Dear everyone,
As this is my first (and maybe only) update I'll try and be short however as I type and remember things this may be difficult. Also please excuse the spelling, it turns out if you live in a non-english speaking country the computers/internet/spellcheck tend not to be in english.
After a whirl wind tour of Spain and Protrugal (which saw chom and I spend a but load of mums "seperation creek maintenance/upkeep" funds on piss and vinigar) Chom and I headed to maroco for just over a week of eye opening, culture shock and beautiful travels. I then headed to Nice, France at the end of January and it is from here (or there) that I send this email. As most of you have been reading Chom's blog (if not here it is... actually I have no idea what the site is but it has something to do with clothing unicorns in german). I'll jump to a few highlights of Maroco.
Maroc Highlights
- seeing first hand what a 3rd world developing poor country looks like and being breathless at its beauty.
- complete lack of order, not organised chaos but mutualy agreed mayhem. For example the use of the car horn: the deal seems to be that a car will let another car turn or merge infront of them and then honk the hell out of them as if to say "it is my honour to let you go infront and I will honk you to advise you of such"
- getting ripped off by hoteliers and cab drivers... untill we worked out how not to be.
- 30hour bus ride from Casablanca to Dakhla (you think Coober Peady or Alice Spings is off the beaten track! pftt! find yourself in Dakhla for a few days!!!)
- watching wild camels chilling in the Sahara
- eating some of the most amazing food sold by some of the filthiest vedors I've ever seen.
- sharing dinner with stray cats that are more welcom in the restauraunt than you are... after all they are repeat guests.
- watching the raging (and usuly torquoise green) atlantic smash into the white clifs of the western sahara.
- being told be men with machine guns (and without uniforms, suspicious much) that we really shouldnt be here and we aught to leave... this conversation being conducted in a small shed in the middle of the fucking desert, them holding our passports, and speaking agressivly in arabic and then french... neither of which I speak while tiny droplets of pee run down my leg.
- noticing that there is no horizon as the wind lifts white sands of the sahara into the sky creating a white on white on blue sky horizon bipolar dichotomy alliteration... ok now im rambling.
I arived in Nice on a Thursday, applied for work on Friday, started work on Monday... thinking this was amazing I found out that most the employees... and the longer term guests did exactly the same thing (one Canadian girl left on a one year visa to, in her words, "explore europe" only to arrive in Nice and still be there 2months later when I arived... as an aside she has now made it to Paris). This hostel has a pull to it that cannot be easily explained but by working here I can essentially extend my travels indefinatly :) snowboarding in the alps was nothing short of amazing (its only 2 hours from here) and standing in the center of Nice looing at the Cote D'Azure of the French Riviera on one side, turning around to see the snow capped alps behind is a vision I will not soon forget.
So after 3 weeks of partying my ass off, meeting a million different people from a thousand different countries in a hundred different colours I manage to snap my collar bone into 2 distinct peices while flying down a mountian (its my fault of course, 2 days before I had some epic instruction from an ex Burton employee (awesome chick from San Fran) and had 3 nightshifts back to back so I was over confident and exhursted... the perfect combination for a spot of extream sport :) ).
The french medical system is great, they look at you, say in they best english "she'll be right mate" which comes out more like "is ok is ok", perscribe you a sling and some paracetamol and send you packing. 3 weeks off work destroyed any sence of savings I didnt already have but I did manage to credit card a 5 day trip to Rome with a couple of ozzy chicks that was some of the hardest parting to date, not to mention the majesty that is Rome. If ever you travel to Rome the best advice I can give you is 'go fo a walk' as you will see some of the most amazing buildings and sights around every corner... then hit the town and party till waaaay past sunrise. 2 memorable moments from Rome.
1: Meandering around, just a little away from the coleseum (as you do), a car pulls up beside me and the guy starts firing off in italian, I reply in my best ozzy accent "sorry mate I dont speak italian" we start chatting and it turns out he is a clothing rep for some big fasion company and is trying to find some place or other. We share a cigarette and he asks if i know Italian fasion... "er..no" i think to myself.... "yes of course" i reply... he pulls out a cashmere sweater and a leather jaket, has me try them on, wishes me the best of luck and dissapears up the road leaving me standing there with about 300 euros worth of leather and cashmere, and a dumbfounded smile from ear to ear.
2. That night a group of 30 of us head out for a pub crawl, at about 3 am and 6hours of free drinks later, I decide to call it a night and head off to find a train, the metro is closed. "OK" I think, "I'll grab a bus", bus services stop at 2am and restart at 5. I start to sober up a little and realise I know exactly where I am... trashed as a fart... somewhere in Rome.... somewhere in Europe. I decide the best course of action is to walk in a straight line (which is a mission in itself). About 2km later I come across this nicely dressed guy stumbling drunkanly toward me. "gday mate, nice night, can you tell me where the fuck I left my marbles and how do I get to Termini (the main train station in rome and my only landmark)" he does not spek english, I do not speak italian. 20min later it turns out he knows where I need to go and will take me to the nearest bus (this sounds supicious as they are not running but he asures me that it is). 2km of walking later he pulls out a spliff the size of my arm and sugests we share it "bloody brilliant idea" I think, so we sit under the runis of the old roman aquaducts that snake their way through the city and puff puff pass. Me chatting happily away in english and my best, or at this stage worst italian, him replying in his best french and worst italian... needless to say the hilarity of the situation was not lost on either off us. I return to the hostel, somehow, just after dawn and realise my plane leaves in 1 hour and its a 55min bus ride to the airport. Bearly making the plane, drunk, hungover, stoned, leather jaket in hand, passport in my back poket I reallise im FLYING HOME TO NICE!!! and nearly cry I suspect the pain of the hangover did not help the situation.
Ariving back in Nice perectly timed to meet up with another canadian chick who has just spent a week in austria we share stories and again party till dawn. This continues for the rest of the week and well... that was last week.
In summary. traveling is everything everyone says it is and more, there are some many things that cannot be explained with pen and parchment and can only be shared with a knowing wink or nod of the head. I have met the most amazing people, seen the most amazing things, readjusted all of my thoughts on humanity, lost all perjudice and looking forward to more random adventures in cities thousands of years old filled with people just like you and me.
Best small world story to date: met an ozzy chick on my first night in Nice, turns out she grew up in the house that Dad and Sue now live in (it was her uncle that sold them the house). second best small world story: met an american chick from the UK (or was she brittish from america) who went to wesley for 4 years and graduated in 05.
moral of the story. as long as you have a passport. nothing else matters.
Best regards,
James aka John Livingstone Seagull (wink wink loved the book)
PS. please forward to anyone who does not have their email address on facebook :)
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