A French Safari

We've Moved

2010-08-16T17:49:00.002+09:30

Please update your Follows/Readers/etc to www.katepaneros.com and come check out the new site.

Moving Again

2010-08-13T16:41:00.000+09:30

You might have noticed a little absence lately.

I have been neglecting my French Safari because frankly, I'm no longer in France and things are changing around here. They are un-French, and new Safaris are in the making.

I sat down with the Board (myself) and we had a Strategic Planning Meeting (chai latte and a sketchbook). We decided to take things in a new direction, which I will announce shortly. Something that will be home to all my creative pursuits, inspirations, ramblings and dreams.

If you're interested in following along, please check back after the weekend for the links to The New Safari.

Cairns & The Daintree: Part 2

2010-07-14T22:53:00.002+09:30

Cairns & The Daintree: Part 1

2010-07-12T22:29:00.003+09:30

More Puppy Love

2010-07-11T23:44:00.000+09:30

Here are some more shots of Keidis, and then the newest pup on the block, Ruby. There is so much cuteness here it makes me a bit ill.

I'm for dogs.

Puppy ♥

2010-06-29T17:26:00.000+09:30

i heart faces: pets week
A couple of weekends ago (when the sun still existed) I spent a few hours rolling about on the grass with this gorgeous ball of fur. Keidis is a Bernese Mountain Dog, so he'll grow up to be HUGE in no time at all. Reminds me of my Alaskan Malamute as a pup, massive feet and head!

Today & Tomorrow

2010-06-29T11:55:00.000+09:30

It's a horrible rainy day in Adelaide today. I watched a tree fall onto moving car as I walked to work, stopped to call 000 and thanked whomever for it not being my car. When I got to work I confirmed my flight to Queensland for tomorrow morning. I don't even care that it's at 6.05am.

Flickr Member: Rui Palha

Flickr Member: Boggy C

A French Safari Tutorial

2010-06-24T14:38:00.004+09:30

Today on The Blah, Blah, Blahg, Miss B is featuring a tutorial I prepared on achieving shallow depth of field with ordinary kit lenses on your DSLR. It can be done, and with just a few turns of the dials this blurry bokeh can be yours! Head on over to learn all about it.

Thanks to Miss B for requesting my 'expertise', although I think I learnt a lot just thinking about how to explain it to others.

Mushrooms on Hindley Street

2010-06-23T11:28:00.001+09:30

Friday 18 June - Hindley Street

A French Safari - The Book

2010-06-16T12:54:00.000+09:30

Thank goodness the Queen was born and we had a public holiday on Monday, or else this would NEVER have been completed.

If you read my blog then you've read this book. If you look at my photos then you've seen a fair hunk of these pages. BUT, in the true spirit of marketing something that is essentially a re-packaging of previous wares, the epic tome that is A French Safari (in print) contains "never before seen photos", and additional witty commentary from yours truly.

It is currently at the printers, but as soon as I check the first copy next week, it's on sale to all! For only $120! I'm sorry about the pricetag. On-demand printing isn't cheap, and I just couldn't cull down the pages for the sake of a few dollars. It's got a nice hardcover complete with 348 full colour pages. Only the true voyers amongst you all would be interested in my innermost thoughts and feelings enough to pay $120, so this should essentially sort the wheat from the chaff. Or something.

So, flip through virtually for a pre-sale sneak peek, and start saving those pennies!

A French Safari by Kate Paneros | Make Your Own Book

♥ someone tiny

2010-06-15T13:02:00.001+09:30

Back to little Luke again this week, but instead of toes it's all about the face. There are so many baby pictures, it's going to be hard to pick a winner!

i heart faces: 'babies' week

♥ to play

2010-06-08T11:19:00.000+09:30

I'm taking a different angle on Play this week for I ♥ Faces. I saw this group, Clanadonia, playing in the street in Glasgow, Scotland last year and then again in Edinburgh months later. The noise of drumming and bagpipes is so quintessentially Scottish - just wish I'd bought the CD!

i heart faces: 'play' week

♥ little toes

2010-06-02T11:44:00.003+09:30

I've been away from I ♥ Faces for a while now but have been keeping my eye on things and am ready to get back into the weekly challenges!

i heart faces: barefoot week
Proudly supporting Soles 4 Souls

Soles4Souls is a Nashville-based charity that collects shoes from the warehouses of footwear companies and the closets of people like you. The charity distributes these shoes free of charge to people in need, regardless of race, religion, class, or any other criteria. Since 2005, Soles4Souls has given away over 7 million pairs of new and gently worn shoes (currently donating one pair every 9 seconds.) The shoes have been distributed to people in over 125 countries, including Kenya, Thailand, Nepal and the United States.

SA Artist: Mark Warren

2010-05-27T17:14:00.000+09:30

I think it's the crazy colours that attracts me, like butterflies are attracted to bits of Lego with honey-water in them.

I saw this large canvas in the window in the window of Arts SA (the state government department) on Hindley Street and if I had a piggybank with change for spending I probably would have bought it. It's much brighter in real life, and I would only need 5,500 dollar coins in the piggy, which at the rate of 1 per day would take me just over 15 years to save up.

I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like.

- attributed to Gelett Burgess, who may or may not have said it first.

Annie's World by Mark Warren

Tomoko Suzuki

2010-05-26T12:44:00.004+09:30

I wish I could illustrate when I see work such as this, by Tomoko Suzuki (via designworklife).

Where The Heart Is

2010-05-19T16:34:00.003+09:30

When you pack it all up and move it, you begin to realise how much of it you own.

Stuff. The pitfall of a consumerist society.

There is the stuff that fits in boxes and stuff that needs a trailer. Stuff in the back of the ute and stuff in little containers. Stuff in drawers and stuff under the bed and stuff on the walls. You can bundle it up and ship it around and then eventually more stuff arrives, just in a different letterbox. Even after filling boxes and bags with stuff to donate, there was still a lot of it left.

If home is were your stuff is, I now have a new home, which I actually love and shall be 'warming' this weekend with my housemate C. My heart, well it's pretty comfy for the time being. I left a bit of it overseas, so I may have to go back one day to find it. I think it's at a gelati stand in Florence.

EDIT: This is the 'pack n move' process, saying goodbye to my old Granny Flat. I will have plenty to show of the new place soon!

This mattress is older than I am. I think it may need replacing.

Boxes. Lots of 'em.

2010-04-30T15:19:00.001+09:30

Source: noiruste on flickr

Last time I had to pack up my life, I had to get it in a suitcase and a box or two for posting. This time around I get as many suitcases and boxes as I want, but I have to take EVERYTHING.

Old school books, tea light candles, bobby pins, the elephant with its trunk up, my 21st birthday present yum cha set... you get the idea. And what to transport it all in??

Last night, G and I hopped from one supermarket to the next between Croydon and Sefton Park, on the hunt for cardboard boxes. An easy task you might think? Perhaps, but let us consider these environmentally-responsibe recyclers and their enormous crushing compactors that churn out cubes of ex-boxes like Wall-E does trash.

"Sorry, we crushed them all."
"They're in the crusher."
"Nah love, we pulled 'em apart!"

No thanks - I don't want the waxy ones from IGA that had lettuce in them. Not the foam cooler boxes with a meaty aroma from the butcher. No luck at all at Coles and Woolies. We re-fuelled with Wok in a Box (I tried, too small), and carried on to Foodland Sefton Park.

Oh Holy Grail of Nightfillers! I asked and I received - Sultana Bran, Savoury Shapes, Samboy Chips (we even scored a leftover pack of BBQ chips in that one). Empty boxes by the bootfull! Big, intact, empty boxes.

Take that Budget Packing Supplies. Stick your $6 teachests and free roll of tape.

They Did

2010-04-24T01:33:00.000+09:30

A few shots from their big day (and my first 'pro' job).

Keep on movin'

2010-04-23T10:45:00.005+09:30

Everyone is on the move these days. Friends, family, strangers - everyone seems to be uprooting or moving and if they're not it's probably because they're stuck under a cloud of volcanic ash.

I use the term 'these days' pretty loosely, meaning more like 'this year' or 'at this time in my life'. Some are getting married, some are having babies, others are travelling, starting businesses, nine-to-fiving, job-hunting - and then there are the Floaters, those of us stuck wondering about the outcome of a still-verdictless life (watch the music-video above).

I think it's a Quarter-Life Crisis. Do the rest of the twenty-somethings feel the same?

At a wedding on the weekend, where I cut my teeth photographing somebody's Most Important Day, I had a chat to a very dear friend. She's been on the move as long as I can remember, studying abroad and now pushing forward in a career. I've taken cues from her - do what you love, have fun, etc, but the search for Something To Do has lead to more than I can handle.

Seeing the world opens your eyes to possibility and there are an overwhelming number of possibilities out there. What happens next? Which path to take? Get ahead in your career? Start a family before you're too old (not yet, thanks)? Travel more (yes, please)?

Last month I started a job I really like and has potential to keep me interested for a good while. Income - check.

Next week I'm moving out of home. Properly. That's one other step I need to keep going around the board - past Go and sadly not collecting $200 but shelling it out instead. My own roof over my head - check.

Direction and self-fulfillment and eternal happiness? That's on the way, right? I've already said finishing university was the easy part, it's just choosing a path to follow now that I'm having trouble with. What do you do when you want to do everything?

Little Miss Papparazzi

2010-04-15T21:18:00.000+09:30

Here in little old Adelaide we often miss out on the bigger acts, but Tuesday night was an exception - if Big Names to you means Kick-Ass-Gangster types. If you are 15 and you got yo' lighters up, you were probably at The Showgrounds enjoying school holidays and staying up past 9pm ;) I was there - and I didn't pay $125 for GA tickets. I didn't even pay $170 for the Bling Ring... nope, I was there shoulder-to-shoulder with my Welso Security boys in The Pit - respekt.

We got to wait around by the side of the stage and watch the next acts pull up in minivans, get out in their fluffy white Hilton bathrobes and scurry past under the cover of big dudes with gold chains. Restricted to the first 3 songs of each artist, there was a bit of this waiting around to be done, but all the better to soak up a bit of My-Job-Is-Cool-At-Times under the big Ferris Wheel, and eavesdrop into conversations about why Akon was a no-show (stopped for drugs at the airport??)

Due to a rather strict release form, the only place these shots are supposed to appear is on the Glam Adelaide website - so I'm going to send you all over there to have a look at my close encounters with Kelly Rowland, Eve, Sean Paul, Jay Sean, Pitbull and Kardinal Offishal.

Full gallery at Glam Adelaide - thanks Kelly (Noble, and Rowland)!

Whoops! Must have slipped on the 'cut n paste' button...

Word Of Mouth

2010-04-12T09:10:00.000+09:30

The great thing about sharing my work online is the audience and their reactions. I love getting positive feedback on my work, but what I love even more is the flow-on effect it can have! After Lily Grace's session, which featured on Facebook, I had a few enquiries from friends of friends and 2 weeks ago one of those enquiry turned into a booking.

I met Luke at just 4 weeks of age, and he's a pretty cute little man. His Mum and Dad are very proud and I like to think I was able to capture a little innocence before he gets stuck into bugs, dirt and footy. Thanks for letting me feature some shots here, and fingers crossed the word might spread even further!

A French Safari - Work in Progress

2010-04-11T16:31:00.000+09:30

An update on my progress so far - be warned, YOU may be in this book and if you are, you should definitely buy a copy when it's finished... ;)

249 pages and counting!

Father Cheese

2010-04-07T23:27:00.002+09:30

I'm still working on the book, and in the process have rediscovered some of the lost treasures I haven't yet published. Tonight I came across this guy who is the Priest at the Abbaye Hommes in Caen. It gave me a little giggle.

This is Père Fromage, or Father Cheese.

Souvenir Foto Final

2010-04-04T11:01:00.001+09:30

The 6 weeks are up and here is my montage of my weekly assignments for Souvenir Foto School on my Tahitian Lime Tree. It was challenging at times to come up with a new angle on the same old tree, but the persistence paid off and I'm very happy with the results. Enjoy!

The End or The Beginning?

2010-04-02T12:51:00.002+10:30

Once upon a time when I had almost finished Year 12, I picked a degree from the University Entrance Guide and come January was offered a place.

I went along for my first year - Economics (pass), Marketing Principles (credit), Accounting (withdrew)... and then I left. I wasn't sure that a Marketing degree would satisfy me in life - did I really want to sell crap to people that don't need it? I did some other things for a while, I filed papers and answered phones and went to night school to learn Sign Language (?). I rode horses for 6 months and passed that course, and then I applied for the police force and got rejected. Not enough Life Experience.

So I went back to University. I had my eyes on the prize and I concentrated a little more - Communication (distinction), Accounting Round 2 (distinction), Statistics (high distinction) and slowly but surely I got through the coursework around my full time job. I managed to get to Hong Kong for a month and also to South Korea on some short exchanges, and finally fulfilled my goal to study overseas for a year.

I got some more Life Experience and I forgot about the police force. I developed other interests and I eventually found a job where I can use my evil marketing powers for good - getting other people to go away on exchange.

And so, last week, 7 years later, I finished.

I'd like to think it was the end of books and classes, but I have a feeling it may have only just begun.

Adelaide Sunsets

2010-03-29T15:53:00.002+10:30

Daylight savings is finishing this weekend, so I took a few shots of the last summer sunsets before they're faded into 5pm darkness...

The Gawler Line Project: North Adelaide

2010-03-24T21:53:00.001+10:30

Welcome to the first edition of The Gawler Line Project. This is a personal photojournalism project that I plan to undertake weekly (time permitting). I have been living with my sister for a while and working in the city, and my daily commute now encompasses the train. Trains featured a lot in my life in Europe, but I'd never really caught one in Adelaide. They simply didn't go past my house and I didn't know anyone along the lines.

Now it's a different story - The Gawler Line and I are becoming quite close, so I thought I'd look deeper at her stations and what goes on around them. Train windows are whole new take on the world. You get back fences and industrial yards to peek over and into, and you don't have to stop for anyone. I like that.

North Adelaide
The first stop out of town on the Gawler Line, North Adelaide, sits between the golf course and the suburb of Bowden. Incidently, Bowden is the location of my first home as a child, although I don't remember a lot of it because we moved when I was 2.

I heard from my Uncle who lives down the street from here that there was some kind of homeless person's bookswap under the overpass, so for my first project I went down to take a look. This is supposed to be photojournalism, not actual journalism, so I wont talk about it much. Besides, I don't know much about who started it or who uses it, so let that be a wonderful mystery to solve another day. May I present, the Bowden Bookshelf...

If you're ever walking by, be sure to take any unwanted clothes, books or magazines and drop them off. Someone else could benefit from your unwanted items. Or if you're looking for a new read or some cheaper-than-Op-Shop-chic, give Bowden a try.

Once Upon A Time

2010-03-21T23:48:00.003+10:30

In the interest of accountability to no-one in particular other than people who aren't me, I would like to present the first few complete pages from A French Safari, The Book.

I've been meaning to get this finished and printed and now that it's been 2 months since my return, I am kicking myself in the backside to hurry up. Not only do I want something to hold and smell and show off, I promised my Nanna a copy for Christmas and it's got to be ready before Easter (or at least to the printer by Easter).

It will be printed by Blurb, a self-publishing company, and it will be available for public sale after I review the first copy. With more than 200 pages, it is full of my photos, recipes and all my writings over the year. The hardest part has been selecting the pictures to include - I haven't made the final list, so if there is a favourite and you promise to buy a copy, I will include it for you :)

So without further ado, a sneak peak:

Not for Lack of Trying

2010-03-20T02:08:00.001+10:30

It's been a while since I last wrote anything, but not for nothing to say. Quite the opposite, but it's just finding time to sit and think and get something out.

I've just finished my first solo week in my new job, bringing my total graduate employment history to 3 weeks. And it's not even that busy, I'm just full of ideas and trying to work out where to start. Then there are the other 16 hours in the day and they have their own demands.

I want to see my man. I can't do that very often so I want to call. I want to lose myself in my hobbies. I want to practice my French and I want to start on Chinese. I want to plan my stall at the market, I want to see my friends. I want to sit in the sun and read and I want to cook something nice for dinner. I want to travel again! Yes, me me me, I want I want...

8 of those 16 hours are for sleeping, and fitting everything else in is increasingly hard because I am constantly adding to my list of I Want and even finding time to write them down before I forget them is tricky! I've taken to answering emails and reading my book on the train, and writing in my diary as I am walking to work, head down and all over the footpath because I'm not watching my step. I can't look at a computer for too long outside work because I just end up with 26 further things I want to do thanks to all the possibilities it presents.

I look at this blog and I remember the other thing I want to do, which I'm halfway through. It's a book - of photos and stories and all my thoughts over the year, and it's really important. But the important things are being buried beneath the boring things and I keep digging it up but before long it's gone again.

Somewhere under the I Have To pay this bill.

I Have To send this out.

I Have To go to work.

Eat.

Sleep.

Go to work.

I Have To sort this all out.

Progress Report: Lime Tree

2010-03-08T12:34:00.003+10:30

I thought I'd post a mid-term report on my Tahitian Lime tree project for Souvenir Foto School.

3 weeks into my 6 week study of this tree, I can report that the caterpillars have taking a strong liking to my subject, but have been dismissed and Operation Recovery shall begin momentarily. Today is not so sunny, and it's getting colder so we shall see how the change in weather affects my tropical friend.

Be sure to return in another 3 weeks for the next - ahem - exciting chapter. It doesn't do much, but it sure is pretty!

Two of a Kind

2010-03-03T19:21:00.000+10:30

I found this cute little statue in Corky Saint Clair, a great independent design shop in Melbourne's Degraves Underpass. It's underground off Degraves Street, between Flinders Street and Flinders Lane (also the home of the Platform Artists Group).

Immediately I thought of my favourite photo I took in London, and suddenly an outrageous idea was formed... I could print out my photo, frame it, and display them together!

It's poetry without words.

Vandal or Van Gough

2010-03-01T18:14:00.000+10:30

Sometimes I like pink and flowery things, and sometimes I roll my jeans up and live on the edge.

A selection of Melbourne Street Art - as seen by me last Friday. The complete gallery is available on Flickr.

♥ some hands-on

2010-02-23T15:46:00.000+10:30

This week's theme at I ♥ Faces is Hands-On Fun. This shot was taken a couple of weeks ago when I volunteered a photoshoot of my friend's newborn Lily, to practice some baby photography. I like the heart-shape formed in the shot, and the idea of size you get from the tiny feet. I haven't entered an I ♥ Faces challenge for a while, but I enjoyed them when I did so I'll be doing more.

See the rest of the entries at I ♥ Faces.

Fat Tuesday

2010-02-17T10:37:00.001+10:30

Yesterday was one of those times I wish I was back in Europe, with money to burn and nothing to do but eat. Today is unfortunately too late, because being Wednesday and a Wednesday of the Ash variety, it's the start of Lent.

The particular Tuesday that was yesterday is know here as Shrove Tuesday, or for our very secular nation, Pancake Day. A day of feasting, of celebration, that is done more correctly (in my opinion) in Europe and South America. What would you prefer - crappy pancakes on the school barbeque, or the masquerade parades and fireworks of Venice? The point is to indulge before you spend the next 40 days obtaining absolution for your sins by way of confession and penance. It's no wonder the French call it Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday.

If Italy wasn't an option, I'd take Brazil. I've heard Rio has a few celebrations on the go, and if we throw in the 2016 Olympic hype it's probably not a bad little party. Mardi Gras was one of those word that gave me a lightbulb moment in France - the translation suddenly clicked, and then everything fell into place. Too bad I'm back home this time, but I've no doubt Venice will one day play host to me and a mask or two.

Not that I'm a particularly sinful person, but I did have a couple of indulgences myself yesterday. On Monday I received an offer of employment for the job I'd been crossing my fingers for, and was particularly excited about the whole occasion that I went out and bought a car. I sold my last one when I went away, and while it's nice driving Mum's brand new car every now and then, the freedom to get around on a whim in Adelaide, oh ye town of little public transport, is highly valued.

She still needs a name, but here's a picture:

Another debt to add to the list but a debt worth having in my opinion.

One more thing - while everyone in Europe is still scraping snow off their cars, we're preparing for another heatwave of at least 4 days above 37 degrees celcius. Unfortunately it's bushfire season, and Ash Wednesday also marks the anniversary of some devastating fires in South Australia and Victoria in 1983. It was one of Australia’s costliest natural disasters, with over 3,700 buildings destroyed or damaged. 2,545 individuals and families lost their homes which is probably a bit too much to give up for Lent. Not quiet so many fatalities and Haiti, but destructive nonetheless. If I prayed, it would be for some idiot not to throw their cigarette out the window and start another fire.

I'm not a very Christian person, so I don't partake in Lent, but I'm sure it's not a bad time to think about the things we do have, and the things we can do without (I just can't do without a car). I've got a job, and home, a beautiful boyfriend coming to visit tomorrow, and a weekend of perhaps un-Lent-like festivities at the Adelaide Fringe Festival.

Fat Tuesday may have been extended to Fat Week.

Souvenir Foto 2

2010-02-15T20:43:00.004+10:30

I'm participating in another online photography course because (a) I learn a lot, (b) they're fun, and (c) they're an excuse to take even more photos than I need to.

It's run by Miss B from The Blah Blah Blahg and this course is focusing on following a living object over 6 weeks, photographing the changes. I'd love to follow Lily Grace for 6 weeks, as no doubt she'll be changing a lot, but in place of stalking a baby I'm looking at this lime tree.

I'm not sure that it's even going to change much over 6 weeks, but we'll see. I'll at least learn how to photograph the same thing 12 different ways!

Pink and Perfect

2010-02-14T15:47:00.000+10:30

This weekend featured a couple of a baby-related celebrations, thankfully none of them mine :)

There is one on the way, which called for pink macarons and High Tea;

And one already arrived:

Trying to get a start somewhere, I offered to photography my friend Nicole's daughter Lily Grace so I can start building a portfolio. I've been reading Anne Geddes autobiography, and while there are no pot-plant babies in the near future for me, it's interesting to see how other people have built their careers. I've also found a local wedding photographer who'll let me tag along on some jobs for experience.

The purpose of all this is for me to try as many different avenues and see what I enjoy. I've found a passion in this hobby, but I'm not sure yet where I want to take it. This afternoon I'm off to photograph somebody else's Valentines Day and it's a paid job for a change. Cheers to a few more on the horizon!

Hello Boston!

2010-02-14T15:39:00.001+10:30

This might be a bit weird, but I've noticed on my traffic feed someone from Boston, Massachusetts who visits just about every day. I just wanted to say Hi and Thanks, particularly because I'm not sure I know anyone in Boston but it seems they find the blog interesting!

So... thanks!

A Taste of France at Home

2010-02-11T10:45:00.000+10:30

One thing I love the most about France is macarons. Made correctly, they really are a sweet little party in your mouth - and they're almost impossible to find here in Adelaide. I bought a macaron recipe book in France and after a little time spent translating, Grant and I decided to bake some of our own.

They were pretty tasty, but don't take our word for it. There was taste-testers lining up for them and the batch of 40 didn't last long (even the dodgy ones got eaten).

Apple & Caramel Macarons

Honey, I'm Home

2010-02-08T22:20:00.000+10:30

My dog remembered me when I got home. Jazz, pictured in the last post, didn't forget who I was, or how I smelled. She was all jumpy and licky and then she was over it and fell asleep. My other friends haven't jumped on me or licked me, but they didn't forget me either. Some moved really far away just before I got back, which may or may not have been coincidence, and others were waiting to catch up. Sure, I missed a few get-togethers but there they were, still there for me and ready to hear my stories over a glass of Alicante Bouchet.

The real problem is I've returned home as a broke, jobless graduate. Other friends from my program still have a semester or two to complete, so they're back studying while one friend and I hunt for jobs. I have an interview on Wednesday that would be my ideal job right now, so fingers crossed for that. As for my friend, she's facing the good ol' Catch 22 - graduates who need experience to get a job but a job to get the experience. One Marketing Assistant job we heard of received 250 applications - that's some serious competition. We're trying to figure out how a year in France is going to help in this current situation. In the meantime, we do what we can to get by - I wait tables at a restaurant I used to work at, and moan about how Australians don't tip like Europeans.

There's also something called Reverse Culture Shock, resulting from the psychosomatic and psychological consequences of the readjustment process to the primary culture - or in other words, how coming home can feel kind of crappy. I've read that knowing what to expect can help lessen the re-adjustment process, but I failed to keep up to date with a lot of Adelaide Life, and as such was shocked to discover the following things:

My bus now comes at 5.23pm instead of 5.28pm,
Muzz Buzz, the stupid drive-thru coffee at the end of my street, is still in business,
Julie's Dumplings had a 50c price rise on their Lunchtime Special, and
my cousin's 3 year old is now 4 and knows the difference between a Dromedary Camel and a Bactrian Camel.

I was not shocked to learn that the following were still the same:

The Central Market is busy on a Friday night,
when it is summer it is really freaking hot, and
Mum and Dad want to charge me rent again.

Maybe I'm making light of a serious problem for many travellers, but I honestly can say I enjoy being home right now, and that it's not too hard to accept my immediate conditions. Being home with my parents isn't even so bad - but I'll admit that paying board is about at attractive as the brown carpet in my old room and that my own space again is a dream I hope is not too far away. Last year was a step in a good direction of personal growth that I intend to pursue.

Adelaide is certainly different to Europe but I'm not worried. It won't take long before we're uber cosmopolitan and I feel like I'm back in some exotic capital. For example, I heard on the radio today that by 2013 we are going to have "Smart Cards" that you charge with a value and swipe on both the bus AND the tram to get around. Talk about fancy! But for now, I'm liking where I am and busy myself by working out how much of my future salary I need to save for the next trip.

There's no place like home, right?

Why Home is Nice #21

2010-02-07T22:39:00.001+10:30

Little Cupcakes

2010-02-03T10:08:00.001+10:30

Chai and Cupcakes from Little Cupcakes

7 Degraves Street, Melbourne

Good Morning Australia

2010-02-03T09:19:00.001+10:30

I've only just finished unpacking but it's actually been nearly 3 weeks since I woke up in a Melbourne bedroom at lunchtime, a little dazed and confused after a 26 hour journey and a 3 hour nap to get me through Arrival Day. The whole Dubai thing meant I had to land in Melbourne instead of Adelaide, and what better excuse to spend some quality time with my I've-Been-Home-For-7-Weeks boyfriend.

I don't think there's much to say about the journey home. On the plane, I made friends with Newcastle Joe next to me, whom I originally mistook for Irish Joe and then Scottish Joe. Conversation was sparked on account of him reading the same book as I was. Lo and behold, the woman next to him also had it on her lap, so we all discussed whether The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo was a book about tattoos, as Newcastle Joe has suspected. It is not.

I will say that Emirates is a fantastic airline, not least for their pre-flight service, which I've mentioned, but they also have electricity plugs in Economy. Newcastle Joe assured me he's seen it before on other airlines but I sure hadn't, and so I had plenty of laptop juice to get me by when I got sick of the 46,000 movies and TV shows they had. I like to think I appreciate the small things in life.

Being a small and somewhat flexible person, I can usually find some sort of obscure yoga position to sleep in, as is required in Economy. For whatever reason, this position eluded me and I barely managed a few winks before arriving at Melbourne International the following morning. I dragged my things through Customs and smiled at the Customs Officer wearing a Spiderman Mask, a small reminder that although we have some pretty strict immigration and import restrictions, home-grown inappropriateness has still managed to infiltrate every government department.

At the Arrivals Hall, there was a very smiley young man with a self-made haircut and a SwedishWifeFinder.com sign peering eagerly at the crowd. He looked like fun, so I went up to him and asked for a lift into town. He turned out to be Grant, which was convenient because I was staying at Grant's house.

Grant and his family took me in and nursed me back to sanity, which, surprisingly, didn't take too long. I was spoiled rotten and I loved every minute of it. At this point, I think it's good to mention that going straight home to my own house might have been more of a shock to the system. When you go back to your own country after a year away, it's worthwhile going somewhere that isn't your hometown first. That way, things are just different enough to ease you back into comfort and the reverse culture shock is toned down. You can stay in tourist mode a little longer, but now you can read the bus timetable and stop converting the price tags in your head.

Ok, so I was converting Australian prices back to Euros and thinking "Wow, that's cheap!"

So I was back on home soil. It was just enough like home, but still a step away. I wasn't sure if Grant's Mum was saying "graff" or "grarph", but I didn't really mind. I woke up after that first nap and listened to the Magpies warbling outside the window, then lay in the hammock on the back lawn and ate half a box of Barbecue Shapes. It certainly was nice to be there.

A Desert Safari

2010-02-01T19:44:00.000+10:30

With winter pretty well covered, it was finally time to make my way home. I had a defrost layover planned in Dubai and so it was with a heavy heart I packed my 48kg of luggage into 30kg of baggage and made my way to Heathrow Airport.

Again, and I cannot stress enough how thankful I am to everyone who took me in this year, I was fortunate to stay with a friend who showed me some of the best the city had to offer. This is one of the best things about travelling - the people :)

So, merely days after it was officially opened, the Tallest Building In The World stood towering above the Emirates as I flew in over the Gulf and landed in some very welcome sunshine. I took the Newest Metro In The World and after putting down some bags, took a taxi to the Most Expensive Marina in the World. I navigated the Most Non-Existent Footpaths In The World, and after crossing an 8 lane highway, walked past the Royal Palace and the Biggest Fake Palm Island In The World to the Most Expensive And Exclusive Hotel In The World.

Later that night, a very friendly friend of a friend came by to take me to the Biggest Mall Outside The US, which is home to the Biggest Aquarium Inside A Mall. Outside, the Tallest Building In The World was lit by millions of lights and if that wasn't enough to get your attention, at it's feet was the Nicest Water and Light Show In The World. Just because.

The next day, with nothing planned and a slight feeling I was missing out on something, I began to trawl the internet. What to do in this most strange city, built on sand? Why, take a 4WD safari trip, that's what! At 1.30pm, I organised a pick-up at my room at 3pm, and the next 6 hours were filled with about as much sand as I could handle.

That night, with a belly full of Arabian BBQ and my henna tattoo staining the sheets, I lay in bed and thought a lot of thoughts, some of which I still haven't figured out.

And the next day, I went home.

Sand, Surf and Snow

2010-01-22T18:28:00.000+10:30

Jurmula Beach, Latvia

A Taste of Latvia

2010-01-21T18:34:00.000+10:30

As if I hadn’t experienced enough hospitality yet, I took up my penultimate invitation and flew to Latvia, just in time for Russian Orthodox Christmas. My lovely Russian friends with whom we had many a dumpling in Caen took me in from the cold in Riga, and I got to experience another part of Europe, where had I not had people to visit would otherwise not have been to.

One of the thing that sticks most about my time in Riga is the food. For memories’ sake, I asked Katja and Polina to write down everything we tried. Both the Russian and Lativan Lido’s took me back to my Sizzler days (circa 1992, but at 1971 prices), but introduced me to some of the tastiest food this side of the Eastern block.

I’ve done my best with the Russian, Latvian and ango-version spelling, and due to the dark, cost nature of the restaurants, I didn’t take any photos. These photos are all sourced elsewhere (click for links), but give you an idea of the cuisine, which is delicious.

борщ (Borshch) - traditional red soup with sour cream and garlic

Холодец (Holodiec) - boiled meat and jelly

Hvorost - fried pastry, similar to Italian crostoli

блины (Blini) - Russian pancakes

Mors - hot brewed cranberry drink

Soļanka - soup with garlic, sour cream, black olives and lemon

Pelēkie zirņi - Latvian grey peas with bacon and onion

Голубцы (Golubci) – cabbage leaf rolls with meat and rice

Драники (Draniki) – potato pancakes with sour cream

PS: Never can say goodbye...

2010-01-17T15:10:00.000+10:30

As I said to my friends, it is merely See You Soon and not Goodbye, and I can’t completely leave Sweden without mentioning a little more of the mischief that went on there. It was just 4 weeks ago I arrived, but with everything I have done since, it could easily seem like an eternity. Airports come and go, and already I am 6 flights away, trying to remember everything that happened.

Coming from Copenhagen on the train, I busied myself with iPod Swedish lessons. Combined with my acquired knowledge of the language on my Summer trip, I thought I had it covered when I wanted to interrupt someone and ask for help. Thank goodness I stuck with “Prata du engelska?” (Do you speak English?) instead of what I thought was “Excuse me”. I almost told a complete stranger to “Shut the hell up” because håll käften and ursäkta sound quite similar (despite obvious differences in spelling), and I was really nervous.

Nevertheless, I arrived without offending anyone, and was already back where I left off with my Swedish friends. It was still Kalmar, but now it was Kalmar with snow. We threw snowballs at each other on the way to the student bar on Saturday night, and the big stone ball by the mall wasn’t rolling in its watery base any longer. Instead it was frozen, motionless, and I toyed with the idea of sitting it on vodka instead of water for year-round movement. Then I remembered I was in Sweden and was overcome with images of the local licking the fountain.

We didn’t stay in Kalmar long, opting for a cheaper 6 hour bus to Stockholm in preparation for Christmas and New Year. I was fortunate to have the hospitality of the Hedberg family in both Stockholm and Mariefred, where I spend my first White Christmas. I had sent my letter to the North Pole and was well and truly inundated with my wishes coming true. As previous photos have shown, flying down hills on a Snow Racer and trotting through the forest on horseback are a far cry from my usual BBQ in the park for Christmas, but it was a completely unforgettable experience that I don’t think I would have traded for the usual given the option.

Back in Stockholm, the snow-covered balcony was the perfect spot to watch the New Year’s Fireworks, all of which are completely legal, unlike Adelaide where even weak little sparklers were banned from outdoors at the risk of starting a fire in the 40-plus heat. We took a walk by some of the many waterways, where thin layers of ice and snow hid the waters and boats were frozen into position at their moorings.

So I’ve covered the snow, Christmas, New Years, and a few other things. The more I do, the more I want to remember every day - and yet the last few weeks have slipped by, and the journey is almost at an end. The pictures help tell the story, but they don't always cover everything. Now, I think it’s safe to move on to Latvia, which I did just over 1 week ago…

Hejdå Sverige

2010-01-08T01:30:00.001+10:30

Swedish Eye Candy

2010-01-07T18:30:00.002+10:30

I like looking at wallpaper. I've never lived in a house with wallpaper, but there is a LOT of it in Sweden and it's REALLY COOL. I think it's because I like patterns. Bright patterns. Some people think they're too loud but I like them screaming :) I would spend all day in interior stores in Sweden because (a) they fill me with happiness and (b) it's -18 outside.

On my travels I've come across a few illustrators that caught my eye. The latest one is Ingela P Arrhenius. I can barely afford anything she's created but I did manage a small notebook, because I have hardly any notebooks and I needed a new one *cough cough*. Here it is, isn't it just so... Swedish? Snyggt!

Some of Ingela's work:

Another place that I could spend all day in is Svenskt Tenn. I wasn't prepared to sign over my first-born there either, but I did employ my "browse-diamonds-at-Tiffany's-and-buy-a-keyring" technique, resulting in a very flashy gift bag. I think the lady on the bus thought I was pretty fancy.

Sveskt Tenn is where you can indulge your Josef Frank fantasies. Wallpaper, fabric, lamps, foot stools and tea trays in all the patterns you could want. Staying with my friend Rebecca at her parent's house didn't help me much - her mother has great taste. Thank goodness she reminded me that I needed an Elephant lamp and a Manhattan map stool, I'd forgotten all about them!

This is my last day in Sweden, and I depart with a heavy heart and a very light purse. I spent the last 2.5 weeks having an absolute ball, thanks to my favourite Swedish people. As we said, it's not goodbye, just See You Soon!!

Christmas Eve

2010-01-07T01:03:00.000+10:30

What English Lacks

2010-01-05T22:55:00.001+10:30

One of the best things I've collected this year is words. With so many friends from all over the world, speaking some pretty interesting languages, you begin to realise that despite the superfluous lexemes existing in our lexicon, we sometimes have to use many words where some countries have figured out just one.

One of my favourites so far is hygge. One of the fundamental aspects of Danish culture, hygge doesn’t have an equivalent word in English. Some translate it as ‘coziness’ or ‘tranquility’, but it’s more than that. It describes a state of mind, an atmosphere, a little space full of the good things in life. Hygge is a complete absence of anything annoying, irritating, or emotionally overwhelming. When you’re on the couch with someone special and the fire is roaring and you’ve got hot chocolate, that can be hygge. When you’re lying under a tree in park on a summer day, the sun warming your face, listening to the wind through the leaves, that’s hygge.

With Denmark’s long, cold winters, you can understand why Danes would want to cheer themselves up a little with some candles and a good chat with family or friends. Hygge and Christmas are closely related in Denmark – Danish does not have a word for Christmas, and use Jul to describe the season. It has pagan origins, a winter feast, and food is often a good part of hygge. Jul provides lots of opportunities for hygge - Gingerbread cookies or a hot cup of glögg are almost instant hygge, provided the setting is right.

Swedes have a similar thing, but they don’t call it hygge. Swedish and Danish are quite close, they share many traits and words, but not even Sweden has hygge. Sweden has fika.

Swedes drink coffee. On average, 4.5 cups per day, the highest in the world. Fika isn’t about drinking coffee, just like hygge isn’t about any one thing either. Fika is like a mini-hygge, a chance to take a break in a busy day and enjoy some good conversation over a drink. You can’t eat too much, otherwise it’s called lunch, or dinner, but you can enjoy a cinnamon bun with your coffee. It can be short, like a work break, or much longer, stretching over hours as you catch up with an old friend.

If you’ve ever been to Ikea, you might have noticed they sell a lot of candles. Scandanavian people love candles, and candles are one of fika and hygge’s best friends. Many houses don’t even have overhead lighting, it’s just too harsh. At Christmas, you just light the Adventsljusstake, the Advent candles that sit in everyone’s windows. Of course, having candles in the window all night can be a little risky, so you can buy electric ones. And that’s what I plan to do today, find an adventsljusstake, on REA (sale). And cram it into my suitcase so I can enjoy Christmas in July later this year.

And maybe a little hygge. I love that word.

Let It Snow

2010-01-05T10:38:00.000+10:30

The new year has begun but the adventure isn't over just yet. I could hardly stop writing just because I've left France - and much of the last three weeks of 2009 was the most memorable, probably due to recency, but more likely due to all this white stuff lying around.

I left Caen, made a stop in London and then flew to Copenhagen, where upon stepping out of the plane saw for the first time snow falling from the sky. I'd seen some dirty leftovers in Seoul last year, and a tiny bit in Paris when I arrived, but this was the first REAL snow. It was floating down, and as I made my way out of the Copenhagen metro, I stood and watched as it settled on my bag and on the street.

I happened to be in town at the same time as some very important people with their big private jets who were discussing something about how warm it is, but I think they must not have been spending enough time outside, because it certainly wasn't warm where I was standing.

A few days later, on a train to Vejen near the German border, I saw more of it than I had imagined. The train journey was supposed to take 3 hours but it took 6, and all the changes along the way that annoyed everyone else were my opportunity to get outside and play in the stuff. It was causing havoc but it was also something out of a fairy tale.

The sound that snow makes when you crunch it under your boots is hard to describe and even harder to imagine - it's kind of squeaky and crunchy at the same time. I imagine if you could turn the sensation of chewing alfoil into a sound, it would be similarly entertaining, without the pain. You can kick the snow drifts and send puffs of white into the air. You can lie down in it and wave your arms and legs about or you can roll it up and throw it at people. You can eat it (but not the yellow parts as I'm told) or just look at it as it fall silently, making even the ugliest things beautiful. It's a highly versatile and entertaining substance, and to think, it's just water...

I was in Vejen to visit my very first friend Chris, who moved to Denmark about 3 years ago. He and his girlfriend Kristina have a very good backyard for playing in the snow, so that's what we did. We searched the garden shed for good sleds but all we found was a few plastic bags and some old skis that just sank in the powdery snow.

We shared some hygge (to be explained), a Christmas table, and a few snowballs, and as soon as it had begun, Denmark was over. I had a date with a fat man and some presents in Sweden...

Another Year Over

2009-12-31T21:31:00.000+10:30

I started this blog on the 1st of January this year with this graphical interpretation of my expectations for the year:

Life would be rosy, I'd have a pink scooter and my hair would always be perfect. I'd jet about Paris in designer couture and share some love as I went. In actual fact, I was both wrong and right all at the same time.

The skies have often been rosy - sunsets in Santorini and Seville are indeed impressive. But it's not always pink or purple or orange. Grey skies made their way in plenty of times, and some of those times were tough. It was dark and cold in UK, and the heavens showed no mercy in Malta. Just as life is not all sunshine and rainbows, neither was the year. But I took them all as they came, and some of those rainy days in Caen where I was shut up in my room with a cup of tea and a good book were equally impressive on my memories.

I never did get a pink scooter but I had a cool bike called Matilda who took me into town a few times, to the laundromat when the washing machine broke, to my friend's houses and to the supermarket. Dad fixed her tyres when she was feeling flat and she's still at Euro Res now, taking somebody else around town. I think I've covered every possible mode of transport, including countless flights, trains, and metro rides, taxis, buses, ferries and even a horse-drawn carriage. I drove on the wrong side of the highway in the wrong side of the car with a gear stick on the wrong side through the snow the other day - and I didn't die.

As for perfect hair, even that featured a couple of times. Fixed with lilies for the Prom, it grew to my shoulders until July. Then I got sick of it as I always do, and had it cut for free by a student in Edinburgh. In Champagne, after a couple of tasting at the cellars, I literally walked right into a salon and got my fringe back. Since then, I've been looking after it myself with a pair of hair scissors from Carrefour. I even earned a block of chocolate and two hugs for cutting other people's hair at home. Considering the price of haircuts in Europe, I could have charged more, but I'm just looking forward to a decent style again when I get home, for a decent price.

I learned that some days its ok for your hair to be awful anyway. When it's 40 degrees and all you have to keep cool is a spray bottle, you change your priorities. When it's -12 outside and you've got a furry hat and a scarf wrapped around your head, it doesn't matter how your hair looks when you finally make it to the supermarket.

That leads me to the designer couture. Despite visiting Paris 19 times this year, I did not stock up on Louis Vuitton or Hermes. If someone offered me a fancy leather handbag or a year abroad (they cost the same), I know what I'd choose. But that's not to say that I didn't buy anything - a pretty recent journal entry is testimony to that. By the way, of course I didn't manage to fit it all in my case, even with 4 Space Bags. 2.5 boxes were sent home, half of it was rummaged through by those that were staying, and currently 15kg of it sits in London awaiting my return. I've learned that most 'stuff' is just that - if you don't have one thing, you'll have something else, and sooner or later you're sick of it anyway, you throw it away, you lose it, it gets stolen, or just sits there collecting dust. The most important things I have now are already back at home - some are packed in one little box that's already arrived safely, and the others sit waiting for me to return.

As for romance, I had my share of dramas. Those who were involved know who they are and I'm not going to repeat it all now, but life doesn't always go according to plan. Sometimes things are great, sometimes they don't work out, you make mistakes and life keeps going. I have something very special now and I wouldn't give that up for anything. I've learned that those who love you will stick by you no matter what, and maybe even stop in to say Hi.

Having my parents visit and climbing the Eiffel Tower together will be something I will always remember. Going to Italy together to meet new family was so special for all of us, and meeting the families of those who are my new loves is something yet again. The friends I have made this year, those I have lived with, spent every day with, studied with - I'd leave everything I had at a charity store if I could just take these people home with me. Fortunately some of them will be at home when I get there, but others will stay on this side of the world. I've been welcomed into homes, fed, sheltered, and cared for like a sister or daughter by so many lovely people this year, and each of them have made my life brighter. Especially at Christmas, when I am usually surrounded by my family, my fears of homesickness were almost abolished - I was absolutely not alone and still felt as much love as when I am at home. The only thing I wanted was for everyone to come and join me in the snow!

As I said very early in the year, before I left, "being given the chance to study in another country is something that has an effect on you. You end up learning more about yourself than anything else." I stand by that now - but reflect with a strange sense of knowing, that none of my lessons were learned in a classroom.

Knowledge comes from doing, and I certainly did a lot this year.

And so tonight, on this last day of one hell of a year, I see the clock strike 12 with some of the closest friends I have made, not just this year but in my life. They have shared so much with me and I am beyond happy to be able to share this night with them. I miss everyone at home, but in just 2 weeks I'll be back where I started and will have thousands of photos to pour over, hundreds of Facebook statuses to keep up with, and a few regular phone calls to make.

Happy New Year to everyone, and may the next one be as good as this has been. I'd like to see it try.

On my Nose and Eyelashes

2009-12-19T03:13:00.000+10:30

♥ something cute

2009-12-16T09:53:00.003+10:30

This week the theme is Pets Only, which thankfully includes all animals. This shot has got to be in my top 10 favourites of the year, because it was (a) the first squirrel I ever saw and (b) because I fed him peanuts and got him to pose. He's no pet of mine, but if I could train him to dance I would.

See the rest of the entries at I ♥ Faces.

White Wine in the Sun

2009-12-14T11:15:00.002+10:30

by Tim Minchin

And if my baby girl
When you're twenty one or thirty one
And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself 9000 miles from home

You’ll know whatever comes
Your brothers and sisters and me and your mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun

Girl when Christmas comes
Your brothers and sisters
Your aunts and your uncles
Your grandparents, cousins
And me and your mum.
Will be drinking white wine in the sun
Waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Waiting for you

I really like Christmas
It’s sentimental I know

Low Cholesterol, Low Fat

2009-12-14T04:13:00.001+10:30

I'm getting ready to leave, with a few last minute essential details to cover, such as which meal I would like on my plane flight. I have to hand it to Emirates, their online customer service is great. I've chosen my seats, now for dinner:

Who knew in-flight cuisine gave you CHOICE??!

PS: I love that you can purposely choose a Bland Meal.

The Airport Prayer

2009-12-14T01:31:00.000+10:30

Our Hostess, who art at Check-In

Hallowed be thy scales.

My clothes have come.

My shopping done,

my shelves as they are in retail.

Give me this day my boarding pass.

And forgive me my excesses,

As I forgive you for not upgrading me.

And lead me not into Customs Inspection,

But deliver me from baggage charges.

Amen.

I am simultaneously disgusted at and proud of myself.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

2009-12-12T05:36:00.001+10:30

It was ZERO degrees when I went for a walk this morning. That's quite chilly where I'm from. I was thinking about all the Christmasy things that don't make sense at home - snowmen, hot pudding, fireplaces... but now they DO! It's cold and frosty and all I want is a roaring fire and some cocoa and snow! Lots of snow! I've instructed my Swedish friends, whom I'll be spending Christmas with, to make sure there is plenty for my arrival next week.

Recipe and image from A Field Journal

Tonight I'm making Mulled Apple Cider, in celebration of my LAST DAY OF UNIVERSITY. Yes, after 7 years, it's about time I had something to say for myself. I haven't officially graduated, but I had my last class, and have just two papers to hand up and I'm done!

So here we are, Kate and Katie, on our last day of school, in front of our French University. It's exactly 2 weeks till 25 December and it's beginning to look a lot like... Christmas!

To Go or Not to Go?

2009-12-10T06:16:00.001+10:30

That is the question, and one not usually answered with difficulty. We're studying Tourism again, and if I've got all the 'enabling factors' (desire, time and money) I don't usually think twice about jetting off to see some amazing attraction. But then I thought about this:

By the time I arrive home in January, I'll have been on 22 flights for the year. That means I'm responsible for about 7 tonnes of CO2. I have to admit, I feel a bit guilty. I don't go around burning piles of plastic bags and car tires, but I don't voluntarily neutralise my emissions with Ryanair either.

We were discussing this in class today, which brought us to the idea of a tourist tax. The idea that you should pay a tax for all the destruction you cause in your effort to see the Taj Mahal or the Acropolis or Stonehenge. As if the entry fees aren't enough already, some places have already implemented additional levies to try to undo some of the damage. Lots of churches in Europe ask for a donation for their upkeep, so why not everyone?

But here's the thing: when we go to visit ancient/fragile/historically significant things, we are contributing to their destruction. And not just those of us who scratch our name into them, or chip off a bit to take home, but every single person who goes there. The floors of Versaille, the canals of Venice, the stone of the Great Wall - they all feel the wear and tear over time. We can patch them up, or rebuild them completely, but then they're not really the same, are they?

So, our discussion moved to the concept of banning tourism. Do we shut down the ticket booths, lock the gates, and stop people going to these places to ensure they're not worn away to nothing? If so, if our only experience of these wonders is in books and films and photos, are they even worth preserving? Are we willing to pay to protect something we'll never see?

Oooh, I'm getting all uppity about the environment, sure, but seeing some the great wonders makes you wonder yourself - how much longer will they last? I'd like to think I saw Venice before it sank under the weight of over-fed tourists, but ideally I'd like to have seen it and be able to send my kids or grandkids to go see it too. I want it to last!

Do you think places should limit the number of visitors?

Do you think we should just keep going and worry about it when they're gone?

Or should we shut the shop, throw over the dust sheet and just wait till there are suitable virtual reality visits?

Food for thought. And seeing as food is low, I'll chew on this one for a while.

Lilium auratum

2009-12-07T05:16:00.002+10:30

I thought Australia was only 9 or 10 hours ahead of me, but for some reason they think it's Christmas already, and now all of mine have come at once. I only wanted one thing, and I got it yesterday!

So now I can do this:

Thank you Mum and Dad. Thank you Grant. I am going to have my first Christmas away from home, my first (fingers crossed) white Christmas, my first Russian Orthodox Christmas, and now my Baltic festivities can be captured in every little detail. You have made one little girl's Christmas pretty awesome already!

A French Safari Health Tip

2009-12-06T03:01:00.002+10:30

Caffeine

2009-12-04T11:18:00.002+10:30

Caffeine.

It turns out 100mg WILL keep you nice and alert for hours. Especially when you're not a coffee or Coke drinker.

I've never been a student that relies on drugs. I get pretty wired after one Red Bull, which is all I can afford on a night out. But this evening, when we had a 9,000 word marketing plan to get through, I gave in.

I took it.

I took NO-DOZ.

And I'm not tired yet.

Bon Appétit!

2009-12-03T09:46:00.001+10:30

It's stocktake time at Euro Res, but there are no amazing sales or bargains to be had (unless you want to rifle through a Carrefour bag of odds and ends, I'll accept donations). Sure, I'd rather sell it than store it, but this stocktake is more of the culinary nature.

I have 12 breakfasts, 12 lunches and 11 dinners left in my little house. I have to get through:

3 kinds of pasta
half a box of couscous
4 sachets of rice
ravioli in a tin
paella in a tin
haricots blanc in a tin
peaches in a tin (I was worried about a nuclear holocaust, obviously)
puréed tomatoes
popcorn
4 mini jams
crackers
20-odd tea bags
1 litre of olive oil
1/2 box muesli
2.5 jars of pesto
2 cloves of garlic
3 onions
1 leek
a lemon

So I'm thinking - crackers with onion and jam for breakfast tomorrow, and maybe a solid carb pasta/rice/couscous salad with a cup of tea for dinner? Ravioli is a dessert, isn't it? Oh wait, that's tiramisu.

Hmmm. Let's go back to that divine restaurant in Malta... house-made tagliatelle scented with truffle and rosemary, served with Xewkija mushrooms and parmesan cheese.... Pan roasted tenderloin of locally-reared pork with char-grilled sweet and sour pumpkin, rosemary, thyme and pumpkin seed gravy infused with local honey... hot soufflé with Grand Marnier...

Or the time we went to La Poterne in Caen with Katie's parents... Tarte d’andouille de vire et de livarot moulin de carel... Magret de canard, foie gras et pommes confites... crème brûlée...

There's always the Vegemite in a tube if I, you know, get hungry.

Any ideas?

♥ an old flame

2009-11-30T23:21:00.001+10:30

I was pretty happy to see my last entry at I ♥ Faces get a special mention, and lots of people were really kind to leave such nice comments.

This week the theme is I ♥ Tooshies, which conjures thoughts of lots of bums in nappies, but since I don't have anyone like that around, I thought I'd enter this shot of an anonymous couple looking out over the Eiffel Tower. They seemed to me like a couple thay might have said one day in their twenties "We'll make it to Paris one day, my love." And there they were. Awwwww!

Storm in a Teacup

2009-11-30T01:14:00.000+10:30

Taken on my bedroom floor this morning.

Communal Living 101

2009-11-29T04:47:00.000+10:30

Living just doors away from your friends has its advantages. Sure, parties get big pretty quickly, and we're all sharing one washing machine between 59 apartments, but let's accentuate the positives.

Like making Russian dumplings with your Russian friends. Or schnitzels and glü wine with the Germans. There was the mighty Australia v Britain Mite-Off between Vegemite and Marmite, and the big Spanish lunches complete with sobremesa. You can borrow saucepans, spatulas, butter, pasta, spices... You can introduce each other to all sorts of delicious oddities, and never have to venture outside.

Now please excuse me, I have a curry waiting in No. 36.

Money in the Bank

2009-11-28T11:01:00.002+10:30

Apparently, it's rather outrageous that someone would want to deposit cash in the bank here in France. Faced with my last rent payment, an insufficient bank balance and a subsequent cash injection, I thought it a rather natural thing to just pop down to the bank and deposit the bills in my account.

I waited in line, I got to the counter, I had all the right French words, but the teller laughed at me. Laughed! Ok, perhaps it was more of a scoff. A scoff!

Me: I would like to deposit this money.
Teller: *pitiful smile*
Me: Ummm...?
Teller: No.
Me: Ummm...?
Teller: Sacré bleu! French french french 9am to 12 noon french french castle french french french automatique.
Me: Oh.

So I have to go to the branch near the Castle between 9 and 12 and use the ATM. I think.

This woman works stupid hours, and not stupidly long but stupidly stupid. They have lunch-time closures and a day off on Monday because they had to work 3 hours on Saturday morning. So I guess I will have to carry my money around in my shoe like a normal crazy person until I make it to the castle.

After all, this is France. You just give up on things making sense.

Dear Santa

2009-11-26T10:30:00.001+10:30

Dear Santa,

Mum said I have to ask you for the expensive stuff, so if you have a Canon EF 85mm f/1.2L USM II lens in your bag, please give it to me.

I've been really good this year.

Really, really nice photos by Siebe

♥ a little flare

2009-11-24T02:15:00.001+10:30

I'm a bit of a lurker when it comes to other blogs, so I'll admit it's taken me a while to get involved with I ♥ Faces, but I saw this week's challenge and I thought of this shot I'd taken a little while back of my gorgeous friends Alice and Katie on our trip to Champagne.

If you're into photography (specifically portraits) and need a little inspiration every now and then, have a look at:

Bragging Rights

2009-11-17T07:37:00.000+10:30

My apologies if you know me and you've read about this already, but I thought I'd mention it here.

Not long ago I wrote about Grant's birthday in Malta, and mentioned a certain present. He did most of the work actually, I just helped with the presentation. Well, this is it:

My boy wrote a book. He told me about it not too long after we first met, and I wanted to read it, but he said it was in no form for reading. After all, 175,000 words on a computer screen are hard to get through, hence only a couple of readers had ever finished. Not to be deterred, I was given the file and the matter all but forgotten.

He did ask me a couple of times over the next few months how I was going, if I liked it, where I was up too. "Oh, it's good, I'm starting to get into it," I'd say. Then I'd tell him all about the 'real' novel I was reading at the time (The Book Thief, highly recommended). "When I finish this one, I'll read your's."

Truth was, I'd printed the manuscript, read it twice, added a few missing full stops and had it printed at Blurb. It turned out really well - it looks and feels like a real book. Who am I kidding, it IS a real book! And sales have already sky-rocketed to double figures.

If you can't shamelessly plug your boyfriend's book on your own hedonistic online journal, where can you? There are boys with swords and snake-people but don't let that stop you - it's actually a decent read and I am more than proud of him. Ok, I'll shut up now...

Cobra

1st Edition

By Grant D Mills

Book Preview

The Last of the Autumn Leaves

2009-11-15T20:52:00.000+10:30

Carte Postale

2009-11-12T08:39:00.000+10:30

Once upon a time, I had an income. Mostly it was a tiny little wage from some big scary corporate, but every now and then people would let me do fun things, and then pay me for it. Those fun things became Urban Safari. For government/student relations, I had to put a hold on that while I was away, but it hasn't stopped me having fun. I've really gotten into photography and it's changed my direction a little.

After my first thousand or so photos, with them all sitting quietly on my hard drive, I thought it would be nice to, you know, print them. As my grandmother told me, she can't take the computer to bridge to show the girls my photos - she needed real ones. Long story short - the postcards I could buy from tourist spots were (in my opinion) not that nice, and I had some good shots I wanted to ~~show off~~ share. Enter Moo - problem solved! Real, sturdy photos, with space to write on the back and put your stamp and plenty of room for your photos!

I chose a few pics from my first month abroad, made 20 postcards, and sent some home. The others were a bit mediocre, and I still have them under some dust somewhere. But since then, there have been thousands more photos taken, and now I have some favourites. So I've made some more postcards, added a new name and some decorations - and they're on their way in 5-15 business days! And because I want to thank all 7 of you who read my blog, you can even view the set here.

The Land Before Time

2009-11-09T10:52:00.000+10:30

When I imagined my time in Europe, I honestly didn't consider Malta. I had bigger plans, bigger countries on my list but, as it happens, the world has a habit of changing your plans. I came, I saw, I dived (or dove?) and I loved it. I've talked about the diving, I've talked about the landscape, but there's a couple more things before I move on.

Firstly, the towns. Malta is a Scrabble player's dream - Xhagra, Marsaxlokk, Birzebbuga... If proper nouns were allowed, Xewkija would be worth 78 points - and don't get me started on the triple word scores.

I spent my days on Gozo, the smaller island. Frankly, it's a little behind the times, but in a good way. This is a place where 7-Up battles for top spot with Kinnie, and you can make up your mind about Best Soft Drink whilst enjoying a cheese or pea pastizzi for 25c. They complain that the euro has made everything three times more expensive, but they are still WELL behind France when it comes to expensive.

The buses are also cheap. Super cheap. As in, you can get around for 47c, and why wouldn't you when it's in one of these babies:

I really want to highlight the buses. Coming soon to a tea towel near you, these buses definitely emphasise the journey over the destination. Malta has several bus types that are no longer in service anywhere else in the world, and the operation model dates back to a system introduced in 1977. The bus authority determines the schedules, which are then operated by the private bus owners, who remain responsible for the condition and upkeep of their buses - and believe me, the Maltese know how to pimp a ride.

The Virgin Mary looks down from her spot above the windscreen, right next to framed photos of previous buses. They're all named, and they convene in Valetta around the enormous fountain like the cool kids hanging out at the mall.

We took one from the ferry into Valetta, the capital of Malta. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that the capital city has got to be a little more modern, a bit more 'with the times'. Well, it's not. But that's not a bad thing - life moves at a different pace, which is about as quick as ice cream melts.

We walked around Valetta for most of the day, stopping to see the noon canon fire over the bay, and again later at the snack bar for an icy cold can of Kinnie (think creaming soda with orange peel and spices). As you can see, Valetta is not a flashy place. Understated is a suitable term - it's not about to waste time with unnecessary pomp and glamour. It's certainly no Hotel Ritz, but this place on Gozo is:

Malta boasts no shortage of local characters. Here's a couple of my favourites:

I walked past this gentleman in Valetta, and couldn't help but smile. He smiled back, and I continued walking. A way up the street, I stopped and looked back. He was still looking at me, grinning. As if he had a thought bubble protruding from that hat, I could tell he was thinking "She totally wants my picture." He was right. I went back and asked if I could take his picture and he grinned even more. "Bingo," went that second bubble.

This dashing gent was parked by the Inland Sea on Gozo. I wasn't going anywhere near a man wearing two shades of red simultaneously, especially red corduroy, so I took to stealth approach and pretended I was photographing the van. Sneaky.

So there it is, my autumn vacation in Malta. 2 weeks well spent, and now I'm qualified to see the world up to 18m below sea level. Don't discount this place, it really is a different side of Europe and a welcome break from the account-draining streets of Paris or Rome. I loved it, and I think you could too.

Back in '88

2009-11-02T02:15:00.004+10:30

The world of scuba is not new to me. Memories of my childhood are littered with weekends away on dive trips, surrounded by big people dressed in rubber and lots of funny looking backpacks we weren't to touch. I've been naked in a tub more than once (Fig. 1, above) while Dad hosed stuff down in the backyard. My parents met through diving, so it was always part of their lives together, and subsequently part of my life with them.

Mum and Dad would sometimes take my sister and I along on their scuba trips, mainly to local beaches but once as far away as Vanuatu. I remember the big house we'd stay in with Dad's diving mates, the gear all spread out after a day in the ocean, and eating hot chip sandwiches. Christmas usually featured a crayfish, snapped up from the sea not too long before. Summer nights we'd sit out by the pool, eating scallops or the calamari my sister called 'the chewy stuff'. Every now and then, something weird would come home in Dad's bag. There was a blue-ringed octopus in the kitchen sink one time, and he got put in a jar of spirits and taken to school the next day. Even now, the sun shines into our dining room through a window full of dinglehoppers (Fig. 3) and snorfblatts.

Dad worked in a dive shop for many years, mainly the ones where we were too young to be left at home on school holidays. Plenty of days were spent messing up the shop while he filled the tanks. I'd try to pick up the lead weights and put snorkels on while asking Dad how much everything cost - he always knew the price of everything. Sometimes he'd get sick of Sally and I and stick us in the classroom upstairs. We'd draw on the whiteboard with permanent markers and then we'd be back downstairs again, getting in the way until he took us to the bakery for lunch.

I'd asked about diving when I was younger, and Dad gave me the PADI book to read. He said when I finished it, he'd get me in the pool. I got through Chapter 1, then High School rolled around and the manual was lost beneath textbooks and Girlfriend magazines. We stopped going on trips with Mum and Dad, and Dad stopped working in the dive shop. The wetsuits get used occasionally, but generally people are busy with other things.

I certainly didn't think it would take journeying to the other side of the world, but it would seem history has the habit of repeating itself. Now, with all the spare time in the world, and the convenience of a boyfriend working as a Dive Master, it's all back again (see Fig. 2, above). The smell of damp neoprene, salty kisses and hot chips for lunch - I think I could get used to this.

Dad, if you're reading this, you'd better get your wetsuit out because when I get home you're going to need it.

Under the Sea: Part 1

2009-10-30T19:23:00.003+10:30

Original image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarahfaulwetter/

Unfortunately, my camera is not able to come swimming with me. I've been doing my best to persuade Grant's boss to lend me his underwater one, but to no avail (yet). But I really wanted to share this jelly with you, because it was an incredible creature to come across in the water.

I was sceptical at first, but my instructor reached out with her gloved hand to pet one, and motioned for me to do the same, with my un-gloved hand. Tentatively I did so, and touched the "yolk" in the centre. It was surprisingly hard, but slimy, and as I ran my hand along the tentacles underneath he flapped his little skirt up and down.

Later that day, some kids came in to the dive shop to borrow snorkels and asked about the big yellow blobs floating about in the bay. I jumped up - "Touch them! Touch them!" - and they backed slowly away from the counter, away from the crazy jellyfish lady and out into the sunshine...

I really love those jellyfish.

A Gozitan Kind of Birthday

2009-10-29T07:01:00.002+10:30

Daylight savings finished on the weekend, and though the sun sets around 5.30pm now, we still had time to explore the island a little in the afternoon. It was Grant's birthday yesterday, and I finished my Open Water Diver course so, after our excursion, we had plenty of reasons to celebrate.

The diving has been taking it out of me, so I practised napping in the evening while G baked scones. We made Chinese dumplings from scratch for dinner, and washed them down with French champagne on the balcony. As far as presents go, I went a bit overboard. The lucky thing got a new toothbrush AND a Spanish mix tape, but the pièce de résistance was something I'm going to go into more details about at a later date. The official release date. And no, it has nothing to do with me.

Happy Birthday G. Remember, research has proven birthdays are good for you - the more you have, the longer you live!

Sunday Boot Sale Treasure

2009-10-26T06:12:00.002+10:30

Puss in Boots (1967)

Treasure Island (1950)

Adventures into Literature: Primary Book II (1949)

Columbus Geographies (1956)

Mother Nature's Babies (1947)

Mother Nature's Queer Creatures (1945)

Scored for the princely sum of €1.10.

Winds of Change

2009-10-25T03:21:00.001+10:30

Welcome to sunny Marsalforn! Fancy an after-dinner stroll along the seafront? Perhaps you should stay inside...

I took this photo last night, standing on the front step of the dive shop where Grant works. My feet got wet and I got a little spray on the camera, but I was fine. This park bench was not fine:

The café next door, also not fine.

Grant found a large rock. There were lots of rocks rolling down the street in the water, some that would hurt an awful lot of you were in the way when they came flying out of the ocean. A few people were out playing in the water, or taking photos. Restaurant patrons were tucking their feet up as the water lapped at the walls. Conditions had not really improved by morning...

Some of the waves could reach second-storey windows across the street. Shops were flooded, rubbish bins lost forever, roller doors smashed in like they'd been hit by a car. These umbrellas escaped the carnage, and as far as I know it wasn't dangerous to any people. Just very unfortunate for those who didn't have sandbags or barriers outside their doors.

Needless to say, I have not been in the water today. I have, however, learnt that a decent change from a southerly to a north-westerly can do more than ruin your blowdry.

Gone Divin'

2009-10-24T06:02:00.000+10:30

It's the holidays. Again. Already. One thing's for sure, this exchange business is hard work.

I took the liberty of beginning on Tuesday instead of Friday, and have arrived in Malta to the sun, sea and my sweetheart. And this time, I think I have taken every available mode of transport to get here: tram, train, metro, bus, airplane, van, ferry, car. Did I miss something?

Grant was waiting for me at the port. The Hilux bounced along what was more potholes than road, and lead me not into temptation, but delivered me from evil. The mini-bus ride from the airport was evil. 100km-per-hour-through-Valetta-with-no-seatbelts kind of evil.

Later, I was tempted, by fruit salad on the terrace. We looked out on the yellow limestone of Marsalforn, Gozo, and at the risk being immediately dumped, I mentioned that the buildings made me think of Price of Persia 2, a relic of my 2-dimensional gaming 90s nerdy stage. Commander Keen, anyone? I wasn't dumped. It remind him too. Ah, the good ol' days.

Source: Symbian Star

But it was not the Arabic-esque architecture I'd come for. I sought a totally different landscape, and before lunchtime the next morning, I'd been wedged into a neoprene suit and stuck underwater with 6kg around my waist and another 12kg on my back. It's a new experience, and one I will elaborate on later.

But for now I got to run, curry is on the stove and it needs eatin'.

When I grow up...

2009-10-19T07:49:00.000+10:30

Next year I'm going to have 2 degrees. I don't even know if I want to use them... but I can do anything I want, right? I'm Generation Y! I'll have 14 careers before I'm thirty five!

Actually, I've already had more than 25 part-time jobs. Really. Is that wrong? I worked at McDonalds, at two supermarkets, a shoe store, a catering company, a juice bar, and a furniture store. I delivered the newspaper and looked after kids and helped my Dad and crossed names of the electoral roll. I've had 3 marketing jobs and now I'm almost qualified and I get to start my real career? Which will be... I have no idea.

The future is getting closer and I'm freaking out a little bit.

Here's one I prepared earlier...

2009-10-16T15:30:00.000+10:30

Warning. Contains actual vitamins.

Poached eggs + Carrefour muesli + Carrefour yoghurt + nectarine.

= Cheap.

= Real.

= Beautiful!

Desperate Times

2009-10-16T04:28:00.001+10:30

I've been watching the euros slip away all year, but perhaps excessively so since summer. 3 months of travel made a good dent in the bank account, and the last few weekends have been more of a sledgehammer approach to spending.

So, in order to ensure I don't starve over winter and make it to the other side of Christmas without resorting to begging, I'm being even more creative with meals. I've been good generally, and manage to keep food bills down to around €30 a week.

Semi-recently, my local supermarket - the much-adored Carrefour - brought out their own line, aptly named Carrefour Discount. Their in-store promos and leaflets tell me I can have a complete meal for €1. See examples:

Let's look at the Repas Tonus. I'm not sure of the translation for that one but I'm going with Toning Meal, aka Jenny Craig. I can have 100g of tabloulé, 100g of spaghetti, a mince pattie and a tub of yoghurt for 92c. But I have to buy the following:

Taboulé 95c for 500g

Spaghetti 40c for 500g

Mince Steak €4.69 for 10

Yoghurt €1.46 for 8

Total: €7.49

Then I have to eat the same thing for a week.

I'm not anti-homebrand as mentioned, but I am pro-variety. I am also pro-fresh, and I note the lack of vegetables in said "complete meal". Granted, there are coloured flecks in the taboulé, but the paella in the Spanish Meal comes from a can. I could eat the garnish but it's not included in the price. Actually, there's a warning at the bottom of the leaflet: Pour votre santé, mangez au moins cinq fruits et légumes par jour, or Eat Your Daily 5, for the anglophones.

So, fellow students and discount-lovers, proceed with caution. Of course I know they're only suggestions. We all need ideas on how to create a low-budget meal, so I'm going to take them on board and see what I can come up with. Heck, I might even take a picture of it and call it Food Styling. I've gone as far as I can with Mi Goreng noodles, it surely won't hurt to try something new.

Postcards from Dublin

2009-10-15T21:39:00.001+10:30

Coming soon...

2009-10-15T21:00:00.002+10:30

Just Another Weekend

2009-10-12T09:34:00.005+10:30

Gone for the stew. Back Wednesday!

Heid and Sieck

2009-10-09T07:15:00.000+10:30

When I turned 21, I was taken to a very nice restaurant for dinner. The food was great, but the two things I remember most were the bread and the wine, and I'm not even Catholic. The bread was crusty, warm, and oozing a lovely mixture of butter, honey and seeded mustard. The wine was Piper-Heidsieck champagne. A week later, at my party, I very selfishly enjoyed a bottle of Moët and gave my guests the house white. Hey, it was my birthday!

Now, in France, it was my European duty to ensure these two drops were as good on home soil as they are when shipped to the other side of the world. So we went to Champagne - yes, the actual place. You can't call it champagne unless it's from there.

Ok, so it's a region, like the Barossa or the Clare Valley. We stayed in Reims, and took a day trip to Épernay. These two are home to pretty much your who's who of Maisons de Champagnes. It was merry, it was gay, it was bubbles of little inspiration that had me chopping a fringe on a whim.

Then I found out Piper Heidsieck was closed.

To the public.

Sigh.

But it was a fine way to spend a quintessentially French weekend, with good friends and a good drop. The cellar tours are expensive yet educational, and just a little repetitive. They're certainly impressive, hundreds of kilometres of tunnels underneath the town, and loads of champagne. As in, Pommery alone has 25 MILLION bottles. At at least 30 euros a pop, that's some real estate!

More photos on Flickr

It's not always the inside that counts...

2009-10-07T07:34:00.003+10:30

Pastiglie Leone

Why, oh why did I not buy these when I saw them in Italy? I was in Turin, where they're made... what is wrong with me? Time to call in a favour from those relatives I think...

Wait. Do they sell them in Malta? Malta is close to Italy, right?

Grant?

My Life as an Intrepid Explorer

2009-10-06T00:22:00.001+10:30

This is me:

Source: Geek à lier

Well, it was me. Ok... it was the idea I had of myself a month ago in Spain. Maybe this will explain why...

*****

The confetti from the parade was still stuck between the cobblestones. The sun bore down on the street, and she shielded her eyes from the glare.

"Let's find some shade," she said.

They walked up by the cathedral, through the narrow lanes behind it and came out at the mirador. The view over the valley was incredible, but it was the path that lead down the cliff face that had their attention.

They wound their way down, and came to a well-worn patch of earth that afforded the real money-shot - the Puente Nuevo, one of Spain's most photographed landmarks.

Known as El Tajo, the gorge was created by constant erosion of the Guadalevín river, fed by mountain streams and melting snow high in the mountains of the Sierra de las Nieves. Water still runs through, and pools in places beside the dense foliage on the cliff-face.

Our adventurers were thirsty, but it wasn't for water. The remains of a building lay scattered where they stood, a sign of something from the past, something more that once existed. Their curiosity piqued, they took another path which led further down, into the bushes.

The cliff face rose up on their right, and the trees began to filter out the light and a little of the heat. Pushing branches aside, they were drawn deeper into the undergrowth, until the scene took on a new character altogether.

They broke into a clearing, and the young man wandered between pieces of rubble and low-hanging vines to explore this new place. A coke bottle lay on the ground, but for all they knew it had been there for years.

The sound of running water came from beneath, and could be seen flowing through holes in the cliff and under their feet.

"You said you wanted an adventure," he laughed. "Well, this is it!"

The girl was busy working out how to expose for the conditions, but she smiled when she heard him. Her feet were already dirty, and another path beckoned them to continue further.

There were signs of something here too - ageing concrete and bricks and plaster were engulfed by the foliage, but still visible.

"What is this place?" The question remained unspoken but it wasn't long until they had their answer...

"San Miguel Central Electric?" The tiled sign and the flowing water hinted at an industrial past, but there were few other clues to the mystery. Suddenly, the girl stopped - just short of falling down a very dark and rather uninviting hole. The chute led to something... but what?

With no rope to ensure an exit, climbing down wasn't really a option. But a little investigating further in the bushes would uncover a concrete stairway, to an equally dark and mysterious chamber. They looked at each other and grinned.

Fighting thoughts of crazed homeless Spanish men, she stepped down and into an archyway. The stairs were met by the earth, sloping down into a large room. From where they stood, they could see ancient paint peeling from the walls, and leaves littering the floor.

They stood in the doorway.

"There is no way I am going in there," he said. "I've played enough computer games to know what could happen."

"Ok. Wait for me out here then." And with that she disappeared into the darkness...

Somewhere in her mind, she was disappointed not to be the first one to discover this place. Plenty of other delinquents had strayed from the path, and left their marks in this room. She noticed the chute, the same hole she'd look down in only minutes earlier. She heard a rustle behind her, and her heart jumped into her throat.

"This is exactly like Resident Evil," he said, as he took in the surrounds.

It was less scary with the two of them in there, far less chance of being attacked by zombies. She felt a small seed of bravery implant itself in her stomach. This is certainly not what I expected when I got up this morning, she thought. The aspiring photographer inside made her step out on the ledge and peer around the crumbling walls. It was dark, darker than the pictures would later portray, but not impossible.

The water lay still here, the quiet adding to the eeriness. But there they were, giggling with fear and excitement at having had the adventure she had expressed her desire for. The followed a little further, and found other buildings they could only imagine uses for. Using a pencil, they added their own autograph to the wall, and with the slowly fading light, made their way back up to the look-out.

Climbing back under the archway that first lead them on the journey, they stopped to play with the shadows and reflect on their discovery. What started as an escape from the heat had become one the best memories of their voyage, and a lesson that things are often more than they appear.

So take the road less travelled... you never know what lies beneath.

Weekends are for...

2009-10-02T16:27:00.003+09:30

... petites vacances à Reims?

Well, this one is at least.
It's about time I did something cultural - Veuve-Clicquot cellars here I come!

Bon weekend!

Feria Goyesca - Ronda, Spain

2009-10-02T07:55:00.001+09:30

I think some of the best moments in travel come about when you least expect - you stumble upon a place you'd never heard of, book some random dates, and they turn out to be the most memorable. Ronda was that place for me. Between Seville and Malaga, I was pretty much Googling photogenic cities in Andalucia, when I came across the Puente Nuevo in Ronda (more on that later). It was on the way, so we booked 2 nights and arrived one afternoon in early September.

There were an awful lot of little girls in flamenco dresses, too many for an ordinary day I thought. But it was no ordinary day, it was the annual Feria Goyesca, a festival of traditional dress, bullfighting and (as we would discover) completely booked out hotels. We were lucky to get the 2 nights we did, and I suppose lucky to miss out on the ethical dilemma that is choosing whether or not to attend a bullfight. After off-loading 2 backpacks in the best room ever, we walked back down the main street into town and right into the Parade crowd.

And thus, our first night in Ronda was spent picking confetti from all the places it doesn't belong.

These two were completely into it - dancing up a storm before the parade began.

If ever there was a cheesey live cross, this is it.

Observers steal a minute from work to take in the atmosphere.

The effort that the town put into this parade puts David Jones' Christmas Pageant to shame.

I can't decide who's expression I love more - his, or the lady behind him.

The confetti was the closest I've been to seeing actual snowfall.

The Princess & The Pea

2009-10-01T05:06:00.002+09:30

At some point over summer, I bought tickets to see As You Like It at The Globe. I bought them over the internet, and when I was filling out the details part, I got the biggest choice of titles ever. Usually I just pick Miss or Ms, but here I could be a Doctor, a Baroness, a Reverend... I chose Princess, mais bien sûr!

The tickets arrived in a windowed envelope, robotically printed with my name - Princess Kate P. I have since received other mail addressed to Princess Kate, but I think he was being cheeky.

I'm not really a Princess, literally or metaphorically. I don't even have pointy shoes anymore. But it was fun anyway, just like the time I opened my bank account as Chief Colouring-In Officer...

Postcards from Seville

2009-09-30T01:09:00.003+09:30

Temperature: 40+ (celcius!)

Siesta: 1pm - 5pm

Cathedral: 3rd largest in the world

Survival Kit: Misting bottle & ice cream. Lots of ice cream.

Postcards from Granada

2009-09-27T02:49:00.001+09:30

Butterflies and Hedgehogs

2009-09-26T08:20:00.003+09:30

It must be all the free time I have these days, but I keep finding pretty things and collecting them. Today I filled my handbag with conkers - they were all over the ground near the museum we visited on an excursion, and now I don't know what to do with them. We don't have them in Australia (do we?) so I was just consumed with getting as many home as possible.

I think when you're not surrounded by everyone you know, when you don't have to go to work everyday or worry about the stresses of real-life, you starting finding joy in the little things. These days, simple colours make me really happy! I discovered Belgian illustrator Vincent Mathy via designworklife and all of a sudden I want to go out and buy his new book, Jour papillon ou jour hérisson? Then I want to keep it forever and read it to my children.

I also armed myself with 4 postcards from the museum - vintage posters advertising the Normandy region. At this rate, I'll be arriving home in a shipping container surrounded by conkers and paper goods. It's probably a nicer way to travel anyway!

Donner l'envie d'y aller

2009-09-25T09:13:00.003+09:30

I think a good photograph makes you feel something.

Someone was looking at my (printed) photo album the other day, at some photos of Greece. They saw a café, a dog, and a Greek pastry. He said "These are great, Kate." I said thanks. Then he said "I want to go to this café. I want to cuddle this dog, and I want to eat this pastry."

That was the best compliment I'd ever received. In French this is known as donner l'envie d'y aller, to give an inclination to go there. And when I take photos of places I've been, that's what I want to do. I want people to feel some of what I felt when I took it.

Coming shortly: Spain. Let me know how you feel!

Goes Like Lightning

2009-09-25T04:19:00.002+09:30

Oh la, cette semestre passent à la vitesse de l’éclair. Déjà l'automne!

It's nearly October! I'm 2 weeks into a 12 week semester and the year is absolutely flying. Does anybody else feel the same way?

I've been writing about visiting Italy, which was already a month ago. Since then I've also visited Spain and played tour guide in Paris for the second time... and even that feels like a distant memory.

The sun is setting at 8pm, a far cry from the midnight sun of Sweden, or even the 10pm dusk in Edinburgh. I left Caen at the start of summer and now I'm back with socks on my feet, eating soup for dinner. The tan lines are fading quickly and I'm already looking for cheap flights back to Australia. Slow down! I'm not ready to go home! I know I can't stop the inevitable passing of time, but I've got so much booked in already, it will go even quicker. What's that saying about having fun? A trip to Dublin, 2 weeks in Malta, a little more of France, then exams and Christmas (where else but Sweden)...

But for now, I've settled back in to Apartment 10C. I've got new housemates - lovely Spanish girls who cook and clean, which means communal dinners and a tidy kitchen afterwards - domestic bliss! Speaking of food, here's some we prepared earlier:

We've got 4 more Aussies, and everyone is getting along nicely. We're off to Dublin for Katie's birthday soon, with more escapades in the works as we speak. Yes, Caen Round 2 is looking to be quite the ride...

What I learnt in French today

2009-09-23T03:20:00.001+09:30

Read the translation or watch the film below (it's really cute!)

The Family Tree

2009-09-22T21:15:00.001+09:30

Monday 24th August, 2009: Fossano, Italy

L-R: Kate Paneros, Eliana Panero, Mario Panero, Mark Paneros, Monica Panero, Bronwyn Paneros

What do you think of when you hear the words Family Reunion? Is it smelly old aunts pinching your cheeks? Checking out your attractive second-cousin? Having to listen to your Grandpa tell the story about when he got his driver's licence?

A reunion really means to reunite, to get everyone together again. But what if you've never met? Not as daunting as Meet the Parents, because they're family - they have to like you. But driving to Fossano in our rented Fiat on Monday night, that was exactly what we were going to do. For the first time, we would meet our relatives, the Panero family.

Not having spoken English since high school, Monica Panero, together with Mario, had researched the family tree and organised dinner for us. She invited Eliana Panero, and others, but as it was summer holidays many were away on vacation. This did nothing to dampen the effect of such an event - upon meeting Monica, my Dad was visibly moved. Monica's father and my Dad's grandfather were cousins, and this was the closest Dad had ever been to his roots. From one black and white photo, to being in the same room as family on the other side of the world, I'd have to think my Dad was pretty pleased with the result.

There was much discussion about who was married to whom, who had which children and who was living where. Throughout dinner, another feast of local Piedimontese dishes, we got to know the people we'd come to meet. Eliana brought out a huge map of her family tree, and we filled in the question marks on ours, learning more dates and occupations and family gossip. When Francesco's father Guglielmo returned to Italy from Australia, he lived in a house built by his brother Mario, Eliana's father. She offered to show us this house the next day.

After dinner we were joined by a journalist for the local Fossano newspaper. Mario recounted the tale and we broke open the Spumante to celebrate. The following image is what I have so far of the Panero Tree, covering 6 generations. It would seem Francesco was a popular name for the boys! Not all details are here, as we are still compiling some information but it's a good start.

Thank God for the internet.

The Panero Family Tree (in draft format)

A Day Out in Turin

2009-09-21T05:56:00.000+09:30

Caffe Torino, one of the first cafés in town - gorgeous interior and good coffee.

One of four Roman City gates into Turin. The battlements date from 1404.

Two statues of Caesar flank the Porta Palatina gates - the man enjoyed his own image.

Keeping clean in the city streets.

Home to the infamous Shroud of Turin, which is kept in the royal chapel of the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist.

Every self-respecting Italian has one.

Personal favourite of the day - Mum, Dad and Super Mario.

Regent Arcade, eat your heart out. I want to shop here!

The best Continental Deli ever - Eataly!

Shelves and shelves of delicious Italian gourmet produce.

You can dine in for lunch, amongst the butchers for a steak, or the fishmongers for spaghetti marinara.

Pesto, which originated from Genova in Northern Italy.

The least stinky fish market I've ever been too.

I'm not a fan of capsicum, but Eataly's packaging and presentation is beautiful.

Turin was the birthplace of FIAT, or Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino. I was unlucky enough to own a FIAT Regatta 100s once upon a time.

What was once the factory is now a shopping mall, but the original test track is still on the roof.

Super Mario

2009-09-18T01:49:00.006+09:30

Southbound through Chambéry, we headed west at St-Jean-de-Maurienne, and sat gaping at the alpine scenery as we sped through the mountains. Great cliff faces loomed over the tracks, skirted by forest that thinned the higher it got, until the tops were void of all vegetation. The snow that usually capped these peaks had melted, such that the rivers alongside the rails flowed fast and full. Our third stop was Modane, where the douane (customs) came aboard. We left France through a tunnel, and arrived in Italy on the other side, in Bardonecchia. The douane had a catch:

“Monseiur, is this your passport?”
“Ouais.”

Cue nervous twitching and shifty eyes.

He left the train with the douane and then the train left the station.

We arrived in Turin and were met by Mario Panero, who was not actually related, but without whom our trip would have been fruitless. Secretly, I was hoping he would wear red overalls and have a brother named Luigi. Instead, at 74 years old, this retired IT pro was into computers when they took up a whole room and had less technology than your iPod. Dad found Mario’s son on Skype, with a simple surname search, and it started a domino effect, eventually leading us to actual living relatives. He’d put notices in the local paper, spoken to Panero-s around the region and organised our stay with the care my own grandfather would have given us.

Mario took us to the hotel he’d arranged, outside Turin in Cambiano. Then he took us to Chieri, where he lives with his wife Miranda. They insisted we join their family for dinner, which we did despite the language barriers. Mario speaks quite good English, but Miranda practically none. She studied French, as did her daughter, who also knew a little English. Fortunately, the local Piemontese dialect is very similar to French, so the dinner conversation was a little Franco-Italiano-Anglo, but we were all laughing as they described local opinion of the Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi.

In true Italian fashion, Miranda encouraged us through ten dishes including (but not limited to) local paté, stuffed endives, mushroom pasta, rabbit, three different desserts and fruit to finish. Frankly, I was surprised I didn’t explode on the way back to the hotel, but decided it was all energy for the day to come, and what a day it would turn out to be.