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Tuesday 25 August 2015

Monty Python, the Holy Grail and the Magna Carta

I finally broke the dry spell.

It had been a really long time. A really long time. Since all the way back in February.

I was starting to get a bit agitated. A bit restless.

But I got lucky.

I spotted the tickets to the 40th Anniversary screening of Month Python and the Holy Grail on Twitter, being shown to commemorate the 800th anniversary of the Magna Carta at the British Library with Michael Palin himself guest speaking.

After months and months of no action, I finally saw a show.

***
I just happened to be filling in time in the morning, scrolling mindlessly through my Twitter feed when I spotted an ad for the Monty Python screening. Without further ado, I purchased two tickets that included the Michael Palin session, and then asked Daniel if he would like to join me. I figured there was no way I could miss out on seeing a Pythoner in the flesh - and we all know how much impulse control I have.

Tuesday 18 August
We made our way to the British Library and joined the queue in a comfortable embrace. As we shuffled forward, minding our own business, we suddenly heard a gruff voice beside us proclaiming loudly, "No Canoodling!" We jumped and moved apart to see a man in horns, a long coat and a staff glaring at us as he moved on past.

Spotting the ruckus, a Knight of the Round Table approached us with his clapping coconuts, motioning for me to take them. Brandishing said coconuts, he instructed me to move them at the pace at which Daniel, who was now acting as a horse, was to travel. I started clopping to coconuts quite slowly, and sped to an impossible pace.

I returned the coconuts with a giggle, and we continued forward in the line, where Tim the Enchanter awaited us, with nasty big pointy teeth. It was all a very silly start and already set us laughing.

We entered the almost full hall, not realising that people had been entering for some time. Luckily, we found two seats next to each other near the centre aisle with a great view of the stage. The seats were so comfy and made me wish that lecture theatres of my youth were this comfortable.

Michael Palin Q&A
The Q&A lasted almost an hour and was not only hilarious but informative. I felt the interviewer liked the sound of his own voice a lot, and many times I wished he would get to the point because I wasn't there to listen to him - I was there to hear Michael Palin. The interview truly came into its own when the interviewer threw questions to the audience (and ultimately shutted up).



With ease, Palin slipped into old and familiar accents used through out the movie, recreating scenes and giving us insight into how Monty Python and the Holy Grail was written, filmed, funded and promoted.
"My friends are getting married," one questioner asked, "You've been happily married for decades - do you have any advice for my friends?"

To which Palin responded, "Marry my wife!" 

All too soon it was over and time for us to wind our way out into the courtyard to settle down to watch the film.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
While I ducked to the bathroom, Daniel found us a great spot in the middle and near a food stall, allowing us to lean against it. I had expected us to be sitting on grass, but the screening was held in the concrete open aired piazza, a first for the library. We commended ourselves for bringing a picnic rug, a couple of cushions and a blanket and settled down for the film to start.

I discovered that I had never really watched the movie with anyone who was a fan. Here, surrounded by Pythoners, I discovered a whole new level of hilarity in the film. I, and everyone else, sang along while Brave Sir Robin ran away, said Ni!, and we all counted to three (not four, and five is right out) when the Holy Hand Grenade was launched.

It was a fun, well run evening by the British Library - even if the link between the Magna Carta and the Holy Grail was rather thin. 

Poor impulse control triumphs again!

***

NB: I realise I've made a lot of references in here that most sane people will not understand. Watch the movie, if you dare, although I don't think it will make much more sense!

xx


Monday 17 August 2015

The year that flies

Can someone please tell me how it came to be August of the year 2015 already?

No, I mean it. It was Christmas about 15 minutes ago, and I was just coming up to my 6 month anniversary in London. All of a sudden it’s August and we are powering our way to my second Christmas abroad, and I am panicking over where the time is going.

This post is serving as a bit of a catch up of all the little things I either forgot, never finished, or ran out of time to write about going all the way back to the end of March.

Sunday, 27 March: Oxbridge Boat Race
Held between old rivals Oxford and Cambridge, the boat race is a rowing event along more than 4 miles of the Thames, starting in Putney and ending in Mortlake. The race is a big deal around London, and is broadcast live. This year, for the first time, the women’s race was held not only on the same day, but directly before the men’s finals. We’re getting there, ladies.


Many of the pubs along the river hosted an event for spectators, and myself and a group of friends set ourselves up at The Old Ship, perched on the concrete baricade to watch the rowers go by. The weather held up: cold but beautifully clear and the ciders (and sneaky vodka in a water bottle) helped to keep us warm. This year, Oxford won, bringing the total tally to 79 Oxford - 81 Cambridge.


Easter Long weekend, April: Cambridge, dinner parties and Windsor
Cory, Nicole and I had attempted organising a weekend away through the countryside but ended up leaving it too late. Instead, we decided to have make several day trips, which afforded us days out exploring the greater UK with the added bonus of coming home to the the comfort of our own beds.

Saturday: Cambridge. It was quite a grey day, but I was able to debut my new coat and finally put away the marshmallow. On arrival, we joined a free walking tour of the same variety I did in Oxford, which gave us a broad overview of the layout of Cambridge.


It was, dare I say, rather similar to “that other place” Oxford but very beautiful in its own right. We stood for a while atop a bridge watching the punters crash effortlessly into the walls and into each other as they floated down the river. I think I remain Team Oxford, partly because it was bright and sunshiney that day, where as Cambridge was quite a grey, inside-a-cozy-pub kind of day.


Sunday: Easter dinner party at Cory’s. As the adultier adult of the group (despite me being the oldest), Chef Cory cooked us a delicious roast dinner and we felt extremely grown up and sophisticated. It was a lovely evening with friends and a chance to reflect on our time in the UK, how far we’ve come and where we would be going to next. As the red wine started to settle, we played Drunken Future Predictions which we have sealed into a bottle and will open in 10 years time.

Easter Monday: Windsor. We gathered again, this time at a different train station for a day out to Windsor, Queen Lizzie’s other home. I remember vividly that today was 17C, beautiful and sunny, and I was wearing a tshirt.

Message from my mum that day: It’s 17C here in Adelaide! I’m wearing two jumpers and have the heater on! I’m freezing!
My reply: It’s 17C here in Windsor! The sun is shining and I’m wearing a tshirt!

It’s funny how one acclimatises.


We stood in the queue for over an hour (which wasn’t so bad actually because it gave us a chance to soak up some much needed vitamin D). Inside, we marvelled at the gorgeous gardens, took photos in areas we weren’t supposed to, felt poor and made fun of the guards in their funny costumes. Because Windsor is largely a a homage to Lizzie’s wealth which she lets the peasants have a peek at for a few months of the year. Never-the-less, it was very pretty and a glorious day to be outside.


Saturday, 26 April: Anzac Day 
Shamefully, I had never been to an Anzac service before. I never fully understood the significance of the day and was admittedly happier for having a day off than anything else. This year, being away from home and the 100 year centenary of the Anzacs landing at Gallipoli, I was filled with national pride and started digging around my family history.  I learnt many people in my extended family fought or were affected by both the first and second world wars. This put the day far more into context for me and meant that I would be getting up at 2am (yes, getting up) so I could go to the memorial in Hyde Park for the dawn service.

We were told to get there early as the line would become very long, and this proved to be true. Not long after we easily sauntered in and took up position, the line folded back on itself and around the corner and we were thankful for our early morning start.


The service itself was moving (despite the terrible rendition of the New Zealand national anthem) and I was most affected by the 2 minutes silence: how they managed to create two minutes total silence, with a few thousand attendees, in the middle of London (and no traffic noises what-so-ever), was remarkable and a sign of true respect. Not a sneeze, not a shuffle, not a cough, not a mutter.

At the end of the service, my friends and I went to an Aussie bar for breakfast and breakfast drinks. I made it to midday…just. I think. I don't really remember.

Saturday, 21 June: Ascot Races 
I had landed in London just a couple of days after Ascot Races in 2014, and was adamant I was going to attend the British institution this year as it would be my only opportunity. I had spent months looking for a new dress, but ended up settling on something I already owned and the day before purchased the cheapest possible fascinator I could find.

Akin to the Adelaide Cup, the Ascot Races, more than anything else, is an opportunity to get ridiculously inebriated whilst looking as posh as possible and hoping you see a horse at least once during the day. I joined 3 busloads of Britbounders on the day trip up to Ascot and, while the day was pretty dreary and rained considerably, it was still a fantastically fun day.


I don't know how much champagne I imbibed, seeing as my glass was constantly refilled while I wasn't looking, I certainly did not win any money on the bets I placed, and I definitely did see the Queen as she rode past in a horse and carriage at the start of the day, wearing a delicious apricot flavoured outfit.


July update
My home situation has been interesting to say the least - we recently battled bed bugs in two of the three bedrooms. I highly recommend that no one EVER GETS BED BUGS because it is a nightmare to get rid of them. It involves washing absolutely everything you own at over 90C, stripping all of your furniture and bagging it up, fumigating your house and then leaving everything bagged for two weeks while the chemicals kill the little fuckers. Just…try not to get bedbugs. It seems to have worked however, and we are now rid of them. Fingers crossed there's no creepy crawlies in our future!

Apparently, the most common place to pick up the little buggers is the tube. So basically, we're all screwed.

As of the second of July, I started a new job with a not-for-profit called The Elders. I tossed up between this one and one at a finance firm and, while this one pays a bit less, my soul felt happier working for a charity and I had for a while wanted to break into the not-for-profit sector. As of the time of this post, I've been there approximately 6 weeks and while it certainly is challenging, I am largely enjoying myself.


***
So, there you go! My next few months are incredibly crazy, with a number of theatre productions booked in (I haven't seen anything since February and I'm champing at the bit!), and trips to the Edinburgh Fringe and Oktoberfest organised. Stay tuned for more updates!
xx

Tuesday 11 August 2015

Lover of the bubble: Champagne in Champagne

Top 10 things to do in Champagne
  1. Drink champagne (goes without saying)
  2. Eat cheese
  3. Stroll the Avenue de Champagne, and stop as often as possible along the way
  4. Eat cheese
  5. Frolic through the vineyards
  6. Drink champagne
  7. Stop into a large, wellknown winemaker knowing full well you can't afford their wines
  8. Have a picnic in the park, complete with champagne and cheese
  9. Visit a small winemaker and become an expert in the champagne making process
  10. Drink champagne


It was decided that for our birthdays, Nicole, Cory and I wanted to go away. I put a spanner in the works as I had already planned my Summer of Fun, so we had to wait until I returned. Apparently there was a conversation last year, that I may or may not have been privvy to, of going to France and drinking a specific kind of wine in a very famous region. Either way, July rolled around and we set off to the Champagne region of France for a weekend of deliciousness.

I should point out here that I really, really, really like bubbly wine. I always had my "glass of champers" in hand (although it was highly unlikely to be true champagne) and it truly is my poison of choice.

Let the good times commence.

3 July
After our plane was delayed by a number of hours, we landed in Paris long after the shuttles to our airport hotel had ended. As we were checking into our room, I couldn't help but notice the concierge boy's face as he saw Cory arrive to share a room with two girls. The expression was clearly "Go son!" and we laughed our way to the room. On the morrow, we would be heading back to the airport to jump on the train out to Reims, one of the bigger towns in Champagne.

4 July
After a surprisingly good Starbucks coffee and some free croissants, our bellies were full and our caffiene levels high for our train to Reims. Cory had everything under control as per usual and led us to where we would be staying. We had to wait in the hot sun for some time but eventually the owner arrived and let us into the apartment that would be home for the next few nights.

The apartment was grand - three bedrooms, lovely kitchen and open living space and we discovered we were able to get out onto the roof. Once we got ourselves organised, we hit the streets for the first of many wine tastings.

G.H. Mumms
Our first port of call was the Mumms cellar door. We hadn't been able to pre-book, so we rocked up and thankfully we were able to get a place. After a short wait (and a hundred selfies later), our tour started.

Our guide, a lovely French lady whose accent was ever-so-slightly too thick (rendering her largely un-understandable), led us down, down, down into the cellars after we watched a short movie. The cellars were cold and a welcome relief to the hot summer temperature outside.

Here we learnt that bubbly wine from this region is made up of three varieties of grapes:
  • pinot noir (a red grape with white juice)
  • pinot meunier (another red grape with white juice)
  • chardonnay (a white grape)
The wines themselves are then a combination of the varieties, with varying quantities and growing conditions lending the different flavours to the wine.


As the guide was reasonably difficult to understand, Cory, Nicole and I found ourselves lagging behind and taking many an artful photograph of the cellars. Row after row after row of bottles lined the walls, stacked on racks which are turned 180 degrees in the morning, and then back 180 degrees in the evening. Why? This prevents the sediment from sticking and is either a manual process (one bottle in each hand) or a less manual process (a hundred bottles on a rack that can be turned simultaneously).

Soon, it was time for the wine tasting. We crowded close, watching as the glasses were expertly filled and the bubbles frothed forth. We took our glass of wine and...spent the next 5 minutes selfying with it...before our first sip. 

Our first sip of champagne in Champagne! And it was glorious.


We had wanted to have a picnic in the park with wine and cheese this evening, but the weather took a turn for the particularly soggy and so we went to a local store, bought some [cheap] bubbly, an insane quantity of cheese and other snackables and had an evening in. We each chose a bottle of bubbles and we polished them - and all of the cheese - off. Nicole made a delicious baked camembert as well as a french pear creation, the name of which escapes me but the flavour sensation hasn't! We had a reasonably early night because in the morning, we were going to head to Epernay.

5 July.
We had one rule.
We were only allowed to consume three kinds of beverages while we were away.
Water.
Coffee.
Champagne.

After breakfast at the station we made our way to Epernay, another village that makes up part of Champagne. The day was quite grey, but continued to be hot. Cory lamented that all of his holidays have been grey, and where is the blue sky?

We wanted to explore Epernay by bike, but after wasting what was probably close to an hour at the tourist centre trying to organise a bike, we gave up and decided to walk. The main stretch of Epernay is the Avenue de Champagne, home to some of the biggest champagne producers cellar doors.

Moët and Chandon
Perrier
Pol Roger
Mercier

To name a few. Also many boutique wine makers and as many people know, I believe the real heart of the wine industry is in the small craftsman; those that make it with love.

As we approached Moët and Chandon, we could see there was a small commotion. What is this..a Ferrari convention? Stupid us, for forgetting our Ferrari! Red Ferraris, black Ferraris, Ferraris with Italian flag racing stripes; about 15 in total. And many poor tourists such as ourselves gawking and taking photos. We mustered our courage and went inside, but unfortunately Moët and Chandon was under construction and wasn't conducting tours or tastings. We wandered through the shop for a while and continued on down the street.

A. Bergère
We found a small cellar door that suited our tastes and chose one of each of the bubbles. A standard bubbles, a no-added-sugar bubbles, and a pink bubbles. After approximately 10 minutes taking artfully framed photographs of the flutes, it was time to finally drink the deliciousness. A sip of each, passed it around, and from there we decided which was each our favourite.

I'd like to take a small pause and say that I adore travelling with these two. We have the same travel style and one of my favourite aspects is that, in any given situation, we all instinctively know that we will take photographs of whatever it is, and not to jump in/eat/drink/move until we have all snapped our fill. It's hilarious and it would look ridiculous to anyone watching us. But I love it. And them!


Back to the bubbles.

We stayed here for a short while, basking in the warm Frenchness and yumminess of our first champagne for the day - all before lunch, no less. After a little while we continued on down the avenue until we reached Mercier. We frolicked in the vineyards before deciding that their champagnes were a bit too expensive, so returned to one we had seen earlier.

Michel Bonet
It boasted 20 for 3 glasses, including paired cheese. The cellar door had a gorgeous courtyard and so we made ourselves comfortable under an umbrella. Our wines and cheese were staggered, and each were paired to perfection. Our host explained the flavours and grapes present in the wine and the cheese, which was presented on a slice of crusty white bread. We felt very fancy.


A little while (and a smashed glass) later, with bubbles in our heads we were ready to depart. Nicole wanted to see the view from a high point, and so we started to trek up and up the hill until we reached scrolling vineyards at the top. We dispersed to take various photos and selfies, before coming together to make our way down again (by going up the steepest hill yet). It was time to leave Epernay so, after one last wine tasting experience, we caught one of the last trains back to Reims. 


We ended the day with dinner on the main street, where I had snails for entrée and a salmon and foie gras salad for mains. I felt bad, but it was rather delicious…

6 July
Our final day in the gorgeous Champagne region, and we were checked out of the apartment early to depart for a wine tasting tour. We were picked up and, with a small minivan group, were taken to the Hauteville, literally meaning 'high' or hill town. It provided a glorious view of Epernay and the vineyards to the horizon. 


We visited two winemakers and each grew Dom Perignon grapes. However, due to copyright reasons, they are unable to label themselves as such, and so have their own brands. Basically, we spent the day drinking Dom Perignon. 

Fernand Lemaire
The first cellar was situated high on a hill with the most glorious view out over the valley, and we were shown through their cellar and wine making procedure. It was similar to Mumms, but on a much smaller scale. These wines are only sold in France and out of the cellar door. Here we learnt (as we could understand our guide) all about:
  • brut = dry; the amount of sweetness (additional sugar) that has been added to the wine. If a wine says "brut" either no or a very small amount of sugar has been added. Cheap, awful wines don't say "brut" and they are super sweet, to compensate for the fact that it's not a very good wine.
  • cuvee - the first or best press of the juice
  • cru - the vineyard quality

After we were shown through their cellars, we were taken across the road and seated at a table with a lovely view. We were presented with three delicious brut champagnes, which we tasted and ahhed over which one we preferred. The last of the rosé made its rounds, and my glass was topped up with the final few drops.

"Are you married?" the lady suddenly asked me.
Confused, I looked to Cory and Nicole, not sure if she was asking if I was married to them.
"Um, no?"
"Ok! You finished off the bottle, that means that you will be married by the end of the year."

Uprorious laughter as we all know I am the least likely person to end up in that situation, but nevertheless we sante'd to my impending nuptials.


J.M. Gobillard
Our next winemaker was a short drive away and another using Dom Perignon grapes. I lost track of how many wines we tasted here; they were particularly generous and I think we polished off a couple of bottles in our "tasting" (which by now was all just oh my god, how much do I love champagne).

"Who wants to sabre the bottle open?" our guide asked, and Cory volunteered. This is an old fashioned and particularly cool way of opening the bottle where by one strikes the end with a knife and the force and pressure of which forces the cork to explode forth in a rather dramatic fashion. Cory did an excellent job and got to keep the bottle top, complete with cork and ring of glass. Opened in this way, we just had to finish the bottle which we were all so disappointed about.


I'm not sure how many wines we tasted here, but I got my bubbly on, it was delicious, I cheersed Dom Perignon with my lovely London family, the sun shone happily and life was grand.

Following this wine maker, we made a quick stop into a church just across the road, to see where the grandfather of champagne was buried, Dom Perignon himself. 

It was time for the tour to be over, and we all hopped back into the van. Our guide reached into her bag and began handing something to each of the groups, and then came to us. She passed us a full bottle and a half bottle as a gift, and they had been personally labelled by the last wine maker. We were extremely thankful and very excited at the bottle and a half of delicious champagne we had been given - but we realised that none of us had checked luggage and we couldn't bring it back to London.

So what do you do when you have 2 bottles of bubbly and no way to take it home? Why, you have a picnic, of course!


After we were deposited back in Reims, we bought a wide range of cheeses, multiple baguettes, plastic plates and champagne flutes and found a gorgeous leafy park to picnic in. Complete with Nicole's champagne jam bought, we had the finest feast. Nicole, unfortunately, discovered that a slightly shaken bubbly bottle has the tendency to explode and was hit rather dramatically in the forehead with a rogue cork. Aside from that one mishap, (oh and me snapping our one and only knife), we ate cheese until we looked like it, trying different combinations of all four and sipping on our wine until we grew sleepy in the midday sun.


Sadly, it was now time to go.

Nicole went for a journey of epic proportions to find a bathroom, I ate a chocolate gelato that I am quite sure was either off or completely spiked with chilli (needless to say, I threw it in the bin - it must have been bad for me to throw it away) and we made our way back to the train station; back to Paris; back to London.

***

Another biggest of thank yous to the most amazing travelling buddies for organising this lovely weekend away.

I had always loved champagne or prosecco, or whatever cheap bubbly wine I could get my hands on, and this trip re-inspired my heart. The champagne of Champagne is delicious, fresh and happy making, and I cannot recommend enough if you are a lover of the bubble to make your way there to drink in the glorious sunshine.


xx




Fin.

The end.

Thursday 6 August 2015

Summer of Fun: Croatia & Montenegro

Read all of the Summer of Fun here, as we enter the final instalment.

30 May
ITALY TO CROATIA
My expensive flight out of Rome to Split, Croatia passed smoothly enough. I was holding my anxiety at bay, sitting underneath the propellor wings of the tiny plane but once in the air, coupled with the amazing service on board, I relaxed. I was still pissed off that this was a £225 flight, as opposed to my original £60 flight, but tried to push that to the back of my mind.

I drank a large glass of awful wine, looked out the window at the spectacular Dalmatian islands, and soon we were descending.

It was super easy and inexpensive to catch a shuttle to the Port where I had booked to stay in a hostel close by so I could walk there in the morning to start my Travel Talk tour, Sailing Split to Dubrovnik. I checked into my hostel room and crashed out on the bed. As I lay there, waiting for my phone to charge, I heard someone's voice out in the lobby. It sounded familiar. Surely not. I peeked out the door.

"Supreet?" I tentatively called, and sure enough, she turned around. She had been my dorm mate in Florence. "What are you doing here?" 

Turns out, Supreet had made a detour away from her original plan, which landed her in exactly the same hostel as I was staying. The world truly is a small place, as it had been in Pisa too. Pleasantly surprised, we grabbed some late lunch together and caught up on what had happened in the previous week of our respective adventures.

We drank and talked the night away before retiring, and I got myself ready for sailing the seas on the morrow.

31 May
I didn't need to do much in the morning so I made a quick stop at the supermarket to get some snacks. While there, I made one final check of where I was supposed to meet the ship.

Where I was supposed to meet the ship..in..wait..what? Why does my itinerary say I'm travelling Dubrovnik to Split? This must be a mistake. I frantically started going through my emails but, being out, was finding it very difficult. I raced back to the hostel and perched, panicking, at the computer.

"Is everything ok?" the hostel receptionist asked. 
"Um, not really? I think I've been sent the wrong travel voucher!!" I tried to remain calm, but it wasn't working.
"Here, use my computer, it's faster."

I checked my emails. Here is where the problem lay. Now, I fully take responsibility for what happened, however, having worked extensively in email marketing I would never, ever have sent an email like the one I received, and I didn't notice the change because I didn't know what I was meant to be looking for. My first email confirmed Split - Dubrovnik, 31 May.

2 weeks later, I had received a second email, the title saying "Correction" and an identical copy of the email body. Except it wasn't identical, I discovered. Split to Dubrovnik had been replaced by Dubrovnik to Split. I didn't notice. Simple as that. My first reaction was to check the date: perfect. I never in a million years expected the direction to change. And in my defence (even though I do understand it was my own stupidity), nothing was highlighted; no "Please note, there was a mistake with the booking and the boat you selected does not run on those dates" etc. Needless to say, panic stations ensued. The receptionist allowed me to use the phone and I called the emergency number.

More panic ensued, and then dread, as I decided that I would just forego the whole thing. The gentleman on the other side said that, while I will miss the beginning, I could meet the ship at the first port in Slano at around 4.30pm that day, so basically I'd barely miss anything.

After my panic died down and I could think mildly logically, I decided this would have to do. I shouldered my backpack, walked back to the port and bought myself a bus ticket from Split to Dubrovnik, repeatedly mentioning that I wanted to get off at Slano.

The bus ride along the coast was actually beautiful, but I had little capacity to appreciate it. I felt like a fool, I was stressed and I constantly replayed my arrival conversation over and over in my head. After 4 hours, we arrived at Slano and I was deposited on the side of the road, with a general hand wave in the direction of the water.

Making my way down to the water front, I walked into a cafe and asked if I was in the right place. She replied that the boat hadn't come in yet, but yes, Lav is the pirate ship I am looking for. I settled down with a double vodka to calm my nerves and I waited for my ship to arrive.

Before long, a speck on the horizon. As it came closer, I could see the skull and cross bones and the unmistakable look of a pirate ship. This must be my chariot, I thought, and I summoned my courage, took a deep breath, practiced my speech and approached the ship as it was docking.

A young gentleman jumped off the side, hand extended. "Sasha? I'm Dan, nice to meet you."
I shook his hand, saying "Yep, I'm the missing one," and threw my bags on board. Everyone already knew my name, of course, and they all introduced themselves to me warmly despite my idiocy. Dan was the Travel Talk tour leader, and he took me into the kitchen to run through the trip notes. The ship could house 25 passengers, but our tour, not quite being high season yet, only had 13 pirates on board. This meant that almost everyone got a room to themselves. Naturally, I was in room #6 and I had the only room with a standup shower. I was extremely pleased with my lodgings and immediately distributed all of my belongings as far as possible.

The boat docked here at Slano, and Dan gave us a brief tour of the area. I chatted and starting getting to know my fellow ship mates - tonight we were to be having dinner ashore before setting sail in the morning.

I was glad for bed time; it had been a rather awful, stressful, panicky day. All will be well on the morrow.


1 June
We awoke for breakfast; fresh bread, french toast and meats. We sat on the top deck, soaking up the sun. The boat docked in the middle of the clear, smooth water. It was time. It was time for me to make the jump. 

I was frightened, of course. I'm scared of heights; I'm scared of falling. I climbed shakily up the steps, and onto the slippery banister of the ship. Holding onto the rope tight, I took a shaky breath, before I let go and - JUMP! 

SPLASH into the cold, cold water, eyes open, blue as far as I can see. I splashed my way to the surface, exclaiming at the cold, and I felt proud of myself for jumping. 

After a little while, we climbed back aboard for lunch. We all sat down to a table with a big bowl of soup, crusty soft bread and some cheese. Naturally, we thought that today's lunch was soup, and so we poured big bowls for ourselves, scooped the cheese in (when in Croatia!) and tucked in with gusto. Ante, the barman returned to the dining room, looked puzzled, and shouted in his brusque Croatian way, "Why have you eaten all the cheese?"
It was round about here that we discovered we would be receiving three-course meals on board, and the cheese had been put there in preparation for the main course, which was to be pasta.

***
Today's island: Mljet. This is the island that Odysseus became trapped with Calypso for 7 years, being forced to make love to her while faithful Penelope remained faithful, faithfully back home in Greece.




The remainder of the afternoon saw us docking at Mljet and having a splash in the inland salt lake in the centre of the island. When we returned to the boat we rifled through the bag of costumes for tonight's themed party: The Pirate Party. There were some group games including a treasure hunt, beer skulling and bobbing for apples. Team #1 won, and we were rewarded with a giant cocktail to share, and thus we drank and partied the night away as pirates on the pirate ship Lav.


2 June
The next few days passed in a similar fashion.
Eat.
Splash.
Drink.
Sleep.
Repeat.



The morning's consisted of getting up for breakfast before 10am, lazing on the top deck, waiting for the boat to dock so we could have a morning splash, lunch, and then a siesta before we docked to explore that day's island.

Today's island was Korcula, famous for being the homeland of Marco Polo. There were a few uncomfortable heads today as we explored the sleepy little island, retuning that evening for dinner and cocktails overlooking the bay. And also overlooking the wealthy's yachts.

This evening we went out for a bit of a dance (on the stripper pole?) and had our first grappa (also called rakija). If anyone remembers me talking about palinka, this is Croatia's version of face-melting liquor. It was a faint blue colour, and tasted exactly like rocket fuel. Collectively, we struggled to keep it down.

Turns out, it's rude to refuse rakija, and also turns out that one is expected to shot it before almost all main meals. Over the course of the week, we tried many different varieties, some more shudder-inducing than others, and definitely some which fought battles to stay in.


3 June
Hvar was today's island, and after our normal morning activities, we docked and walked to the very top of the hill to look out over the bright red rooftops to the green islands in the brilliant blue water. We stopped at a beach-side bar (of which there were hundreds!) and Kaylin and I sat with our toes in the water. Evening time, saw a belly full of mussels (after grappa, of course) before we danced the night away.


4 June
Today we were bound for Brac, and this was my favourite island. This island boasted an inflatable playground in the middle of the ocean which was not only a lot of fun, but was also surrounded by beautiful scenery. We slid down slides and got flung into the air on an big balloon pillow and ran across slippery barrels, often going arse-up into the water. The afternoon was a lazy one, snoozing on the beanbags out in the sand. 

This evening, we had the trash bag party where we created costumes out of nothing but garbage bags. As we were docked on the shore, many people came up to the boat and took photos of us as we looked rather hilarious. We partied and Kings-Cupped the night away.


5 June
Makarska was the flavour of the day with a gorgeous mountainous backdrop. In the evening, we went out for a few drinks, including getting tequila poured down my throat on the bar top to herald in my birthday in the right way. We then made our way to a bar in a cave and danced it up. The crew stopped and sang happy birthday for me when it reached midnight, and not long after I took my now-old and decrepit self back to the boat.


6 June
My birthday! In the morning, I had a bit of a fuzzy head from the night before (or maybe I was still drunk..). When we jumped off the boat, a few of us swam to shore which was quite an effort, but fun. Today we were to be arriving in Split - which was all oddly familiar seeing as I had been here before! It was a hot hot day, and so spent it rather lazily wandering the streets, getting gelato and looking at the market stalls. This was our last night on the boat and we started to bid our adieus.


7 June
Today, I had to make my way back to Dubrovnik, which served as another reminder of my original idiocy. However, I was a pro now and so made my way to the bus station, bought my ticket and settled in - again - for the 4.5 hour trip. This would be my first time landing in Dubrovnik and I was looking forward to seeing the town I had heard so much about.

I initially struggled to find the B&B Vila Marija, and then also couldn't work out how to get inside, but finally a lovely lady approached (she had ducked out) and made me right at home. I was astounded by the amazing service and would definitely recommend when you go to Dubrovnik! She sat me down and recommended a lot of things to do. When taking my passport, she realised that it had been my birthday and returned with a delicious block of Croatian chocolate which I consumed in about a day.

Dubrovnik Old City was about a 20 minute walk from the B&B and I set off in the late afternoon sun to have a peek. Maria had advised to avoid the city walls before 6pm as it would be teeming with tourists from the cruise ships and so, heeding her warning, I waited until the evening. The walls entirely surround the city and the view inside and out was spectacular. Red roofs as far as the eye could see one way, clear blue water the other.

It had been another long, exhausting day and so I returned and crashed for the night.



8 June
Lords and ladies, welcome to Kings Landing.
Today I had booked to do a Game of Thrones walking tour as the Old City is where the set of Kings Landing is filmed. I naturally got on the wrong bus, ended up somewhere (I don't even know where), and ran all the way back down the hill to the city, arriving at 11.03am, puffing, but just in time for the start of the tour. I found a hand fan in my bag which the lovely Smita had given me when I was so sick in Egypt, and that couldn't have been more welcome on this steamy hot day.

The tour was a lot of fun and walked us all over the inside and the outside of Old City. Our guide had been a costume designer on set and so she had a little bit of inside gossip for us, and she held up stills from the show to compare where we were standing with the view behind. To be honest, the tour was fun - but the real cool thing about it was then watching Season 5 on my return and instantly recognising all of the places; I had stood on the steps were Cersei descended, at the scene of the fateful Purple Wedding.

At the conclusion of the tour, I (and Shazza) got to have a seat on the Iron Throne.


That afternoon, I hopped on a ferry (after getting on a wrong bus - AGAIN and missing the first ferry) over to the lovely little island of Lokrum. Lokrum is a gorgeous little island just off the coast and is home to an ancient monastery and a botanical garden nature reserve. The island is overrun with beautiful peacocks who were not shy about shaking their tail feathers, and I found a painfully cute inland salt lake to have a splash in. I caught the last ferry back and, as it had been a long hot day, I retired for the evening.


9 June
MONTENEGRO
One of the recommendations from my lovely host was to take a day trip to Bosnia or Montenegro as they were very close to Dubrovnik. I decided on Montenegro and was picked up in a minibus early in the morning.

Our guide was a brusque but factual Croatian gentleman who drove us the hour to the first stop, Kotor. Along the way, we passed through a passport check and at some point, he received a speeding fine.

Montenegro was, quite simply, beautiful. It is one of the world's newest countries, declaring independence in 2006 and its name is derived from monte - mountains, and negro - black: Black Mountains. The rolling horizon surrounded the towns and formed a dramatic background everywhere one looked. Our guide explained a little bit about the Croatian War of Independence in 1991, but as he had been a teenager at the time and bore the awful memories, didn't want to discuss in great detail.

Kotor in particular took my breath away. The town was nestled into the mountainside, with the clouds looming low and obscuring the mountain tops.  It was green and lush and old.  We ended the day in Budva. Here I splashed my feet in the sandy ocean and for the first time in a while, felt a little homesick. I hadn't seen a sandy beach for a very long time - as opposed to a pebbly one - and it made me think of home. I quickly remembered I was in Montenegro of all places, and was snapped back to reality. 

Our ride back to Dubrovnik was a sleepy one and this time, as we passed through passport control, I had my passport stamped - to my delight. It had been another incredibly long, tiring day and so one last farewell to Dubrovnik's Old City and I packed it in for the evening.


10 June
Today was my last day in Croatia and the last day of my Summer of Fun. I was tired, sore, overwhelmed, tanned, broke, wide-eyed-with-wonder and quite ready to return to London. I thankfully had few problems at Customs (as I flirted quite extensively with the customs boy) and returned to London soil enriched with experiences anew.

***

Here concludes my Summer of Fun, traipsing around Greece, Egypt, Italy, Croatia and the last minute addition, Montenegro. It was 33 days start to finish and had been the longest I had ever been on the move for. It had its challenges, it had its tough times, expensive times, but each of those showed me that I was able to muddle through and logically work my way out the other side.

It had its breathtakingly beautiful times, it had its emotional times where I was standing before relics I had only ever read about, it had its fits of giggles and it let me make lasting friendships and meet interesting people along the way.

Highlights, because everyone loves a list, include:

  • Running and cartwheeling at Olympia
  • Eating mindblowing Greek salads
  • Seeing the Pyramids, riding a camel and descending into the Valley of the Kings
  • Hot air ballooning
  • Everything to do with Florence, including the food and the beautiful sights
  • Game of Thrones tour and exploring Dubrovnik
  • The dark mountains of Montenegro
Quite the adventure, and it led me directly into the glorious English summer we are currently experiencing.

xx