tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30607642011-08-07T06:18:33.009Zharder.comInstructions for use:
1. Press Print
2. Collect printout
3. Go to toiletAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.comBlogger801100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-79836925282527383012007-05-14T18:59:00.000Z2008-12-10T04:29:07.147ZRead the english at the top of the sign: Dong Da Hospital for Anus and Intestine Disease Beijing. Now, you tell me. Why on earth could this guy be giving us the thumbs up?Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1162039287415825822006-10-28T12:39:00.000Z2006-10-28T12:41:27.426ZHappiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287197443262642005-06-20T17:06:00.001Z2005-06-20T17:06:37.443ZUmayyad mosque, Damascus Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287182025341982005-06-20T17:06:00.000Z2005-06-20T17:06:22.030ZSouk, Damascus Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287144789557342005-06-20T17:05:00.003Z2005-06-20T17:05:44.796ZNightview of Damascus Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287130553097602005-06-20T17:05:00.002Z2005-06-20T17:05:30.560ZOld City, Jerusalem Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287116743431992005-06-20T17:05:00.001Z2005-06-20T17:05:16.746ZIstanbul Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287107549437872005-06-20T17:05:00.000Z2005-06-20T17:05:07.553ZKas, Turkey Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1119287083429165172005-06-20T17:04:00.000Z2005-06-20T17:04:43.443ZSunset on Turkish coast Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1118697038468633342005-06-13T21:10:00.000Z2005-06-13T21:10:38.473ZDesert camp in Wadi Rum Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1117143438781786562005-05-26T21:34:00.000Z2005-05-26T21:37:18.800ZDialogue with the Unconscious A: Okay, good. The Camino de Santiago in Spain. My amazing endeavour, my proof to myself. My life changing experience that changed my life, well, maybe, around the edges. I know, inside, that I’ve changed. Yeah, at the core. I’ve changed. So. What’s my angle. I need an angle. Start with that Jesus line, man I guess I’ll need some research about the history of Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1109863905050709942005-03-03T15:31:00.000Z2005-03-03T15:33:41.376ZThings one can buy in the British Post Office Shop that, arguably, have preciously little to do with the commonly-understood provision of postal services1. Cordless drill2. Personal stereo3. Map of Tenerife4. Zapf mini world doll (£0.99)5. Travel Insurance6. Lexmark bubble jet printer7. Children's one-size-fits-all poncho (£1.99)8. A "4 Films on 1 DVD" DVD (£1.99). Titles include "Horror" (Boogeyman 1&2, Halloween 4&5) and "American Heros" (Operation Delta Force 1-4)9. A wide selection of CDs, including "The Best of the Tremoloes featuring Brian Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1091264772167348092005-03-03T09:06:00.000Z2005-03-03T12:37:58.296ZFrom the Harder archives, the full story of this picture.I'm a little to excited to think straight, so I'll just take it from the top. I'm in Interlaken, Switzerland, where there is a mountain called "Harder". I feel like I've finally come home - this is where my people are, where the ley lines here are vibrating on just the right kind of sarcasm. Also, I don't have to spell my surname for anyoneAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1104899702173720292005-01-05T04:23:00.000Z2005-01-05T04:35:02.173ZTsunami
My sister and I were safe up north when the tsunami hit. We felt the earthquake shaking our beds gently, but we were in no danger. A lot of people I spoke to in Chiang Mai didn't even notice it, and if the earthquake didn't leave our lampshades swinging we probably wouldn't have believed it really happened.
But not four days before the tsunami hit Thailand, I was camping on a beach on anAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1103782310301567552004-12-23T05:45:00.000Z2004-12-23T08:36:45.916ZBoats, monkeys, tubes
After bobbing in the lakehouses for two days, we left on lengthily boats, the kind you see in movies about the Vietnam war, expect rather than powering them by paddles or perhaps being propelled sheerly by the navigator meditating on the concept of movement, modern Thais have added what must be a diesel tractor engine to the back, its spluttering coughing engine primarily Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1103181996098974052004-12-16T06:50:00.000Z2004-12-16T07:26:36.100ZKhao Sok National Park
After Bangkok we went to floating rafthouses on the dammed lake in Khao Sok national park. We rode a long-tail boat, past limestone mountains erupting out of the water, their cliffs towering what seemed to be hundreds of metres above the water. The jungle wrapped itself around the cliffs unevenly, a mess of trees and vines. Sometimes the jungle covered the rock evenly all Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1102837203095838852004-12-12T07:26:00.000Z2004-12-12T07:40:03.096ZJetlag
I hadn't slept enough, nowhere near enough. And those three glasses of red wine had caused headaches well out of proportion with the amount of alcohol they contained, but that was probably because the tiny portion of roast pork in my dinner wouldn't have satisfied a sparrow. And once I had woken up I had to sit for hours on a bus as it stop-started through smoggy crowded streets, then Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1085161617892673182004-05-21T17:36:00.000Z2004-05-21T17:46:57.893ZFelucca
After the train ride south to Aswan, we caught some more ancient Pharonic sites (I will write about them soon enough, perhaps). We started travelling north again, back up the Nile. From Aswan, we took a cruise on the Nile on a felucca, a very simple small yacht. There was a variable crew of two or three, and around eight of us punters.
I felt the last part of London leave me as we Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1085160951067127012004-05-21T17:19:00.000Z2004-05-21T17:35:51.066ZThe on-sell
I went into a pharmacy in Egypt to buy some sunscreen and ear drops, and after dealing with my rather hum-drum request, the guy pointed at the counter and said "Do you want anything else?" I looked down, and saw a small advertisement for Viagra.
"Come on," I laughed. "That's just for old men!"
"Okay," he said, and went to the back of the shop to get a carry bag.
The cogs of my brainAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1085159611241653652004-05-21T17:12:00.000Z2004-05-21T17:13:31.240ZNow you know
At the 4th International Penguin Conference in Chile in September 2000, it was finally agreed by penguin researchers that they would refer to a group of penguins on the land as a "waddle", and a group in the water as a "raft".
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1084288807995392202004-05-11T15:01:00.000Z2004-05-11T15:20:07.996ZMeeting Egyptians is easy
At the end of my first day in Cairo, we found a tea house in a small tree-lined street. We stumbled across our desire for some tea and a sheesha pipe, and our host was happy to oblige. Seeing the late afternoon sun turn the leaves on the tree translucent, sitting around with old mates I hadn't seen in two years, I got my first feeling feeling of perfect satisfaction on Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1083603890473478522004-05-03T17:04:00.000Z2004-05-03T17:07:48.890ZCairo
A polite thing to say about Cairo is that it "lacks personality." Your faithful correspondant, always one to jump at the chance to call a spade a bloody shovel, has some other choice words, including "ugly" and "relentlessly ugly" and "completely without any aspect that could not be described as 'ugly'".
There are certain things worth reporting, however. Saw an advertisement for Cairo's Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1082032367789678962004-04-15T12:32:00.000Z2004-04-15T12:37:17.856ZOn inauspicious starts
Have started three months of vagrancy moving between continents, hotels and bars. The first leg, my journey to Granada in southern Spain was a long, nightmarish testing ground of endurance and self-flagellation. I missed my flight to Seville due to a number of reasons, which I immediately afterwards categorised as completely manageable except apparently for my own deeply Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1077873504462580362004-02-27T09:18:00.000Z2004-02-27T09:20:28.200Zan office in london
What a Friday afternoon I have in front of me. Last Friday me and the kiwi guys were lolling about bored, talking crap mostly but occasionally turning the conversation towards work whenever someone boss-related walked by. While in one of those half-hearted work convos, we agreed that it would be a GREAT way to spend the next Friday (ie today) afternoon sitting in a meeting Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1074723311658920442004-01-21T22:15:00.000Z2004-01-21T22:16:38.903ZI flew Iberia to Havana, so my first encounter Cubans en-masse was in Madrid airport as they boarded our plane. One man had a cat on a leash, others toted mountains of packaged electronics as carry-on luggage and I noticed more than usual amounts of lycra as outwear. I’ve been in untouristy, unsexy parts of Spain, and these people weren’t Spaniards.
On the plane, they crammed their carry-on Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1066685949930841592003-10-21T17:40:00.000Z2003-10-21T17:40:09.750ZThesauruses have words that sum up Christiana. I don’t. I could look them up, but that always makes me feel phoney – like anyone uses words like 'attenuated' without looking them up first.
Actually, I do have words for Christiana. I have a lot of them. Amazing. Weird, bizarre actually. Hilarious. Foreign – really foreign if there’s a word that means that. Scary.
Christiana is a tenuously Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-1064684365711068662003-09-27T17:39:00.000Z2003-09-27T17:39:25.463ZVernazza, Italy
Can't move for Americans. I've stopped saying 'scusi' to pass people now – that's just a shared joke, a ruse between two English speakers making an effort. But 'sorry' actually gets better results. 'Dude', spoken softly exasperated, works well too.
There's a good reason why all these Americans are here, though. Vernazza, and the other four villages in the Cinque Terre, is Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-929816852003-04-21T13:52:00.000Z2003-04-21T13:52:58.043ZGrappa tour of the Europe
On the Amalfi coast for Easter, I was delighted to discover their local version of grappa. Lemoncello is bright yellow, deadly sweet and served extremely cold. At first taste it is delicious -- like some rocket fuel version of Solo. My mind turned to yet more thoughts on the superiority of the Italian civilisation. They'd invented food in Tuscany, crime in Sicily and nowAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-911329862003-03-21T17:10:00.000Z2003-03-21T17:10:39.560ZI'm going to Amsterdam tonight, straight from work to Heathrow. I love the feeling of rocking up to work with my bag and my passport, casually slinging mud in the face of my workmates, reminding them that they're stuck in London while I'm off being all exotic. Even finding my stash of euros this morning got me excited.
Travel is good.
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-911328962003-03-21T17:08:00.000Z2003-03-21T17:10:32.000ZIt's still not funny but this is the next draft of the work that I'd like to share. It's fair comment to say that it's a heavier read, especially compared to my Bill Bryson-like adventures climbing mountains and swearing at dogs.
But: It's more challenging to write seriously and keep the jokes out, and, really, how many jokes can you make about civil war? And can't a man aim a little higher Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-911323722003-03-21T16:59:00.000Z2003-03-24T21:04:51.000ZHills began to appear across the plains, hazy from the heat and the distance like a mirage. They passed by with the hours as we moved further east, sometimes replaced by more hills, sometimes not. No-one else on the bus seemed to registered their presence but to me they were a welcome change from the vast dry emptiness of the plains.
I had been in Turkey for only a few weeks, but apart from theAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-902924582003-03-07T09:25:00.000Z2003-03-07T09:25:54.793ZI'm working for the London Underground at the moment, and let me tell you the public service ethos really agrees me. One guy on my floor had a little snooze at his desk the other week. Just dropped off for a while, thinking that he was shielded from public view by a pillar. He wasn't. I walked into the kitchen just as his boss saw him. Her face dropped and she stayed in there for a while thinkingAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-901985552003-03-05T22:14:00.000Z2003-03-05T22:41:20.000ZThis is the first 500 words of my travel writing piece -- there will be 1500 in total. My class has put it through a few edits now, but I can still recognise my work in it somewhere.
I found myself writing in a different style for this class -- definitely closer to all the Serious Travel Writers that I've been reading since I started this course.
It's more formal and less funny than the rest Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-901976512003-03-05T21:59:00.000Z2003-03-05T22:03:59.000ZSouth-eastern Turkey
Hills began to appear across the plains, hazy from the heat and the distance like a mirage. They passed by with the hours as we moved further east, sometimes replaced with more hills, sometimes not. No one else on the bus even registered their presence but to me they were a welcome change from the vast dry emptiness of the plains. I had been in Turkey only for a few weeks, Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-892653052003-02-17T22:38:00.000Z2003-02-26T20:33:17.000ZSo I'm doing this Travel Writing course. The tutor, Zoe Bran, has had a few books published, all on miserable socialist countries like Yugoslavia, Vietnam and Cuba so we obviously share ideas on what makes a good holiday location. The main objective of the course is to write a 1500 word 'piece' on the travel destination of our choice. I'm writing about the Krazy Kurdish people I met in the far Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-886987672003-02-07T10:42:00.000Z2003-02-17T22:30:54.000ZHangover: a haiku
by Andrew Harder
Haze. My computer
Stares me in the face. Work!
It demands. I cannot.
postscript: I later re-read this haiku and realised there are six syllables in the final line. I was still hungover at this point and I got deeply depressed. I can't count up to six! I'm over it now.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-840603842002-11-05T14:35:00.000Z2002-11-17T11:58:17.000ZSpot
In my last few days in Cappadocia, I fell under the charms of Spotty, the dalmation-pointer cross living at one of the pensions. Most of the first day I was at his pension, he was sitting on some cushions outside watching everyone walk past, somehow being urgently inactive. Whenever someone walked out the front gate, he was off, bounding out the gate trying to lead them down the Cappadocian Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-837744782002-10-30T15:57:00.000Z2002-10-30T16:30:12.000ZCappadocia
Cappadocia is a region in the centre of Turkey where very strange forces indeed have shaped the local rocks into bizarre formations. All the tourist guide books describe the surroundings as 'moon scapes', which is a good start for a description but not because the formations in any way resemble the moon; it's just that they look absolutely nothing like anything else on Earth. I spent Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-835074572002-10-25T11:23:00.000Z2002-10-28T15:55:39.000ZWelcome back
I've taken then longest ever break, but I will persevere, fret not. I'm going to keep writing about Turkey in the present tense, but that's mostly because I'm copying straight from my journal. Stay with me.
The bug
Normal processing in the gastro-intestinal region resumed within one week, just short of my personal deadline to either name my new travelling companion (and preferably Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-807350842002-08-26T17:11:00.000Z2002-08-26T17:11:09.796ZThe bug
I'm not quite sure what brought it on. There was a vegetable pide that could have been sitting in the shop window for too long (I didn't bring my carbon-dating equipment with me), I'd been very adventurous with my shaved lamb consumption, and there is a possibility my concentration lapsed and I accidentally drank some water when I brushed my teeth, but whatever it was, whatever it is has Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-806239542002-08-23T18:41:00.000Z2002-08-23T18:41:53.383ZTravelling buddy
For the first two weeks of Turkey, I get to enjoy the novelty of travelling with someone -- an old friend from Rockhampton, Amanda Palmer. It's great being part of a pair; it completely changes the experience of travelling. Ordinary little fuck-ups like missing the bus or wonder whether you've been locked in a car park after hours go from being stressful encounters to being Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-804797032002-08-20T16:14:00.000Z2002-08-20T16:14:27.150ZRules for a successful experience of Turkey
1. When crossing the road, abandon your foolish Western notions of exercising care and caution, and the particularly ludicrous idea that pedestrians have some right be in transit across the road. Turkish cars have tasted tourist blood and they like it. You must do what the locals do and hurl yourself across the road at speed whenever there is more than Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-803657102002-08-17T19:38:00.000Z2002-08-17T19:38:37.486ZWhat a cliffhanger I left you on! What was Copenhagen like? Was it so good that I didn't leave? Did I get mugged and killed, pushed off an overnight train or something? Well, no, I just stopped posting for a while. But I'm back and to bring you up to speed:
Copenhagen rocks. The Danes are a gorgeous bunch of people; I must have walked into ten lamposts because I was so distracted by the stunningAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-796850112002-08-01T12:43:00.001Z2002-08-01T12:46:22.000ZWarsaw
When you're travelling certain conversation topics always come up, no matter who you're talking to. There are the hum-drum topics like recommending good hostels or comparing worst-train stories (particularly popular in Eastern Europe, I think), but there are some more interesting topics as well. Example: Should one go to Warsaw? In this case, the answer is usually a resounding no. Two Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-796850042002-08-01T12:43:00.000Z2002-08-01T12:43:23.783ZSo, confirming the small world theory, when I was in Poland I ran into Justine McNally, an old friend from university. We weren't really in the same circle of friends; it was as though around third year our circles had signed some sort of free-trade agreement or treaty to provide some new people to get drunk around once in a while. Running into McNally in a night on the turps was always good Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-794084242002-07-25T21:06:00.000Z2002-07-25T21:06:10.113ZWell, the hiking never got discernibly better than that pilgrimage to Marianska Hora. No, that’s unfair – the hiking trails in the Tartra mountains in Poland and Slovakia are excellent, it’s just that I was still shaking off that cold from Vienna and when it wasn’t actually raining, the rain clouds were circling ominously above me. So after about five days of trying to convince myself that it Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-794083942002-07-25T21:05:00.000Z2002-07-25T21:05:31.486ZAuschwitz
About an hour outside Krakow by bus is the Polish town of Oswiecim, the home to the largest Nazi concentration camp, Auschwitz. There are two separate camps that are now part of a museum. Auschwitz I was the first camp, converted from a Polish army barracks. There are about 30 one- and two-storey brick buildings and tall birch trees lining the straight paths through the camp. It felt Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-794083762002-07-25T21:04:00.000Z2002-07-25T21:04:58.970ZI came with pretty grim expectations, but I was still shocked a few times. A sign said that the bodies of prisoners who tried to escape were left by the entrance for about a week. The other prisoners would march past the bodies twice a day, to and from work. And where were they left? This wall right in front of me. Or the ruthless efficiency of the way they exploited the prisoners, even after Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-792500582002-07-22T09:45:00.000Z2002-07-25T20:23:22.000ZI’ve received two interpretations of my pilgrimage. First is Mick from Canberra who thinks the whole event can be summed up as: "God gets His own Back on Unrepentant Atheist". Or perhaps "God 1, Harder 0".
Next is my housemate from Melbourne, Matt, who has broadened the scope of the request to sledge the entire three years I spent in Melbourne. With these instincts for the pay-out, you can see Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-788701442002-07-12T17:19:00.000Z2002-07-13T17:03:20.000ZMoving quickly now
because I have a lot of ground to cover. When I last updated you, I was in Dubrovnik, way down the bottom of the Croatian coast. You remember, I kept going on about the water like I was from Alice Springs or something. Well I got to know the Croatian bus system pretty well over the next few days -- it took two days of travelling before I was back up north, in the Slovenian Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-788246582002-07-11T16:55:00.000Z2002-07-11T16:59:17.000ZAll That You Can't Leave Behind I don't know what U2 were talking about with this as the name of their last album; probably something deeply spiritual or whatnot. For me, though, there are a few material things that I literally haven't been able to leave behind, despite my best efforts. These nine little buggers have followed me around from Florence to Dubrovnik, and everywhere in between. Not Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-784114302002-07-01T08:57:00.000Z2002-07-01T09:30:42.000ZPrivate Rooms
Get off any inter-city bus in Croatia, and you are in for a shock. There will be a phalanx of grey-haired little old ladies waiting for you, their eyes hungry and narrow. As soon as they see you, they start shouting "Zimmer, Sobe, Accomodation" and walking towards you. These are the dreaded private room ladies of Croatia. Retired women or maybe couples who have converted one or moreAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-782776642002-06-27T18:03:00.000Z2002-06-27T18:03:03.466ZJust got out the other end of two very relaxing weeks jaunting around the Croatian Coast. I traded hiking boots and museums for a towel and sunscreen, and was it ever good. My travelling buddies for the whole of this time were the Melbournians Daniel and Louise, and they deserve their share of the blame for the debauchery that you're about to read.
The first island we hopped to was Hvar. A quickAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-779292692002-06-19T10:52:00.000Z2002-06-19T10:55:54.000ZI'm hopping around the islands on the Croatian coast at the moment, making plans to catch up with fellow travellers on the way. And I actually just said to someone "I'll let you know if I change islands before the weekend."
I love this life.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-778054622002-06-16T10:54:00.000Z2002-06-16T10:54:21.990ZZagreb
Continuing my theme of expectations, when I arrived in Zagreb, I had precisely no idea what to expect. I hoped for a functioning transport system, full shelves in shops and not too many bullet holes in my dorm room. And these were reinforced by an extremely dodgy train ride from Budapest. They just kept selling tickets to the train, so it turned out to be impossibly over-crowded. I've beenAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-776960022002-06-13T13:38:00.000Z2002-06-13T13:38:55.906ZBudapest
It's all about the expectations, that's what I say. When I thought of Budapest (please note that for any travelling credibility you have to pronounce it Buda-PESHT), I envisioned some sort of East-meets-West paradise, a cross between Istanbul and Paris, perhaps. (Even though I haven't been to either of those cities yet). Well, I guess I was always going to be disappointed in the 'Pest Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-776595432002-06-12T17:01:00.000Z2002-06-12T17:02:42.000ZThe term "man-necklace" was coined by Farouk of Canadia. By failing to credit to the proper source, this travel journal caused untold mental pain and suffering to author.
Harder.com regrets the error.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-776112332002-06-11T15:04:00.000Z2002-06-12T17:21:24.000ZHee hee hee aaaa HA HA ha ha ha haaaa snort. pause. chortle. chortle. repeat from beginning. Sorry, I just heard something hilarious.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-775324132002-06-09T18:02:00.000Z2002-06-09T18:02:17.310ZJust bought myself a man-necklace. Now I feel like a backpacker...Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-775323612002-06-09T17:58:00.000Z2002-06-09T17:58:48.136ZEverday Hungarian Phrases
I've done a little more research into the language in Hungary than the other countries I've visited, and just to share the knowledge, these are the phrases that I've found most useful.
Please Care-m
Thanks Koose-yugh-naim say pen
How do you do, Madam? Hodt voort Quiche-on-yam
Do you like soul music? Sara ted oh soul zen-aid?
Are those teeth false? Moooh fo-go jed van Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-774295122002-06-06T19:25:00.000Z2002-06-06T19:25:15.950ZBrno, Bratislava, and so forth
I just spent a couple of days tyravelling around with two aussies, Natasha and Michaela. We basically laughed our way around the countryside for 72 hours. Aaah, the goold old days. But how I ended up hanging out with them is a perfect case study in hostel friendships. It goes something like this...
I met Dan and Lou on the way to the hostel in CK. We were all Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-772952902002-06-03T18:11:00.000Z2002-06-03T18:17:31.000ZCesky Krumlov
What a town! I could feel the stress from Prague lift off me the second I stepped into the hostel. After enduring that sardine-like tourist scene I wanted to spend a couple of days getting back to nature, and boy have I achieved it. Cesky Krumlov (CK to those in the know) is a small little town about three hours south of Prague. It's still very touristy, but much more laid back thanAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-772147462002-06-01T08:43:00.000Z2002-06-01T08:43:20.970ZBackpacker of the year award
The first nominee for this award, which exists to recognise outstanding contribution to the field of cross-country camaraderie is the wiley Canuck Farouk. In true travelling form, I have no idea what his surname is, but let's not get caught up on the details so early on, shall we? At dinner last night I mentioned, while we were comparing hangovers, that I was startingAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-770288382002-05-27T17:18:00.000Z2002-05-27T17:24:09.000ZPrague
Well, where to begin. Prague is indeed a beautiful city: lovely turrets, smashing churches, it's fair share of cobbled roads and so forth. But you know, one's appreciation of the aforementioned prettiness can be tarnished, somewhat, by a hangover. And I've been hungover for, well, five of the last six days. So vast swathes of Prague have gone unobserved by your faithful correspondent, Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-768426062002-05-22T15:25:00.000Z2002-05-23T17:46:45.000ZAmsterdam
I got a smug, knowing email from Hugo the other day saying something to the effect of "You don't have to tell me any stories about Amsterdam, Andrew. uh-huh, I know exACTly what you mean...nudge nudge"
Well, okay. There is no point pretending that I didn't have a good time. I reckon that even an experienced, hard-nosed, achievement-oriented traveller can lose a day or 2 in Amsterdam. Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-766647672002-05-17T17:25:00.000Z2002-05-22T15:29:15.000ZDeepest apologies for the recent lack of correspondence. I momentarily lost the ability to think.
Florence
You will recall that at the end of the last thrilling episode, our hero was about to escape Austria but had two spare days up his sleeve before his rendezvous in Provence. The story continues�EMy original criteria for choosing a stopover in Italy was simple: on the train line from InnsbruckAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-761605352002-05-04T19:20:00.000Z2002-05-04T19:22:27.000ZAustriaWrapping up Austria before this internet cafe closes... Vienna, without doubt is an incredibly beautiful city. Where else can you find major statues littered around the city like they were public phones? The relatively small size of downtown makes the city very approachable on foot, which led to a lot of wandering around lost, until the jet lag wore off and once more I could understand Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-759928222002-04-30T07:05:00.000Z2002-04-30T07:06:56.000ZI´ve been reading a bit of Dorothy Parker lately, and I found this little corker that I thought I would share with you. Resume Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren´t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live. Where has this woman been all my life?Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-758988872002-04-27T18:11:00.000Z2002-04-27T18:11:54.800ZRather fond of their porn, these Austrians. Rather fond indeed.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-758169302002-04-25T18:33:00.000Z2002-04-25T18:40:47.000ZDinner I fell in with a cool crowd of Americans while I was in Vienna. I´ve made plans to catch up with each set of them (they came in pre-packaged pairs) in the next couple of weeks -- here´s hoping that all our vaguely made plans come together. We were staying in a cool little hostel that was a converted apartment with one (open) dorm room and a living room. There were never more than about Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-758162892002-04-25T18:15:00.000Z2002-04-25T18:35:21.000ZLunch I was struck on my very first day in Vienna that I don´t have the vocabulary to do justice to what I was seeing around me. For instance, I had lunch that day in the Fine Arts Museum, and I was so overpowered that I stayed and wrote this description of what I saw. Remember, this is where I had lunch -- you can imagine what the rest of the museum was like. It´s an octagonal hall, with a dome Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-757761432002-04-24T18:35:00.000Z2002-04-25T17:35:02.000ZOpera I can already feel the smile spreading on everyone that has been to Vienna, and already knows what an amazing experience the Viennese State Opera is. I saw one of Mozart´s most famous operas, The Magic Flute a few nights ago. I got a standing-room ticket for only €3.50, and even after the conversion to the pacific peso, that is pretty damn cheap. The standing room section is a little likeAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-757756002002-04-24T18:17:00.000Z2002-04-25T18:34:15.000ZDodgy Internet Cafe Nominees
The first nominee is Enjoy the WEB! in the tiny Austrian town of Melk. Dark lighting and a powerful stench of cigarette smoke gave a promising start to this establishment, but its nomination was truly earnt when I saw that the only two other patrons were both on internet chat sites, typing things like "schmergen schmergen sex schmergen". As you can imagine, I feel Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-757221352002-04-23T09:48:00.000Z2002-04-23T09:48:17.136ZThe flight
It is a simple fact of life that all long-haul flights suck. There is just no such thing as an okay flight that is longer than two hours, with the possible exception of an overnight orgy of drugs and sex that just happens to touch down in Vienna. All that remains to talk about flights is how each one fulfilled its destiny of being torture on wings.
In my case, it took the form of a Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-757220262002-04-23T09:40:00.000Z2002-04-23T09:40:28.536ZDon't you think?
In KL, my walk from the hotel to the train station took me right past the apparently infamous Putu jail. While the jail isn't used anymore, they've left it pretty much as it was when it was being used. One of the more charming features was a big-arse sign on one of the walls: "DEATH!! That's the mandatory sentence for drug trafficking in Malaysia." Fair enough. There are quite a Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-757219012002-04-23T09:31:00.000Z2002-04-23T09:31:39.873ZWell, judging from the reaction that I got, "harder.com" is suitably catchy, and has the added advantage of looking distinctly dodgy in any collection of bookmarks. It will do nicely for now.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-755411772002-04-18T10:08:00.000Z2002-04-18T10:08:47.840ZI want a new name for this website -- "travelarama" doesn't do it for me. Any better suggestions? Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-755411402002-04-18T10:06:00.000Z2002-04-18T10:06:05.090ZJamiroquai is playing in a Roman Arena in Croatia on June 14. Is anyone else going to be in the neighbourhood?Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-755411142002-04-18T10:03:00.000Z2002-04-18T10:03:56.073ZMalaysian Politics
Mahatir Mohammed spitting the dummy has been in the news every day since I've been here. So far, he's had words about those damn city dwellers (all 4 million of them?) who expect too much but won't give anything back (the goods and/or services they expect weren't mentioned) , and those lazy Muslims who aren't studying IT in the numbers he thinks they should. If I had an ego theAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3060764.post-755410182002-04-18T09:56:00.000Z2002-04-18T10:10:31.000ZMalaysia
There are some beautiful and poetic names for places out there. Japan's name in Japanese really does mean "Land of the Rising Sun", "Australia" comes from the latin for "Great Southern Land", "New Zealand." in an obscure Maori dialect really means "We Of The Big Drinkers". (One of those is not true.) And then we have Kuala Lumpur, which means in Malay, and I shit you not, "muddy estuaryAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00492933893546123941noreply@blogger.com0