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).
Wednesday 27 August 2008
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!"
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