Despite my smell the Geordie gave me a warm welcome in Newcastle, I mean the toon. Forgot they speak a different language and damn it, left my Geordie dictionary in oz.
If the Geordie was expecting a fun night out with Matilda he was a bit disappointed! I was rooted so room service and the first five minutes of the movie Dark Phoenix and I was out like a light.
Lucky for me, my Geordie friend, who has been mentioned before under many names, Pattie, Nora and possibly his real name David, is a good bloke and organized a weekend showing me my roots around England. The first stop was Askrigg where my Dad’s mum, otherwise known as Grandma, had family originate. The family also happened to be none other than those of the Terry’s Chocolates fame. Knew I had chocolate in my blood, explains a lot. I was kinda glad when the GPS of Nora’s Vauxhall, a kick arse car I’d never heard of, thought Vauxhall was just a tube station, anyway, GPS took us the scenic route into Askrigg, tiny tiny roads and gorgeous little villages. Nice for me who got to ooo and ahh at the pretty scenery, not so much for the Geordie who had to drive in a road big enough for one car, just, no idea what people do when someone comes the other way?? Driving into Askrigg poor Pattie had to deal with my millions of photos a minute habit but managed to navigate us to the town centre where I could jump out and explore. Such a weird feeling being somewhere you know your distant relatives walked the streets, drank at the pub, lived their lives. Really does make me want to go back and trace my grandma’s family history, ancestry.com here I come! After a pit stop at the pub of course…
BITC (hehe, that’s almost naughty but sure you have it figured out Mum), and we headed to Scarborough, a seaside town in Yorkshire where my Mum’s mum, the other grandma, went to boarding school. The English countryside really is gorgeous, different to Scotland but pretty rather than rough and rugged, and felt different listening to a soundtrack of Elvis and AC/DC rather than my hip hop and Aussie indie rock. Not complaining, love them too! The Geordie’s playlist of movie theme songs made me realize my head really was full, things were just popping out, like names of songs I knew but just didn’t know anymore. So is this what old age feels like???
Anyways, driving into Scarborough Nora had to put up with my ooos and aaahs again, especially when we rocked up at the hotel, a stunning old building right on the beach. Davie did good.
While the inside was something of a rabbits warren, I would have been jealous had we been staying anywhere else. It just so happpened that we’d made it to Scarborough in time for the Geordie to watch the soccer, sorry I mean football (I really mean soccer!), his Newcastle boys were playing a team that was gonna whip their arses apparently. Leaving the Geordie at the local I headed right for the beach, oh how I’d missed the ocean. Corfu felt like months ago!!
Scarborough was so not what I expected! Yes the beach I knew was there, but the Ferris wheel and cliffs and esplanade with casinos I had no idea. Very cool surprise!
What wasn’t a surprise was returning to the Geordie at the pub to find a goalless game… I get how skilled the dudes are that play but no score in 90 minutes?!? I need more action in my sport. A few beers in and the Geordie was ready for karaoke. For the record, I will never ever be ready for karaoke. For a dude with a thick accent I can hardly understand, he does a bloody good Elvis! Some McDonalds later and we called it a night, there may have been quite a few gins and beers between the Maccas and night but anyway…
Up and at it on Sunday, I don’t know if I was more excited about the bacon at the buffet breakfast or seeing more of Scarborough. Can we just say equally excited??? BITC and hooning around Scarborough we found the convent my grandma went to school at, THE most beautiful church and cemetery on cliffs overlooking the ocean and a fort. Winning!!!
On our trek back to the toon, we stopped off at the other beachside vacation town of Whitby, conveniently minutes before England and Tonga kicked off at the Rugby World Cup! No complaining from me, getting chauffeured around England to all the places my family are from, dude can stop for as many games as he wants! But once again, did leave Nora at the pub while I explored the gorgeous Whitby. What a picturesque town, a seaside village with ruins of a castle on the hill (no time to trek to) but did make it to the lighthouses for gorgeous views over the cliffs, ocean and back into then the town. Surely this is more interesting and beautiful than rugby reet?? I mean there’s even a replica of the Endeavour, how does anything compete with that???
At least this time when I found the Geordie it was good news, the English were winning, which given that that it was now my other homeland, I was kinda happy about too. I think I’m finally getting the gist of rugby, and might actually know the difference between league and union, union is the one with the scrums right?? If I’m not going to have AFL on the regular for the next year, I reckon rugby is gonna be my game. Exciting, tough dudes and there’s no way they can go a whole game without scoring points! Ok, I’m on the rugby band wagon, but now the question is, who do I support in the World Cup?? Australia, England or Scotland? I think I’ll keep that answer to myself as it may get me into trouble!
BITC and feck, my train leaves in 2 hours and we’re 1 hour and 45 minutes away from Newcastle. Nora didn’t seem all that bothered, gave me some reassuring words in Geordie that I couldn’t even repeat if I tried… well actually, I did try a lot that weekend to speak Geordie but like all my accents, just kept coming out Jamaican! On the leg back to Newcastle, or maybe it was before, at some stage there was the discussion that I’d keep thinking about for days, and change my answer multiple times. So if you could go to the concert of three bands or singers no longer together or alive, who would they be?? It’s harder than you think!! After lots of back and forth, Nora and I both agreed that Queen and Elvis were on the list, his third was Sinatra and mine was The Beatles. Bloody hard cos that means other epic bands and singers like David Bowie, Jeff Buckley, Janis Joplin, and Amy Winehouse don’t make the list. And since we were on the topic, next question was what three people that have passed would you love to have dinner with? Not necessarily all at the same time… I think the question may have changed part way through cos the Geordie picked Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King and the Dalai Lama, who obvs is still with us – my picks were Princess Diana, Mary Queen of Scots and Hitler. I know the last choice is controversial but as a psychology student, meeting someone like him that did so many horrid things, a conversation about values and morals would be out of this world, how he’d justify the atrocities he committed would be an interesting conversation. As would the conversation with all our other choices of course. In hindsight the dead people conversation may have just been a tactic to distract me from how close we were cutting it with time, it worked. At the station it was a quick good bye to the Geordie and I literally had 8 minutes to get into the station, find my platform and get onto the train. I made it in 5…. how I have no idea, a cross between running and shimmying through the crowd with a backpack, handbag and bag of other crap, mostly gin. Back in London, it did kinda feel like coming home. Mind you as someone that doesn’t technically live anywhere, wherever the roof is over my head is my home. But it’d only be home for one night, I’d booked a sneaky trip to Pisa and Florence the next day…
After 5 days of early wake ups for the bus, ok well 7am isn’t that early but early for me, I finally had a lay in and enjoyed every bloody second. I was exhuasted from the 5 days of eat, drink, selfie, BOTB, repeat… Today was going to be a chill day with my awesome friend Suz who was from Adelaide now, but Scottish and had lived in Edinburgh so getting an insiders view.
Casually strolling to brunch, an Adelaide institution I’ve sorely missed, I finally found a peaky to fit my head. I have an abnormally big head if you hadn’t noticed! And I’m sure a peaky has a proper name but now that Peaky Blinders is a smash hit, the hat they all wear is called a peaky by the Netflix addicted generation. Still not sure what I mean, check this one out:
Seeing the beautiful smiling face of Suz made my day! With all my adventures I’ve hardly been still long enough to miss Adelaide but seeing a friend that I’ve known forever gave me a rush of longing for my Adelaide life. I squashed the longing with a bloody mary and more haggis goodness with some avo thrown in for good measure. With full bellies we decided to take a leisurely stroll up to Arthur’s Seat, the highest peak in Edinburgh, didn’t look that high and the walking trail info said it was a relatively easy walk. Whoever wrote that lied… Sure neither of us were dressed for hiking and we were full up of bloody mary’s and avo but still, waaaay harder than Google let on but definitely worth it for the views over my most favourite city in the world. Being the thinkers we are, or possibility the drinkers we are, we came up with a brilliant business idea, a Prosecco and coffee cart at the top of Arthur’s Seat. Yes there was a little something of a logistics problem but after that hike I probs would have paid $30 for a Prosecco, oh wait, that’s what I’m paying on a normal day, damn exchange rates…
Well and truly having earnt a cocktail or three, Suz took me to “the” spot in Edinburgh for cocktails, the balcony of Harvey Nichols, the department store the next step up from David Jones. Sure the cocktails were £20 each, roughly equates to $40 Aussie but you only live once…
Having been a local for so many years, Suz’s cocktail tour of the best spots in Edinburgh was in full swing, we stopped off at a gorgeous building with a dome, not even Google can help me with the name, then onto a speak easy called Panda and Sons, that was beyond cool, hidden in a barber shop down some stairs and behind a bookcase, Edinburgh has it all!!
The bar staff in Panda and Sons were super friendly and gave us some dinner recommendations, we ended up at a Mexican tapas bar for tacos and margaritas. Now I’m pretty sure the food was amazing and it wasn’t the cocktails talking but I can’t be sure… with time for one more round (ok maybe two) we found a back alley bar that felt like a Peel St in Adelaide local and enjoyed our last hurrah before Suz was onto the bus and back to her digs an hour or so away. It was one of those days that just makes you smile when you think about it and just made me fall in love with Edinburgh even more.
It was enthusiastic motivated Holly that booked the 6.30am train to Inverness the next morning, not the hungover realistic version. But after the 4 hour trek with WiFi I’d hunted down the best coffee and bacon in all of Inverness and made it my first stop. Called Coyote coffee for no idea why, pretty sure there aren’t coyotes in all of Scotland but who cares when there’s bacon. It lived up to the hype and served a brekkie photoworthy and most importantly yummo!! And true to form (well, that’s what the review said) the gentleman running the coffee shop was up for a chat and gave me some good recommendations for an old school bookshop down the road next to a church with a cemetery that had graves from those that fought in Culloden, top bloke!
After a quick bag drop at the Air BNB I was free to stroll around Inverness at my own pace, with no BOTB or time limits, did miss my peeps Peta and Robert though! While not the Inverness from Outlander, the disappointment of that revelation was long gone as I strolled through a gorgeous city of quaint houses, stunning churches, a beautiful war memorial and of course my fave, a castle!!
It was however the quote on the gravestone at the war memorial that stuck a chord with me:
“For your tomorrow we gave our today”
Really did bring a tear to my eye and take me back to Culloden, maybe if I believed in the cause that much I would have stood side by side with the highlanders, maybe if I’d been born in Scotland…
Wandering around Inverness, it’s one beautiful building after another, then there was this:
Pretty in its own way but just kinda stood out like a sore thumb to me. Especially when you compare it to the stunning Cathedral just up the road…
What did make me smile was all the chimneys, the obsession continues…
Finally making my way to the bookshop recommended by the Coyote dude, I walked through the doors and stepped back in time… even more if possible, Inverness already felt like a different age. Leaky’s bookshop was adorable? Not sure that’s the word, cute?? Actually reminded me of the bookshop on Never Ending Story, or was that the school library???
As promised, next door was another stunning church, and I don’t say another to be blasé , I say another in amazement. The cemetery and church were… I feel like I’m running out of words, I’ve already said gorgeous and stunning a million times, but they really were. Headstones dating back hundreds of years, the church had a beautiful heeby jeeby feeling, like it’d seen a hell of a lot in its time.
With the 5 something wake up call catching up with me, I headed back to the Air BNB for check in and once again stepped back in time… my room was from the 60’s, wall paper even on the ceiling, not complaining, I found it sweet, pretty sure I’d find a jail cell in Scotland sweet… but let’s not test that theory… I did manage to be useful and do a load of laundry at the local laundromat which was an experience in itself, but besides that I was completely useless the rest of the night. Maybe I needed it, especially given the gravitas of the next day…
The Thursday was all about Culloden. On my last visit I knew I’d be returning so saved the immersive visitor center experience for when I had all the time in the world to read and probs cry a little. Maybe there is something to that saying about the early bird and the worm because getting there earlyish meant not too many pesky tourists I refuse to be one of. The setup of the visitor center is smart, the British timeline of events down the left in red, the Scottish down the right in blue, this time you really did get both sides of the story, unlike my skewed version of Culloden. Dan the bus driver Man had told us a pretty damn good tale about Culloden, covering off all the important stuff. But I’m a nerd and love getting all the information I can about something, although I think I’m running out of space in my head… One thing that didn’t change in all my reading was my opinion of Bonnie Prince Charlie, still not a fan especially given that after everyone’s efforts to hide him from the British after the battle, with the infamous Flora MacDonald smuggling him out of Scotland by dressing him as a woman and passing him off as her handmaiden, people took risks for him and he rewarded them by returning to Rome and spending the rest of his life being a drunk and sooking about his defeat. Compare him to someone like William Wallace and he comes up very short in the balls department!
The main attraction of the visitor center is the immersive experience. I’d heard from Kyles how intense it was so thought I was prepared, not so much. You stand in a room with each wall a massive screen and before you know it, you’re right in the middle of the Culloden battlefield, with the British firing on the left and the highlanders charging on the right, brave men falling in the slaughter right in front of you. There’s a reason kids aren’t allowed in, so bloody realistic, intense is an understatement. Pretty sure I held my breathe the whole time.
Reading about what happened to the Scottish after Culloden was heart breaking. People even suspected of being a Jacobite were slaughtered, no questions asked. The Scottish folk were forbidden to wear tartan, speak Gaelic or play the bag pipes. Pretty much stripped of their culture, people even changed their names, removing the Mac part so as to not be suspected of being a Jacobite. I hate to say it but the British were ruthless, barbaric even. Historically they have slaughtered so many people and stripped them of their culture, all across the world. All in the name of religion, for the King, for ego. I get it’s the way of the world and many others did the same, the Romans, the Spanish, it was how things were done. In today’s world of media and constant scrutiny, people are being held accountable, which is a good thing but there are still certain politicians and leaders in the world being complete knobs.
Emerging from the visitor center overwhelmed it was good to take some time on the roof walk to find some stillness and let my brain catch up. The views over the battlefield showed why amongst all the rugged mountains and valleys of Scotland, this flat plain was the place the battle had to take place. The purple heather that covered the fields gave it a breath taking beauty that didn’t seem to be akin with the blood shed that had taken place. After a wander around I found solace in one of my favourite things in the world, hairy coos. Although they kept running away from me, my favourite things leaving, story of my life!
Having spent the morning with battles on the brain I kept the theme going and trekked out to Fort George, finally a place with fort in the name that actually has a fort!!! The walk from the bus to the fort along the shore of a loch, or maybe the ocean, was a welcome breathe of fresh air. And when you’re trekking towards an awesome fort on the horizon, there’s an extra bounce in the step. Now this is a bloody fort!!!!!
After being all forted out I made the trek back to Inverness, did a final wander around the city then called it a night cos annoying Holly last week booked another 6.30am train back to Edinburgh.
Ok so I wasn’t a fan of the early start but it did mean I had another half day in Edinburgh so went through my must do list for the gorgeous city. Still so much to see and do but the one I wanted the most was the botanic gardens. While I can hardly keep a cactus alive, I do appreciate a beautiful garden. After stowing my bag I legged it to the botanic garden. And by legged it I mean walked 40 minutes in over 30 degree heat up hills and around in circles cos we all know how good I am with a map. Did find a few places I thought could be my future home though…
After putting down a rather large coffee I literally got lost in the botanic Gardens, but what better place to get lost in aye?
Although wandering around a garden is delightful, anyone that knows me knows I’m a hot person, and not in the good looking way! I overheat ridiculously quick so after the mornings legging it to the garden and back into the main part of Edinburgh I was ready to just chill, quite literally, I went into Sainsbury’s and stood in front of the fridge! And since I was there, picked up a gin or two then went and sat on the grass in the square and did one of my favourite hobbies, people watching!
May have watched a little too intently because before I knew it I was running late for the train and had to run between the baggage stow and train, picking up gin, whiskey and shortbread on the way as presents for the people who were taking care of me. Felt so so sorry for the person sitting next to me on the train, I did not smell good. Was also feeling sorry for the Geordie waiting for me in Newcastle, he may wanna rethink the hello hug…
Monday 2nd September – Thursday 5th September 2019
Ah Ireland, land of leprechauns and Guinness, and to be fair, not actually sure what else at this stage!! The choice of traveling to Ireland puts me back into the sheep category, Kylie had to go to Belfast for work so thought I’d follow and explore the island of Ireland!
Although Kyles doesn’t get to Belfast til Wednesday, I couldn’t go to Ireland as a tourist and not pop into Dublin, it is the capital after all! Did have to Google that just to make sure… so off I went on my lonesome to Dublin. Just when I thought I was mastering the London tube and trains, I quite literally missed my train to Gatwick by 45 seconds… unfortunately I’m yet to master google maps and headed completely in the wrong direction out of the tube station. And the trains here leave on the dot, a 7.45am train leaves at 7.45am and no seconds… but all good, was allowing myself a 2 hour window at Gatwick on account of my first upcoming experience with Ryan Air. We don’t even have an equivalent that is as bad in Australia… or as cheap!! Kyles last Ryan Air experience to Lisbon in Portugal had them land in a completely different city so needless to say my expectations were whatever is below low… but… somehow they were exceeded!?! Easy boarding, no weighing of carry on, actually landed in Dublin, didn’t crash, hmmm, maybe I was an exception not the rule!!
Landing in Dublin in a shroud of rain, which I’d come to learn is as common as oxygen in the air, the thing that I loved straight off was that all the signs are in Gaelic and English. But Gaelic first. For a predominantly English speaking country, I love that they are proud of their heritage and make retaining their culture a priority.
After securing my status as a tourist with a Do Dublin train pass, I was city bound. I guess I expected a city similar to London, not as big but the same charm. Hmmm, first impressions were slightly underwhelming, the constant rain didn’t help. The city is pretty, the river Liffey running through, some cool bridges, but the main river front strip, ehh… kind of the same feeling as when I hit Glasgow, however by the time I left Glasgow I was in love with the city so tried not to be a judgmental AH and headed for the hood, Temple Bar, where ALL the tourists go apparently! So here’s the thing, Temple Bar is a pub, Temple Bar is also a lane, a bar is a lane… For someone already google map challenged, you can imagine my confusion. After buying my second umbrella in as many weeks (whoever told me it’s summer lied..), I found the pub version of Temple Bar and must say, for midday on a Monday, it was pumping! Irish music in full swing, people in every nook and cranny skulling a Guinness… its times like this I hate traveling alone! Just wanted a mate to drink a beer with and get into the mood… my mood however remained that of a drowned rat so instead I headed to a quiet Mexican tacoria around the corner for the worst Mexican of my life…
Although Dublin hadn’t started well, by the time I checked into the broom closet at my Air BNB, I was ready to rumble and knew the one sure thing to turn this frown upside down… the Guinness Storehouse!! Home of the world renowned beer and one of the top tourist attractions in Dublin.. too bad I don’t like Guinness but eh…
Wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Storehouse, if you’ve been to the D’Arendberg Cube in RADelaide you know that people who drink too much of their own brew can get quite whacky! The Storehouse was kinda like the cube, some whack but still pretty cool. So Arthur Guinness who bought the brewery signed a 9,000 year lease for £90 a month… if that isn’t vision and a whole lotta ego I don’t know what is… only 8,840 years left to make or break as a business! Dude also had 21 children, busy man! The Storehouse is all about the beer, as you’d expect, with a few whacky things thrown in for entertainment value, the cycling fish had something to do with branding, the clocks with uh, time probs, can’t remember specifically what… it was a damn cool setup, and the Gravity bar at the top with 360 views of the city was a stroke of genius because let’s be honest, peeps like me who don’t drink Guinness are here for that!! In all honesty, bloody loved learning how they make beer, have a fascination with the process, stinks but the outcome is delicious! The setup itself in the old brewing factory is pretty manic, 7 levels of anything and everything to do with Guinness, the family history, the beer making process, a waterfall, the history of the brand, tasting rooms, a floor of cafes and of course the Gravity bar. Just don’t look down when going up the escalator, can make the legs shake… while I wasn’t a fan of Aussie Guinness, the stuff in Ireland is pretty damn tasty, might grow on me yet…
So after surveying the sites of Dublin from Gravity bar and with a pint in the belly, I thought it was a fab idea to walk back to my Air BNB, only 45 minutes… in the rain… with the worlds shonkiest umbrella, really should have caught a cab half way there when I was back in drowned rat territory but I’m stubborn and damn it I was gonna get my 10,000 steps that day…
In my pre-planning I’d allocated Tuesday to being a super tourist. Hop on hop off bus around the city and unashamedly take selfies in front of all the landmarks. May as well slap a tourist stamp on my forehead! Think I did EVERY Dublin landmark in one day, some out the window of the bus, others I took time to actually get my lazy arse off the bus and look up close. Rather than relying on Google, I asked a few friends the do’s in Dublin, Trinity College and the Book of Kells seemed to be a common theme so tackled the rain to dismount the bus and see what this book is all about.
Walking into the college was like a scene from Pitch Perfect, you know the one with all the clubs and groups setup on the lawns trying to get people to join?? Needless to say the Barden Bella’s didn’t ask me join, on second thought, none of the clubs did, do I not look young enough to be starting college?? Don’t answer…
So from what I remember, the Book of Kells is the oldest book in existence, the original bible written in Latin by monks… Google tells me I’m wrong, it’s the gospels written in Latin in 800A.D, got the monks bit right though… So it wasn’t the first bible, but apparently the most “illuminated”, which just means pretty, and it is Ireland’s most valued national treasure. Thanks Google. The museum about this one book was full of writing and pics on the walls about the book which was interesting but really the entree before the main.. the book itself was holed up in a little room that fit about 30 people but managed to squish in about 100… did manage to get a quick glimpse of the book and have to admit, it was pretty damn amazing, for a book!! The pages are made from leather, the colours are vibrant and the calligraphy out of this world, I guess when you’re a monk, what else is there to do?? Kinda humbling seeing something written over 1,000 years ago… no pics allowed of the book itself so here’s one of the replica, and some other pics about it from the museum…
So you walk out of the itsy bitsy room of the book, thinking the sites are done and dusted, but then you walk into this… the most stunning library I’ve ever seen… well, I haven’t been to many libraries in all honesty but surely this would be up there with one of the most stunning… kinda reminds me of the one from Beauty & the Beast… The library also housed some of the first books ever written and illustrated about psychology and the anatomy of the human body, being a big nerd I lapped it up…
Of course the dude called Bacon was my favorite… don’t know who he was but never met a bacon I didn’t like…
Next stop on my tourist visa was the Christ Church Cathedral, actually meant to see Dublin Castle but once again misinterpreted Google maps… without stroking my own ego, I’ve been to Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey and while Christ Church doesn’t compare in size, it’s right up there in the beauty stakes. Walking into beautiful cathedrals always takes my breathe away, this was no exception. And as I do at every church, I lit a candle for Brett, my Grandad and my Nonno…
Feeling holier-than-thou, I mistakenly trusted Google maps to make my way to the castle. Have a feeling it might have been user error because I walked around in circles only to be back where I started with the castle magically appearing at my original location… anyhoo, walked into the castle grounds, decided I’d seen more epic castles and left. Yeah, I’m starting to be that tourist that says “I’ve seen better”… I hate myself too… With rain on the horizon I took shelter on the bus and did tourist from the bus window past the monument, Parliament House (White House look alike), the Royal Hospital, Goal and a few others but once the War Memorial Gardens came up I was off in a heartbeat, love me a garden, especially ones dedicated to the bravest people in the world. Ok Dublin, you’re growing on me… the gardens were peaceful and beautiful, the city certainly has its charm…
You can guess why I may have had to leave the gardens?? Yup, rain, rain of the windy pelting variety that gets up under your umbrella and in your face… I gave up trying to do tourist… pub time… back to Temple Bar cos I just couldn’t be bothered finding anywhere else, stumbled across an epic Irish pub called the Norseman… wait… in Ireland they’re just called pubs, not Irish pubs… the point being epic Irish singer doing covers, gin, chicken wings and most importantly, a roof over my head. Somehow I forgot about the history of the rain in Ireland and decided to walk back to my Air BNB again, could also have something to do with the giant size plate of chicken wings I polished off…
Being a city girl with a country heart.. if that makes sense.. the next day I’d booked in a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher and Galway, take in some country air… and boy did I get air… 70km/h winds in fact… after dutifully boarding the 60 seater bus, we were hostages to the witty repertoire of the tour guide, Noel. Some tidbits of useful information he imparted on us included the fact that apparently the people that live south of the city are rich, and those that live north of the city are better looking, can guess which area tour dude was from! And one that I can attest to, the Dublin LUAS, their tram network is the slowest in all of Europe, hells yes. And finally, a sad one, of the 330 distilleries in Ireland in the 1800s, there’s only 5 left, so sad when industry declines…
An hour in after Noel had seemingly run out of things to say, there was pit stop at a petrol station dedicated to Barack Obama, kid you not!! Apparently he stopped in the town during a trip to Ireland on account of having some long distant relative from there, and to honour him, they named a petrol station after him, uhhhh, sure, guess those jokes about the Irish being a bit backwards weren’t totally untrue…
Anyway, herded back onto the bus we were left to our own devices to snap away at pictures of the country side for 2 hours until we arrived at the Cliffs. Of course Noel has the guide book of facts to read from, apparently 80% of genetics of the Irish are similar to those in northern Spain, the Spanish language from their ancestors morphed into Gaelic. Coolies, even more interesting, the Irish used to fight naked in the early days, they painted their bodies blue and dyed their hair blonde. They don’t put that in the movies!!! Oh and the British called them barbarians cos their language sounded like sheep, bah bah bah…
The ride to the cliffs was so damn beautiful, somehow the grass in Ireland is the greenest I’ve ever seen in my life, or maybe it was just me…
Arriving at the Cliffs of Moher, Noel, advised it was a wee bit windy today… damn near blew me over, not even joking… gravel and water and wind in the face… but when you have these views, so so worth it…
What was not worth it was paying £8 for a nasty little quiche… that aside, bloody beautiful spot. Once we were back onto the bus, we waited, and waited and waited… then left, leaving two people behind… Was sure not to miss departure time after that, dude runs a tight ship… An hour later Nazi Noel was nice enough to release us from bus prison to stumble over some rocks on the beach, it was stunning but in all honesty I was so worried about being left behind I was back on the bus in record time, then onto Galway…
Heading to Galway and all I could bloody think of was that wretched Ed Sheeran song, get out of my head you annoying English ranger… oh, hangry Holly had reappeared so first stop after the ooo’s and ahhh’s at the prettiness of Galway was food, of course as soon as I saw bacon and cabbage on the menu the decision was made, did not expect it but by god it was AMAZING!!!! Mouth watering just thinking of it…
Belly full I turned tourist mode back on and legged it around Galway, seeing as much as I could while leaving enough time to get back to the bus so Nazi Noel wouldn’t leave without me…
Back on the bus with 10 minutes to spare, and we were back to Dublin and time for Noel who had turned nice again to tell us some final facts about Ireland. The stuff I can remember, backed by Google, the green on the flag represents the Roman Catholics, the orange the Protestants and white represents neutrality, nice! So Ireland was conquered by the Vikings from Norway, Sweden and Denmark, they built the majority of the countries cities, including Dublin which they called Dubh Linn, meaning black pool of water. Some Irish dude later kicked their arses out. And finally, the story that pulled on my heart strings, the history of the Irish famine, called The Great Hunger. In the late 1840’s disease struck their potato crops, depriving people of their main source of food. Over one million people died, another million emigrated to greener pastures, hence why so many Irish around the world. Ireland’s population reduced by nearly 25%. And here’s where I get pissed off, the Protestant church who had access to food for people would only give it to those starving if they promised to change religions. WTF?? That’s so very kind of you. Grrr. And even better, Queen Victoria, a Protestant, only gave the country £3,000 pounds to help, she had no objections to the famine killing off the mainly Catholic population. AH.
Reflecting on the tour, to be honest, it was a hell of a lot of hours on a bus compared to the hours with actual feet on the ground… would I do it if I had my time again?? Eh, hindsight no, and when you hear about our epic adventure in Belfast you’ll know why… Back in Dublin I once again opted to walk back to the Air BNB and in all honesty, saw more awesome Dublin than I did in the day tour… walking around a city is definitely the best way to see it, and work off a belly of bacon…
And back to my Air BNB broom closet for the last night, and must say, it was looking damn pretty from the outside!!
For my last day in Dublin, I had ambitious plans of being at the Little Museum of Dublin for the one and only free tour at 9am then going to the Dublin Castle, the Viking museum and Merrion Square before legging it for the train to Belfast… needless to say lazy arse Holly mode kicked in and I only made it to Merrion Square to hang with Oscar Wilde before I was off to meet the gorgeous Kylie in Belfast… my favorite Oscar Wilde quote, “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance”, not an egomaniac, to me it’s all about self belief!
In the end, Dublin defs grew on me, not in the same way Glasgow did but it had its charm, probs wouldn’t go back but glad to have gone… Geez that was a boring post, my heart just wasn’t in it at Dublin, sorry!!!
The front half of my first whole week in London Town was spent being a complete tourist and ignoring the fact I now live here and at some stage will need to earn money.
Unlucky for Kyles, she was up bright and early Monday morning and off to work while the Geordie and I each claimed a couch and binge watched Mindhunter… Ashes and birthday recovery, don’t roll your eyes Mum!!!
Finally the Geordie and I we got off our arses on Tuesday and decided to get our tourist shoes on, with a dear friend leading the way, let’s call her Sheila.
Sheila had plans to take us to an epic brunch spot, being secret squirrel about the location, Nora and I just followed like sheep. I tend to be a sheep a lot in London. The day full of shits and giggles started with pranking the Geordie on the tube. While he nodded off with no idea where he was or where he was going, Sheila and I snuck out of sight, his face when he opened his eyes and we were gone was priceless…. maybe you had to be there…
Verging on hangry Holly territory we arrived at our final destination and by gosh it was worth the wait!! Am I the only one that didn’t know there’s a Little Venice in London??? Was way too hungry to take a pic of my food but just imagine a 5 star brekkie of eggs, bacon, avo, sausage and mushrooms, yeah I was hungry… and a Bloody Mary of course, they are becoming a brunch essential… once again can feel my mum rolling her eyes…
After stuffing our faces we wandered through Little Venice, I love all these little surprises in London. Canals with house boats, gardens everywhere, how does anyone diss London??? Ok, I may sing a different tune when I’m freezing my arse off in a few months but for now the sun is shining and London is putting on quite the show.
With Sheila once again leading the way through canals and over bridges we found our way to the Freize outdoor sculpture exhibition in Regent’s Garden. Hmmm, I’m not quite sure how to describe this one… interesting??? I’m obvs not an art aficionado but I just didn’t get it. Yeah, they were kinda cool, had names I couldn’t pronounce and descriptions I didn’t understand. Maybe this Aussie bogan just isn’t cultured enough! Still had a bloody good time wandering in the sunshine, cracking dad jokes and posing with my favourite number…
Why was six scared of seven?? Cos seven ate nine…. hehehe…
So after feeling sufficiently cultured and with a Geordie that had a thirst to quench, we hit up Camden markets. I visited this awesome place over Christmas and it hadn’t lost any of its charm. A soft serve, bubble waffle and cider or three later, we made our way to The World’s End. The all time best pub I’ve ever been too. Just too cool for school. Heavy metal sound track, my kind of art, funky interior and ribs n wings to die for. Check out the cocktail names, too funny! Yeah, I could live here!!!
After an eventful day doing the tourist thing, it was “home” to Brixton. Sainsbury‘s pizza for the second night in a row but you won’t hear me complaining!!
Wednesday was another more productive day in the tourist stakes. Once I was fed… Somehow I let the Geordie convince me he knew an awesome lunch spot, cos let’s be honest, by the time we got our arses moving it was way past breakfast, even brunch. On the way to said secret lunch spot, we stopped by and said hi to queenie at Buckingham Palace. Apparently Nora had an open invitation for tea and a crumpet but unfortunately she wasn’t home that afternoon. A secret squirrel tells me when the flag is at full mast, queenie is home. Maybe the Geordie wasn’t as welcome as he thought…
So we walked, and walked and walked, we walked for so long I thought I’d made it to Scotland. The poor Geordie got to experience a hangry Holly first hand. I must learn to be patient, when someone makes me wait for food it’s usually worth it. Points to the Geordie, fried halloumi and chips aboard an old ship docked on the Thames opposite the London eye, with a gin bar. Dude knows me well. Might have to start using his real name.
The highlight of the day and the reason the Geordie travelled all the way to London, besides the pleasure of our company, and the Ashes, and Corfu… a Jack the Ripper tour. Having sufficiently stuffed our faces at 4pm (yes, I somehow waited that long for food!?!?!), we met Kylie for a coffee in White Chapel. Didn’t realise she hadn’t had dinner and the said coffee joint only served… you guessed it, pizza. Poor love had to eat pizza for the third night in a row. Enough about food, onto the main event. Thank God for Wikipedia, besides knowing Jack the Ripper was a serial killer of prostitutes back in old London Town, I surprisingly knew not much. Somehow I hadn’t watched the Johnny Depp movie. Quick – go read Wikipedia now… I had to…
So in summary, they never worked out who Jack the Ripper was, he grusomely stabbed and cut open women and displayed their organs along with their trinkets in locations all over London. Plenty of theories about who he was, the Queen’s physician (?!?), a polish butcher (makes sense), an educated upper-class man, no one ever suspected a woman could commit the murders. Interesting, had they not seen Killing Eve?? Maybe not. Credit to the tour guide, a charming English lass armed with a handheld projector, throwing up images of locations and autopsy pics on street walls. With dire warnings of the gruesomeness of the autopsy pics, I expected, well more grossness. Pretty sure I’ve seen worse on NCIS. Anyhoo, awesome tour, interesting history and worth the couple of hours. The Geordie was enthralled and had a tick on his bucket list. You’d think with a stomach full of fried food and stories of a serial killer rampant in my new home town I’d have trouble sleeping… slept like a log, maybe I subconsciously knew to bank up the sleep hours ready for Corfu!!!
Well, well, well… wake up on your first day of a new chapter of your life, in a new country with all the hope and opportunities laying ahead… you’d expect one to leap out of bed with anticipation and excitement… not lay in bed til midday watching The Bachelor and eating leftover pizza… one isn’t me! The only thing that got me out of bed in my jet lagged state was the imminent arrival of the Geordie, otherwise known as Pattie, otherwise known as Davie, otherwise known as Nora…
I’m trying to remember what we did that Thursday but all I remember is somehow making our way to Garrick Theatre in the West End to see Bitter Wheat, a play about I don’t know what cos I fell asleep starring John Malkovich, one of the most epic, amazing, brilliant actors of our time, if you don’t know who he is then we shouldn’t be friends. But then I did fall asleep on the legend so I’ll forgive you! There was also a seafood feast before but pretty sure I just ate bread, don’t ask me, I don’t remember… the only thing I recall is the sore neck at the end of the night from falling asleep in my lap… the show was Malkovich impersonating the Harvey Weinstein story, apparently it was real good…
So Friday, a distant hazy memory of not so quite awakedness… there was bacon, at a really cool place in Clapham. Hmmm, what else?? Bacon always tends to take the starring role. Oh that’s right, there was an epic Bloody Mary with vegemite and bacon in it!! The Geordie was there too dealing with my jet lagged sparkling personality.
With an epic Ashes day looming, it was time to get our Aussie on. Of course I could have brought my Aussie bandana, Aussie flag or Aussie bikini from home but no, they are packed in a box somewhere! Between following the Geordie around while he searched for cricket outfit (?!?!?), I managed to find three cheap as chips Aussie rugdby tops, we can wear them to the cricket right? Same same??? The Geordie obvs loved the tops…
With a house full of guests on a Friday night, Kyles was obvs excited to head out and enjoy a night on the town. You can imagine her dismay to find a Geordie and an Aussie fat arming it on the couch when she walked through the door. Not even Korean fried chicken from UberEats could turn that frown upside down. Don’t blame her though, we were pretty damn lame! First Friday night in London and my eyelids were needing toothpicks to stay open.
Onto the main event. The Ashes. Six months in the making, a random ticket draw later and Kyles and I… failed to get tickets… luckily for us and not so lucky for Adam Tanshevcholovamolotov who couldn’t make it so we got one spare, then bless Pete, he couldn’t make it either so Kyles and I were in!! One of us was excited beyond belief to be going to the most iconic cricket stadium in the world to see a legendary battle fought throughout the ages, the other just hoped there was gin. Tough decision which one I was!!!
Thinking back on it cos there’s no way I could have written this on the day, it kinda feels like magic. I grew up idolising my grandad. He was a strong, fit, caring and amazing man. And he loved his cricket. In the days of Ponting and Bevan we would watch the one day internationals on the edge of our seats when Bevan would smash a four off the final ball to win the match. And while I wasn’t a big fan of test matches, i was a 14 year old girl with the attention span of a toddler, his absolute admiration of the Ashes elevated them to legendary status. He would explain to me the strategy, the rules of the gentleman’s game. Thinking of those days makes me smile. My grandad is no longer with us but walking up to Lord’s in my Aussie colours I knew he’d be proud. Believe what you will, I could feel him with me.
After a bakery stop to meet up with our fellow Aussie Melsey and stuff our faces with sausage rolls, the Geordie was well and truly outnumbered as we made our way to the icon. The crew were already sick of my overexcited selfies but kindly obliged for the 100th time as we rounded the corner of the stadium…
So the one thing the Brit’s have over the Aussie’s when it comes to cricket, besides Root who would soon become my favourite player, I am a British Citizen after all… the thing they have over us is that they let you take drinks into the cricket, and not just water. Everyone is allowed a bottle of wine, a couple of premixers or lagers. These Brit’s now how to do cricket.
And finally I was into the home of cricket. Ain’t fake smiling in this one…
Or this one…
Before taking our seats for kick off, I mean the first ball, we just happened to find a gin bar and all kinds of gin goodness, fever tree and Connor… this is Connor, he was to be our bar tender for the day… we had no complaints, dude poured a good gin…
And finally, up the mighty staircase to a view to behold, Lord’s… it was ok… understatement of the century…
Unfortunately, Kyles and Melsey managed to bag seats together, the Geordie and I were each on our lonesome, not that I minded. Quiet time to take in the sights was kinda cool.
After a few overs it was gin o’clock. After being able to relocate next to Nora the rest of the afternoon consisted of sunshine, gin and checking the real “football” scores. Unfortunately it wasn’t a good day for Port and only a half decent day for the Aussies.
One of my highlights of the day was being able to hit a cricket ball on the ground at Lord’s. And by ground I mean grass, on the outer, not on the actual grounds with 100,000 people watching… still cool nonetheless, reckon I got a few sixers…
Another highlight, food court cricket. What is that you say?? Give a bunch of larikins a green bin, a bat, a ball and you got food court cricket. And then out came the sandpaper!!! The thing I love about aussies is our ability to ourselves shit. It was all fun and games until a Sheila hit Kylie smack bang in the chest… but she took it like the tough Aussie she is, the gin’s Connor had been dealing out may have helped with that…
Although the rain may have ended the day prematurely, only by about half hour though, it was a day to go down in the history books. Well mine anyway. Chatting to people in the crowd, seeing the Aussies hit fours (no sixes) and seeing Steve Smith nearly get a century, out on 92. Tough luck, but then he is a cheater so not feeling so bad about that one.
After such an epic day and to avoid a crowded as hell tube, we tried our best to hit up the local St John’s Wood (yes, that’s the name of a suburb 😂😂) but we were done, once again to Kylie’s dismay. Saturday night and the Geordie and Aussie just wanted fried chicken and couch time. I was still jet lagged, not sure what his excuse was…
So homeward bound, KFC pick up on the walk home and what should have been fried goodness on the couch was disappointment on the couch, KFC is not the same here, so much oilier and where the hell is the chicken, think I just ate battered bones… anyhooo… they don’t call it dirty chicken for nothing…
Until next time, bucket list item ticked and one hell of a start to my life in London. I think it was when I was climbing the stairs at midnight that Kyles called out Happy Birthday wishes… that’s right, I’m now one year older, ugh….
Well, 29 hours of flights and connections plus over an hour in a cab to Brixton and I’m finally here, London baby!!!
As far as flights and travel go, have to admit, I had it pretty damn easy! After a teary farewell at the airport and a blubbering download of emotions on the Sydney flight, I encountered my first travel fail. Open my earphones case to find it empty. Hmmm, probs in of the hundred boxes I packed. Guess I’ll just have to indulge in some duty free shopping, if I must. The flight into Sydney felt like a fitting farewell to Australia, clear blue skies with views of the Harbour bridge and opera house, with Hugh Jackman’s rendition of I Still Call Australia Home playing in my head. Am worried I may have sung a few lines out loud… for someone that loves her home country so much, kind of an oxymoron that I was so excited to leave it!!!
In typical Holly fashion, I was prepared with my to do list at Sydney airport, which I’ll admit was mostly shopping. A stash of MAC makeup and gin later I decided to indulge myself in a new set of AirPods, my last splurge before I hit the ground in London jobless and homeless. Shopping done and I was headed for the Qantas lounge. I may have left packing, canceling health insurance and finding a job to the last minute, or not at all, but the thing I did organise was my freebie Qantas lounge access via my credit card, priorities right!!! A comfy chair, lemon tart and a vodka later, I spent the next few hours burning my ear off chatting to friends for the final goodbyes… well, not really goodbye, just see ya later alligator.
And now for my second travel fail, where the hell did I leave my brand spanking new AirPods?? Bananas. Searching every pocket of every bag and jacket and they were gone. Somehow between charging them and moving seats between toilet breaks, I’d flushed $230 down the toilet. With high hopes that an honest person had handed them into the lounge reception, my faith in humanity was restored. AirPods safely returned… or were they??? More to come on that one…
As much as it’s humanly impossible to sleep sitting upright on a plane, even after sleeping pills, I still love long haul flights. Binge watching movies and people bringing you food and drinks with absolutely no guilt associated with the utter laziness. Except for the hulk of a Fijian dude sitting next to me, it was smooth sailing through to Singapore with a pit stop to stretch the legs. After searching again for ciggies for Pattie with no luck, I found some empty seats to lay down, listen to music and chill. Hand in my jacket pocket to grab my AirPods and shit, I pull out two pairs of AirPods. Crap. I just stole someone’s AirPods. Is it stealing if you really didn’t mean to????
Back on the same plane, same seat, same hulk and I’m finally London bound. Sitting down I can smell it, the hulk must have ran a marathon cos he’s smelling not so delightfully like BO, even worse than before. Oh no, wait…. maybe that’s me??? Hmmm, let’s just say it’s the hulk… But smells aside, the hulk is awesome, hardly spoke a word of English but got me water while I slept and made sure I got ice cream while I was dozing… nice hulk!
More food, more movies and no sleep later and we’re within spitting distance of London. Excitement is at an all time high. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m aware this isn’t just a holiday, I’m MOVING to London. Hmmm, future Holly’s problem…
A big bag of fruchocs later and it’s touch down in Heathrow, give or take circling in the sky for an hour. Feeling all up myself for having a British passport and expecting to breeze through customs, little did I know the Poms had introduced new rules since my last visit… aussies, kiwis, and all European passport holders could now “breeze” through the egates. Ugh, not so easy breezy, the line for people from timbuck two is short as hell and all us snobs are stuck in the long long line. Patience is not one of my virtues…
Having heard about the “heatwave” London had recently experienced and having packed for summer, you can imagine my surprise to walk out into rain, pouring down, gloomy AF rain. But in all honesty, I was ready to dance in the rain like a crazy person, so happy to be in the mother country and starting my new life. Or next chapter, still really love all those in my old life!!
Somehow I lucked out and bagged the best cab driver in all of London. Took me past Kylie Minogue’s house in Chelsea, little did he know she wasn’t my favourite Kylie in London… showed me the AFL goal sticks in Clapham Common, gave me tips on the “mad” places to party at night and most importantly, got my jet lagged arse to what would be my new home for as long as Kyles, Sean and Kam would put up with me cramping their style.
Hugging Kyles and seeing her gorgeous smile was exactly what my sanity needed, along with a shower cos geez bananas I smelt ripe, and not in a delicious cherry ripe kinda way!!!
Kyles being the bestiest bestie ever was working from home so I didn’t have to stand on her front porch and cry til 6pm. My challenge was to keep myself busy and eyes open til at least a normal bedtime and not fall asleep in my dinner at 4pm like Christmas Day. So how does one keep busy in a jet lagged state?? Sew buttons back on jackets, go shopping, open a bank account and bacon, all the bacon… and zucchini fries, and chicken and cheese… all while Kylie worked, she hardly got a look in for the food…
Come night time and in a zombie state, it seemed like a good idea to do facial masks, moisturizer foot socks and gin… just can’t recall if I have a face mask on in this pic or whether this is my face after about 50 hours of no sleep…
So life in London starts, equal parts excited and nervous for what is to come. But life is what you make it, either going to love it or hate it, the choice is mine.
So it’s taken me over a month to post this, meant saying goodbye to one of the best trips of my life and my bestie… but here it is, written some time ago…
You know the saying, all good things must come an end! And damn have I been on a good thing!!
Wanting to savour hanging with my bestie until the very last moment, I rose before the sunrise to cook brekkie for Kyles before she headed to work. In hindsight, my cooking is not the nicest farewell present, she smiled and ate it anyway. I’m not great at good byes, I tend to talk gibberish about inconsequential bullshit, avoid eye contact and then get it over with as quick as possible. Saying goodbye to Kylie and not knowing when we’d be in the same breathing space again was too hard. So I did all the awkward things to avoid crying like a sooky la la and hugged her like million bucks she is. Kyles is smart, she knew to rip it off like a band aid and headed to work before the water works started. Some people are worth tears and she’s one of them.
After a good blubber, my pile of crap upstairs awaited and it wasn’t going to pack itself. I’m not proud to say the only things I didn’t wear was my exercise gear and sneakers. That’s probs obvious from my bloated gin belly and jeans that seem to have shrunk since I arrived. Somehow, I seem to have accumulated nearly two suitcases worth of gear, surprising since I only hit up H&M once. The final weight, 29.9kg, a .1 to spare. Mind you, pretty sure my back pack was about 20kg, plus a 10kg handbag. You’d think at this point, after all the money I spent on gin and crap food, I would have thought it worthwhile to spring for a taxi to the airport. Yeah nah, thought I was Wonder Woman and could lugg it all onto the tube, what’s the worse that can happen??
Hauling a suitcase, backpack and handbag onto a bus to Brixton Station was a bit of effort. Squishing onto the first tube to Greenpark, kinda awkward. Getting off the tube at Greenpark to find I had to get all my crap down three flights of stairs on account of a broken lift? For f*!k sake. There was sweat, grunting and expletives abound. I’m sure it was entertaining for the passerbys. If I didn’t have an extremely delicious bottle of Sloe gin in my case it might have been left at the bottom of the second flight of stairs. Or it would have at least gotten a swift kick to the bottom with a good luck and hope for the best. But anyways. I made it. My suitcase made it. My temper not so much.
Luckily once I was finally on the tube to Heathrow, a young girl with a normal sized case who had witnessed my staircase adventures stopped me from getting off at the wrong stop. If I didn’t stink from my recent exertions I would have hugged her.
Finally off the tube and in the Heathrow vicinity, the frickin long walk from the tube to Terminal 3 meant all that time i had put aside for duty free shopping was quickly slipping away.
Once at check in, if it wasn’t for my morning exertions that had resulted in a hell of a bad mood, I probs wouldn’t have bothered fighting for the window seat I’d booked. Bad mood Holly is a stubborn b**ch. After a call or two the lovely Emirates lady reallocated me to a window seat so I could get some zzzz’s. Wonder whether the crazed look on my face and sweat dripping down my forehead also had something to do with it. Subjecting other passengers to that wouldn’t be fair…
With a window seat secured to Dubai but no seat allocation for the 12 hours stint to Adelaide, I thought the battles were over but when my seat allocation came through for an aisle to Adelaide I was on a bloody mission and gave up duty fee gin just so I could curl up against a window and get some shut eye on the way home. After an hour of running around the airport and finally finding someone who could have helped, I had to give in and subject my neck to a world of torture napping in an aisle seat.
With morning dramas done and dusted, I shoveled a healthyish salad from Cafe Nero cos hell knows when I’d get anything with any nutritional value in the next 30 hours. Only one quick buy at duty free and onto the first 7 hour leg.
After my awkwardness at the goodbyes this morning, I was thankful to have 5 minutes to message my bestie and say all the things I suck at saying in person.
Somehow the stars then aligned and I had the row to myself. Maybe all that staircase drama that resulted in my bad mood was worth it, it did result in a stubborn Holly that got a window seat and whole row… or the people that were meant to sit there saw and smelt me and requested a move…
Having decided this was the leg to get some sleep, pills were popped and I waited. Think I’m sleeping pill resistant. Bugger.
Landing in Dubai at 12.50am, next flight boarding at 1.40am it was tighter than I would have liked but it’s just a change of gate right?!? Nah uh. No idea what the hell is going on at Dubai airport but for some reason, we had to go through security once off the plane before we could get to the next gate. Then at the gate, another bag check where not even the over priced bottle of water i managed to buy in my run between gates was allowed on board. Still being stubborn as hell I skulled the whole bottle of water rather than throw it out, for the price I paid, I was convinced it was the tears of unicorns.
Settled into my aisle seat and ready to consume unlimited coffee to stay awake rather than risk the neck ache of the century from sleeping upright, a smiling Emirates angel came over to ask a favour. Would I mind switching with a minor so she could get all the younguns in one row. Oh, and I’d have to switch a window seat. I literally moved at the speed of lightning. It wasn’t until I was settled in and the couple next to me were all cuddly and cozy that the bottle of water I skulled hit. Sometimes my stubbornness doesn’t pay off.
Having curled up against the window and had a decent sleep, being on Australian soil again felt good. Also not having pneumonia and being taken to hospital like last time was a welcome relief. Managing to snag some gin in duty free and head through customs, awaiting me on the other side were the smiling faces of my Mum and Dad. Always the two that will go out of their way for their little girl. Damn I’m lucky. Getting home and finding my mum had stocked my fridge with bacon, eggs and avo elevated my appreciation of the best parents in the world. While there are a million adventures to be had overseas, no other place in the world will ever be home. Home is with the people I love the most. What a sooky la la…
Anyway… most normal people when they get home just shower and bed. I’m one of those psychopaths that HAS to unpack. Yeah, I’m a special kind of weird. Or maybe I just didn’t want one of the best trips of my life to ever end and to have to return to reality. Probs the later.
But I guess the adventure is never really over. There’s still a whole big world out there to explore, who knows when I’ll embark on the next or who with but one things for sure, the travel bug is lit and when $$ and time next permits, I’ll be off!
Nothing like a 4.30am wake up call to get the party started but if you were never asleep, is it really a wake up or a get the Hel up call?
So we legged it to Gatwick in the early hours, with enough time to shove our faces with the only thing that cures the morning grumps, bacon…
So now we’re on a 3 hour flight to Helsinki – hence the Hel references if you’re still a little behind – just licked spilt Gin off my iPhone screen so I think that’s a prelude of the night to come… stay tuned…
Quite literally, landing in Helsinki and still in a bit of a jet lag haze, looking out the window on decent and wondering if the white walker army is close, I swear we just flew over The Wall.. wake up!!!
The first introduction to Finnish people… the dude at Immigration, right out of my Fireman calendar and spoke my language.. “How are you mate?”, his response, “Eh…”, right back at ya.
Getting a little (a lot) lost legging it from the airport to the train to the tram and finally to the Airbnb, host looks like a damn model, where the hell are well? Not my kind of hell…
But yeah nah (they don’t get “yeah nah” in Europe), we got our New Years kits on, apparently us Aussie girls think wearing fancy dresses and heeled boots out in snow and ice for New Years is a fab idea… not so smart, but pretty… through beer goggles maybe…
So I love my white walker contacts and wear them at every loser chance I get. Out in Helsinki, people aren’t fazed, it’s normal to look like an apocalyptic zombie, I like this place…
Without any definite plans, winging it as only us Aussies say, headed to the Nepalese restaurant downstairs for sustenance to meet our gin intake then onto a secret bar that’s so secret it’s a secret you’re standing up outside for a damn hour before they let you in… anyhooo… the gin was good, the secret passage way in was kinda cool and the price of the gin, well, it was gold plated gin after all… (no pics cos it’s a rule that they are just too cool for pics)…
Heading outside to catch New Years in all its glory, we quite literally stumbled into a blizzard…
…its was freakin amazing, I’m mesmerized by snow and probs only known by my nearest and dearest, I LOVE fairy lights… Helsinki is the capital of fairy lights. Snow + fairy lights = happy holly. Proof is in the picture fail that turned into a video, was actually smiling with teeth, I never show teeth unless I’m 200, no wait, 500% happy… can’t recall last time that happened. Check my pics on FB, when was the last time I showed teeth?? (Please don’t check, that’d be kinda weird…)
So anyway, the point of the long winded tail is that when the clock struck 12 and 2019 kicked off, I was in a bar, drinking gin with my bestie, looking out through a massive window at snow, fairy light and fireworks… and I’ll never be able to wipe that smile off my face!! And would never want to.
BTW, the bar forgot the tail bit of the menu but the window and snow and gin… that was really the point of this pic… liar…
Holly vs the world 