Birthdays Abroad

It's been a week of milestones over here in ye olde England. A twenty-second birthday, a seventh month in the UK and eighteen months of being a Him and Her, rather than a singular unit. Gosh, it's just excitement after merry excitement in my life. Oh, and the weather finally broke. 

With the sun shining, the birds singing and the heating finally getting switched off; it's dang hard to find anything to complain about. Mornings are spent wandering the streets finding vampire rabbits (aaahh!) afternoons are spent in sunny beer gardens, evenings spent baking cupcakes and nights spent... booking flights and accommodation in Thailand. That's the problem with us young folks - we're absolutely impossible to please. When they dubbed us the Global Generation they truly weren't kidding. So what shall I do til I'm twenty-three? Enjoy each patch of sun whilst it lasts, then move on to the next one. 

And they all went marching

Home sick today with little to do and no energy to do it. So how else is a girl to entertain herself but to write? Even in sickness, life is pleasantly calm at the moment. The sun is finally out (and I'm told it will reach twelve degrees at the end of the week! Twelve!) and our neighbour's cat has been sunning herself on our garden wall for the better part of two hours. My envy of her is extreme. Aside from my aching bones and heavy head, my only other irritant today is the ants who've decided to call our kitchen home. Fellow bloggers have been commenting for weeks about these wee beasties who've suddenly appeared in houses from Glasgow to Bournemouth and, sadly, Anthony and his friends decided to finally bless us with their presence about a week ago. 

Our attempts at being cruel to be kind have so far not deterred them and it seems any spare scrap of food, neglected sweet or open packet is forfeit in this war. And so, with groaning belly, dizzy vision and tired legs; my mission today is simple. Get the house ship shape and completely spotless. That orta starve the little ratbags out of here. 

Playing House

In a move that is likely to completely alienate me from my target audience; I seem to be settling down. 
Rather than fantasising about great adventures to come, my thoughts are occupied by what we'll have for dinner or how many people we'll invite to the house party. I've become one of them. The happily hibernated folks. But with a job as fun as mine, a flat as great as mine and a boyfriend as darling as mine... can I really be blamed for this?

With trips already in the planning stages for July and October I'm pretty darn certain I'm not a totally lost cause. After all, the travel bug always bites when you least expect it. For now though I'll spend my weekends with cups of tea and freshly baked cakes, happily playing house.

Easter

The thing about compulsory holidays is that they're usually more depressing than they are relaxing. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot that's right about Easter, Christmas, Melbourne Cup Day and all the rest but there's always a slightly forced edge to any celebrations. Easter especially managed to achieve this for me this year. There's the obvious problem with it that it makes me miss my younger siblings and cousins and of course the combination of tonnes of chocolate and a sudden awareness of how much winter paunch I've gained... never a great mix. 
One thing that was great about Easter over here though was the Easter Sunday Dinner. Full sized roasts, vegetables, sauces, pies and desserts. That right there is a tradition I can get behind. Might be something to bring back to the Aussies one day.

Things to do in Newcastle

Most cities get to be immortalised by the likes of Lonely Planet with a review of all their latest and greatest attractions. I thought I'd do my part for Newcastle with a list of my own creation. With a bit of luck, I might be able to lure a few visitors out of the nightclubs in the Big Market and get them looking at the actual gems NC has to offer.

Butterfly Cabinet, Heaton

Often still referred to as the Bell and Herb, this cafe offers some of the best food you'll ever eat in one of the coolest places you'll ever eat it in. Well, as long as you're prepared to wait for a table that is. This place seems to hit the spot for just about everybody, from young families to local bands so if you get there late at night be prepared for a very different experience than the Saturday morning breakfast crowd are likely to have. The cafe is also vegetarian friendly, without getting all weird about it.

Jesmond Dean
Whether you're after a peaceful afternoon stroll or you've taken a fancy to watching small children get bowled over by manic dogs, this beautiful park will surely meet your expectations. Plus, with Jesmond Old Cemetery barely a five minute walk away there's a ready opportunity to get your creep on and do some eerie graveyard exploring.  With or without the side-trip the park is definitely worth a visit if you've got a sunny afternoon and a picnic basket to spare or perhaps just a nasty hangover to nurse. Just as nature was always meant to be used. 

Quayside Markets
No longer as interesting as it was in the 50s (when I'm told you could buy monkeys and snakes here!) but still well worth an hour out of your Sunday morning. Once you get past the half a dozen stalls selling underwear and fake flowers, this market suddenly becomes quite charming. Start at Fresh and Frothy for a coffee to warm your hands for the rest of the walk. Then make your way all the way to the other end and pay a visit to the hilarious David Nash, whose stall will either excite your senses or scandalise your sensibilities. Either way is, of course, fine by me. 
(Tip: If markets are your thing, Tynemouth and the Tynemouth Markets make a nice daytrip)

Bacchus
I originally attended this bar on the dubious recommendation of an old guy on the train but it turns out old guys on the train know their stuff. Consistently voted the number one beer bar in Newcastle, this place is truly wonderful for those after a simple drink in stylish surrounds.

St James Stadium
Look at me doing my part to make friends here by still referring to it as St James! Despite all the naming rights controversies that seem to dominate any news story about football in Newcastle, a game at St James is still worth your time. After all, Newcastle has some of the most passionate supporters in the country. Be careful, though. As I'm writing this at the same time as there's a Newcastle/Sunderland game in progress, I'm fully aware of how important it is to stay as far from the stadium as possible right now. Beer and fights all round!

Why We Run

There are some universally acknowledged truths about travel.  All backpacks inherited from parents will fall apart the first time you go to repack them, that creepy guy from your first hostel is always going to have the same schedule planned as you do and all in-flight meals will be about as palatable as laminate floorboards (yes, Qantas, you get to claim exception from this rule). One truth that is perhaps more meaningful, if not a little spiritual, is that all, all travelers -no matter what they claim- are running away from something. Really.

This isn't some self justifying, generic commentary provided by jealous relatives. It's fact. It can be as simple as running away from boredom and monotony or as fear driven as running from an ex lover or a horrendously painful breakup. We run from childhood, adulthood, and the urge to settle down. We run from graduations, family homes, real careers and choices that actually require us to risk failure for once. Whether we acknowledge it or not, there's always a reason, there's always a motivation, there's always something to fear in slowing down. Staying still.

But regardless of what we think, our true motivations do not invalidate our choice to travel. To run. Our minds know exactly what it is we're not ready to face. To travel is to build up a resistance, an immunity. Fleeing takes us out of the path of one challenge and throws us directly in the path of other, greater ones. By facing and defeating these challenges we're building up the strength and knowledge we need to go back and face that first demon we left behind. That whole "life experience" thing old folks talk about isn't as pointless as they make it sound, you know.

So my advice to all of you is to run. Run as fast and as far as you can. Run to discover as much as to escape and don't stop until you've reached some magical and enlightening place where everything makes sense again. I hear it's wonderful there.

  

Songs to run away with:

Architecture in Helsinki - Desert Island

Foster the People - Pumped Up Kicks

Metronomy - The Look

The Head and The Heart - Lost in My Mind

Gotye - Heart's a Mess

The Maccabees - Mary

It's beginning to look a lot like winter

I'm told by locals on a near daily basis that this has been an incredibly mild winter. Terms like "sunbathing weather" are thrown around with the casual nonchalance that only true hardweather boys possess. But what these crazy northerners are forgetting is that the rest of us (sane) folks are not used to this kind of climate. Whilst I was sadly deprived of the White Christmas I've dreamt of since childhood, I can no longer deny that winter is well and truly here. Snow has fallen, melted and fallen again, matches are regularly postponed for weather, the sun doesn't rise til it's almost time for it to set again and the walk down the hill to the bus stop becomes more and more treacherous every day. Black ice, as it turns out, is very likely to be the cause of my early demise. 

A wariness of spending too much money before I've received some decent sized paycheques means there will be no fancy skiing holidays for me. A trip to Edinburgh was the highlight of the new year so far but with southern England buried in snow and sitting at a comfortable negative seven degrees; it looks like I won't be doing much tourism for a while. So the question becomes: what is the humble traveller to do when leaving the house comes with oversized coats, frostbite and horizontal sleet flying in your face?

Winter can still be a grand old time of year for those of us who are sensibly unwilling to risk pneumonia. The humble thrills enjoyed back home can still bring comfort abroad. Restaurants, movies, bars and cafes are just as enjoyable. Museums, galleries and shops are still open and whilst good television seems to have gone on hiatus lately, a night in watching one of the many award ceremonies that kick off during February is just as fun here as back home. One of the difficulties modern travellers face is getting over the belief that you have to be doing something every day in order to justify your trip. Sometimes simply enjoying yourself is more than enough.

Edinburgh

With the sudden dependance we all have on guidebooks and internet reviews, it has become very difficult for a place to defy expectations. We still find museums/bars/shops that we've not heard of and meet a whole lot of different folks, but with guidebooks and reviewers going as far as describing building layouts, local attitudes and even smells, we tend to know what to expect of a place. But even if you insist on reading every book and every blog you can possibly find, there's often one or two things about a place that will startle you. Argentina, for example, has the best icecream I've ever tasted. Strasbourg has a whole bunch of weirdly good theme bars and Siem Reap, surprisingly, is full of amazing vintage clothing shops.

Edinburgh, as it turns out, is full of Australians. The shops, the cafes, the streets, all had me spinning around trying to spot the sources of the Australian accents I kept hearing. I'd gone half way round the world just to find home, again. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing would of course be a matter of opinion, but it was certainly entertaining for a girl whose not encountered another Aussie in nearly three months. 

At present, Edinburgh sadly feels a lot like a giant construction zone, with some major works going on around the main station and the city centre. This does affect the atmosphere of the place when you first arrive, but move a few blocks away from the buzz of machinery and the city almost immediately regains its charms. Lunch at Viva Mexico (I have an inability to embrace local cuisines), a browse through Miss Katie Cupcake for custom jewellery and trinkets and coffee at a very Melbournian cafe; Black Medicine Coffee Co., made for a lovely, slightly un-Scottish afternoon. 

 

View from Edinburgh Castle



Anzacs and Tea

Access to a fully equipped kitchen is a rarity when travelling, but I am currently one of the lucky few who can claim exception to that. As such, bouts of loneliness for my homeland are rather easily cured with favourites from home. Anzac biscuits (kind of like a chewy Hob Nob) are one of Australia's greatest creations and celebrating them with new friends has allowed me plenty of opportunity to smugly show off my own humble cooking abilities. And really; nothing can beat the Anzac as a tea dipping biscuit. Three of these and a cup of Lady Gray tea create something magical out of what would otherwise be just another rainy British day.


Recipe after the jump.

A Very Merry Christmas

And so ends my first Christmas abroad. Or at least; the first Christmas abroad without family. In a modern world of instant email and video calls this is much less of a big deal than it once would have been, but the wonders of Skype are bittersweet at this time of year. But of course, when does the festive season ever pass us by without a little bit of drama?

Stories from fellow travellers about their experiences of foreign Christmases have always varied. Some, like my boyfriend, remember massive backpacker barbecues under a scorching, summer sun. Others remember joining distant, rarely thought of relatives and the awkward attempts at family bonding that followed. Those staying in hostels usually remember terrible food, masses of cheap alcohol and a giant tree, but stories from these folks usually detail hour long walks through cold streets looking for the one off-license that stayed open on Christmas (and I'll bet you anything the owner of that store has a much, much sadder story to tell). Some remember sponsor families from their student exchanges whilst others, like myself, are temporarily adopted by the families of friends.

My Christmas involved a full Christmas dinner, champagne and sparkling juice, baileys (how could it not) and a near heart attack after realising how much chocolate I'd eaten. Christmas eve was probably more fun as I got to watch my boyfriend's mother and sister spend most of the day in the kitchen producing not one, not two but ten different kind of sweet treats; from mince pies to hob nobs to a pavlova and chocolate log. An evening in the local pub resulted in a slightly hung over Skype call to my family on Christmas morning, but the time spent listening to Christmas hits and nineties pop was well worth it.

 

My family back home worried a bit more than I would have hoped and have rather over done it in terms of gifts this year, as the pile of twelve books now sitting on the bed can testify to (I am being persistently mocked about how I intend to transport all my presents back to Australia in a year or two). A funny  hat from my sister and online vouchers from my father were reminiscent of gifts from last year, but the difficulties of overseas postage and online orders were evident. The detailed declaration of content (or the "Surprise Ruiner" as I now like to call it) on the packages from back home and the book written in German that my grandmother accidentally ordered from the Book Depository are clear evidence of that. But as the saying goes: it's the thought that counts.

And so it does seem that a merry (although not snowy) Christmas has indeed been had, despite all odds. Next comes New Year, which I can only hope will be appropriately epic and, of course, completely soaked in alcohol.