year abroad in London

1:17 PM
Lura

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Nothing is better than writing on a long journey ride. Im on the bus on route to Fes. Im excited. My guidebook, one however I have lost some faith for, describes Fes as the most ancient of the Imperial capitals and a place that seems to exist suspended in time somewhere between the Middle Ages and the modern world. Guaranteed to stimulate my senses? I think so.

The bus has just made a stop at some town, whose name I dont know. Oh wait. We pass a road sign. It reads Ouezzane. I recognize it as a town close to Chaouen, a mere hour away. Is that all we have travelled...it felt longer. I copy the arabic script. But unfortunately, its too difficult or impossible for me to type it here. I look out of my window and I see a swarm of men crowded around the bus. The men are wheeling empty wooden carts. Im confused. I realize they are in fact porters offering their services to cart luggage for people. Only a few passengers get off. Too bad. Only one porter was used. He carts away the bags and two people follow. The other porters turn away. I see them waiting and preying for another bus. An old woman just got on the bus. I realize she is a begger, her hand outstretched, and mumuring something. The man in front of me hands over a few coins. The man opposite me declines to give. I think its my turn now. At first, she seemed to walk pass me. Do I look so uncompassionate? Ah she then turns to me with her head tilted and her hand stretched out. I instinctively reach into my bag for a plastic bag. I broke off a banana for a bunch of a mere two and hand it over to her. For a second, I thought she will reject it. But she took it under her arm and continued on. I dont remember who or where I picked this habit of giving food rather than money. but it was definitely in India. I try to think hard. I remember two events. I was eating at an outdoor food vendor, and I remember seeing a tourist offering to buy meals for two apparently improvished persons. Another time, well on repeated occassions, I recall Ashok, my friend of many years, would give biscuits to street children when they pressed him for money. In India, begging is all too prevalent. Just walking on the street or riding a rickshaw or tuk tuk you will get confronted by women carrying their babies asking for money and if failing that, they ask for milk (either they say they want to money for the milk, or the tourist goes and buys milk). The sad truth is, the milk gets immediately resold to vendors and they keep part of the money. The other sort of scam you get is the one-pen-please scams. I had read this one somewhere and have been asked by numerous kids myself. Basically kids approach you for a pen. Of course, one would think a pen is useful and educational. but like the milk, it gets resold. It shows how sophisticated begging has developed in India. And that is already mild scams. Scams on a larger scale such as gem scams cheat tourists of great amounts of money.

Oh, I desperately need the toilet. Ive been ignoring my bladder for a while. I also cant stop drinking. My mouth and throat is dry. This trip is supposed to be four hours, but after yesterdays trip I have great doubts. The road we are travelling on today is in poor condition. Its not paved but yet the bus is travelling at a high speed making it an uncomfortable ride and further exacerberating my need to go to the loo. Would the bus actually not stop? I have never taken a four to five hour bus ride in a developing (I say that because in UK and Australia, the W.C. is on the bus) country. In india, ive only ever taken 7-8 hr bus rides and they only had one stop. Oh no, I dont think im going to last. Oh wait, the bus is slowing down. The bus is stopping as we speak now. Whew.

What a day. I dont even know where to begin. Okay, thats untrue because I have given account of my bus ride above from Chaouen to Fes. BUT I had NO idea what I was in for when I got into Fes. I took the 1pm bus leaving Chaouen and we got to Fes around 5pm. Fine. It was still light and thought Ill check into a nice riad, to treat myself since its my birthday and since I had a freezing night at last nights hostel, then walk around the old medina and find a bite. But what transpired after getting off the bus was an anguishing ordeal.

I shared a petit taxi with a Czech guy who was on the bus as well; we were both heading to the medina (the old town). We went out own ways since I was looking for Riad Louna (riads being traditional Moroccan houses built around a patio and used as a guesthouse, but which are much more pricier) and he was looking for some budget room. What a mistake. Rough Guides (RG) have a simplified map (they explained how a detailed one would be impossible since the old area is a web of alleys, blind lanes and souks....I know what they mean the moment I stepped within the walled city) of Fes el Bali (one area of the old city) and on the bus I worked out the landmarks so I would have no trouble finding it. I spent a full half an hour looking for this riad. The map was in fact inaccurate. I dont know if I should write RG with a list oftheir inaccuracies.

Anyways moving on. So after walking up and down Talaa Seghira, the road I located on the map, numerous times I found the right lane to turn off. I finally found it but alas, it was full. The owner recommended another hotel. Dismayed, I thought its going to be budget tonight after all. So, I went to Pension (means hostel/guesthouse) Talaa next door. Not even properly through the door, the man standing beside it said it was full. I glanced up the flight of steps and saw two backpackers waiting as well.

Frustrated that even a budget place was full, I tried another place recommended by RG called Hostel Lamrani. I went up the flight of steps and I was surprised to find so many backpackers. I asked the guy, who seemed to be the only person working there because his hands were full trying to serve different people. He told me no single rooms were available, only a double room which would cost 200 dirhim. Considering I stayed in Chouen for 50 dirhims I declined and left. My second mistake of the night. I reconsidered the hotel that the owner of Riad Louna had originally recommended. I thought if Im going to pay 200 plus dirhims, I may as well stay somewhere nice. So I trekked back, all the time with my increasingly heavy backpack, passing Riad Louna and trying to recall directions to Hotel Batha. I found it. It was the most standard looking hotel. The porter greeted me, bonsoir. I was confused. I was wondering what language at first. Realizing it must be french I thought, did he mean bonjour. haha my crap french. recalling my yr 9 french, a bit too late, i realize he was saying good evening. duh.

Anyways, this seemingly huge hotel was FULL. unbelievable. I was desperate now. I asked for both single and double rooms but to no luck. I was starting to get worried. I stepped out of the hotel and this random guy came up to me asking me if I was looking for a hotel. reluctant as I was to follow him, I did. We passed Pension Batha, which I recalled was in the RG. I insisted on checking. I went up the stairs thinking I am going to be in luck this time since this place seems
out of the way, but it was full. I went downstairs dismayed.

We next passed this elegant looking riad. The guy I was following was unhappy. he kept urging me to follow him. Wanting to get away from I knocked on the big wooden door and was let in. The man who was responsible for this riad was extremely kind. It didnt take long for us to both figure out this place was way out of my budget. me with my backpack looked extremely out of place at this villa. he sat me down in the beautifully decorated reception and offered to make some calls to check some pensions. I told him my upper limit is 500 dirhims (see what I mean, I should have taken the original 200 dirhim room...but it was too late as I later found out...i was getting desperate now). He came back a few minutes later and said all the places he tried were full.

I pulled out my RG and together we literally phoned each listing of pension. no kidding, everywhere was full. I was so confused. he told me it was christmas/new years time and Fes gets very busy. We went systematically through all the hostels listed around Bab Boujeloud (west of old town) and then all the cheap hostels in the Bab Ftouh area, then to more upmarket options but to no avail. I think he made around 20 calls on my behalf. we even tried this hostel which the RG had commented they have had repots of the hotel being used by prostitutes, particularly during the early hours. yea, well THAT was full. There wasnt even a need for me to decide what was my upper limit for a room because there was simply none available.

I couldnt even think of an alternative. Stay up all night? thats crazy in an arab country. plus its freezing. I asked the guy if I could leave my backpack so I could go around looking for a place more easily. He was happy to do so. I walked around aimlessly. Another guy, who apparently recognized me walking up and down the same road before, approached me and asked if I tried Hostel Campino. I said no, and he pointed to a road on the right. So I went up the road...it was long. I was about to give up but I saw a neon light at the end. I thought since I walked so far, i may as well walk to the end. And yay, the neon sign read Pension Campino. I went up the flight of steps holding my breath there was a room. The guy said there was no single room, but only a room for 4 persons which was in fact reserved. I was prepared to pay for the whole room now. But it was reserved, and there was a possibility that the people may turn up. He probably saw the frustration on my face and said he could prehaps give me a bed but not a room. Not really understanding him, he took me upstairs and pointed to a sofa in the living room. Oh great. But i accepted. it meant it would be cheaper, right. Even so, it costed me 120 dirhams. So I have a place now tonight, or lets say a half-place.

It would have been a crap end to the night if it ended there. but after collecting my bag from the kind man who had kept it aside, I dropped my bag at Pension Campino and walked back to central medina to lift up my spirits. Ive written an account of me looking for accommodation and have not given any description of Fes itself, especially the old town. leaving aside looking for pensions, the moment I got off the taxi and stepped inside the medina (taxis arent allowed) the place was BUZZING. it blew me away. I cant describe it. all my sense were ignited. the smells, the food, the colour, the lights, the people just everywhere, the music. there were outdoor cafes, terrace cafes, food vendors, shops with items spilling out selling anything from moroccan lamps, carpets, ceramics etc. It was so cool. There was so much to take in at once. but i knew i needed to find somewhere to drop my bag off and properly explore the place. So when i returned two hours later (yea, spent that long looking for a place) after dropping my bag (pension campino is a 10 min walk from the medina) I was delighted to find the place still buzzing like anything. And guess who I saw. The same guy on the bus and in the taxi with me. We joined up and grabbed a bite. what did we have? camel meat kebab! wow. honestly, not bad not bad. all we had to do was order at the butchery, the butcher cuts up the meat and passes it to his assistant who grills it in front of you. talk about fresh. anyways, so eating as we walked we took in the sights and sounds of the area. later, we grabbed a drink later. the national drink - mint tea. Its served in a tall glass, mint leaves to the brim, and is very sweet. But real good stuff. I ordered some Moroccan cake. It didnt look anything like cake. so there was my birthday cake. haha. later, Andre, the guy I had first met on the bus, brought me an Arabic pop music CD as a bday gift as we passed a vendor blaring arabic music. we were discussing what souvenirs we wanted to buy in Morocco, and all I could think of was music and photos (I dont know, but exotic things dont appeal to me as much as before..I used to love buying handpressed stationary, shawls, clothes).

Alright, I had better be off. Its nearing midnight. Byeeeeee

1:20 PM
Lura

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

copied from my notebook...

I am writing this sitting on a full bus, squeezed against the window by a burly overweight Moroccan man taking up part of my seat. I was the last one on the bus as I hopped on the slowly reversing bus. The guy at the bus counter had told me to run for this bus, and so I did, letting the conductor grab hold of my bag to store underneath. I can only trust that my luggage is safely stored and not left behind. As I got on and walked down the aisle of the bus, I felt all eyes on me. I was frantically searching for a spare seat. I also felt increasingly conspicuous as I walked down, the only female with her head uncovered and the foreigner on the bus. When I neared the end, it was clear there was no seat. Was I to stand for the hour journey clinging on the rack? But then a man stood up and offered his seat to me; thinking the right thing to do was to accept, I said, shokran (thank you in arabic). For the minutes I sat on his warmed seat, I felt bad that he now didnt have a seat. But alas, a seat was made for him at the front. I dont think standing up is allowed on long distance buses.

This bus is not going where I had planned. It is destined for Tetouan, while I want to go to Chefchaouen, a large village to the east of Morocco. After the limited reading I did on the ferry on Morocco, and deciding on Chaouen (shortform) as my first stop I thought to myself, yes: I have a destination to get to, I dont have to wander around Tangier aimlessly. But whatever plan I seem to make, it seems this country has other plans. Sounds like India to me. Now, I am forced to make a detour to Tetouan and catch some form of transport to Chaouen. I am groaning now. I have travelled enough today. Im told that this bus takes one hour to get to Tetouan. But I have great doubts. We have made a few stops on the road since moving.

The bus conductor just came around to sell me a bus ticket. Actually, everyone else seemed to have already gotten a ticket. Last one as I was, I had no chance to peer over someone else to see how much they paid. The conductor mutters a number but I dont understand. I shrug. He showed me a 10 dirhim coin and some other coin I forgot. I shove some coins in his hand and he gave some change. The ticket was probably around 12D. cheap. less than a quid. Im trying to breathe through my mouth now. The guy next to me smells really bad. The smell is a mixture of sweat and urine. No kidding. Nice guy, I am sure he is, but I dont know how I can last the rest of this journey. So, I turn my head the other way and watch the scenery pass by. The window is muddy streaked, in need of a good wash. I wish I can open these windows but I cant. I need a breath of fresh air. There isnt anything particularly Moroccan about the scenery. The bus is driving through rural areas, passing meadows littered with debris. What a shame. Bored of the scenery, I raise my head and look ahead. I see the drivers reflection in the rear mirror. He is looking very cheerful. The afternoon sun is shining intensely, its rays penetrating through the window. I am squinting as I write this. But I dont mind. The sun feels warm against my face. But I suddenly realize, the man next to me may not like it. So I draw the curtain with a questioning look on my face. He nods with relief. I close it. Im cut off from any sceneries and any stimulation other than a quiet conversation going on at the front of the bus. With the curtain closed, I dont feel like continuing to write.

I am glad to say with relief I have arrived in Chaouen after an extremely long day. The day started in our cave in Granada. I woke up to the warm air and smell of fried egg cooking on the stove. My mum was making breakfast. We were to pack and leave the cave by 6am, yes, very early to drive me to the train station. My train was leaving at 7.10am but we were staying in Sacromonte and it takes a million narrow windy roads to lead down to the city. Granada is a headache to drive through. Its not congested. It is just convulated. A maze of one way roads and a lack of street names put up. But once we were on Gran Via road or Camino de Ronda, we could orientate. My parents were heading to Madrid that day, a long drive for them north. I was heading south and crossing the Straits of Gibaltrar to Africa.

I boarded the train to Algericas, a very southern town where many ferries depart to Morocco. It was a four and a half hour train journey. I got there about 11.40am and walked to the pier to book my ferry ticket. A staggering 32 euros one way. Should I blame my out of date guide book? or the extortious ferry companies? both. The ferry was due to leave at 12.00 noon. I booked my ticket at 12.00. The lady at the counter said, I can make it. My guide book had told me the ferries are always delayed by at least an hour. The guide book is so far right on one thing. The journey felt longer than the promised 2 hour duration. I didnt bother checking my watch because I was confused with Moroccan time; apparently, its one hour back from Spanish time. The ferry was quite empty. I was surprised because the ferry could take on so much more people. It was huge and takes on buses and cars. I spotted a few backpackers. The rest were locals. It was obviously not peak tourist season. We arrived at the port of Tangier. The guide book had described this place has having a seedy charm and notorious for its touts and hustlers around the port who try to lure you into their taxis etc. When I left the terminal, it wasnt so bad. Only a few touts followed me.

I decided to walk out of the whole pier and find transport outside. I saw CTM terminal, recognizing that as the national bus service. To my dismay, there was only bus leaving to Chaouen and that was at noon. It was about three pm. The only alternative was to go to the other bus station which private bus companies operate from. I was trying to avoid taking a taxi after reassuring my parents I will endeavour to take buses. But petit taxis is the norm here and its what the locals frequently take. So I hailed one down. it was a cheap 6D to the bus station. When I reached the bus terminal, I was told that the next bus to Chaouen was at 5pm and it would take three hours. I didnt want to take wait. So the guy at the counter hurried me to catch the bus, which I could see reversing as he spoke, to Tetouan and then change bus there. And the account of the bus ride is as written above.

Finally arriving at Tetouan one and a half hours later, I knew it would be late before I get to Chaouen. Not wanting to take another bus which would take even longer, I sought a grand taxi which I had read in the guide book. The petit taxis are a way of getting around within a town or city. A grand taxi on the other hand, goes between towns and cities. They charge a bit more than bus but they are quicker. So, I went in search for a grand taxi. It took a petit taxi to get me to the grand taxi stand. It operates so that a taxi only departs when it is full, namely 6 people in a car; yea, squeezing four in the back. I was the first and so had to wait for four more people to turn up. It was a tiiight fit. Squished in the back between this old woman and man my arms were paralyzed for an hour or so in the ride. Not a cool way of travelling. It was quite hilarious though, because in the beginning we were struggling to fit four adults in the back. The driver was literally slamming the car door again and again until it fell into lock. The poor man sitting on that end. The journey was longer than an hour. Darkness fell a third of the way. Rain started pouring. The roads for the most part were unlit. The only light that could be relief were the cars (and that of the oncoming car).

We arrived safely and quite late. It was about half seven. It was raining in drizzles and I was without an umbrella. I didnt pack very well for this trip. I didnt even bring proper sneakers. I was so frustrated walking in the rain completely lost after stumbling out of the taxi. The map in the Rough Guides was totally useless. Save for a few roads marked, the map is not annotated. so unhelpful. And it didnt help that my french was just as useless. I had to ask for directions from people on the street. The ends of my jeans were went and muddy and the wetness was seeping through my shoes. Not comfortable. I settled for the first hotel (hostel, but they call them hotel here). I had to make sure they had hot showers because it was freezing and also hammams would be closed now...and if not, I could not be bothered to look for one. Hammams are traditional turkish style bathhouses. Basically they are hot rooms with buckets of hot and cold water. You are supposed to clean a space on the floor, lie on it and sweat out all the dirt. The hammams are of course separated by sex. Unfortunately, I only read all about this on my train ride from Granada and I had packed my bathing suit with my parents thinking I wouldnt need it. ahhh. So, its going to have to be knickers and bra. Apparently hammams are a great way to meet the Moroccan women, which is normally difficult because of the culture and the tendency for them to stay at home and entertain any friends at home as well.

Even at night, I can already see why Chaouen is such a charming place for travellers. As I was guided by this boy through alley after alley, I noticed all the houses had blue-washed walls. The boy brought me to the plaza square buzzing with music, cafes and people. I tucked in a meal as arabic pop music playing in the background.

I better go. It is late, and I want to make up early to explore this town. I hope to make my way to Fes tomorrow evening. Shall update soon.

12:46 PM
Lura

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas !

We are staying in Granada, but have driven to Malaga, a coastal town further in the south. Its been a while since I have been on the internet. Normally, Im an internet junkie! We intially had this huge drama with the car. There was something wrong with the engine and smoke was coming out from under the hood! We had to drive back to the rental agency and request a change of cars. The drama didnt end there because for the first hour or so of driving we kept stalling and driving onto the wrong lane! my dad had not driven a manual car (rare to find an auto, because manual is cheaper and uses less fuel) in a decade. We left Seville for Cadiz, a seaside town and Cordoba, an apparently well preserved Spanish town before arriving in Granada. Right now, we are staying in some cave in Sacromonte. Its cute, but out of the way since cars are prohibited in the area.

Im gutted. Yesterday, I dropped my camera on the pavement and the protective lens smashed. Ahh. its still functioning...but barely. I doubt it will last long. I am clinging on the hope its going to last till the end of this trip. To make things worse, I fell ill two days ago. it started with a fever then moved onto stomach pains. Im feeling a lot better today, only feeling a bit heated. I hope I will bounce back to normal soon.

It hasnt been all rosy with my anticipated trip to Morocco. Today we were on a bus from Sacromonte to downtown. There were three backpackers (one Canadian, Australian and I forgot) on the bus as well. We started conversing about our itinearies. And, when my dad mentioned I was going to Morocco by myself, the Canadian girl started exclaiming how dangerous it was and how her guy friend had gone there and was held at gunshot by the taxi driver demanding all his bags. My heart completely sank as she was telling us this story. Boo. The thing is I have heard positive stories as well of Morocco. I think with any country, you always hear two extremes. My parents, seemingly liberal in light of the places I have been to, have always been reluctuant with some of my choices of destinations. My dad in particular is extremely update with current affairs; any civil strife or political unrest he will alert me to and will forbid me to go.....(27/12)....if they say no in resolution, I will heed to. But India and Morocco are not politically unstable, and so they have left it open for me to travel even though they remain concern about my general safety. I am so grateful to my parents for the life experiences I have till now. For the past 21 years, they have given me so much freedom - to travel or do community work - they have always given me so much support. So particularly this Christmas, I am thankful to them.

5:17 AM
Lura

Thursday, December 22, 2005

In Sevilla right now. Its great to be back in Spain. We are staying in a private flat, with a balcony overlooking a street with cafes, restaurants, coffee bars, and lots of deli. One thing I love so far on this trip is the delectable jamon serrano, cured ham. Ive never been a fan of ham; they have always been my last choice of filling in sandwiches. But the ham here is another story. Its not like the plain ol ham you get in Australia. Rather, the ham is a rich red-brown colour with a deep flavour, and sliced paper-thin. Delicious on its own, or with cheese and light toasted bread. The spanish cuisine seriously breaks down if you take pork away. I was thinking how cultures and religions can be vastly at odds with each other. Here, pork is a big part of Spanish gastronomy. In any given deli, local grocery store, supermarket or department store a whole section is devoted to (all types) of ham: often attractively hanging from celings. haha. But in India, I never saw a single slice of ham or any pork dishes. Pork is regarded as unclean for Muslims and Hindu alike. I wonder how a Spanish ham aficionado will cope with living in India; or how a Jewish, Muslim or Hindu think of Spanish cuisine.

Another aspect of the cuisine here is the coffee. The spanish love their coffee. You walk down a street and every few metres or so, you pass a bar with people perched on stools or standing against the bar having an (thrice-a-day or more) espresso or cafe con leche (coffee with milk, less strong than cappucino and without the froth) with pastry. My parents are hooked on this. haha me too.

Have you ever gone on a trip, visiting a list of different places or travelled across a number of borders, and bumping into the same travellers time and time again? My friend, Des told me how he once went on a backpacking trip around Europe with Kenny and he kept seeing these two guys (I forgot from where) throughout the trip. He said they bumped into them in at least 5 or so places (in different countries as well)! coincidence or what? On the last day, he decided to approach them and take a photo with them. hilarious.

Well, something like that has been happening to us. There are these two Korean guys we spotted in Barcelona, and then at Lisboa airport in Portugal, and then on our long bus ride to Sevilla! I am going to be very surprised if I seem them in Cordoba or Granada!! There are also two Polish guys who we met on the route from Lisboa and are also in Sevilla. We bumped into them as we walked out from Cathedral de Servilla (amazing archicture with gothic and renaissance influences). We chatted a bit and found out they were heading to Morocco for their next destination. They got me psyched up. it was funny, because he leaned over and in a low voice commented how he thinks Morocco is a lot more exciting country (he had visited 5 years ago). Then my parents started asking questions such as whether he thought Morocco is safe, and what it would be like for a solo female traveller (uh-oh). I was like praying in my mind he would give a favourable response. He started by saying Morocco is safe (whew). But then he started advising me to wear a ring and be prepared to give a story that my huband is ill in the hotel because of the Arabic culture. He went into detail about how the men are sexually repressed and crazy about women (it would have been funny if my parents werent listening to this). I thought my parents were later going to give me a serious talk about going to Morocco, or worse not let me go. But to my surprise, my mum exclaimed how she wished she had time to go - awesome - and the topic of conversation turned to spices I should get in Morocco.

4:03 AM
Lura

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Hi, Im in Lisboa right now. Havent had the time to update. Also, the internet cafes isnt cheap here. We have been blessed with great weather: blues skies and sun. Lisboa is not a very exciting city for a capital. Outside the main squares, the city seems devoid of people. So, while you think that Lisboa has a small population, you walk into a shopping plaza, and it is packed. I think Portuguese love their shopping - judging from the size of the malls. They open till 11pm!! unbelievable. Its great, because where we are staying, we live around the corner from El Corte Ingles, this huge shopping plaza. While, Portugal seems on a whole milder (cusine as well) than Spain, it is beautiful. We walked along the coast today and the seas were the same blue as the sky.

Tomorrow we will be taking an 8 hour bus ride (!) to Sevilla; my parents are becoming quite the intrepid travellers. haha. But its all cool. From Sevilla onwards, we will be renting a car and exploring Andalucia that way.

Alright, Im off now. Shall update from Spain again.

10:27 AM
Lura

Saturday, December 17, 2005

I cant believe its my third day in Barcelona. Time has passed so quickly. The last few days has been filled with (lots) of walking, shopping, sight´seeing, and eating. We have already fallen into the Spanish lifestyle of resting mid'day and eating late. Barcelona is seriously a shopping mecca. There are shops all around: underground in the metro (there is a very efficient underground train system), along dozens and dozens of alleys (some so narrow, it wouldnt fit a car), along main streets such as La Rambla (the few names I remember). The architecture is amazing. I have taken already 100 plus photos over the last few days. Antoni Gandi is THE architect of Barcelona. All the tourist sites we have visited is somehow linked to this man. What else, oh, the food. Ah tapas. I can live off this stuff, seriously. Its great for me since I like having a variety of food. Yet to try seafood paella, but I am betting on good paella down south.

We are staying in this Spanish style apartment: self-catering because I insisted. I want this trip to sort of be like a home-away-home, as opposed to staying in hotels. Its nice, because there is a kitchen, living room, bedroom, dining area etc. We also have a balcony that looks over the alley, just like in those movies, so when you look out, you see neighbors balconies draped with clothes and sheets.

Shall write in here later.

Love always

10:39 AM
Lura

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Im updating at an untimely (not surprising) hour...3.17am. In a few hours, Ill have to wake up and pack my bag before our flight to Barcelona. I spent my last day in London:

9.00 - 13.00 - two back-to-back seminars (the second seminar was incredibily boring and I was fighting to stay awake)

13.00 - met Nicki in Covent Garden for tea/lunch at Pauls and then bead-shopping. After my last post, Ive made several trips to CG. Im starting to familiarize the area.

16.00 - did my laundry back in my halls and then took a nap

17.00 - [couldnt sleep] attempted to clean the mess in my room, since Monica will be staying in my room for the next two weeks while I am away; it was a poor attempt and I ended up chatting to my hall mate

18.00 - 20.30 - had a double dinner; first at Selfridges food court (no, I havent striked lucky...have seriously ran out of food) and then at Beirut Express on Edgware Rd.

21.00 - got back to the halls and made chocolate fondue: 2 blocks of dark chocolate, a cup of double cream, pound cake, sliced bananas, apples and oranges. Yummy.

22.00 - there was a hall party planned starting with drinks in the halls and then heading to Ruby Lo lounge bar opposite the road. I havent been to any club that is closer to where I live. A literal one minute walk?

23.30 - met my parents who had just returned from York, opened the door for them, and started packing....not for long, because I returned to the club.

01.30 - came back from the club and just chatted with my friends

since then till now, I have taken a shower, did some more packing, upload the remainder of photos from my memory card so I have fresh space...and I forgot.

Ah. I dont think there is any point in sleeping now. My dad is snoring quite loud...

prehaps, will update before I leave the airport. see ya

7:15 PM
Lura

Monday, December 12, 2005

Craft Night with Nicki and Ed at Nottinghill Art Club. Picture this: walking into a night club with electronic music thumping in the background, animate chatter all around, people sitting on the various forms of seating available (comfortable couches, wooden crates, diner booth styles, bar stools) crouched over their pieces of art under the dim lights. After collecting our craft kits at the entrance (ooO excited kids we were), we ordered some drinks and made our way to the sofas and soon got busy playing with the colourful buttons, theads, felt paper, wool. I havent been creatively challenged in a long time. All in all it was a night of good music, good drinks and just some fun arts and craft. I will definitely be going back again.

Fortum & Mason store. It was my first time to visit this acclaimed British store and it didnt take long to realize prehaps why not; the ground floor is akin to Harrods food court and sells luxury foods and quality wines of all description. If you take a closer look, you'll notice the extravagant prices on the small tags. But an experience was to be had just walking along the aisles lined with jars of jam, pate, olive oil from various parts of the world and of varying levels of quality, the beautifully wrapped hampers overflowing of delectable goodies. For my mum, an epicure at heart, it was walking in euphoria :P For me, I was in a frazzled state of trying to expertly manoeuver around the hordes of people and avoiding knocking over the displays. While we couldnt afford to purchase the foods, the next best thing was to have the cream tea there. The scones were perfectly done, with the right texture, but the accompanying cream left little to be desired.

I seem to be writing a food blog. But what the heck? The great choice of foods is what makes London such a fantastic city to live in. Above is an array of photos taken while dining at a Maroush restaurant near Edgware St and at Paul Boulangerie & Pattiserie, this authenic traditional French bakery in Covent Garden. Ive gone at length about the fantastic Lebanese cuisine along Edgware Street. The famous Maroush chain of restaurants is known to serve reliable tasty food. Unfortunately, my parents taste buds werent so agreeable with the spices and the exotic mezzes of hommus, tabouleh etc. The following day, we had a lunch/tea at Paul. I cannot give enough praise for this place. In the rear is the tea room where we dined at. I would name the dishes but they were in French, but essentially we had this mushroom quiche, salmon on pototo rosti, and Pot au Feu (beef and vegetable) soup. For desserts, we had a plum tart and strawberry sponge cake. It didn't quite end there. We ordered an apple and plum tart and croissants for takeaway.

Covent Garden is one of those places I havent gotten my head around. I have been there no less than ten times over the last few months, and I still dont know the place well; only recently had I realized I had been taking the longer route to get to the main market square. We arrived when the Apple Market (no, there arent any apples on sale) was in full swing. There were stalls after stalls selling jewellery, clothing, accessories and so on. But after checking the prices, we were discouraged from looking further, and hurried on our way. For shopping, you wouldnt really consider CG because the prices there are among the highest marked up prices. Its no surprise since CG is firmly on the tourist trail. The highlight in CGwas the huge Christmas tree and the Grotto. I think it would have looked even more dazzling at night.

A visit to The National Gallery was long due. This gallery is situated right at Trafalgar square. It was dark by the time we went there but there was a real festive cheer to the place, with carol singers singing carols under a giant Christmas tree right at the centre of the square. I was surprised at the laxity of security at the Gallery. I anticipated our bags to be checked and/or stored away but there were no such measures. Inside, I was surprised at the number of paintings I recognized, considering how my ignorance of art in general; we saw The Virgin of the Rocks by Leonardo da Vinci, Sunflowers by Van Gogh, Venus and Mars by Botticelli, The Etombment by Michelangelo. The gallery is set up in way so that you progress through the rooms as though in a timeline. The paintings are displayed according to the period and place they were painted. I have an Italian friend who researches and prepares notes on a few paintings prior to each visit and spends the whole time at the gallery observing those select paintings. She has inspired me to do something similar. It makes a gallery visit so much more meaningful if I understood the context of the painting: when, where, why and how it was painted. So that is the first of my new years resolutions.

Its been a few months since I last visited Portabello market, and I didn't realize how much I had missed the market. I had never been on a busier Saturday. We literally got swept up by the waves of people. My parents, well my mum especially, was charmed by the antiques. Aside from the exorbiant prices, Portabello is such an attractive market because it appeals to all ages. The market starts with the antiques and jewellery and then progresses to fruits and vegtables (which are prehaps the only competitively priced items in the whole of the market) and home-cooked cakes and pastries, and then you come across the budget homeware stores which sell basic practical essentials like buckets, plugs etc., and then its the vintage goods (clothes, furniture, shoes) and lastly and my favourite part of the market are the stalls selling unique clothes and accessories, many of which are hand-made/sewn.

I had planned, rather ambitiously, in the afternoon between a late lunch and a dinner reservation at 7pm, a visit to the Frost Fair at Shakespeare Globe, St. Pauls Cathedral and the Tate Modern. We managed all three, but didnt do the exhibition at the Tate Modern any real justice. I have made a note to make a day of galleries and musuems. All these landmarks are situated along the river Thames and a stone throw away from each other. The cathedral and the Tate Modern are practically opposite each other, separated by the Millenium Bridge. It was my first time to St Pauls Cathedral upclose. It was dark already and the pillars were brilliantly illuminated by the night lights.

I enjoy dining out in London because of the seemingly endless choices of cafes/bars/gastropubs/restaurants. However, the corollary to this infinite choice of foods is that finding a good restaurant is a hit and miss task. I can safely generalize that any restaurants on or near Oxford Street is to be avoided. Actually, I can probably make the same remark about any restaurants around Piccadilly Circus and Leceister Square. The common thread between them, as you can guess, is they are tourist hotspots. Normally (in London that is), I dine out for the main purpose of trying new resturants or foods; so while, it is a hit and miss sometimes, more often than not, its a hit. Since my parents were in London for just three days, I wanted to ensure we visited a good (reliable) restaurant, so it was Mem & Laz again - the Mediterranean restaurant in Angel. Did it live up to its reputation? Yes. We ordered for entrees spinach filo pastry, turkish bread and olives, avocado and mozzrella salad; for mains, seafood casserole, moussaka and roasted lamb knuckle and sauvignon blanc (because of Jaime, Im starting to enjoy white wine more than red). My parents and Jaime loved the food and the decor. We had the table only till 9pm (yes, the place is that busy), so we went to a nearby cafe for coffee and Christmas cake that Jaime had baked.

Sunday was a quality day spent with mum. We spent the most part of the day in Shoreditch, visiting the various indoors and outdoors markets. It was fun because we both like markets and food. We started the day at Columbia Road Flower Market. It was exciting because it was my first time there as well. I didnt know exactly where the market was, but we sort of followed the road where we saw people coming out with armfuls of plants and flowers, and the men carrying christmas trees on their shoulders. I was agaped at the vivid colours of flowers. I wanted to bring them all home!

A short walk from Columbia Rd was Brick Lane, our next destination. We first hit up the famous beigel bakery, which is open 24 hours. True to its reputation, the beigel was as delicious as I had envisaged. Imagine this: diving your teeth into a crusty outer crust and chewing the soft and moist interior. The queue ran outside, although the wait wasnt so long. We ordered a salt beef bagel with hot mustard and a salmon with cream cheese bagel; both were equally good. My mum was quite impressed with them. After devouring the two bagels, we visited Sunday Up Market just off Brick Lane. What I like about this market, despite the unappealing name, is the prices. Its not cheap, but its definitely more price-friendly than the other markets. Later, we headed to the last but not least market in Shoreditch, the Old Spitalfields Market which is an indoors market in a converted warehouse. There was a bling bling Christmas tree (the background photo above) that rose above the stalls. On the way out of the market, we brought a cup of warm mulled wine. I had never tried this before London and I am now officially addicted to this concotion of red wine, brandy, cloves, cinnamon sticks, sugar and orange peel brewed together. And you know what, it is the perfect complement to mince pies. I love this holiday season.

3:19 PM
Lura

Thursday, December 08, 2005

I shouldnt be blogging because its 2am now and I still havent finished my work for my tutorial tomorrow...I mean today. But, I cant help it because writing here seems more fun than drafting a constitution.

Mum and dad arrived this morning. Really early. The plan was they would prank me when they reached Bond Street Station and I would go and meet them (the problem with the tube is there is no mobile reception underground). I think I looked like one scary looking girl, with messy bed hair, and uncoordinated clothes running down Oxford Street at 7 something in the morning.

It was a shame I couldnt accompany them for the most part of the day because I had this coursework to do. But I did join them for the food episodes...haha. how predictable. but a person gotta eat, right? They spent the morning walking along Oxford Street, checking out the homeware stores on Tottenham Crt Road, taking a look at my Uni and visiting the British museum. I met up with them in the afternoon at Fortum & Mason and had afternoon tea (mmM with scones and clotted cream). Afterwards, they trotted to Carnaby and Newburgh Street, while I walked back to the halls to continue my work. I didnt do much because an hour or two later, I met up with them again for dinner. We dined at a Maroush Restaurant, just off Edgware St, well Seymour St to be exact, for Lebanese food. I personally thought the food was great, but I dont think my parents appreciate the cold mezzes very much. They did fancy the lamb cubes though (photos to come).

Im excited for tomorrow. Ah. I mean today. After 11am, I am one FREE girl. Well, not entirely. I still have university next week but no work to submit. Woo hoo. I get to spend 24/7 with my parents over the weekend.

Highlights over the next couple of days?

Friday
Camden Town Market (missed you baby!), Covent Square (for beautiful nights and Christmas atmosphere), Tea at Pauls (French patisserie), National Gallery (been wanting to visit for ages), Christmas Tree in Trafalgar Square(and to hear Christmas carols) /Woman in White Theatre

Saturday
Portabello and Borough Markets (food, food and more food! quality as well)/Tate Modern (finallY)/St Pauls Cathedral/Frost Fair @ Globe Theatre (art n crafts and funky things for sale)/Somerset House (turns into an outdoor iceskating venue every winter)/Dinner in Angel (Mediterrean food - yes, its Mam & Lez again, gotta take my parents!)/Jaime coming down to London (sleepover!)

Sunday
Spitafields Market & Flower Market/Petticoat and Brick Lane/Tea @ Sketch Parlour (oOo excited!)/Sloane Square (never been)

[parents train to York for the next three days]

Monday
University/Chinawhite club at night

Tuesday
University/Ethiopian dinner with the traditional coffee ceremony

Wednesday
University/Lebanese dinner (again, I know) on Edgware St/Hall party/Cocktails at Ruby Lo lounge bar

[parents return to London Wed night]

*hardcore packing* and then

Thursday
Jet off to Spain, Portugal & Morocco baby!

5:56 PM
Lura

Monday, December 05, 2005

Slovenia in photos
(click to enlarge)

Prešeren Square, Ljubljana

Panoramic views of Lake Bled and Lake Bohinj, West of Ljubljana

Tromostovje Bridge (the "Triple" bridge), Ljubljana

Rain, rain and more rain in Ljubjana on the third day. While I dont mind rain, the unfortunate thing was the poor visibility hence the hazy photos. The last two photos were taken as a trekked up a long steep path to the castle tower. It was so difficult because I keep slipping and sliding on the snow. I was wondering how in the world I would get back down...like slide on my butt? No, I realized there was a car route. doh!

Notice the middle photo taken in a butcher. Well, I brought two weiners (one for Jaime and one of me...haha). That is all I bought from Slovenia...sausages. You know those tourist shirts that say: My friend went to blah blah blah...and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. Well, this one would say, My friend went to Slovenia and all I got was a weiner. haha.

This is what greeted me when I stepped off the bus in Bled town (if there is such thing...basically the town nearest the lake). The weather was also perfect: blue skies with wisps of clouds

Notice the first photo, on the left. I sneaked into this hotel that was situated literally right in front of the lake. It had the most amazing view of Lake Bled.

Wearing sneakers and walking on snow is not the smartest thing to do. I wandered off track (see middle photo) and found myself trudging on deep snow for a while..but it was cool. There were no other tourists around. Very quiet and still. Just standing before Lake Bohinj was probably the most serene surrouding I have been.

---xx-----xx-----xx----xx----Cambridge----xx----xx----xx----

Cambridge by night: Jaime, Dan, Edel, Jenny (two of Jaime housemates), Indian Tonic Water (how cool is that? haha), delicious chinese food

Kings College, University of Cambridge (how beautiful is it?)

Cambridge market place, biking into town (was probably one of the highlights), lots of mouth-watering treats, we also tried Ostrich burger!! (not bad, I prefer my mince though)

Picturesque Cambridge; photos like this remind me there are so much places in England to visit. I need to spend time exploring this island, instead of jetting off most of the time

9:34 AM
Lura

Friday, December 02, 2005

I dont know where to start....Slovenia has taken me by complete surprise. So far, this country has far exceeded my expectations. I spoke to my friend, who had been to Slovenia before, and she told me, yes Ljubljana is a beautiful city, but a trip solely to Slovenia is probably not worth it; its good as a complementary country to transit or stopover while you are in E. Europe. So, my prior expectations of Slovenia wasnt so grand. But the moment, I stepped off the plane, and was met with crisp air and soft snow falling on me, I just knew I was going to love this country.

So, I arrived in Ljubljana astonished to find snow everwhere, atop roofs of buildings and houses, on top of every hedge and tree in sight, forming walls along streets....I had no idea. When I checked the weather of Slovenia before flzing out all the forecast said was mild sleet and rain. I had no idea it was going to snow, let alone be greeted with existing snow. Strangely, despite the snow, its not so cold. There are nights in London that are even colder than here.

This morning, I took the bus to Bled and Bohinj, two destinations to the west of Ljubljana. They were the most amazing bus rides. I had taken some cases to read with me, but I just could not even for one second lift the papers to my eye level, for fear I would miss a (yet another) beautiful scene of snow-covered forests, cathedrals, rivers. I was seriously mesmerized by the surroudings. Im astounded by Slovenias natural beauty. I have not seen such stunning views of mountains and lakes in my life. While, memories of the Himalayas and Swiss Alps rushed back to me, they didnt quite prepare me for the Julien Alps and its two famous lakes, Lake Bohinj and Lake Bled. The lakes just looked magical. They could together literally set the scene for C.S. Lewis Narnia. Before leaving London, I had seen photos of Lake Bled and I was really excited to see it. But wow, Lake Bled in winter with all the trees all around the lake were blanketed with snow was breathtaking. In fact, I took so many photos that my camera ran out of battery.

I was originally going to stay at Bled tonight, but I have returned to Ljubljana. One of the reasons being, I still have so much to explore in Ljubljana. Im staying my second night at Celica Hostel . The hostel is the best I have stayed in my traveling history (I know, the quality of accommodation seems to just get better for me...maybe Im just too used to Asia, in general, which have comparatively poorer looking rooms). Celica Hostel has a cool concept. Its basically a prison turned art-gallery turned hostel. They have rooms that are supposed to resemble prison cells. I stayed in Cell 104 (if you want to see the photos on their site) last night. Unfortunately, Im not staying in a cell tonight as all beds are full, and I hadnt booked since I thought I was going to stay in Bled. So, instead Im staying in a 14-person dorm tonight and it seems all 13 are guys. What luck. I cant stand snoring. I was really hoping to get some decent sleep. Last night, I had such wonderful sleep that I really wanted to return to this hostel to have another.

Tomorrow is going to a long day. Im going to start tomorrow with a dosage of the local Saturday market near the Cathedral, indulge in local treats, and thereafter explore the old town, the castle, market square and Ljubljana famous bridges.

Im off now. I will probably update at Jaimes house. Im flying into Stanstead Airport tomorrow night and instead of heading into London, Im going to spend the remainder of my weekend in Cambridge. Im ready for cocktail-ing with my girlfriend and a wholesome home-cooked meal (Ive been noticeably slack..with trying too many restaurants).

11:56 AM
Lura