I’m back. I am riddled with blogger’s guilt at having been AWOL for so long. I really am. And I’m sorry. (The apology bit.)
But it truly wasn’t my fault! (The excuses bit. Wait it’s not over...)
I went to Ireland. The tour was brilliant. I had bundles of fun. But the days were so busy that I barely got time to check my email, never mind blog. Then, possibly as a result of running around so much, I got sick. Boy did I get sick. I spent 4 days in Dublin languishing in a hostel bed wishing I could be outdoors taking photos. Wishing I wasn't feeling like death warmed over. And feeling the waves of hatred and resentment washing over me from those backpackers unfortunate enough to be allocated to share my room. Such negative energies did little to dispel my disease and I got worse and worse. I certainly didn’t feel like blogging anything.
The plane trip home was a nightmare. I spent most of it coughing in my seat or else running to the loo to cough or wash out my eye. The eye that decided that since I was down it would kick me, and produced a splendid infection. I could feel the waves of horror washing over me from the poor souls who thought it would be a good idea to sit in the back row and drew the short straw of being next to me. They clearly thought they were on the fast track to swine flu. The (small) portion of the night that I was not coughing in my seat or in the loo, I spent pretending to the flight staff that I was fine and dandy. Well, I didn’t really want them to quarantine me in a fit of N1H1 over-zealotry did I?
Back in Jhb I spent the next couple of days recuperating, going to doctor and the dentist and the pharmacy and generally spending all of my Asia accommodation money on medical bills.
After that I was so far behind on my admin and general "stuff wot must get done", that there was less than no time to blog. Unfortunately, things like visa procurement take precedence. Boring, boring….
And now for the disclaimer.
As much as I would love to retro blog and swear that I will update you as to everything I saw and did in Ireland, I’m not going to. Because then I will feel so incredibly guilty if (when) I don’t get to it. So sorry (dammit – another apology) I’m not going to…
Moving on swiftly, in an attempt to distract you, here’s the plan for the days ahead:
Travel from SA to Kuala Lumpur airport. Curse ill timed Air Asia connecting flight. Squander vast sums of money on Malaysian hotel for one unexciting night. (This is the current stage in my story.) Catch connecting flight to Krabi, Thailand. Attempt to navigate self to Ao Nang. Attempt to track N down once I'm in Ao Nang. Boat trip to Railay/Tonsai area. Live in beach bungalow and rock climb for a month or thereabouts. (Shame, poor MEEEEEE!!!) Go north for a bit to Chiang Mai and maybe visit one of N’s friends. Potentially go to Vietnam for two weeks around xmas time – another friend visit. Make our way to Bali for three(ish) weeks. Part from N, who goes back to Thailand for a couple of weeks. Return to SA solo for two weeks of friends, family, admin and recuperation. After that, New Zealand. But no more about NZ for a while. It’s just Asia, Asia, Asia for the next three months!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I Went To London
The Great Irish Trip has begun. The first step on the way was my transit through London. Gareth (my friend from way back when we were young) picked me up from the airport and took me back to see his house (very cute English house on a street where people still greet each other) and his family (also very cute.) They fed me delicious vegetarian take aways and then Julie suggested (when she heard that I’d never been to London before) that G take me on a lightning quick tour of the London sights. So we hopped into his Prius and set off smugly to central London. Smugly because when you drive a hybrid you get to drive through the central zone and you don’t have to pay the congestion tax. I saw Abbey Road and the famous crossing, Baker Street, Buckingham Palace – home of the anachronism that is the royal family, the Eros statue, W Abbey, the bridge, the tower and the clock.
Because it was late and we didn’t have much time we didn't manage to get out and investigate everything properly but I was just glad to have seen anything at all. I certainly wasn’t expecting to - it was a very pleasant surprise. We managed to find free parking and, feeling smugger by the minute, nipped out to take a photo of me and the clock job. Right pretty it is at night!
Me and the clock thingy. I didn't realise how small it is. But then again, I am quite tall.
I was also hugely excited to discover genuine red busses, genuine red post boxes and genuine red telephone booths. So I took photos of those too.
Look! A genuine London bus! And it's in front of quite a nice building, which makes the photo rather pretty.
And look! A bus and the clock in the same photo! Excitement!
G uprooting a genuine red phone booth. I considered reporting him but decided not to because he is a very old friend. And he let me sleep at his house.
Having taken these photies, we set off for a quick drink. We found yet another free parking (no mean feat in London, apparently.) Smug-drunk, we nipped into The George. This is a superbly atmospheric genuine English pub, complete with black wood and tiny rooms. According to pubs.com it is both "traditional" and "historic." I had a genuine English cider. On tap, of course. And then, aware that Julie was soldiering on bravely, alone with two demanding tots of the non-alcoholic version, we went home. We stopped only to purchase wine and beer.
G and I talked and looked at photos late into the night. The early start necessary to get to Gatwick left me with less than 5 hours sleep. This was compounded by Rachel meowing pathetically outside my door at 03:30, until I opened the door and said “Good grief cat! Ok, come on in.” Whereupon she looked me up and down and stalked off down the hall. Gah! Cats.
After my short sleep (but damn – it was good to sleep on a comfy mattress!) I woke at 06:15, feeling like I’d been run over by a genuine red bus. It might have had something to do with the genuine English cider.
G dropped me off at the airport and the Irish adventure commenced. More about that in another post, because I am dog tired and must get some sleep. I fell asleep twice on the bus today and missed valuable tour guide information. Bad me.
So that was my London-In-An-Evening. It was great. I have changed my mind about London. I realize I only saw a small part of it, but I think it’s a pretty, pretty city and I will definitely be back. Next time I will be armed with a real tourist visa instead of this pretence of a “Visitor In Transit” thing that chases me out of the country before 48 hours have passed.
Because it was late and we didn’t have much time we didn't manage to get out and investigate everything properly but I was just glad to have seen anything at all. I certainly wasn’t expecting to - it was a very pleasant surprise. We managed to find free parking and, feeling smugger by the minute, nipped out to take a photo of me and the clock job. Right pretty it is at night!
Me and the clock thingy. I didn't realise how small it is. But then again, I am quite tall.
I was also hugely excited to discover genuine red busses, genuine red post boxes and genuine red telephone booths. So I took photos of those too.
Look! A genuine London bus! And it's in front of quite a nice building, which makes the photo rather pretty.
And look! A bus and the clock in the same photo! Excitement!
G uprooting a genuine red phone booth. I considered reporting him but decided not to because he is a very old friend. And he let me sleep at his house.
Having taken these photies, we set off for a quick drink. We found yet another free parking (no mean feat in London, apparently.) Smug-drunk, we nipped into The George. This is a superbly atmospheric genuine English pub, complete with black wood and tiny rooms. According to pubs.com it is both "traditional" and "historic." I had a genuine English cider. On tap, of course. And then, aware that Julie was soldiering on bravely, alone with two demanding tots of the non-alcoholic version, we went home. We stopped only to purchase wine and beer.
G and I talked and looked at photos late into the night. The early start necessary to get to Gatwick left me with less than 5 hours sleep. This was compounded by Rachel meowing pathetically outside my door at 03:30, until I opened the door and said “Good grief cat! Ok, come on in.” Whereupon she looked me up and down and stalked off down the hall. Gah! Cats.
After my short sleep (but damn – it was good to sleep on a comfy mattress!) I woke at 06:15, feeling like I’d been run over by a genuine red bus. It might have had something to do with the genuine English cider.
G dropped me off at the airport and the Irish adventure commenced. More about that in another post, because I am dog tired and must get some sleep. I fell asleep twice on the bus today and missed valuable tour guide information. Bad me.
So that was my London-In-An-Evening. It was great. I have changed my mind about London. I realize I only saw a small part of it, but I think it’s a pretty, pretty city and I will definitely be back. Next time I will be armed with a real tourist visa instead of this pretence of a “Visitor In Transit” thing that chases me out of the country before 48 hours have passed.
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