotel Sissi (thought Jess would like that :) ) looked like the drapes from the Sound of Music. In fact, they actually were the drapes.

Budapest (remember I'm saying all this while loving the buildings and the city) has a bit of a disconnected feeling about it. It feels like it only recently has been rammed with commercialism and the fallout is still dropping. After brekkie, we headed up to Gellert Hill. In 1046 pagan Hungarians picked up Bishop Gellert at chucked him over the cliff (not too keen on Christianity it seems). Eventually they built a statue of him at the top to make it all better. The bottom of the hill was a hospital during the Middle Ages, but as Hungary sits on top of nice volcanic rock, they have these brilliant thermal spas everywhere. So now there is a spectacular spa at the bottom of the priest-throwing hill - we grabbed our togs and paid it a visit. No photos due to the high incident of nudity (and olllld nudity at that), but those thermal waters are sweet.

There is a big pool, which is sort of warm, but once you divide up the boys and the girls the going gets good. The water comes straight up from the hydrothermal and mineral springs directly at 36-38 degrees. They are fully mosaiced, which is handy because you can stare up at the roof, rather than at the naked old lady sitting opposite you giving you the Hungarian evil eye, wondering what locomotive, neurological or circulatory disorder you are there to fix.

So on our first day in Budapest we did a little tour, and ended up at the Hungarian Wine Museum, where the boys got gutrot. About 40-50 wines were included in the tasting price, and the boys described them as 'foul, overpriced, and a little like eating alum'. They did find one merlot they thought they might like and asked the little man to open it, but he had earlier had his humour lobotomy and said 'IT IS NOT POSSIBLE'. David asked him 'hadn't they taught him how to open wine yet', which just went down a treat. Nevertheless a few compliments later and they had more awful wine at their fingertips.

Last Days of Marrakech

Sadly we leave tomorrow, and leave our little riad with its feral undersized cats, and the short


Last night we splashed out and went to dinner at Dar Moha, where we had booked a table by the pool.

Moha has given tradition a shake-up, inventing new Moroccan cuisine. Its daring flavour combinations - aubergine and honey, capsiums and almonds, cous cous and foie gras - are a delight. The restaurant is in a beautiful, peceful mansion in the Dar-El-Baacha district, where gourmets meet for dinner around the swimming pool, in a flower-filled garden or in elegant dining rooms.

So much food - the course before entree had about twelve dishes, so it was very difficult to make it through the next four courses, but we unbuckled our belts and gave it a good old Aussie bash. Couple with the first alcohol we've had for a week we rolled home. Tonight, we eat in the square again.

Today we had a look at the Saadian tombs - the Saadians were the fourth lot to rule Marrakech in the 15th and 16th Century, and have buried their leaders in the usual leader fashion. We were looking for some catacomby-like tombs, but these were generally your usual cemetary shin-dig, with the exception of the sultan's tomb, which was in a room surround by twelve columns of intricately decorated marble from Carrara.

We saw Palais La Bahia, where Neil pretended to be Scottish for most of the time.

Then it was off to the Marrakech Musee, which is still in the medina. Luckily for us most things are in the medina so we can walk there. The Marrakech Museum is a big old building restored by the late ruler of Marrakech, Omar Benjelloun. It is just behind the souks, and another one of those buildings you can't believe is hiding behind the pink walls. The best part of the museum (aside from the chandelier) was the photos of Marrakech taken in the 1880s - it hasn't changed much at all.

They hold art exhibitions in the Museum, and this one was a figurative representation of a Hammam (bathhouses where you use black soap made from olive pits and a scrubbing glove). You have to use your imagination to get it.

Spices!

Finally, we got bought spices from the guy in the shop outside our riad, who heckled us every day, and we promised him every day we'd be back. Mmm, smells so good. He had whale amber there (which actually smells beautiful), but didn't think AQIS would like it very much at all. Some pink rock stuff which you burn after hammam, - each colour smells different, and the gourd which seems to have magical properties.

Super Dustbowl

All our Marrakech photos are now on Flickr at:
Marrakech pics.

The medina's wall surrounds the old chaotic part of the city, keeping out the new chaotic part of the city. The new part (well, it's not 1,000 years old), is like Canberra, where there is a big circle with lots of similar looking streets leading to similar looking things at the end. Eventually we relented and jumped on a tourist bus to La Majorelle Gardens - an 'oasis in the middle of the city'.

Jaques Marjorelle, a French painter, began building the garden in 1924. Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Berge now own and maintain the gardens. The blue you can see in the photos is a special blue, mixed by Marjorelle, 'Bleu Marjorelle', which you can buy pots of if you were so inclined. Catriona Rowntree did a Marrakech report from here for Getaway, which seemed a bit random at the time, but now I think she did it as she was jack of the medina and wanted some peace and quiet with which to travel report. Strangely enough, these gardens aren't a patch on the gardens of Cyber Parc. More on that complete randomness later.

So onto the Palmeraie, which, according to our trusty guide (which, incidentally, does not have 'Don't Panic' written on the front) is the green belt to the north east used for farming and tourism.

'This nearly thousand year old oasis puts the countryside just ten minutes from the centre of Marrakech. Legend has it that the Almoravid caravaneers inadvertently planted the palm grove by throwing away the pits of thousands of dates (so to speak). Thanks to colossal irrigation work done when the city was founded, the grove has thrived and is now an efficient ecosystem in which the trees create a microclimate favourable to other crops such as cereal and fruit trees.'

Have a look at the photos (the ones titles Palmeraie), and see if you can match the description to the photo...

Djemaa el Fna

Photos are at Flickr:
Marrakech Set

After a snooze we headed out to 'Le Place', Djemaa el Fna. On that note, our French tour guide book has an index, and everything is listed under 'le', 'la', or 'les', so there is no point looking up anything in alphabetical order.

Djemaa el Fna is the big square in the middle of the medina, which is the old city surrounded by very old walls. The Almoravids built it in 1070 - it was then taken over by the Almohads (1147), Marinids (1269), the Saadians (15 & 16th centuries), then the Alawis in the 18th century. The square has been there the whole time as a gathering place, and coincidentally very convenient for tourists. There are storytellers who tell the tales from the Arabian nights (in Arabic, and some more successfully than others), and very nasty snake charmers who charge you AUD$3 to take a photo! Neil refused and 'gave' him $1 and narked off a man with a cobra - never a good thing.

There are performing monkeys, whose brilliant trick is to get thrown onto a passing stranger (again, Neil) and then to get promptly dropped along with their ticks and rabies. We also saw Berber/African and Arab musicians, and henna tattoists. There are little boys who run around with wooden cobras that look and move like the real thing, and can scare the pants off you when they throw them in your face.

It's very colourful and very ordered chaos. The square is completely deserted during the day. If you perch yourself on a terrace overlooking the square in the evening you can see them all set up, which is just amazing. good thing.

Still yet to try the pastilla (pidgeon pie, although generally chicken in the medina) - Mandy and Dave recommended it highly.

There is no alcohol in the medina, which is possibly a good thing as the Marrakeshis run on a crazy, loving high already. The men are very caring and affectionate, and very much look out for the underdogs. We saw many (verbal) fights, which usually ended up with one guy crying and all the others consoling him. There is a real humanity on show here, all the time and its brilliant. Homeless kids get fed from the stalls, old guys get lifts from random young blokes on their bikes, poor old lady beggars get blessed and paid - it's very nice. Incidentally all the men seen to look either like an Arabic Vin Diesel or George Costanza - although we did see a Bervo yesterday.

No success with the Yoda dress last night, as our shopping method is still of the 'stand-back-far-enough-not-to-get-trounced' school but perhaps better luck today - we're heading out of the medina into the new city.

A Whale and Two Petunias

Welcome to the most random place in the universe.

Note 1: We didn't have a European/Australian converter, which is what you need in Morocco, so due internet being electronic and all, we've gone traditional and have been making good use of the travel diary Raschelle and Dan got us. Muchos gracias dudes.

Note 2: The Blogger image upload tool is terribly random and slow, so I've uploaded on Flickr so I can do group uploads. You shouldn't have to join as I've made them public, so head along to our Flickr page for the photos of these places.

So, here are our ramblings...
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The old Exchange Rate man at the airport wasn't too worried about security - he had left his door open so anyone could wander in and out and abscond with as many dollars/dirhams/pounds as they liked. Not sure exactly why he was so relaxed - the guidebook says about security:

"pickpockets sometimes use a razor blade to slit the fabric"

but he must have had some nasty back up somewhere.

The riad (Rose Medina) sent a driver to pick us up from the airport, as there is no way you find your way here on your own through the medina's labyrinth. He seemed like a nice guy, but the car was a 1972 Peugot with no seatbelts and apparently no brakes as he used rocks to wedge his car into a stationery position once parked.

"Drivers in Marrakech use the horn rather than the brake."

Our riad is just beautiful - riads are generally like a Morrocan B&B, although they seem to have a few floors overlooking a little mosaic courtyard and pool. Ours serves meals on the rooftop which is covered with plants that look like wisteria and bougainvillea but aren't quite. There is a little black kitten called Mortimer (we call him Moto, and so does my phone), and a bunch of other malnutritioned cats with suspicious bits shaved off them. We call them all a collective Ringworm.

This morning we were fleeced for the first time - probably not the last. On our way to Jemaa el Fna some dude on a bike saw us coming a mile away. He was pushing his bike on his way to work and pointed out some great places to take photos. He worked at a tannery and promised he wasn't a guide: "Would you like to come along and see the colours?" So he gave us a tour all the way up to the north east of the medina, to Bab Debbagh, where the traditional tanners work in pits. He worked a the Berber factory (as opposed to the Arab tannery) and passed us on to his mate (who was waiting for us), who gave us a tour of the pheremonally-challenged tannery. Some kid ran up with a swab of mint branches which you hold up to your face to keep the smell and the flies out: "Gas mask, you unnderstan?"

In ther Berber tannery, they strip the fat (and keep it in bags), soak the leather (only from big animals like camels and cows) in lime for two weeks, then in pidgeon poo for another two weeks - pigeon poo has lovely ammonical qualities (his word, not mine). Then they colour the skins with natural dies - indian ochre for blue, saffron for orange, kohl for black, mint for green etc. Then the dry in the open air for another two weeks, letting the poo fly free.

He took us to another tannery which looked and smelt the same except the source animals were a lot smaller - goats and sheep and the like.

Then, magically, we were whisked into his friend's shop who sold leather goods - can you believe the luck! - where we bought a funky pidgeon poo bag and pidgeon poo belt by persuasion.

Our first barter. He offered us the bag and belt for 22,00 dirham (about AUD$300) and was very offended with Neil's first offer of 200 dirham (or MAD) and told us to be more democratic. Eventually we settled on 500 MAD which we don't know yet was good or bad, but we'll find out soon.

As we left the shop our friend from the tannery magically reappeared and demanded some money for the tour. Ah well, live and learn. We certainly wouldn't have been able to find a place that smelt that bad on our own, and the tour around the neighbourhood was brilliant.

So the next hour or so was spent finding our way back to the riad through the many souks, back alleys and donkey poo. Saw lots of turtles, iguanas (!) and the snake charmers had already started setting up. Because it is Ramadan and everything is hot, everyone has a little snooze in the afternoon, and things start arking up at about 5pm.

All the ladies here wear these little Yoda dresses, which are both very practical and have a handy knoack of making you look very wise, so we'll try our bartering skills out tonight. Mandy considers bartering a sport, but we seem to lack the knack. What I do like is that they seem to confirm the final price with 'the wife', but I suspect that is because the ladies tend to want to give a little more than the men. More after snoozing.

My London London Bridge wanna go down

Note: Halfway through post because we have to leave for the airport. This may make more sense a little later!
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Actually, Fergie doesn't seem to be big here, so that may not make a lot of sense to some of you. We are off to Morocco this afternoon, and may be offline for a little, so though we'd upload some England pics because David wants to be famous :)

Mandy and Dave were the most excellent tour guides - even had stocked up train cards and phone cards ready for us to use when we got here.

On our first day Mandy we did a fairly unplanned, extensive walking tour around London and luckily the weather held out until the afternoon.

First day in London, with the highlighter man.	Where Dante's Gates of Hell were on display. We didn't go in.	The Royal Society of Societies.
Those crazy pants are in London too!	The inside of the Apple Store.	In the Apple store, everyone learning how to be iNobs
Everyone farmed nicely into buying their whitegoods.	Shhh don't tell anyone we don't sell anything!	The weather turns London.
The marker of the 'London mile'.	The beginning of our first night out.	Neil couldn't get enough of this place.
Mandy and Dave	The Royal Courts
Interesting info on the Olde Cock Tavern	Spooky knights	The temple where the Knights Templar are buried. David took us there - it is very sneaky, buried in a block of yuppie flats.
Mandy and Dave wishing they hadn't fallen aslepp reading the Da Vinci Code	Amanda minding her head.	This was the best pub - it was dug out from about four floors underground, and very tiny.
Rebuilt after the Great Fire of London.	Can't remember why I took this, must have been something funny on it	AA
The next day Mandy was our tour guide, having the day off work.		Riss and Mandy at the top of St Paul's cathedral (560 steps up!). Magnificent.
A dead person hanging outside the clinker.	Mandy outside the Clinker in a much better state.	A Very Important Tunnel.
Down the steps at St Pauls. No fatty poombahs here.	Outside the Globe.	Neil inside one of the taller parts of St Paul's.
>Neil, also strangely drawn to this house.	Lights inside the Very Important Tunnel.	St Olaf of Ulay.
Neil gets antsy at this pub.	AA	AA
At Gordon's pub - very cute little underground shebang.	Mandy waiting for everyone to arrive.	Little Alien dude.
This was meant to be a photo of Riss being a nag, but the chick next to her seemed to take care of that one.	Covent Gardens I think?	Neil catching an old fashioned bus by jumping on and off unharmed.
Dave and Mandy at Gordons.	Where we had dinner that night - Mandy I can't remember the name. It was really cool and industrial, we went down in a lift that contorted our faces.	Mandy saw a mirror. hee hee.
Dave saw Riss.	Neil remembered who he married.	A
AA	AA	AA
The next day, going over the Tower Bridge (not London Bridge).	At the Design Museum, which had an awesome F1 exhibition on.	Too true.
Inside an F1 racing car.	Neil looking diagonal.	A car. Neil can tell you more about it. I hear it goes fast.
More car.	Another car.	Neil showing me air flow. In the car.
A Morris Minor - we took this one for you Alan.	Black and white flags. Apparently they mean something in motor racing.	An exploded car - this was pretty darn cool.
Boom!	More car - an engine I think.	AA
AA	My impression of Mr Burns.	AA
In Grenwich	Neil in his Prime Meridian.	AA
Where Ben Cousins gets his hair done.	Small tree!	AA

Dubai Bling Day 2

We didn't break any legs, arms or heads skiing, possibly due to the lack of brown spots. So we did the other very cultural thing you go to other countries to do - watched the AFL Grand Final in a pub at 8.30 in the morning. It took a while to find somewhere showing the game, but luckily there were enough Perthites at the ski ramp that Neil found a pub by mental telepathy.

Neil being rowdy	Neil is a lot more sparky than me. He hasn't heard of jetlag.	Heathen coffee
Almost, but not quite.

For those that love to play that game "Watch Neil Watch Football", here is a little present for you: Download the video (1.8M WMV)

After all the excitement we needed a snooze, then out to explore Dubai.

Arabic phone booth	Our Very Own English High School	Dubai Museum
Neil and Dubai Museum (it was shut)	Squishing my case in the hotel room	Hotel room
A random mosque around the corner	El Dubai Markets	Beautiful Mosque
	Gorgeous detail in the walls	Neil shopping
On the port at sunset.	More port	Cartman advertises Arabic flights
Dubai markets	Check out the old fashioned ring pull!	Shorty street lights
An eating tent of sorts	Neil is too tall!	Me trying to be harem-like
There must have been about two thousand trees here all lit up like this for no good reason. Neil is Mista Sparkle.	A shopping centre	Curly shoes
Ewww cures all	I got a henna tattoo on my hand	More ridiculously big shopping centre
Breakfast in the heathen tent	Chandeliers in the heathen tent	Toilet by Villeroy and Boch
Entrance, just beyond the Walk of Shame	Neil eating pork	Random fancy elevator

Dubai Bling

Hey everyone,

We made it safely to London and are now sitting at the kitchen table thumping someone's wireless internet access at Mandy and Dave's, while they are at work. Cutest little suburb here - they have holly out the front and random grecian decor on all the door frames. More on that later.

Right is Neil figuring out how to get to the counter at Dubai Airport.


Dubai was one of the those places where you think you're actaully dreaming and have left the electric blanket on. The Movenpick Hotel was spectacular, and there were hardly any tourists or guests because it is Ramadan, which is a shame because Ramadan is cool. You get to have random cannons fire and surprise you, and eat in tents with all the other heathens. It's illegal to drink (even water) or eat during daylight, although the hotel will help the "non-fasting" guests out by erecting a big tent to hide us away in. Not a bad tent either, but first you have to do the 'walk of shame'.

So, naturally, when in Dubai, do as the Austrians do. We went skiing! Yay! It is so easy to ski there because there are no icy bits, no brown patches (in the snow), the seats on the chairlift aren't wet and you don't need goggles because it's unlikely to actually snow. As a result you can go a little mental and do away with the side to side business and head down the 'mountain' head first. In an upright fashion.

Riss gearing up	We will not pay for two lockers.	Neil gearing up
In the moood...	Flavi, the most beautiful boot in the cosmos	Neil getting his gear just inside the change area

Because we were skiing lots and hadn't really planned on the Ramadan thing, we headed back to our hotel for lunch in the tent. We also checked out the Emirates mall, although it was completely deserted until Iftar, which is the meal after sundown when everybody gets some energy back.

Buzz!!!	Every country needs an animal they can make out of plush. Ours is the kangaroo, UAE has the camel.	Fulla, the Muslim Barbie
Somewhere to drop the kids off when you go shopping	Some people are just jerks	It's like dominoes
The camera mounted on the bottom of the plane which you can watch all through the flight. If you are in the holding pattern above Heathrow it can make you feel a little woozy watching it.	We read this backwards and got lost	Gary Sweet in Arabic ha ha ha
Food hall during the day	After the cannon goes off	Show me the way