We hit it. The low.
Perhaps it's the realisation of how long we are actually here for setting in. We've inhabited friends' apparetment in Wimbeldon while they ferry then drive to Switzerland. The feeling of cooking dinner and watching TV like normal human beings feels strange, surreal. Something reserved for our own homes. Yet here we are in London, doing it. Purchasing groceries with more than a few days in mind. Planning trips and catch ups with friends, not just with the purpose of slotting in moments but instead filling time.
And maybe it was when we were carrying out 20kg of our life on our back through the trains and buses, with pitty glances from fellow travellers that set us off. The look in their eye. They wondered. Are we stuck? Yes, we answered to a few daring starers. Telling them our story made us feel less alone. A burden shared is a burden halved they always say. Non of these lovely people could actually do anything about it, but just knowing we'd told someone else validated our loneliness.
We have hot showers and write on facebook to make the minutes seem less mundane. We avoid the news and only glance at it momentarily.
There was some relief tonight. UK airports are opening again. Maybe this time next week we'll be in transit. Asia would even be better than this. This sitting and waiting and not knowing. But there is still fear and doubt. Will it erupt again? Or will the other one explode? The world feels like it is peering over the edge. I want to be home before we all fall.
Most of me wants to write about Africa. I wish I could. Not yet I suppose. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.
I've seen Les Mis twice since being here. There is a line in Empty Chairs at Empty Tables that says;
there's a grief that can't be spoken.
That is what Pader is to those who have experienced it. A grief that can't be spoken. Because speaking about it should validate it, and nothing can. Nothing will ever give justice to what we saw or experienced. And especially to how it changed us.
So instead I'll say we had a lovely day at the seaside at Brighton yesterday and on the way home saw a fight. It included bike throughing, lots of yelling, 2 white guys, 1 black...and a huge butchers knife. I freaked out of course and ran to the other side of the intersection with 20 other people as 5 police cars pulled up. I made us walk home quickly as we watched the policeman chase the fighters down the streets. At least another 25 police cars made there way to the scene over the next 2 hours. We suspect we saw the iceberg of a much deeper and bigger event. It kept our minds worried and preoccupied for a few hours.
Must hit the bed now. Another new bed. I'm excited for this one. It includes a breakfast in the morning chosen and made by me. A noveltly. Something that hasn't happened for 2 months.
Love from Wimbeldon.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
News papers in Parisian Cafe's.
Day 3 of being stuck in London.
The situation is worsening and whilst sitting in a Parisian cafe across the road from our B&B we read that it could be months the disruptions persist for.
I thought about the worst case scenario and realised, this is probably it. We have no idea how long we will be here for.
I sent dad a joke text saying we might catch a train across Russia and fly back from China. He said that was actually a good option. Or the south of Italy was another one. So the adventure continues.
After 6 weeks of almost missing flights, almost not being able to fly due to stomach cramps, having passports taken by Middle Eastern men at the airport, hospital visits, and countless train rides and flights we are ready for something simple.
But alas, at least we can come home with some interesting stories and perhaps some good material for a story/movie/novel/song.
Angus and Julia Stone are playing a gig down the end of our street on Thursday. Since I missed them in March cause I was in a dessert in Africa, I think we might try get tickets. That is if they can even get here.
We sit in our beds and laugh, or while we're walking through Soho, turn to each other and comment through giggles of unbelief, 'we're stranded in London'. And then we think of the people who need to get home urgently, or are sleeping on an airport floor, travelling by them self and feeling very much alone.
Yesterday sitting in this same internet cafe 3 girls sat on computers behind us, one of them crying as they realised they two were stuck here. When we see other people on the train or in the street dragging a suitcase behind them, we feel like saying 'we know how you feel'.
So the next stage may include Russia or Italy or Germany or a long stay in a b&b in London that can hardly fit the two of us and our 23kg of luggage that is spewed out over our barely there floor, like a volcano.
Sending love from a very chaotic London. xx
The situation is worsening and whilst sitting in a Parisian cafe across the road from our B&B we read that it could be months the disruptions persist for.
I thought about the worst case scenario and realised, this is probably it. We have no idea how long we will be here for.
I sent dad a joke text saying we might catch a train across Russia and fly back from China. He said that was actually a good option. Or the south of Italy was another one. So the adventure continues.
After 6 weeks of almost missing flights, almost not being able to fly due to stomach cramps, having passports taken by Middle Eastern men at the airport, hospital visits, and countless train rides and flights we are ready for something simple.
But alas, at least we can come home with some interesting stories and perhaps some good material for a story/movie/novel/song.
Angus and Julia Stone are playing a gig down the end of our street on Thursday. Since I missed them in March cause I was in a dessert in Africa, I think we might try get tickets. That is if they can even get here.
We sit in our beds and laugh, or while we're walking through Soho, turn to each other and comment through giggles of unbelief, 'we're stranded in London'. And then we think of the people who need to get home urgently, or are sleeping on an airport floor, travelling by them self and feeling very much alone.
Yesterday sitting in this same internet cafe 3 girls sat on computers behind us, one of them crying as they realised they two were stuck here. When we see other people on the train or in the street dragging a suitcase behind them, we feel like saying 'we know how you feel'.
So the next stage may include Russia or Italy or Germany or a long stay in a b&b in London that can hardly fit the two of us and our 23kg of luggage that is spewed out over our barely there floor, like a volcano.
Sending love from a very chaotic London. xx
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Leopard Print and Volcanic Smoke
3rd internet cafe in the last 24 hours.
Our emotions are like a Pirate Ship at a fair. We decide one moment to embrace a forced stay in London, with faith in our insurance company that accomodation, transport and food will be reimbursed, then penduluming to the next extreme of worry and homesickness as we realise it could be a whole week before anything happens.
But what better time than to update on our adventure. And I feel Paris is an appropriate city to write about right now.
The first night we were in Paris, Millie and I, and 7 other people from all over the world (2 guys from Scottland, another Aussie girl, an Irish girl, someone from India and 2 American girls with annoying accents) sat on our bunks and couch. I muttered to Millie " I always thought that my first night in Paris would be with my lover in a boutique hotel on the Champs Elysee". Everyone else heard of course since there was barely any room to even breathe. Some rolled their eyes, other agreed.
The fact of the matter was, we had booked our hostel months ago, paid a small fee and gotten a great deal. We could see the Eiffel Tower from our window and had a kitchen (which is a luxury when on the go all the time). Millie, Amanda (the occa Aussie) and I had gone out for a Parisian dinner at a resturant complete with crepes and French Red Wine, only to return to find out room of 6 packed with 9 people. Not to mention the couple who were in the private room. There had been a 'glitch' in the system and we were cramming a group of foreigners together for a cozy night in the 'most romantic city in the world'.
The bed I had claimed (with a view) had been claimed by a new girl, the Irish girl with a lazy eye. She had placed my journal, camera and jewelery carelessly on the fold out sofa and decided that she would get the bed and Millie and I would sleep on the most comfortable 'bed' of our lives.
A month in Africa and I had not experienced this level of discomfort. I went to bed at 12:30 hoping the 6 people sitting up talking crap would take the hint and do the same. An airoplane eye mask and my Drift music drowned out some of the conversation which mulled around travel experiences and know-it-alls trying to out do each other. Millie and I slept for about 2 hours, falling into the middle of the mattress and waking up with remarkable back pains.
We spent the day wandering through the Louvre. It was magical. The Mona Lisa had to be seen however fighting for a good photo was like trying to get the front of a John Mayer concert. The Japanese were the worst offenders for pushing and shoving.
We walked through the wings and marvelled more at the rooves and oppulance than the paintings. Napoleans appartment took my breath away. Gold lined walls and chandeliers lined the ceilings.
We made our way to Notre Dame to climb it and received a call from the lady who ran the hostel informing us we wouldn't be getting out own beds. Another night like the night before and I would officially hate Paris. Wotif.com saved us and we booked in for a HOTEL! (a novelty on this trip) in Montmare, down the road from the Moulin Rouge and once the centre of all Bohemian activity.
We found out later that the Scottish guys had been staying a few extra nights longer, and not paid and had done a runner that morning when they realised the situation. Lovely how 2 guys could knowingly sleep in our beds while we suffered on the couch. Well we had our refund and were staying in a room with bright pink and green walls. A truly chic boutique hotel.
That night we went to the Eiffel tower. Seeing it for the first time took our breath away (we have a video). We climbed it, had dinner watching the sunset over it and took more photos as it glistened in the night. It truly is amazing.
The next day we saw Paris. From Sacre Coure to the cafe Amelie was filmed in. We walked through Musee d Orsay (favourite gallery ever!) and climbed Notre Dame, pretending to be Esmerelda and Quasimodo. We had a picnic in a park on the Champs Elysee and walked in the spring shower as the sunset over Arch d Triomph. Finally back at Montmare we found a gorgeous wine bar full of artists and professors and 2 guys playing guitar. We shared a bottle of French red and celebrated our last night on this adventure together (or so we thought).
Paris was amazing. Scary in the metro, dirty in most places, but when the sun set over the city and fell upon those beautiful stone walls, you understood why it was the city of love.
Paris, je t'iame.
(If you can speak French don't judge my spelling). x
Our emotions are like a Pirate Ship at a fair. We decide one moment to embrace a forced stay in London, with faith in our insurance company that accomodation, transport and food will be reimbursed, then penduluming to the next extreme of worry and homesickness as we realise it could be a whole week before anything happens.
But what better time than to update on our adventure. And I feel Paris is an appropriate city to write about right now.
The first night we were in Paris, Millie and I, and 7 other people from all over the world (2 guys from Scottland, another Aussie girl, an Irish girl, someone from India and 2 American girls with annoying accents) sat on our bunks and couch. I muttered to Millie " I always thought that my first night in Paris would be with my lover in a boutique hotel on the Champs Elysee". Everyone else heard of course since there was barely any room to even breathe. Some rolled their eyes, other agreed.
The fact of the matter was, we had booked our hostel months ago, paid a small fee and gotten a great deal. We could see the Eiffel Tower from our window and had a kitchen (which is a luxury when on the go all the time). Millie, Amanda (the occa Aussie) and I had gone out for a Parisian dinner at a resturant complete with crepes and French Red Wine, only to return to find out room of 6 packed with 9 people. Not to mention the couple who were in the private room. There had been a 'glitch' in the system and we were cramming a group of foreigners together for a cozy night in the 'most romantic city in the world'.
The bed I had claimed (with a view) had been claimed by a new girl, the Irish girl with a lazy eye. She had placed my journal, camera and jewelery carelessly on the fold out sofa and decided that she would get the bed and Millie and I would sleep on the most comfortable 'bed' of our lives.
A month in Africa and I had not experienced this level of discomfort. I went to bed at 12:30 hoping the 6 people sitting up talking crap would take the hint and do the same. An airoplane eye mask and my Drift music drowned out some of the conversation which mulled around travel experiences and know-it-alls trying to out do each other. Millie and I slept for about 2 hours, falling into the middle of the mattress and waking up with remarkable back pains.
We spent the day wandering through the Louvre. It was magical. The Mona Lisa had to be seen however fighting for a good photo was like trying to get the front of a John Mayer concert. The Japanese were the worst offenders for pushing and shoving.
We walked through the wings and marvelled more at the rooves and oppulance than the paintings. Napoleans appartment took my breath away. Gold lined walls and chandeliers lined the ceilings.
We made our way to Notre Dame to climb it and received a call from the lady who ran the hostel informing us we wouldn't be getting out own beds. Another night like the night before and I would officially hate Paris. Wotif.com saved us and we booked in for a HOTEL! (a novelty on this trip) in Montmare, down the road from the Moulin Rouge and once the centre of all Bohemian activity.
We found out later that the Scottish guys had been staying a few extra nights longer, and not paid and had done a runner that morning when they realised the situation. Lovely how 2 guys could knowingly sleep in our beds while we suffered on the couch. Well we had our refund and were staying in a room with bright pink and green walls. A truly chic boutique hotel.
That night we went to the Eiffel tower. Seeing it for the first time took our breath away (we have a video). We climbed it, had dinner watching the sunset over it and took more photos as it glistened in the night. It truly is amazing.
The next day we saw Paris. From Sacre Coure to the cafe Amelie was filmed in. We walked through Musee d Orsay (favourite gallery ever!) and climbed Notre Dame, pretending to be Esmerelda and Quasimodo. We had a picnic in a park on the Champs Elysee and walked in the spring shower as the sunset over Arch d Triomph. Finally back at Montmare we found a gorgeous wine bar full of artists and professors and 2 guys playing guitar. We shared a bottle of French red and celebrated our last night on this adventure together (or so we thought).
Paris was amazing. Scary in the metro, dirty in most places, but when the sun set over the city and fell upon those beautiful stone walls, you understood why it was the city of love.
Paris, je t'iame.
(If you can speak French don't judge my spelling). x
Friday, April 16, 2010
London Eye and Volcanic Dust
Lost in translation, Millie and I blissfully caught buses, looked through museums and climbed monuments yesterday, all with the mindset that this would be our last night together.
After a picnic in the gardens of Champs Elysees, a stroll down to the Arc de Triomphe at sunset and a bottle of French Vin in a small bar raging with intellects and cute guitarists in Montmare, dad called. "Do you want the good news or bad news?"
This was the first time we heard about the Volcano in Ice Land. It is bliss when you can walk around a city for a day completely ignorant of a world issue that is grounding international flights worse than 9/11.
The good news was that I might spend another night in London. The bad was that my flight would probably be delayed. Him and mum were calling from the Business Lounge on their way to meet me in Singapore.
A 7am train (which we made on by the skin of our teeth - long lines and asking other non French speaking tourists what a)our ticket said and b) if this was the right line) we arrived in London and I still held hope that I would fly out at 915pm. On the tube we heard 2 announcements:
1. The central line is currently suspended due to a person under the train. We appologise for the inconvenience.
2. Flights out of all London airports are suspended until 1pm tomorrow.
The next few hours play out as such;
1pm-2:15pm on hold to British Airways (£20 for the call) and eventually I simply got disconnected.
3pm on the London Eye receive email that flight is cancelled.
5pm walked through London to find a British Airways office, and instead find this internet cafe and no solution.
Could be here till Wednesday. Must update about Paris but running out of time.
Love x
After a picnic in the gardens of Champs Elysees, a stroll down to the Arc de Triomphe at sunset and a bottle of French Vin in a small bar raging with intellects and cute guitarists in Montmare, dad called. "Do you want the good news or bad news?"
This was the first time we heard about the Volcano in Ice Land. It is bliss when you can walk around a city for a day completely ignorant of a world issue that is grounding international flights worse than 9/11.
The good news was that I might spend another night in London. The bad was that my flight would probably be delayed. Him and mum were calling from the Business Lounge on their way to meet me in Singapore.
A 7am train (which we made on by the skin of our teeth - long lines and asking other non French speaking tourists what a)our ticket said and b) if this was the right line) we arrived in London and I still held hope that I would fly out at 915pm. On the tube we heard 2 announcements:
1. The central line is currently suspended due to a person under the train. We appologise for the inconvenience.
2. Flights out of all London airports are suspended until 1pm tomorrow.
The next few hours play out as such;
1pm-2:15pm on hold to British Airways (£20 for the call) and eventually I simply got disconnected.
3pm on the London Eye receive email that flight is cancelled.
5pm walked through London to find a British Airways office, and instead find this internet cafe and no solution.
Could be here till Wednesday. Must update about Paris but running out of time.
Love x
Friday, April 9, 2010
Sausages and Dice.
I'm sitting in a big room in a house that is 450 years old in a German town called Fishingen. The trees are budding in the chilly spring afternoon and I can see Switzerland from the window in the distance. Everyone in the room speaks German and throws lolly wrappers at me to make me feel more included.
Today we visited a German village, Frieberg, where I had my first German sausage (triple checking it wasn't made of pork!) and sat in a cafe playing some dice game.
This place is the most exciting place. Yesterday we went to a French Provincial Town, which made me want to sing songs from Beauty and the Beast, had dinner in a German bistro and went out in a Swiss town called Basel. 3 countries in a few hours all moments apart. I'm still excited by the old buildings and colourful terrace houses.
It's strange not being able to communicate fully. I've written a few phrases on my hand such as wei ge es dier and eash ourch, though if you speak German you won't understand what I've written. I wrote the phranetically and I'm pretty sure I saw it wrong.
I'm missing London already. Spending my days in Soho and walking down West End at night, I realised it's the kind of place I want to live. Maybe one day.
Love
Today we visited a German village, Frieberg, where I had my first German sausage (triple checking it wasn't made of pork!) and sat in a cafe playing some dice game.
This place is the most exciting place. Yesterday we went to a French Provincial Town, which made me want to sing songs from Beauty and the Beast, had dinner in a German bistro and went out in a Swiss town called Basel. 3 countries in a few hours all moments apart. I'm still excited by the old buildings and colourful terrace houses.
It's strange not being able to communicate fully. I've written a few phrases on my hand such as wei ge es dier and eash ourch, though if you speak German you won't understand what I've written. I wrote the phranetically and I'm pretty sure I saw it wrong.
I'm missing London already. Spending my days in Soho and walking down West End at night, I realised it's the kind of place I want to live. Maybe one day.
Love
Monday, April 5, 2010
London Days
I've been told to blog a bit so people know what's happening. So here is a start. Even though I'm heading home soon. But I'll share my African awakening on here in time. Exerts from
my journal, experiences and photos.
So I'm back in the land of Internet. London town!!
I miss Northern Uganda though. It's a place of magic. It is so broken yet the hope that is exuded takes your breath away and realise that joy is possible. Even when living in the memory of hell.
One of the girls said "I've been so close to heaven and so close to hell". That sums it up perfectly for us I guess.
I won't go too much into Africa yet. It's still being processed and I hold it close to my heart. Instead I'll share the things we've done and see here.
We arrived late last Wednesday night after what I would describe the worst 24 hours of my life. Such moments included:
2am on the Nairobi airport floor writhing in stomach pain from fast food dinner.
Being given the all clear to fly by the slow and broken English doctor.
Arriving in Cairo for an 8 hour stop over where they took our passports for the wholetime.
Being taken into a room with 3 middle eastern "doctors" to try figure out what was wrong with me and watching one of them pull out a syringe to give me "the treatment". I ran out of there as fast as I could!
And finally arriving in London at 10 sans bag. 5 degrees and a plane blanket for protection.
So that was the hilarious and dramatic beginning to our time in London
my journal, experiences and photos.
So I'm back in the land of Internet. London town!!
I miss Northern Uganda though. It's a place of magic. It is so broken yet the hope that is exuded takes your breath away and realise that joy is possible. Even when living in the memory of hell.
One of the girls said "I've been so close to heaven and so close to hell". That sums it up perfectly for us I guess.
I won't go too much into Africa yet. It's still being processed and I hold it close to my heart. Instead I'll share the things we've done and see here.
We arrived late last Wednesday night after what I would describe the worst 24 hours of my life. Such moments included:
2am on the Nairobi airport floor writhing in stomach pain from fast food dinner.
Being given the all clear to fly by the slow and broken English doctor.
Arriving in Cairo for an 8 hour stop over where they took our passports for the wholetime.
Being taken into a room with 3 middle eastern "doctors" to try figure out what was wrong with me and watching one of them pull out a syringe to give me "the treatment". I ran out of there as fast as I could!
And finally arriving in London at 10 sans bag. 5 degrees and a plane blanket for protection.
So that was the hilarious and dramatic beginning to our time in London
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