They think it’s all over… because it actually is. We are now far, far away from the exotic (or at the very least, quite a way away) lands in which we travelled, and are back in London town full of its rudeness and internet cafes we can actually afford.
As this blog was supposed to be a travel blog (although this definition, we know, has been disputed), and our travels have come to an end, it should be obvious to all that this blog is going the same way. We are at a loss as to how to end this blog of a grand THIRTEEN posts (we know, we’re impressed with the vast quantity of our writing too) so thought we’d make a catchy list of our favourite days of the last month for you to enjoy. And if you don’t enjoy it, we reckon its only coz you’re jealous.
We may only have been travelling for a month, but for our whole lives we’ll never forget…
· The day we met someone openly pro-Bush.
· The day someone told C she looked like Lindsey Lohan (she couldn’t look less like Lindsey Lohan).
· The day the seats on an overnight train collapsed on our heads and we nearly died.
· The day we met a member of the French aristocracy who told me I couldn’t marry him as my father couldn’t pay a €1 million dowry.
· The day we spent €10 on two bread rolls that tasted of lavender, and as such, were inedible and we had to throw away despite desperate attempt to salvage them with Nutella’s less than tasty Italian cousin ‘La Crema’.
· The day Charlotte contracted a parasitic skin disease: ring worm.
· The day we went to hospital in Venice with Charlotte’s ring worm and were told by the man in casualty reception: “If you spoke Italian I’d understand”. We thought this obvious.
· The day we stood next to a Neanderthal child in the queue for the Reichstag who C got scarily close to hitting and only didn't because she thought it might hinder her aspirations to teach children.
· The day some Canadians told us we “sounding really clever” because we “spoke like we were writing a descriptive essay” as we used words like “novelty”.
· The day an American told us Mr Bean was American, swiftly followed by: “you have a British version of The Office?”
· The day we were told that ‘Charlotte’ meant toilet in Polish.
· The day we ran (literally) away from some (more) annoying Australian men in Croatia.
· The day we survived a 16 hour overnight (and overday) train which I spent cutting dead skin off my feet with a pen knife I have affectionately, and much to Charlotte's disgust, named 'Penny'.
· The day we were told, very angrily (as one might expect) by the hostel manager, George, that we had very nearly burnt down his hostel and I laughed in his face.
· The day we nearly died of hunger in the Vatican.
You never know, we might think of some more and add them in days, weeks (and hopefully not years) to come - although, we concede, the chances of this are slim.
All there is left to say now is thank you to the very small amount of people who have read this blog over the last month or so... and we do hope you don't miss our excessive use of brackets too much.
K and C xxx
Thursday 4 September 2008
Wednesday 27 August 2008
A pair of very dirty girls.
Upon boarding the plane for our impending return to the country of rain C and I were more than a little bemused that our bags weighed 5kg more than when we left for the countries of suns. For most people, we appreciate, this would not be a bemusing incident as most people buy lots of shit when they are away. Unfortunately for us we have no money to call our own and so could not buy much shit at all; in fact, all we had gained were two small bags of gifts for our dearest (who are now, for the first time in a month, actually pretty near).
Since returning we have weighed these small bags of gifts and they both come to less than 1kg each. We would also like to point out that on our month away we have used a lot of toiletries. You want a list? Oh ok; items that were destined never to return to the UK include: shampoo, shower gel (a Polish brand called "Fa" incidentally, and had "50% extra yoghurt" - we never knew whether to be delighted or perturbed by this news), deodorant, body spray, dry shampoo, conditioner and a few other lotions and potions that our battered shoulders could not face carrying home. (Turns out that the extra weight was taken its toll as my shoulders had turned from brown to blue; t-shirts are now my friends).
We have therefore, for those out there who struggle with maths, managed to pick up 4kg from somewhere we know not where. We have concluded, after much Sherlock-esq inductions, that the 4kg comprise solely of dirt.(The power of this induction is strengthened by the fact that when in Dubrovnik we washed some clothes in the bath and the water went black. So we emptied it out and tried again and it went black. So we gave up.)
As such, we are both (in our respective residents - don’t get excited) now going to wash that 4kg of dirt out of our clothes (and probably a couple more out of our hair).
Since returning we have weighed these small bags of gifts and they both come to less than 1kg each. We would also like to point out that on our month away we have used a lot of toiletries. You want a list? Oh ok; items that were destined never to return to the UK include: shampoo, shower gel (a Polish brand called "Fa" incidentally, and had "50% extra yoghurt" - we never knew whether to be delighted or perturbed by this news), deodorant, body spray, dry shampoo, conditioner and a few other lotions and potions that our battered shoulders could not face carrying home. (Turns out that the extra weight was taken its toll as my shoulders had turned from brown to blue; t-shirts are now my friends).
We have therefore, for those out there who struggle with maths, managed to pick up 4kg from somewhere we know not where. We have concluded, after much Sherlock-esq inductions, that the 4kg comprise solely of dirt.(The power of this induction is strengthened by the fact that when in Dubrovnik we washed some clothes in the bath and the water went black. So we emptied it out and tried again and it went black. So we gave up.)
As such, we are both (in our respective residents - don’t get excited) now going to wash that 4kg of dirt out of our clothes (and probably a couple more out of our hair).
Monday 25 August 2008
"Everyone dies alone."
We are pleased to announce that there is something about home we are looking forward to returning to (except for family, boyfriend, friends blah blah blah) and this is the lack of public displays of affection, European style.
Now, bitter and twisted we may be, but even we can deal with a little bit of lovin'; the operative word here, however, is little. In Europe, with regards to the outdoor passion that is pashing, this word appears to have been lost in translation. Literally everywhere we have been, and everywhere we look we are greeted with the pleasant sights of (wait for it):
petting, fondling, straddling, eating, sucking, nibbling, rubbing, tickling, stroking, licking, grinding and even blatant intercourse in some less than reputable venues (thanks to C for that list).
Now, as previously stated, we don't mind a peck or two. This can even be endearing on certain situations (well, maybe just at weddings). What we have a problem with are (C again:) "the couples who force love into the air"; which, C exclaims passionately: "I am trying to breathe".
Roll on Britain with its loveless air and breathable atmosphere of solitude and hatred. After all, C again proclaims: "everyone dies alone".
I can only apologise for the bitterness of the above, and get the impression from C's input over the last few minutes that C is not, currently, in the mood for lovin'.
Now, bitter and twisted we may be, but even we can deal with a little bit of lovin'; the operative word here, however, is little. In Europe, with regards to the outdoor passion that is pashing, this word appears to have been lost in translation. Literally everywhere we have been, and everywhere we look we are greeted with the pleasant sights of (wait for it):
petting, fondling, straddling, eating, sucking, nibbling, rubbing, tickling, stroking, licking, grinding and even blatant intercourse in some less than reputable venues (thanks to C for that list).
Now, as previously stated, we don't mind a peck or two. This can even be endearing on certain situations (well, maybe just at weddings). What we have a problem with are (C again:) "the couples who force love into the air"; which, C exclaims passionately: "I am trying to breathe".
Roll on Britain with its loveless air and breathable atmosphere of solitude and hatred. After all, C again proclaims: "everyone dies alone".
I can only apologise for the bitterness of the above, and get the impression from C's input over the last few minutes that C is not, currently, in the mood for lovin'.
Sunday 24 August 2008
Petty theft as we type....
We intended this to be a nice long blog after the horrific shortness of the last, and yet this, my friends, is not to be. The reason being that we are currently getting RIPPED OFF FROM UNDER OUR VERY NOSES at the cost of using the internet.... (I am starting to develop the opinion that the internet should be free and available to all like tap water and public toilets.)
Although the actual cost of internet use per minute is less than, say, Dubrovnik (which was true daylight robbery), our problem with Italy is the speed; or should I say lack of. I am going to have to press "publish post" a good five minutes before my time is up simply to ensure the post's success.
As I currently have six minutes and 4 seconds (3...2...) left, and counting - as you can see - it's nearly time to sign off. However, we both wish to point out that although the last few blogs have been slightly moany, we are actually having an amazing time in Italy and are becoming increasingly depressed at our impending return to the wet, windy, cold, sarcastic UK. The bitterness of our blogs might have something to do with the fact that in the last week we have seen the price of beer rise from 80p per litre (Prague) to £11 (Venice)... bastards!
Although the actual cost of internet use per minute is less than, say, Dubrovnik (which was true daylight robbery), our problem with Italy is the speed; or should I say lack of. I am going to have to press "publish post" a good five minutes before my time is up simply to ensure the post's success.
As I currently have six minutes and 4 seconds (3...2...) left, and counting - as you can see - it's nearly time to sign off. However, we both wish to point out that although the last few blogs have been slightly moany, we are actually having an amazing time in Italy and are becoming increasingly depressed at our impending return to the wet, windy, cold, sarcastic UK. The bitterness of our blogs might have something to do with the fact that in the last week we have seen the price of beer rise from 80p per litre (Prague) to £11 (Venice)... bastards!
Thursday 21 August 2008
Bloody French.
We have just been told that collectively we sound disgusting when we clean our teeth. And they (the smelly French boys who loved informing us of this) didn't just mention it once, they literally went on about how awful we were for hours... impressions and animated hand gestures n all.
The classic quote of the evening so far: “It made us feel sick. We were so grateful that you closed the bathroom door when you went for a wee, although we didn’t expect you to”. Bloody French.
The classic quote of the evening so far: “It made us feel sick. We were so grateful that you closed the bathroom door when you went for a wee, although we didn’t expect you to”. Bloody French.
Wednesday 20 August 2008
The rubbishist "travel blog" in the world.
As previously mentioned, we have a very low readership of only our close friends and a few people we have bribed into reading the blog along our travels. However, two of this limited readership have made a complaint regarding the blog, and as the numbers were talking about are so small two is actually a very large percentage. As such, we feel the need to deal with these complaints head on - we know, we think our customer service is excellent too.
The complaint is that this blog is supposed to be a travel blog and as yet we have mentioned very little about the places we have visited; surely the whole point of a travel blog, non? Non! In actual fact, if we talked about the places we visited we have a feeling our readership would be even less than it is today... a scarily real possibility.
This is because we are only travelling around Europe; Christopher Columbus we are not. Another reason is if we did give in to peer pressure and describe the places we have been they would ALL go as follows:
"Got up early in [insert European destination here] after long train journey and subsequent night out. The weather is beautiful unlike in England, ha. We went to a gallery, which was interesting although expensive to get in. We went to a museum, which was interesting although expensive to get in. We ate some lunch consisting of crisps, bread and cheese... eat your heart out Gordon, and possibly accompany it with Nutella, another favourite cuisine of ours.
We went to a Jewish quarter which was "super Jewy" (some American Jews that we’ve met taught us this term…), interesting and not expensive at all. We quite possibly stumbled upon a Jewish ghetto, which was interesting but depressing. We went to a cathedral, which was interesting (although these appear to be getting less and less interesting as our travels continue).
We inevitably ended our day in the Old Town which was quaint and picturesque. We went to the castle in the Old Town which was quaint and picturesque. We ate a tea consisting of pasta. We went for a night out, to refuel ourselves for the next day."
We are currently in Florence, and if you are interested in what Florence is like just insert Florence as the European destination above (although, probably best if you replace the super Jewy bits with more Cathedrals; although I regret to admit to “super Christiany” hardly has the same ring).
The complaint is that this blog is supposed to be a travel blog and as yet we have mentioned very little about the places we have visited; surely the whole point of a travel blog, non? Non! In actual fact, if we talked about the places we visited we have a feeling our readership would be even less than it is today... a scarily real possibility.
This is because we are only travelling around Europe; Christopher Columbus we are not. Another reason is if we did give in to peer pressure and describe the places we have been they would ALL go as follows:
"Got up early in [insert European destination here] after long train journey and subsequent night out. The weather is beautiful unlike in England, ha. We went to a gallery, which was interesting although expensive to get in. We went to a museum, which was interesting although expensive to get in. We ate some lunch consisting of crisps, bread and cheese... eat your heart out Gordon, and possibly accompany it with Nutella, another favourite cuisine of ours.
We went to a Jewish quarter which was "super Jewy" (some American Jews that we’ve met taught us this term…), interesting and not expensive at all. We quite possibly stumbled upon a Jewish ghetto, which was interesting but depressing. We went to a cathedral, which was interesting (although these appear to be getting less and less interesting as our travels continue).
We inevitably ended our day in the Old Town which was quaint and picturesque. We went to the castle in the Old Town which was quaint and picturesque. We ate a tea consisting of pasta. We went for a night out, to refuel ourselves for the next day."
We are currently in Florence, and if you are interested in what Florence is like just insert Florence as the European destination above (although, probably best if you replace the super Jewy bits with more Cathedrals; although I regret to admit to “super Christiany” hardly has the same ring).
Friday 15 August 2008
The 'Internet Park' of dreams.
We are currently sat in the middle of a park in Croatia, and we’re not on a laptop. How, you might ask, are we writing this if we are not on a laptop? Well we’re in ‘internet park’ - a groundbreaking Croatian invention which involves putting a lot of desk top computers in random positions throughout the middle of a park. We have a feeling this invention will not take off in England due to the large amount of British rain and petty theft. Apparently, Croatia suffers from neither... The internet park lives on!
As internet parks also cost a lot of money (and someone on a computer close to us has just decided to listen to heavy metal) our use of said internet park is to be short but sweet.
We have to mention a couple of people we have met along our trip who promised to read the blog; so hello Carlo and Howard (we will reply soon, but thought this should suffice for now). Also Danny, you are still not forgiven for saying my hair looked "unattractive".
Some might think that mentioning people’s names just to increase readership is a desperate ploy close to bribery. We couldn’t agree more, but currently our readership is less than 30 as so we are more than happy to oblige.
Stay tuned for photos of the amazing 'internet park' (when we get round to downloading them) - a place where dreams are made.
Sunday 10 August 2008
The Kodak Curse Strikes.
(Further to the last post we didn't get raped in Vienna).
While most people are engrossed in the Olympics, the lack of television facilities in hostels has lead to us developing our own spectator sport: European poses. (Along with other ignorant Brits we do not, generally, count ourselves as European.)
Apparently, when a camera is whipped out in Europe a smile will not suffice; instead, many Europeans resort to the staple catalogue poses reminiscent of the early 1990s. In just one day (we concede that this spectator sport is in its very early days...) we witnessed approx. ten contenders for the relevant three medal.
A personal favourite is when someone is sat on a wall, looking relatively casual, until the gaze of the camera falls upon them (Charlotte refers to this as the 'Kodak curse') and they immediately recline, often lifting one leg onto the wall and placing the hand on the hip, whilst desperately attempting to make love to the camera with their eyes. In other words, they couldn't look less causal.
However, the undisputed winner of the 'I'm Just Casually Relaxing By a View Pose' gold medal goes to a middle aged, rather plump woman, who thought it was socially acceptable, when having a photo taken by a fountain, to lift her leg (above waist height), extend it to an impressively straight extent, place it on the fountain and smile. (Katrina knows this is impressive because she attempted to recreate the shot after the woman had removed herself with great difficulty). Tyra Banks would be proud.
Obviously, we both have been taking notes and are looking forward to competing tomorrow.
While most people are engrossed in the Olympics, the lack of television facilities in hostels has lead to us developing our own spectator sport: European poses. (Along with other ignorant Brits we do not, generally, count ourselves as European.)
Apparently, when a camera is whipped out in Europe a smile will not suffice; instead, many Europeans resort to the staple catalogue poses reminiscent of the early 1990s. In just one day (we concede that this spectator sport is in its very early days...) we witnessed approx. ten contenders for the relevant three medal.
A personal favourite is when someone is sat on a wall, looking relatively casual, until the gaze of the camera falls upon them (Charlotte refers to this as the 'Kodak curse') and they immediately recline, often lifting one leg onto the wall and placing the hand on the hip, whilst desperately attempting to make love to the camera with their eyes. In other words, they couldn't look less causal.
However, the undisputed winner of the 'I'm Just Casually Relaxing By a View Pose' gold medal goes to a middle aged, rather plump woman, who thought it was socially acceptable, when having a photo taken by a fountain, to lift her leg (above waist height), extend it to an impressively straight extent, place it on the fountain and smile. (Katrina knows this is impressive because she attempted to recreate the shot after the woman had removed herself with great difficulty). Tyra Banks would be proud.
Obviously, we both have been taking notes and are looking forward to competing tomorrow.
Wednesday 6 August 2008
Gassed, thieved and left for dead.
This is likely to be a short post as we are both pissed off that every single person in the world appears to want to be in Vienna at the same time as us. Yet, we are more pissed off than that because not only do they want to be in Vienna, but they were clever enough to actually book a hostel. As such we have ended up cutting our stay short and staying for only one night in a hostel we are 99% likely to get raped in; it pretty much said as so on its website.
We have noticed, however, that people get a lot of pleasure from scaring two girls travelling alone into thinking they will be attacked at best, or left for dead. The most frequent story we heard when we informed others that we were getting the overnight train from Krakow to Prague was that we would undoubtedly be gassed and thieved.
Our fears that we were attempting to keep at bay were not quashed, either, when a girl in our couchette who told us she was Czech informed us that in we were in no circumstances (and she enforced this point more than once) allowed to open the window. She appeared to be unaware that water would boil at the couchette room temperature.
She wasn’t much keen on us going to the toilet either, and insisted that if we did dare to venture to the loo we should: "lock the door behind us". Neither of us have managed to work out how to lock a door from the outside... but we nodded all the same. Charlotte was petrified all night because of the hundreds of horror stories that had been drilled into us; she swears she dreamt about thieves coming through windows or magically being able to open locked doors from the outside.
You will be interested (I am sure) to know that our stealth mission to the toilet at 3a.m was carried out with SAS precision and the scary girl never knew a thing. Mwah ha ha.
We hope it is needless to say that we were not raped or pillaged and have no intention of being so.
We have noticed, however, that people get a lot of pleasure from scaring two girls travelling alone into thinking they will be attacked at best, or left for dead. The most frequent story we heard when we informed others that we were getting the overnight train from Krakow to Prague was that we would undoubtedly be gassed and thieved.
Our fears that we were attempting to keep at bay were not quashed, either, when a girl in our couchette who told us she was Czech informed us that in we were in no circumstances (and she enforced this point more than once) allowed to open the window. She appeared to be unaware that water would boil at the couchette room temperature.
She wasn’t much keen on us going to the toilet either, and insisted that if we did dare to venture to the loo we should: "lock the door behind us". Neither of us have managed to work out how to lock a door from the outside... but we nodded all the same. Charlotte was petrified all night because of the hundreds of horror stories that had been drilled into us; she swears she dreamt about thieves coming through windows or magically being able to open locked doors from the outside.
You will be interested (I am sure) to know that our stealth mission to the toilet at 3a.m was carried out with SAS precision and the scary girl never knew a thing. Mwah ha ha.
We hope it is needless to say that we were not raped or pillaged and have no intention of being so.
Saturday 2 August 2008
The return of the Jays.
Bonjour Warsaw! The reason I say bonjour is because we don't know a word of Polish, although Charlotte thinks excuse me might be something along the lines of "boschlacken" because we were in the way on the bus and people kept asking us to move. The chances of this being correct are slim, and I am not convinced that "boschlacken" is not an insult to English people; as such, I have encouraged C not to use it in public.
For those interested, makeup and perfume is really expensive here: Touch Eclat is 35 quid, for example. And believe me, Charlotte is interested (and disgusted) with that. Also, C wishes me to inform all that Dior Pure Poison is 90 quid and so no self respecting lady should live in Poland.
For those not interested: Warsaw has saw a lot of war (see what I did there?!), We went round a museum about the Warsaw Rising and nearly cried. It didn't help that this weekend is its anniversary and so it was full of veterans also crying.... a light-hearted afternoon I think not.
What is light-hearted, however, is our attitude to crossing the road in Europe. Apparently jay walking is a crime... BUT WE AIN'T BEEN A-CAUGHT YET (insert southern American accent (for no reason) here). We have begun to refer to ourselves as 'jays'. (C would like to point out that she actually hasn't.) The Polish and Germans, however, are not jays. They trust appfelman like we trust Living TV to air at least one episode of America's Next Top Model a day.
On an intellectual note, if anyone fancies looking up the death rates of pedestrian road accidents in Berlin and Warsaw and compare them to Britain’s we would be most grateful because we can't be bothered. Our hypothesis is that Brits will die less coz although they're DIRTY JAYS, drivers do not try and run them over when it’s on the green man.
We would say bye in Polish, but see above. So we'll leave you with a hearty: "boschlacken!"
For those interested, makeup and perfume is really expensive here: Touch Eclat is 35 quid, for example. And believe me, Charlotte is interested (and disgusted) with that. Also, C wishes me to inform all that Dior Pure Poison is 90 quid and so no self respecting lady should live in Poland.
For those not interested: Warsaw has saw a lot of war (see what I did there?!), We went round a museum about the Warsaw Rising and nearly cried. It didn't help that this weekend is its anniversary and so it was full of veterans also crying.... a light-hearted afternoon I think not.
What is light-hearted, however, is our attitude to crossing the road in Europe. Apparently jay walking is a crime... BUT WE AIN'T BEEN A-CAUGHT YET (insert southern American accent (for no reason) here). We have begun to refer to ourselves as 'jays'. (C would like to point out that she actually hasn't.) The Polish and Germans, however, are not jays. They trust appfelman like we trust Living TV to air at least one episode of America's Next Top Model a day.
On an intellectual note, if anyone fancies looking up the death rates of pedestrian road accidents in Berlin and Warsaw and compare them to Britain’s we would be most grateful because we can't be bothered. Our hypothesis is that Brits will die less coz although they're DIRTY JAYS, drivers do not try and run them over when it’s on the green man.
We would say bye in Polish, but see above. So we'll leave you with a hearty: "boschlacken!"
Wednesday 30 July 2008
"You flamin' galaa!" - we now know that this is not commonly used down under.
We are now actually in Berlin - the rhymingness of which does not grow old, staying in a hostel with a very Australian name for no reason except that Australians stay there. As such, we are surrounded, like a person who's being ambushed. (Yes, this is the best analogy we could come up with.)
So far no Australians have spoken to us except for a few in the street; we like to think this is because our proper accents intimidate them, although this is currently unproved. Yet the holiday ("travelling") was kicked off with a bang of a quote overheard by Big Ears C that went along these lines: in reference to a heavily worn t-shirt with frayed edges, an Australian girl was moaning about how trampy she looked; to which her friend replied (insert Aussie accent here:) "shut up, what are you talking about? I mean, I live for that stuff." Yes, she lives for an old t-shirt.
However, Europeans are not faring much better style-wise. Although, upon arriving in Berlin, you may think that the vast majority of Berliners have no fashion sense, the travel guide (yes Lonely Planet, you) will inform you that this is intentional and they have spent hours preparing their chic looks. This is a falsehood and could be termed propaganda (yes, we did go on a Third Reich tour today so we know all about propaganda).
C's favourites include black leather silver diamonteed trainers, and a man in Hawaiian shirt tucked into above the knee shorts, with socks and sandals - clichéd, perhaps, but amazing. Also, he was fat.
We will leave you with this lovely mental picture and promise not to mention fashion or lack of for a while. Auf Weidersehen pet (given our surroundings, this phrase has never been more relevant).
So far no Australians have spoken to us except for a few in the street; we like to think this is because our proper accents intimidate them, although this is currently unproved. Yet the holiday ("travelling") was kicked off with a bang of a quote overheard by Big Ears C that went along these lines: in reference to a heavily worn t-shirt with frayed edges, an Australian girl was moaning about how trampy she looked; to which her friend replied (insert Aussie accent here:) "shut up, what are you talking about? I mean, I live for that stuff." Yes, she lives for an old t-shirt.
However, Europeans are not faring much better style-wise. Although, upon arriving in Berlin, you may think that the vast majority of Berliners have no fashion sense, the travel guide (yes Lonely Planet, you) will inform you that this is intentional and they have spent hours preparing their chic looks. This is a falsehood and could be termed propaganda (yes, we did go on a Third Reich tour today so we know all about propaganda).
C's favourites include black leather silver diamonteed trainers, and a man in Hawaiian shirt tucked into above the knee shorts, with socks and sandals - clichéd, perhaps, but amazing. Also, he was fat.
We will leave you with this lovely mental picture and promise not to mention fashion or lack of for a while. Auf Weidersehen pet (given our surroundings, this phrase has never been more relevant).
Monday 28 July 2008
The Big Pen has arrived.
As the title quite apty puts it, the Big Pen has arrived. In other words, we leave tomorrow - which will in fact be today in precisely twenty five minutes. After a year of talking about it, and a good two months in the library (literally) dreaming about it it's finally here.
Turns out that when people learn that you are going "travelling" - albeit for thirty days, they feel compelled to ignore what I believe to be instinctive response: "have a good time" and go, instead ,with the somewhat more daunting: "stay safe". Indeed, our favourite scaremonger repeatedly told me she had often seen: "girls like you... drunk and off their face on whoknowswhat... asking for it". For someone to make such a judgemental warning, one would hope they knew me well; they had actually only met me that same day.
My Mum went for the less catchy, and much more worrying advise: "remember girls, before you take a risk, think it through."
C, on the other hand, was advised by our friend Rachel (yes, you Rachel) to do something along the lines off : "slag it up". Although C is far from convinced ("I'm very sceptical on the issue") that this is a good way to spend a month in Europe, and she is even less convinced that the calibre of Australian man will be quite what she has been promised.
We have decided that due to the lack of sensible or helpful advice, we will ignore it all, and get back to the problem of deciding whether I should take the £3.50 children’s pillow with a red car on it that she bought in Asda or the exciting sounding 'Gelert Comfort Micro Fleece Pillow SBG149'...
Turns out that when people learn that you are going "travelling" - albeit for thirty days, they feel compelled to ignore what I believe to be instinctive response: "have a good time" and go, instead ,with the somewhat more daunting: "stay safe". Indeed, our favourite scaremonger repeatedly told me she had often seen: "girls like you... drunk and off their face on whoknowswhat... asking for it". For someone to make such a judgemental warning, one would hope they knew me well; they had actually only met me that same day.
My Mum went for the less catchy, and much more worrying advise: "remember girls, before you take a risk, think it through."
C, on the other hand, was advised by our friend Rachel (yes, you Rachel) to do something along the lines off : "slag it up". Although C is far from convinced ("I'm very sceptical on the issue") that this is a good way to spend a month in Europe, and she is even less convinced that the calibre of Australian man will be quite what she has been promised.
We have decided that due to the lack of sensible or helpful advice, we will ignore it all, and get back to the problem of deciding whether I should take the £3.50 children’s pillow with a red car on it that she bought in Asda or the exciting sounding 'Gelert Comfort Micro Fleece Pillow SBG149'...
Thursday 24 July 2008
In preparation for "The Big Pen".
We appreciate that playing the Max Gogarty card is cheap, but it was too tempting to resist. We'll leave Max alone now, except for pointing out that we too live in North London (Hackney), occasionally wear skinny jeans and spend our money on "food and booze". Unfortunately, we do not write part time for Skins or have Dads in high places. See http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/travelog/2008/02/skins_blog.html, we implore you. (I picked the “we implore you” phrase up from the often very poorly written Lonely Planet guide to Eastern Europe).
Back to business: this blog will document our month spent interrailing around Europe. We begin in Berlin (catchy), end in Milan and the rest, as they say, is roughly planned out on a spreadsheet... Kat (me) will do the majority of the writing, although Charlotte (C) will inevitably jump in with literary (or at the very least, blogging) genius.
The next (and first proper) post will be on Monday, the day before we head off into the very-well-known. The penultimate day - or as I likes to call it, "The Big Pen". We predict it will be regarding the undeniably interesting topics of packing and excitement.... We know, we can't wait for it either.
Back to business: this blog will document our month spent interrailing around Europe. We begin in Berlin (catchy), end in Milan and the rest, as they say, is roughly planned out on a spreadsheet... Kat (me) will do the majority of the writing, although Charlotte (C) will inevitably jump in with literary (or at the very least, blogging) genius.
The next (and first proper) post will be on Monday, the day before we head off into the very-well-known. The penultimate day - or as I likes to call it, "The Big Pen". We predict it will be regarding the undeniably interesting topics of packing and excitement.... We know, we can't wait for it either.
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