Trying to Save My Pennies

With months of spending with no income looming, I decided that I desperately needed to start getting into conservation mode. Thus, I cancelled on two outings for the weekend in the effort to become a hermit. So on Saturday, I went with Hugo to the design museum to see a Zaha Hadid exhibition (excellent, as was the Graphic Design exhibition) intending on being cultured and cheap, but we ended up going via Borough Markets and ginger ice cream, and the pub en route home. What can you do!

Up the road in Clapham Common the Ben & Jerry's festival had been going on all weekend. Adam, the lucky fellow, had scored a ticket, so Miriam and I lay in the park listening to the music and watching the drugged up crazy woman fling herself around, and waited for Adam and Co to bring us out free ice cream. (We had already had an Ecuador Magnum, mmm, that morning so the desperation was not so insistent but then, you can never have too much ice cream). For dinner Miriam cooked some sort of Spanish chorizo/sausage/mince thing that you fry and eat with eggs and bread. It was a delish!! Our wine rack is currently filled with ginormous sticks of Choriza due to Miriam and her trip home.

It had been a bit of a uncertain week with the renovations to our flat coming to an end, the scaffolding coming down, and everyone speculating that we would get kicked out upon the sale of our caravan. We were relieved to find out that this was not to be the case, and now the facade of our flat looks so lovely we barely recognise it when we come home, and have been found to walk right past it. So no longer will we be directing people to the charred, scaffolding wrapped flat!!

Loving the Weekend

I've always thought that entering into the weekend with a new look is the best way, so Mish and I took the day off on Friday to get a haircut at the Tony & Guy Academy which, as usual, was a lengthy affair, especially when the building was flooding and water started coming through the lights. A class full of male Greek hairdressers made for an interesting show, especially when upon finishing with us got straight onto the important affair of doing there own hair. I had a lovely Russian guy from Moscow dying my hair; he spoke no English so there was a translator on hand to let me know what was happening.

That evening, complete with no money, multicoloured hair, and a burning desire to have a long drink, we played on Graeme's new Wii; how great are they, and the next morning I woke up with rather sore muscles.

Saturday brought with it a surprise birthday drinks for Miriam's birthday, and even though Adam is a terrible liar, and the plan was foiled by the fact that no one knew anyone else so were unable to stop any strays from early entrances, she was still suprised. We ended up joining a Monopoly pub crawl, and I eloped to Fran & Thea's hat party later in the night.

Despite this run of events, I was still able to kick it up at the Lovebox Weekender on Sunday. Although Mish and I were a little late and missed Nouvelle Vague, argh, we had a wicked time dancing the day into night.

Tour de France

As one that never watches sports or has any vague idea of who plays what, I was strangely excited about Tour de France. As the crowds lined the streets, the lines to cross the street grew; the available overpasses were more like an afterthought rather than a functional decision. It was a miracle that the sun was shining, and people were smiling like stepford wives as the cyclists warmed up. The French police were in attendance with their spiffy hats riding motorbikes ahead of the cyclists, whist the team car loaded with spare bikes yelled encouragement, (or insults, most of it was foreign and sounded a little demeaning, although Miriam informed us that the Spanish car was belting "move your ass") from behind like a Chinese torture camp. But as it was the time trials, it was a strange schizophrenic experience where you only cheered every 59 seconds as you caught a glimpse of pink, blue or white, and the rest of the time looked strangely placid.

By the time we made it home, pimms was on the cards, and a barbecue in the neighbours backyard. Mister Mister (the cat) was not too happy with the invasion! We discovered the disposable barbecue had legs and was in fact a good way to stop the underside catching on fire; there so much food that we could have fed all those incy wincy cyclists twice over!

Drowning in sorrow

I know I sound like a complete grump, but this weather is the complete pitts!! So far this week, the rain has caused me to forgo a bizzarre sing-a-long (don't ask), watching the tennis at Wimbledon, having some semblance of exercise regime, and seriously inhibiting my ability to keep my tan on, literally. The days pass in a blur of miserable people and wet socks, and a mild condition of depression. On one such lovely days, the signal at Clapham Junction station was struck by lightning, meaning that my 12 minute journey home turned into a 90 minute palava, and my friend had to wait for me for over an hour!! To complete the package,as we walked to The Goat, I got completely drenched by a truck as it passed. I thought it was really funny, but several people around me weren't finding the humourous side of it; I geuss having a shower in the grime infested road waters of London isn't exactly the most ideal way to end the day. It is at times like this that I think back to the man jumping around in the giant balloon at the Burlesque bar last week and have a little giggle.

Roasting the Balcony

It is always a bit of a shock adjusting when one gets back from a holiday; even more so when you leave 40C temperatures for a grim 15C, and people are gasping at your newly found colour, so it was nice to have the weekend to ease back into it. Via a trip down the road to see Fran and Thea, my first decent coffee in weeks with Nadya and Joe, Adam, Miriam, Nikki and I spent the rest of the day having a BBQ on our balcony/scaffolding. It was brilliant!! 24 of Nikki's delicious meat patties with a feta suprise, lamb chops, Carribean rice, and Pimms, it was phenomenal!! We had enough time to eat several burgers and lamb chops before we had to move the party inside and cook from Adam and Miriam's bedroom (giving them a lovely barbequed scent to sleep with that night). Our house has looked like a charred piece of steak for months, and the scaffolding has only been adding to the glorious image, (our disposable BBQ added a bit of charr to the scaffolding also) so you've gotta work with what you got!

Karlovacko!!

My nine days in Croatia was definitely the catharsis that I had been looking for. I took my time and meandered down the coast at a leisurely pace, taking more time in places that took my fancy and cutting short stays in favor of more remote destinations. I felt that I had come to Croatia at a crucial time before mass tourism makes it's way back onto it's beautiful shores post war. Whilst it was starting to get busy in the cities as it drew closer to peak season, it still lacked the anonymity that pervades more popular destinations, and maintains an authentic Croatian heart. The people are warm and generous with a slightly abrupt edge that can come and go within a conversation, but I was never at a loss for people to talk to or ask for help from. It is amazing when you think that most of the people there would have been present during the war of 1991-1995, and it was fascinating to listen to their experiences. Whilst my only recognition of this awful time was hearing it bantered about on the news, it really struck home how real these conflicts are. We can become so inundated by the plethora of horrors in the media that we forget that it affects real people. The extent of the damage both to the people and the architecture is for the most part barely evident as things have been remarkably rebuilt, and the people seemed to have pulled themselves back up with a resilient spirit. The beer is cheap, and the food delicious, but with catastrophic coffee and the lack of recognition for breakfast as the most important meal of the day, mornings often had a sketchy start with borak, a pastry filled with feta and also possibly shallow fried, and a healthy dose of Coke Zero (they don't do Coke light).
I flew into Pula where upon touch down, my first mission was to find a beach. Forget the impressive amphitheatre, supposedly more impressive than the one in Rome, or the fact that I'd had no sleep, food, or acquired a map; I'd been landlocked for the last six months and at this point in time, my life depended on it! I was given directions by several people along the way to my required medicine, but still managed to get lost. I'm not sure if I ended up where I intended but when I finally set my eyes on the crystal clear blue waters, it was as if I had been injected with the serum of life. Due to nearly all the beaches in Croatia being rocky and pebbly, I took my position on the rocks, and felt the first rays of yellow gold on my back, which certainly hadn't been subject to such luxuries for a very long time. Once I had been revived, I went back and visited the "sites", and spent the night at the hostel with a couple Norwegian guys who were dying in the heat, an Aussie and an American (preview of what was to come) after everything in town seemed to shut for the night, with the only nightclub housing young-somethings which I didn't particularly feel like dealing with.
A scenic bus trip passing by stunningly elegant Opitija bought me to Rijeka where I battled zillions of old people for seafood risotto and cherry strudel; it was worse than catching the tube on a hot summers day!!! (The things you do for free food : ) Luckily there were lovely old men that helped me get back out of the crowds whilst balancing ginormous portions of delectable food. Rijeka is your typical port town; the type of place that you go only to go somewhere else. The Jadrolijna to Hvar didn't leave until the evening, so I took my spot in the sun on the wharf with the rest of the backpackers, amongst the excessive amount of couplish behaviour that seems to be everywhere in Croatia. I paid 230HRK which is about 21GBP for a bed and breakfast and 12 hour ferry ride down the coast. You can't even get halfway up England for that! Whilst I didn't end up really needing the bed, instead staying up with a Croatian and a couple Canadians, it was good to have somewhere to put my day pack. As the sun rose on the water, the islands passed slowly by reminding me of NZ, and it was a beautiful sail into the port of Stari Grad on the Island of Hvar.
Unfortunately, I didn't realise that I had to catch a bus to get to Hvar town, and so missed the bus connection. No one knew when the next one would be, and all I knew was that they come when ferries dock in, so I found a bay and swam for a few hours whilst waiting for the next ferry to come in. Hvar is a rich mans island with an excessive amount of yachts laden with excessive amounts of money. Once you wander behind the touristy square into the backstreets, there is a charming side to be found with old women sitting on their doorsteps waving, many cool bars in dark alleys, and a general relief from the luxury. I dined on the waterfront with Marni and Tania whom I met at the Green Lizard and foraged around the bars and dark alleys whilst wearing sunglasses (I felt like an idiot but I forgot the sun would eventually go down and left my glasses behind). On the second day, Marnie and I took a trip out to an island that supposedly had a sandy beach. Sandy it was not, but tanning there was. Hvar is the sunniest place in the Adriatic, with around 2715 hours of sun a year, so there is certainly no lack of tanning opportunities, especially when you don't have a choice as to when you can get back to the mainland.
Leaving a night earlier than intended, Hugo, Marnie and I caught a ferry to Korcula that night, complete with a little Dutch girl fanning us. I loved Korcula; it was charming, and lacked the pretentiousness of Hvar. We had dinner whilst watching the town constable spring into action to clean up a oil spill on the marble cobbled roads; several people kept falling over, so they diverted cars, foot traffic, put sand down, and then the fire department was called in to wash it away. They were very efficient! We expect that it would be in the town paper the following day. Lazily easing into the day and then finding it too hot to walk around any longer resulted in an emergency swim at an urchin filled beach, and then a trip to Lumbarda for some sandy bathing. Nearly all the people there were tourists, presumably dying for a swim where you don't have to look like a drunkard with a short leg whilst walking into the water.

We had previously spotted a bar in the sky on top of a turret in the old town, so that night a group of us climbed the ladder up, every second person hitting their head, pondering how one would come back down after one too many. The orders and drinks are transported to and from the bar downstairs via a pulley system. The cocktails were dreadful, but the view was spectacular! The waiter looked a little stressed the entire time, and told me off at one point for standing on the edge to take a photo. We later met Brian, a guy from California who was on the island for a few days working on a house he had randomly bought. He recommended another bar and offered to meet us for a coffee in the morning to give us tips for our road trip that we had planned for the next day. We were to bump into him later and spent the night meeting a string of random people. (It seems that a number of people end up on Korcula by accident and then end up staying there! Korcula is a very seductive island.)

The road trip was idyllic and a perfect way to spend the day after a night of little sleep. Hugo drove our sky blue Chevrolet, whilst I attempted to navigate (not one of my strongest skills as I have previously written about) and tune in Croatian music on the radio to enhance the experience. We stopped off at various towns and passed through little stone villages that dot the landscape. Most of the island is untouched and remote making secluded bays with not a soul for miles very easy to find. Unfortunately we failed to find the mud that we had heard about which we were rather looking forward to due to the sunburn that was really starting to build up (apparently walking into a tourist office where they don't speak fluent English and asking where the mud is was not an effective method). On the way home we found a lovely little restaurant in this tiny village, if you could call it that, where the owner took great pride in his food and service, with homemade schnapps on the house and a limestone table.

The early morning bus/ferry to Dubrovnik was picturesque, as any drive down the coast is. Marnie and I stayed at a Sobe with a dog called Belina and a litter of kittens, owned by a woman who's daughter had just married a kiwi in London. We went our separate ways for a wander around the beautiful but touristy old town; whilst there was much dodging of male attention, I did acquire a seat at a cafe overlooking the old town, and got stuck in the jewellery alley. Feeling a little jaded from the heat, we had a romantic makeshift dinner in our Sobe, complete with rather odd tasting Croatian wine. On our last day, we took a trip out to the island of Lopud, where after a massive hike in extraordinary temperatures we found a sandy and part nude beach. Later that night we went for dinner at a family owned and run restaurant in the old town, and drank wine produced by the very smiley waiters grandfather, whilst I demolished a massssssive portion of mussels.

Sadly the last day came rather quickly, and I took the bus up to Split. Due to the ferries between islands being quite irregular, I was unable to take the sailing route up which would have been amazing given the view that I had on the bus. I only managed to have a quick look around the Old Town in Split before I had to catch a ridiculously early bus to the airport where I spent most of the day talking to the security guard. The airport transfers go 90 mins before Croatian airlines, but I was flying a Hungarian airline called Wizz Air. The bus driver informed me that there was no bus schedule and he didn't know whether there would be a later bus.

Croatia is an amazing country and one not to miss when over this side of the globe. I would recommend a bed roll and scuba socks!

I Love the Act of Barbequeing

Mish and I created the crowning glory of all BBQs on Sunday. Granted, we slapped our prawns, steak, and kebabs on before it reached the pinnacle of it's perfection, but that is not to say that it negates the fact. The problem wasn't that we didn't know the science of starting a charcoal BBQ, in fact we repeatedly said that the coals needed to go grey and would in fact take some time, even whilst chucking extra fire starters on because it didn't look like they were heating, (perhaps it was due to the tears falling from our eyes due to the excessive amount of smoke) but we live in a world of instant gratification where things happen in quick succession, and our stomachs overtook logic! After we had "smoked" our food, barbequed the caffetia (literally, the handle started to melt), and concluded that one we didn't have anything else to cook on it and two even if we did we'd had too many cupcakes to stomach it, we watched the BBQ glow the night away. All this after our discussion about the future demise of the world due to wasteful energy usage.

Observing Insanity

How much do I love Fridays!! Almost as much as I love green tea martinis, perhaps more. I have come to realise several things about myself this week.

#1 I'm getting slightly addicted to Big Brother, ahhhh!!

#2 I'm a little worried about my excessive usage of "you know what I mean"; I wanted to pick up a posh English accent not one from Essex!

#3 The vending machine is my nemeisis

#4 I love receiving a Spanish word a day even if I can't pronounce it

#5 I could become addicted to ketchup

#6 I don't know how I would go on if I became lactose intolerant

#7 I always end up in the same carriage as the drunken Polish men on the way home no matter how far along the platform I go!