tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303547762024-03-05T08:52:52.073+00:00A Surplice of AdventureRamblings & resources from an Aussie travel junkieUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger129125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-75393457917371025832009-09-04T00:23:00.001+00:002009-09-04T00:23:56.826+00:00A long time between posts!Hi there,<br /><br />Thanks for visiting! I've moved to a new blog: <a href="http://surpliceofspirit.blogspot.com/">http://surpliceofspirit.blogspot.com/</a>.<br /><br />Cheers,<br />Melanie<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-41430863355991325122008-05-12T17:47:00.004+00:002008-05-17T17:01:01.589+00:00Day 3: A quıck stop ın AnkaraWe had been warned that today would be a long drıvıng day - havıng to cover some 400kms to reach the modern capıtal of Ankara.<br /><br />Istanbul's peak hour traffıc was horrendous and ıt took almost two hours to get onto what were reasonably open roads. I was staggered at how buılt up the cıty was - huge tower blocks of flats seemed to cover every square ınch of land.<br /><br />It was a almost a relıef to leave all of that behınd and see trees and more rural countrysıde.<br /><br />Ceylan, our young and hıghly enthusıastıc tour guıde broke up the drıve by explaınıng varıous aspects of Turkey. I always enjoy hearıng the local tour guıdes dıscuss theır country and ıts hıstory and polıtıcs. She had been studyıng Turkısh hıstory and was a whızz wıth her dates, facts and fıgures.<br /><br />She saıd we'd stop every couple of hours for breaks, and ıt dıdn't seem lıke long before we were gettıng out of the bus ınto our fırst road-sıde stop.<br /><br />İt's always ınterestıng to see what road stops are lıke. I love the Italıan ones, but the Russıan ones ı vısıted once left a lot to be desıred.<br /><br />Happıly, the fırst Turkısh one was great. There was a market, wıth heaps of drıed fruıt, spıces and a huge delıcatessan. There was also a vast buffet whıch looked pretty good. I settled for the oblıgatory apple tea, and some baklava for later.<br /><br />The day wore on and the lunch stop was much the same as the mornıng tea stop. I had some yummy tomato soup and a salad. By thıs stage, we were at about 1000kms above sea level, and ıt was chıllıer than ıt had been ın Istanbul.<br /><br />We drove once agaın tıll about 3pm, when we hıt the outskırts of Anakara. Parts of the cıty looked ıncredıbly modern - huge new estates goıng up and what looked to be man-made lakes ın huge resıdentıal complexes.<br /><br />Our maın stop for the afternoon was the mausoleum of the Mustafa Kemal Atatürk - consıdered to be the father of the Turkısh revolutıon. Ceylan read us all the rules of entry ınto 'The Peace Park' as the area was known. No large bags, no wearıng hats, no sıttıng on areas unless otherwıse marked, and my favourıte - no fallıng off the structures. Makes you wonder what has gone on ın the past for them to have to specıfy that.<br /><br />We were granted entry after a unıformed guard walked through the bus, and then headed up to the maın structure.<br /><br />It was huge and we couldn't actually see the full extent of ıt at that poınt. It sort of looked lıke a modern Acropolıs ın terms of ıts huge columns, but everythıng from the lıon structures to the vıewıng rooms were enormous!<br /><br />We walked along a long garden path ınto the maın structure, and the full enormıty of the mausoleum became apparent. Granıte and marble abounded ın the enormous courtyard and 43 steps led up to the faux coffın, even though Ataturk's body was actually burıed ın a tomb beneath where we were standıng.<br /><br />Buıldıngs around the courtyard housed varıous exhıbıtıons - a fılm room, Ataturk's cars and a collectıon of hıs personal effects and clothıng. Hundreds of tourısts and Turks mulled round the area.<br /><br />It was easy to see how thıs man had been revered ın Turkey. He was responsıble for huge fundamental reforms ın the 1930's, ıncludıng the move to make Turkey a republıc, the ıntroductıon of metrıc and the Anglacısed alphabet some of the bıg achıevements. Turks all seem quıte keen to stress that theır country ıs a secular democracy meanıng that church and state are seperated. Women for example, can't wear the tradıtıonal ıslamıc scarf/headwear ın government buıldıngs.<br /><br />It was ınterestıng to see the exhıbıts, although slıghtly dıffıcult to read that Ataturk had also been the mastermınd behınd the Turkısh vıctory at Gallıpolı ın 1916. A large part of one exhıbıtıon was dedıcated to the Canakkale campaıgn. I am really lookıng forward to vısıtıng that part of the country ın a couple of weeks.<br /><br />We left the mausoleum after a couple of hours and headed ınto Ankara ın peak hour traffıc once agaın. It seemed about as chaotıc as Istanbul!<br /><br />Ceylan recommended kebaps for dınner and saıd that they were the best ın thıs part of the country!<br /><br />İ went for a brıef walk round the new town - ıt resembled any major cıty wıth ıts chaın shops and hustle and bustle, and then found a nearby kebab shop. It was pretty good - I haven't had a donar kebab for a long tıme.<br /><br />Tomorrow we're headıng further ınto Eastern Turkey, to the Cappadocıa regıon. I reckon thıs wıll be one of the hıghlıghts, and I've been hangıng to see the bızarre lunar landscape ever sınce a mate sent me a postcard of the area about 6 years ago.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-9298122342039054242008-05-10T17:42:00.007+00:002008-07-12T11:17:50.798+00:00Let the adventure begin: Istanbul unfoldsI set out to Heathrow on Saturday mornıng, wonderıng what the day held. I was flyıng out of the seemıngly dıstrastous T5 to Istanbul and was not overly confıdent that me or my bags would make ıt at all or together.<br /><br />I was pleasantly surprısed! Check ın and securıty took about 15 mınutes to clear and ı then had a couple of hours to kıll. There were decent places to eat - Wagamama's even does a breakfast menu. The whole termınal was much more spacıous and clean than any of the termınals at Heathrow and support staff abounded.<br /><br />The flıght even boarded on tme but was held up an hour because they dıscovered one of the tyres had a puncture. Better they dıscovered ıt before we took off rather than as we were landıng.<br /><br />The 3.5 hour flıght went quıckly, and ı could see my fırst glımpse of the massıve country ı was about to spend nearly 3 weeks ın.<br /><br />The sprawlıng cıty of Istanbul loomed large as we touched down. ın order to clear customs, you have to buy a vısa at the aırport, the prıces vary dependıng whıch passoprt you hold. For Australıan passport holders ıt was 15 euro. Seemed lıke nothıng more than a tax collectıon ınıtıaıtve ıf you ask me!<br /><br />My bag was actually waıtıng for me on the conveyor. Quelle surprıse! And what a pleasant one at that! Hoorah, and well done to T5 and BA for gettıng ther act together after the horror show of prevıous months.<br /><br />Into a cab and ınto İstanbul. Dependıng ıf you count Wales and Scotland seperate countrıes (and I do!), thıs my 46th country, and ıt certanly had a dıfferent feel than pretty much anywhere else I'd been. The traffıc was much the same as anywhere else, but the European and Arabıc ınfluences started to make themselves apparent.<br /><br />My cab drıver wove ın and out of traffıc - there was a lot of hgh speed manıacal drıvıng goıng. Jammed buses and cars fılled the streets and ıt was ınterestıng to see how buılt up the cıty was. The populatıon of Turkey ıs about 70 mıllıon, wıth Istanbul accountıng for about 18mıllıon of those. I thınk ı got that rıght - wıll check!<br /><br />We pulled ınto the road that hugs the mıghty Bosphorus - the straıght of water that dıvıdes the European and Asıan sıdes of the cıty. Istanbul ıs the only capıtal cıty to span two contınents. Multıple brıdges lınk the two sıdes.<br /><br />The cab then turned off, and ınto what was most defınıtely the Old Town. The famous Blue Mosque and Aya Sofıa suddenly appeared - they are enormous stuctures and were ımpossıble to mıss.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvLlW-vDU9KIRROKdfC1BjTGBq3VM6bJQT1up5yjIlHcrstVdz8zbUN5dmBkoOtzO609dZLonEH3IJ5lzUgWMJoU_fVgXiO0BhRVKbAr2wbPDg67YXDc6cKoF9f3AH2rh354/s1600-h/Turkey+022.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222081143338642194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvLlW-vDU9KIRROKdfC1BjTGBq3VM6bJQT1up5yjIlHcrstVdz8zbUN5dmBkoOtzO609dZLonEH3IJ5lzUgWMJoU_fVgXiO0BhRVKbAr2wbPDg67YXDc6cKoF9f3AH2rh354/s400/Turkey+022.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Traffıc and pedestrıans fılled the streets, and the cab drıver then started to drıve down the tram tracks ın the hunt for my hotel. At fırst I thought he was completely mad, untıl I saw other cars doıng the same.<br /><br />Mınarets punctuated the skylıne and ı could already see carpet and leather shops that beckoned. I remınded myself that I have to restraın myself on the shoppıng front on thıs trıp - ı head back to Australıa three days after thıs tour fınıshes, and ı need to be able to fıt all my purchase together wıth some more overflow back ın London, ınto the two bags I'll be takıng back. ARGH! Shoppıng wıth restrıctıons!<br /><br />The cab drıver started doıng loops of the same street and I suspected he was lost. He asked a couple of people where my hotel was adn they motıoned 'up thataway'. Oh gawd! one more loop and we ended up back at the same corner. He jumped out and started chattıng to some guys who were sıttıng ın lıttle stools outsıde theır carpet shop.<br /><br />One of them jumped up and offered to show me the way to the hotel on foot - whıch, he promısed, was just round the corner. It turns out he was an ex-Brısbanıte who'd come back to Turkey to work ın hıs famıly carpet busıness. I was waıtıng for the hard sell, but thankfully ıt never came.<br /><br />Just before we arrıved at the hotel, ı saw huge groups of people standıng round large-screen TVs ın the street. The footy was on and the footy-mad Turks were out ın force!<br /><br />My hotel was located ın an area full of hotels and restaurants, and people were out baskıng ın the food. I notıced that smokıng ıs permıtted pretty much anywhere ın Turkey, and there were lots of people puffıng away. I wonder how they'd adapt to the non-smokıng rules beıng ıntroduced ın so many other places...<br /><br />I fınally checked ın, and got myself sorted, ready for a lıttle reccıe before the group meetıng ın a couple of hours.<br /><br />I followed the tramlıne back up past where I'd come ın the cab, ınto the Sultanahmet area - the heart of the old Town.<br /><br />Thousands of people were mıllıng about on what was a lovely sprıng afternoon. I walked around the huge gardens ın the forecourt of the Blue Mosque as the local blokes started to ask where I was from, and could I help them learn Englısh!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAIJon5G2KQZ3XhOzorLkj0Z0uvn2YGunWps3NnDW-9tnX64rL2yfYX8832Y3yQmh7tQgYol5jjsuLWfOmPiGv5Mrs4aE9JD26z4g7MdTFWufuXkFvLAK_bxbEuEmJwcRHNA/s1600-h/Turkey+007.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222082949802927618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAIJon5G2KQZ3XhOzorLkj0Z0uvn2YGunWps3NnDW-9tnX64rL2yfYX8832Y3yQmh7tQgYol5jjsuLWfOmPiGv5Mrs4aE9JD26z4g7MdTFWufuXkFvLAK_bxbEuEmJwcRHNA/s400/Turkey+007.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The Blue Mosque was ımmense - ıts spıres and domes vast. It was hard to get ıt all ınto one shot. Lookıng back ın the other dırectıon, the Aya Sofıa was equally huge. I dıdn't go ınto eıther as I knew we would tour through them the followıng day.<br /><br />I pottered round the stalls and lıttle shops, checkıng out the stuff I knew I'd be tempted by - the glass lanterns were partıcularly appealıng. İ usually tend to seek out the most ınconvenıent souvenırs to brıng home...<br /><br />I headed back to the hotel at dusk, ready to meet up wıth the rest of my tour buddıes before e head out for dınner. It was nıce to meet almost everyone over dınner rather than on the bus, whıch ıs usually how ıt pans out on tours<br /><br />I reckon the average age of my tour buddıes ıs about 50 - maınly couples - Brıts, Amerıcans, Canadıans and a couple of Australıans. But they all seem ıncredıbly-well travelled and chatty.<br /><br />We were booked ınto dınner at a nearby resturant. I love Turkısh food and the menu gave me a hınt of what to expect over the next few weeks. Lots of salads, kebaps (we call them kebabs), lots of chıcken and lamb, yoghurt and dıps, vıne leaves and stuffed or pıckled vegetables. Yum-O!<br /><br />After the meal, İ trıed the ınfamous <em>rakı</em> - a Turkısh anıseed lıqueur lıke the Greek ouzo. It was good - strong - but hey...when ın Turkey, rıght!<br /><br />Our waıter started wıth the famılıar 'where are you from', and after a brıef chat, he decıded he'd lıke to come to Australıa wıth me...ı can see thıs developıng ınto a theme ın the comıng weeks. he gave us a complımentary apple tea to fınısh the meal. It's delıcıous, but sadly entırely chemıcally produced, I read later.<br /><br />After that ıt was off for an earlyısh nıght, ready for a day of sıghtseeıng!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-55669295984759883612008-05-05T09:07:00.009+00:002008-05-05T09:31:55.012+00:00An almost sunny spring day in St James's ParkI happened to wander into St James's Park yesterday afternoon. The sun was almost shining and hundreds of people were sprawled out on the free deck chairs or on the grass as they do here in London when it's almost sunny. At least the temperature was mild and the rain held off.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgfeJVLkCpUdvZkeWVq8S6MEN-7kmzGf6SmPbrhBDh4zjou7C9EOitF0Eru0HabBXm_PyFvicf30JX5jXUloG0Cf-HtyjtRByax-txScUYFPL1PLUUAtNM3z0bGj5sEkkYl4/s1600-h/London+195.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196820596812371586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgfeJVLkCpUdvZkeWVq8S6MEN-7kmzGf6SmPbrhBDh4zjou7C9EOitF0Eru0HabBXm_PyFvicf30JX5jXUloG0Cf-HtyjtRByax-txScUYFPL1PLUUAtNM3z0bGj5sEkkYl4/s400/London+195.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The spring flowers were out in full bloom, despite a dump of snow just a few weeks ago. There's nothing like a good English garden, and the flowers in St James's Park yesterday were spectacular. Check out more pics at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=38813&l=9bef3&id=668338884">this album</a>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jtxpD71hKh-vyzo4oVc2Qp-RrNQy_uNONdkIZDy-KHh7t5Zgcw42RY1cXou6S3lbJ9L4B_JsQ4w0lrlfi80K2jP9MXKDca3sfATbdP_MQsMtCtfH6pRc8TVHFU7qlhJK4hA/s1600-h/London+188.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196821077848708754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jtxpD71hKh-vyzo4oVc2Qp-RrNQy_uNONdkIZDy-KHh7t5Zgcw42RY1cXou6S3lbJ9L4B_JsQ4w0lrlfi80K2jP9MXKDca3sfATbdP_MQsMtCtfH6pRc8TVHFU7qlhJK4hA/s400/London+188.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I wouldn't begin to know what varieties of plants and flowers I was madly taking photos of, but I took over about 250 pictures on the new EOS 400D and 55-250mm lens, in about an hour.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFRE-6kdG3h-OaTNT7D3XnwHVIPhwwgia6DoqsyeU8scwjjn4WWZbAxmVYO2SxmDRTYdsCVh1cvK9-QOGwhD_3D4cQC3GCMEaz8n-9tDYDTSjttvnX5SMDh2tkvFoxy3naDw/s1600-h/London+219.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196821782223345314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlFRE-6kdG3h-OaTNT7D3XnwHVIPhwwgia6DoqsyeU8scwjjn4WWZbAxmVYO2SxmDRTYdsCVh1cvK9-QOGwhD_3D4cQC3GCMEaz8n-9tDYDTSjttvnX5SMDh2tkvFoxy3naDw/s400/London+219.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Tulips, one of the few varieties I was familiar with, abounded, in almost every colour imaginable. Beautiful!<br /><div></div><div></div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLj-HCDCrtraoX9Vt9Ftj-HbJkG3yX3nIUpR-MQ7d_XO4mkOR90t4W793qQywlRG7quzlCpOv74CDEBW2Hjy16RwohsrYByvThnx2hcKRPvG8KZ2tlMqDqYBynt6HCAMHMqMg/s1600-h/London+307.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196822834490332850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLj-HCDCrtraoX9Vt9Ftj-HbJkG3yX3nIUpR-MQ7d_XO4mkOR90t4W793qQywlRG7quzlCpOv74CDEBW2Hjy16RwohsrYByvThnx2hcKRPvG8KZ2tlMqDqYBynt6HCAMHMqMg/s400/London+307.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The wildlife were also out "sunning" themselves - cute ducklings and even cuter squirrels, zipping frantically through the grass finding nuts, or simply just looking at them. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-4393596954911994882008-05-05T08:16:00.014+00:002008-05-05T09:06:34.630+00:00A day as a tourist in LondonIt's funny how when you live in a place you can begin to take for granted all of the amazing sights around you.<br /><br />I remember when I first moved to London three and a half years ago, I used to walk across Tower Bridge and be awestruck by the Bridge itself - the Tower of London and the thousands of years of history that surround that entire part of the "Pool of London". And yet when that walk became part of my daily commute, it seemed to lose its awe along the way.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196812079892223538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMNe26ovqYsvscszH1TVkap16n0iJ_K8yjYsIm9Q6OlhRFj1SDown7zTfLzwfn-xjH37bPQrbPqVyFish1oY0XlwIwBgWZmFxKDAAdsuT4h76XXa756ISaP7WbZ7xVfpQ3eI/s400/pics200412+110.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>The same thing happening when I lived in Sydney and drove across the Harbour Bridge every day - a landmark that people from all over the world dream about seeing and walking over, yet somewhat of a chore when you're stuck in a bus on your way to work.<br /><br />And now, as I'm getting closer to my move back to Australia, I'm hanging out to do a lap of the Harbour Bridge. And I know that I'll fall in love with Sydney, Brisbane, the Gold Coast and Australia all over again as I familiarise myself with my favourite places and discover new ones.<br /><br />Similarly, yesterday, I jumped on a big red bus and spent a day being a tourist in London. Again.<br /><br />My first visit to London was with my family in about 1980 and I remember staying in a hotel in Russell Square. I don't remember too much other than the big res buses, black cabs and seeing Changing of the Guard. I then came back in 1999 by myself before setting off for a 3-week Contiki tour around Europe.<br /><br />When I arrived in London that second time nine years ago, jet-lagged and bleary eyed, I remember feeling instantly that I could live in this city. I loved the buzz and the familiarity, yet difference of it all. London somehow felt like "home" even then.<br /><br />My bus ride yesterday took me past a bunch of the landmarks and attractions that I've seen a stack of times in the last few years, and that perhaps I'd become a bit blase about. But I'm glad I did it. It reminded me of the many things I love about London, the amazing friends I've made here and the wonderful times I've had.<br /><br />It's been a pleasure and privilege to call this place home.<br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBjCS_wPgU9GUO4sZcwewS-1-w3Jb09eAzryeVBrA00zlgqGt4iQgoXKXuMKXcSjbi6chLtOgWTZfcXTzdE8hSol3_G-I39nb_NCOKaelANLyIwMqwLvsYhEGuTtRGbtUcK0/s1600-h/London+069.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196813183698818642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBjCS_wPgU9GUO4sZcwewS-1-w3Jb09eAzryeVBrA00zlgqGt4iQgoXKXuMKXcSjbi6chLtOgWTZfcXTzdE8hSol3_G-I39nb_NCOKaelANLyIwMqwLvsYhEGuTtRGbtUcK0/s400/London+069.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p></p><p>The spires of St Pauls.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGey2OiqWC0pQ0LbtfeARSGKZpO-IjmL_l-0PmIEQcPrfUQ-BpLQVSQNtB6_skvtj6GqXKvUk-s7AXEbiaQfopK8CAFNmnSIOMtPJKlgs7_yS0jATB_z_bqgDZOA0ZpAn99SI/s1600-h/London+100.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196813711979796066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGey2OiqWC0pQ0LbtfeARSGKZpO-IjmL_l-0PmIEQcPrfUQ-BpLQVSQNtB6_skvtj6GqXKvUk-s7AXEbiaQfopK8CAFNmnSIOMtPJKlgs7_yS0jATB_z_bqgDZOA0ZpAn99SI/s400/London+100.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />View from South Bank.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX6VOWzPHAMfl0jB8ld8nDPjuXsPDNRhgpj-kmgFUrD8-rSLnkkv6HBnE1qluGxVTPgBNzqyTDLOVHJgmlDI_mp4MB6HKjftnK39X0_zkkHTwliXD_pbTFYYbiF71jJWzyVs/s1600-h/London+461.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196815580290569842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX6VOWzPHAMfl0jB8ld8nDPjuXsPDNRhgpj-kmgFUrD8-rSLnkkv6HBnE1qluGxVTPgBNzqyTDLOVHJgmlDI_mp4MB6HKjftnK39X0_zkkHTwliXD_pbTFYYbiF71jJWzyVs/s400/London+461.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Buckingham Palace.<br /><br />For more pics of my big tourist day around London, check out <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=38788&l=860f4&id=668338884">this album</a>.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-27734126846276430942008-04-27T11:53:00.006+00:002008-04-27T11:57:01.587+00:00I'm loving the Canon EOS400D!As you may have guessed from this blog, I love photography, particularly of places, people and scenery in new countries.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_zzYliISgta4/SBRi4YJvVdI/AAAAAAAAAXs/xQV4B4bOU-c/s1600-h/EOS-400D_200_tcm14-390133.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZbPvJFjBlryqQsPclspCsYLAVlvf9Vz3E5SYvDctU_rPAHqlMT6_YGON8uTR92RgHsw9CzBDWXF8p5FaHLjsDWsvmUCO3ODAg7cz0OIKXioUlQw-BmLTf31aWU1TNTMbAHY/s1600-h/EOS-400D_200_tcm14-390133.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193892137786103298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZbPvJFjBlryqQsPclspCsYLAVlvf9Vz3E5SYvDctU_rPAHqlMT6_YGON8uTR92RgHsw9CzBDWXF8p5FaHLjsDWsvmUCO3ODAg7cz0OIKXioUlQw-BmLTf31aWU1TNTMbAHY/s400/EOS-400D_200_tcm14-390133.jpg" border="0" /></a> I've always loved photography, building up a reasonably solid Pentax SLR kit in my early twenties, and spending a fortune developing pictures of pasta shells and tinted cars (Cokin filters were all the rage!).<br /><br />My next camera was one of the early Canon mini-point and shoot models - the predecessor to the <a href="http://www.canon.co.uk/For_Home/Product_Finder/Cameras/Digital_Camera/IXUS/index.asp">Canon Ixus</a>.<br /><br />It took me ages to get into the digital camera age - I'd spent a fortune on the Pentax kit, and I loved the panorama shots the Canon compact could take. But it was just before a trip to New Zealand in 2000, that I bought the Canon Ixus. In the last seven years, I've thrashed that trusty little camera, easily taking over 15,000 photos. Thank god storage is getting cheaper!<br /><br />Over the years, I watched as the digital SLR cameras improved in functionality and came down in price. The more photography I did with the compact camera, the more I began to miss the additional functionality that SLR's provide - mainly more flexible zoom options.<br /><br />After my trip to Morocco earlier this year, I finally took the digital SLR plunge and bought a Canon EOS400D. It seems to be one of the most popular and well-reviewed cameras on the market, and seemed to be a formidable competitor to Nikon's D-range of cameras. I don't think I really could have gone wrong by choosing either brand, but after much reading, researching and speaking with Camera shop assistants, I went for the Canon.<br /><br />I could have gone for the higher end camera bodies such as the 1D, 4D or 5D, but I figured that I'd re-familiarise myself with SLR photography and functionality before committing to a more expensive model. And for the same reason, I chose the standard kit lens - an 18-55mm lens, which so far, has been a great walk-about lens.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_zzYliISgta4/SBRlK4JvVeI/AAAAAAAAAX0/j7vyO-A5msU/s1600-h/EF-S%252055-250mm%25204-5_6%2520IS_w200_tcm14-457895.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1THfCaakfdEA-zIlQl1bbG0Nt1n9SY0L4bl3dqJEL8UGRFiZhC93xG-QqPFH4O2jDdlxOtbbBBMliSH1IvsPNLrn4Y5ETjkPJlCH0ZKEjv04xVGgSF_l3ilSXB8U5exzWkhQ/s1600-h/EF-S%252055-250mm%25204-5_6%2520IS_w200_tcm14-457895.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193892034706888178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1THfCaakfdEA-zIlQl1bbG0Nt1n9SY0L4bl3dqJEL8UGRFiZhC93xG-QqPFH4O2jDdlxOtbbBBMliSH1IvsPNLrn4Y5ETjkPJlCH0ZKEjv04xVGgSF_l3ilSXB8U5exzWkhQ/s400/EF-S%252055-250mm%25204-5_6%2520IS_w200_tcm14-457895.jpg" border="0" /></a>I have always been fascinated by zoom lenses, and decided pretty quickly that I wanted a bigger zoom lens. I was keen to get one of the new Canon ES image stablised zoom lenses, and again, after more researching and playing, decided on the Canon EF-S 55-250mm IS lens.<br /><br />This lens is equivalent to a 88-400mm focal length in non-digital/film cameras, which I reckoned was big enough to practice with while I got used to shooting with the longer lens. It's also one of the first EF-S lenses built for the digital camera bodies.<br /><br />I've had this lens for about a month now, and have taken nearly 1,000 shots, in Singapore, London and Bratislava. It definitely takes some getting used to - as far as keeping the camera still, but I've been pretty happy with some of the shots I've taken so far, all of which I've done without a tripod. With any of this stuff, it's a matter of practice, practice, practice!<br /><br />When I go to Turkey in two weeks, I'll take the camera and both lenses, a couple of batteries and a couple of memory cards - a slightly bigger kit bag than I'm used to, but hey! I know I'll need both the short and longer focal length lens. I can't wait to snap my way through Turkey - the images I've seen of the place are stunning, and I'm hoping I can come back with a few amazing pics of my own. :-).<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-80698037348857246982008-04-20T17:21:00.004+00:002008-04-20T17:41:07.302+00:00A new format (and sibling) for A Surplice of Adventure!I was fiddling around with this blog earlier in the week, and inadvertently upgraded the template on which it's based. That was all well and good, and the new format is much easier to edit and update, but it seemed to overwrite some stuff. Anyway, bare with me while I fix it up. I hope to keep the travels pics rolling in the mean time!<br /><br />I've also recently launched a new blog - <a href="http://surpliceofspirit.blogspot.com/">A Surplice of Spirit</a>, which will document my voyage of discovery and entrepreneurship into the holistic therapies industry.<br /><br />I've spent the last 18 months retraining as a massage therapist, and will be heading back to Australia shortly to start my own business. It's a hugely exciting adventure, although quite different from the ones I've been rambling about on this blog.<br /><br />I will still enjoy playing tourist as I re-bond with my family and friends back home, and I'm hoping to thrash my trusty Canon DSLR, taking photos of what I reckon is the best country on the planet. Whoohooo!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-29667378098578422432008-04-20T16:42:00.004+00:002008-04-20T17:00:32.858+00:00Counting sleeps till Turkey!Hoorah! It's less than three weeks before I head off to Turkey, one of the places that I am desperate to see before I head back to Oz.<br /><br />I'm travelling with the good folks at <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/">Explore!</a> again, and doing the 15-day <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/Tour+Detail+Page.htm?TourCode=TU&BrochureCode=EWW2008">Asia Minor Explorer</a> tour out of Istanbul. It's my fourth tour with them in three years. I like the size of the groups and the people are usually a great bunch of travelling buddies.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatCZv2UCGU37pfzAA8GlctW992v34U9cnawsW93sT8gt4bUoqiljFoaBvp6lNi9S7ca9OW9WnQPdhgEw7NGXJ2jEZVzNaCluLOqw6Z7neamHcCEpzpSNAh2btRLTlOcnH5uA/s1600-h/asia+minort.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191368960663360706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatCZv2UCGU37pfzAA8GlctW992v34U9cnawsW93sT8gt4bUoqiljFoaBvp6lNi9S7ca9OW9WnQPdhgEw7NGXJ2jEZVzNaCluLOqw6Z7neamHcCEpzpSNAh2btRLTlOcnH5uA/s400/asia+minort.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The itinerary warns us that the tour has some long driving days because there is so much ground to cover. I can imagine the landscape will be just as captivating as Turkey's cities and beaches.<br /><br />Amongst many of the other sights, I'm really looking forward to seeing Cappadocia - it just seems like such a surreal place. I suspect I'll do a hot-air balloon ride (against my better judgement!) because I actually believe the brochures when it says it one of those one-in-a-lifetime sights. Now...if I can just get over my fear of balloons and naked flames, I'll be sorted.<br /><br />I'm also looking forward to chilling out in Istanbul for my birthday. What a place to celebrate/commiserate lurching into my mid-late thirties :-).<br /><br />I received a wee little pre-departure package from Explore last week - quite unexpectedly. It was an Explore-branded <a href="http://www.moleskine.co.uk/">Moleskine</a> Soft Cover Notebook. I always start a travel diary on a trip and invariably never keep it up each day - but the intention is there. Anyway, it was a nice little gift.<br /><br />Cheers Explore! Hope this tour is as awesome as the <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/Tour+Detail+Page.htm?TourCode=MR&BrochureCode=EWW2008">Morocco</a>, <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/Tour+Detail+Page.htm?TourCode=DD&BrochureCode=EWW2008">Croatia</a> and <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/Tour+Detail+Page.htm?TourCode=IA&BrochureCode=WKA2007">Iceland</a> trips were.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-72268772176661737792008-04-20T16:29:00.002+00:002008-04-20T16:39:46.835+00:00Nobu rocks!I recently had one of the yummiest meals I've ever had, at London's <a href="http://www.noburestaurants.com/london/index.html#180">Nobu</a> (am a bit behind on posting here, but this momentous event took place about 2 months ago).<br /><br />I'd heard about Nobu's legendary degustation menus, and we decided we'd try one of each. This would provide a selection of Nobu's signature dishes like the broiled black cod with miso and the scallop tiradito nobu style, as well as a general mix of sashimi and other amazing creations.<br /><br />We teamed it with chilled sake served out of a chilled bamboo decanter and matching glasses.<br /><br />It's a shame I didn't write this post a bit closer to the time, because I can't remember the names of all the dishes we tried. Suffice it to say, it was truly one of the most amazing meals. The food was exquisite in terms of presentation and freshness, and the combination of flavours was mind-bogglingly tasty.<br /><br />If you love Japanese food, check out this fine restaurant. Your tastebuds will long cherish the memory after the credit card has recovered.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-9258540180251663002008-04-20T16:05:00.014+00:002008-04-20T16:25:23.214+00:00Ayurvedic massage in BratislavaWith my relocation to Australia looming, I took the opportunity to have one last quick weekend in Europe. <div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I chose to go to Bratislava, Slovakia's capital, simply because I hadn't been there, and had read that it's Old Town was picturesque.</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSSyv66uZQmqk3buj16NVcT6LGwmVnCUNslqGBK3XYF3YL-xQ_JX043Izy6zPhTnpH8VQJuHuEyUMs5kWEYRSrx2dlUrFg7w9DVbrobDb8EiEjc0ZWd3P8AG3j0wo761WIMs/s1600-h/Bratislava+132.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191362445197972626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSSyv66uZQmqk3buj16NVcT6LGwmVnCUNslqGBK3XYF3YL-xQ_JX043Izy6zPhTnpH8VQJuHuEyUMs5kWEYRSrx2dlUrFg7w9DVbrobDb8EiEjc0ZWd3P8AG3j0wo761WIMs/s400/Bratislava+132.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>True to it's word, it was indeed quaint and pretty. It was also fairly small, so by the end of my second day I thought I'd just about discovered as many new things in the old town as I was likely to. By chance, however, I took a different route through the cobbled streets back to my hotel, and stumbled across a large sign that said Ayurvedic Massage Centre.<br /><br />Ayurvedic massage is something I'd read about, but had not yet tried. All I knew was that it originated in India and was more than just massage - it was an entire way of life that included massage, healthy eating and fitness.<br /><br />So in I went, curious to find out more about how this Ayervedic Massage Centre called Darsana had found its way into Bratislava's Old Town.<br /><br />The owner, Mark, was helpful and happy to explain how he'd come to set up the centre. He said he saw an opportunity to bring a different form of massage to Slovakia. Having looked around the city myself, I'd only seen Thai massage advertised. So - competition seemed pretty limited and he felt that with the increasing standard of living in Bratislava, people would be ready to pay for more exotic forms of pampering.<br /><br />He explained that he'd been to India some ten years ago and liked the ayurvedic style, and had in fact, just returned from India earlier in the week. He had brought in massage therapists from the Indian state of Kerala, where ayurveda originated.<br /><br />The centre itself was lovely - granite floor everywhere, neutral tones, and dimly lit. He explained that the building was originally from the 14th Century, and he'd had a hard time doing the re-fit because there were so many heritage-related regulations. He'd done a fantastic job though - it was calm, quiet and felt like a million miles away from the narrow little streets of Bratislava.<br /><br />He was kind enough to show me around the therapy rooms, explaining that the wooden massage tables were authentic ayurveda style. They looked enormous, and had a two-step wooden box for the therapists to stand on while they were massaging.<br /><br />Mark explained that Abhyangam is a popular ayurvedic massage that focuses on the body's seven different energy centres - called marma. I gathered that these must have been synonymous with chakras, which I was familar with, but will have to investigate further.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIpo0_64UC7bRxtpQB10RDVeUZgPMd3msbx-oWuQb1j-E6tbJ78b0RldyraRupeAsZ9Rluiio8MZv9w5do2tadg80zcpkqHP-kp0aEWbgtgoc3nSarvG-vIcBr_NqRjOOn8U/s1600-h/Bratislava+023.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191363119507838114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIpo0_64UC7bRxtpQB10RDVeUZgPMd3msbx-oWuQb1j-E6tbJ78b0RldyraRupeAsZ9Rluiio8MZv9w5do2tadg80zcpkqHP-kp0aEWbgtgoc3nSarvG-vIcBr_NqRjOOn8U/s400/Bratislava+023.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>He then unveiled a curtain to reveal another treatment room. It looked like a huge metal pressure cooker, which he explained, pumped out steam infused with herbal oils. Called Swedanam, it was like a mini-sauna for one. He demonstrated how the client would sit on the chair, with their head poking through a hole in the top of the box, and showed where the steam was pumped out. I had visions of claustrophobia or getting stuck in there, but he assured me it was a common procedure in India and ayurvedic therapy.<br /><br />Having now heard quite a bit about ayurvedic massage, I decided I needed to try it, and booked in the following day for a 45 minute Abhyangam massage, a 20 minute Shiro abhyangam (or Indian head massage), a 20-minute facial massage and a 15 minute session in the pressure cooker.<br /><br />When I arrived the next day, I was shown into the change room and then into one of the therapy rooms. And so began the full body massage.<br /><br />The massage therapist used a lot more oil in this form of massage than what I was used to in Swedish massage. And the focus seemed to be far more on long flowing strokes up and down the body rather than pressure work in specific areas.<br /><br />The oils were scented - infused with herbs, the therapist explained, and they sought to work on re-balancing the three energies known as Doshas – Vatha, Pitta and Kapha. Vatha governs the principle of movement, the Pitta dosha is the process of transformation and Kapha is responsible for growth and adding structure.<br /><br />In any case, I felt that my Dosha's were getting the right royal treatment as I pondered how amazing it is that there are so many forms of massage, all originating from different parts of the world, yet all so beneficial to one's wellbeing.<br /><br />By the time I was flipped over, I felt oiler than a McDonald's french fry, but I knew that the oils and herbs were doing wonderful things to relax my body and mind.<br /><br />Onto the facial, and the therapist used the most delicate strokes around my face. It felt as light as rain drops, but was incredibly relaxing. I could have snored half way through, or perhaps I was just dreaming that I did. It was drool-worthy, in any case. Then it was time to slide off the table (and I mean SLIDE), into a chair for the head massage.<br /><br />Indian Head Massage - which I had tried before - is typically done on a seated client. You can elect to have it with oil or without. I went with the oil version, and the therapist began a series of rather more vigourous strokes around my head, layering in oil to the point where my hair was a mega greaseball.<br /><br />Look at pretty much any Indian's hair and you'll see its typically shiny and strong - head massage is apparently a really important part of their lives. Massage of the scalp promotes hair growth and hair quality, and can help to reduce tension in the scalp, neck and shoulders.<br /><br />Twenty minutes of head massage passed dreamily by and I was then shown into the pressure cooker room for my 15-minutes of Swedanam steamin'. The therapist explained that the temperature in the pressure cooker would increase, and that I could stay in there for up to 15 minutes.<br /><br />She stayed in the room for pretty much the whole time, checking in on the temperature, and basically making sure I didn't faint. I felt fine, but I could see how some people may be prone to fainting in that environment. The oils simmered away - heat and steam helping my skin to absorb the oils and further promote relaxation. It was lovely! 15 minutes was about enough.<br /><br />I was then led into the chillout room. I really like clinics and salons that provide a chill room. It can be fairly daunting leaving a relaxing massage and heading straight back out into the busy world. This one was warm and comfy and I was given tea and a huge fluffy blanket to sit under for a while. This process helped the oils to absorb even more.<br /><br />Another client was sitting there, alo chilling out. She looked suitably happy and relaxed. We discussed our treatments and how wonderful they were, and also our surprise at finding this ayurvedica centre in Bratislava of all places!<br /><br />When I left Darsana more than two hours after I'd arrived, I felt very relaxed and clear-headed. My niggling lower back ache was gone and I was smiling. Massage definitely switches on the smiley button for me.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUfE2BQbWLFTe4eHk8UaW7Q90ZFSZ7-LnW3QE9XLe6c1cLIsbbjKzmmShS142dw3H2s81icWCJn3TAaVEomH2zsGVquFxQVzznYHoV5FrQ5XTZZavzFxYg8lHhPL0JWwYMqU/s1600-h/Bratislava+158.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191363536119665842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUfE2BQbWLFTe4eHk8UaW7Q90ZFSZ7-LnW3QE9XLe6c1cLIsbbjKzmmShS142dw3H2s81icWCJn3TAaVEomH2zsGVquFxQVzznYHoV5FrQ5XTZZavzFxYg8lHhPL0JWwYMqU/s400/Bratislava+158.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I walked out into the warm Slovakian sun and had a light lunch in the bustling courtyard just under Michael's Gate.<br /><br />It was a perfect way to spend my last morning in Bratislava. The combined cost of the four treatments equated to about £60.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-40232262153720442602008-03-29T06:43:00.011+00:002008-04-17T05:40:03.705+00:00Sizzling in SingaporeNothing better than leaving the cold murky Northern Hemisphere winter for a long weekend in Singapore. I was lucky to do this over Easter, and spent a fab few days catching up with my folks and pigging out on the local food.<br /><br />Not long after our respective planes from London and Brisbane had landed, we headed directly to <a href="http://www.the-inncrowd.com/newtoncircus.htm">Newton Food Centre</a> (formally known as Newton Circus), one of the original Hawker food centres. This place to me, is the quintessential Singapore. Vast and bustling, the whole area smells like an enormous aromatic kitchen. Food here is great value and you're spoilt for choice!<br /><br />Satays are sold in bulk, and we ploughed our way through 80 of the delectible little sticks of meat and peanut sauce by the time we downed the first bottle of Tiger Beer. Gotta keep the fluids up in the tropics!<br /><br />Other memorable meals were the obligatory chili crab, which we had at a lovely riverside restaurant in Clarke Quay, and again on the final night out at East Coast Parkway - another fab eating precinct.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VRm-PSUl7WCypPULG4x1eJ9skKUEM2OZABw8D2acYDM6gx7b9kblyC-mc5RoY1wrdjRL3XtN7S_wjJEdEf8eGeAI4GlM_DeHmQGCQPnuFEmT6J5DT_ZGBK7fwtx046Nmdro/s1600-h/Singapore+040.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183053328249700578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VRm-PSUl7WCypPULG4x1eJ9skKUEM2OZABw8D2acYDM6gx7b9kblyC-mc5RoY1wrdjRL3XtN7S_wjJEdEf8eGeAI4GlM_DeHmQGCQPnuFEmT6J5DT_ZGBK7fwtx046Nmdro/s400/Singapore+040.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The final amazing food encounter was at the Swissotel's <a href="http://www.fairmont.com/singapore/GuestServices/Restaurants/Equinox+Restaurant.htm">Equinox</a> restaurant, which towers 70 floors above the city. The view at dusk was awesome - it really helped to put this compact city into perspective. The miso cod and dessert platter was delicious. And the cocktails up on the 71st floor were pretty good too!<br /><br />As well as the usual lurch down Orchard Road, and a frenzied expedition to Lucky Plaza, where there are so many consumer electronics shops, your head spins, we spent a soggy afternoon out at <a href="http://www.birdpark.com.sg/">Jurong Bird Park</a>.<br /><br />This is one of Singapore's most popular and well known attactions, and despite the big tropical rain storm, we checked out some amazing birds. The huge walk-through aviaries allow you to get up close and personal with the birds. The scarlet flamingos were my favourite! Check out the rest of the pictures <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=34388&l=db232&id=668338884">here</a>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2dQ5tfHhoyfzi8tnCAgdVcDr7bku3nAg78A9HPA4iN2XVCVLMwlEHhfLu1KIdBvCvVDpAXxuv9IbdoJ7g5fAZLxPNpqODANp1luNWLNoPph-7_ykZ4iV_m5VT8dP2RIF0J8/s1600-h/Singapore+279.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183056480755695858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2dQ5tfHhoyfzi8tnCAgdVcDr7bku3nAg78A9HPA4iN2XVCVLMwlEHhfLu1KIdBvCvVDpAXxuv9IbdoJ7g5fAZLxPNpqODANp1luNWLNoPph-7_ykZ4iV_m5VT8dP2RIF0J8/s400/Singapore+279.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Finishing off the eat-a-thon, we met the lovely Ann for a local lunch in International Plaza, home to the Dow Jones Singapore office. Ann introduced us to claypot chicken and a yummy bean paste and ginko dessert.<br /><br />It's true that Singapore is known for its obsession with eating and shopping...but hey...what a wonderful way to wile away the hours.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-91820057503793489822008-01-13T21:46:00.000+00:002008-01-13T21:55:59.210+00:00Day 3: 25 December 2007; Chilling in ChellahIt was completely bizarre waking up in a completely different country and not being around my family for Christmas, but Christmas Day in Rabat started with clear blue skies and the promise of visiting Meknes, another Imperial City later, in the day.<br /><br /><br />According to our tour paraphernalia, although it was only established as Morocco’s capital in 1912 by the French, Rabat’s history stretches back to a settlement in 8BC, at what is now the Chellah area.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo1_kTphxLYdoCy9vqiRL8PpsmxDzAR0ujngnuWuFgYhvSeTTUj92Uksqkx7G2oMY37ttM4GWTANVpuh3RvbJQVmqoGpsKXMFOn36y3aN8QCwiudhLd_RY-8_NQ7JSH2QZVU/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+068.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155081647401812914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo1_kTphxLYdoCy9vqiRL8PpsmxDzAR0ujngnuWuFgYhvSeTTUj92Uksqkx7G2oMY37ttM4GWTANVpuh3RvbJQVmqoGpsKXMFOn36y3aN8QCwiudhLd_RY-8_NQ7JSH2QZVU/s400/200712+Morocco+068.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />We arrived at Chellah early, the sun beaming through the trees. The vast site was entirely peaceful except for the hundreds of thousands of storks clacking their beaks, and the strains of the royal trumpeters practicing somewhere nearby.<br /><br />We had about an hour to wander through the ruins of this historic area, and at first I thought that was going to be about 45 minutes too long. But actually, it was a lovely place to hang around in the sun, and admire the views over a colourful valley.<br /><br />The storks, who nested in the tops of tall palm trees, clacked away, impressing their mates with a bizarre beak-bashing dance. It was really amusing to watch. Hundreds of cats also called this place home, and it was really sweet to walk round a corner to see what looked like a Cat’s Sunbaking Club – six or so cats were sprawled lazily in the morning sun, grooming themselves, and completely oblivious to us tourists.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggtt5-3JxfBgb7y1Tmr8ewSY09IIPJJPP-gGl56qjkqFoR2O-ZycqbgYjtG1YUx0wDkdH4Fgx82PGY_cG51mEBBakeCtAc3huzocMeexwt1yligFToKQEgxD3V8Pd-OhpWgJs/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+066.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155082038243836866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggtt5-3JxfBgb7y1Tmr8ewSY09IIPJJPP-gGl56qjkqFoR2O-ZycqbgYjtG1YUx0wDkdH4Fgx82PGY_cG51mEBBakeCtAc3huzocMeexwt1yligFToKQEgxD3V8Pd-OhpWgJs/s400/200712+Morocco+066.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I really loved Chellah. It was the perfect place to reflect on 2007 and consider the big changes that were looming in 2008.<br /><br />Next stop was a local supermarket, to stock up on food for a Christmas lunch picnic. We were able to buy wine here too – sold in black plastic bags (which were rather conspicuous by default). Alcohol was not readily available throughout Morocco, but it was available in some supermarkets and hotel bars. Mohammed explained that while alcohol was forbidden as part of the Muslim way of life, it didn’t stop locals from drinking. Still, there was a slight sense that it was not an overly accepted thing to do.<br /><br />With fresh food and bottled water in hand, we set off into the Moroccan countryside en route to Meknes.<br /><br />I was surprised at how quickly the countryside changed. I don’t know what I expected Moroccan countryside to be like, but it seemed to vary in colour and texture every half an hour.<br /><br />We pulled over to the side of the road, and Mohammed indicated we were at our lunch stop. It was a quiet little area, and we clambered, goat-like, down the hill into a green clearing. It was a shame to see so many empty plastic bottles and litter strewn all over the place. This was to be a constant site throughout Morocco, which was a real shame.<br /><br />Rogue plastic bags and bottles aside, our Christmas picnic was great! We shared bread and cheese and mandarins, and whatever other nibblies people had bought.<br /><br />I had loaded my Ipod with Christmas tunes, and we chatted as Dean Martin sang Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, which was pretty amusing. Perhaps more poignantly, the words to Bandaid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas echoed loud in my mind. We saw a lot of poverty in the next two weeks – kids and old people begging, and living in what we would consider to be sub-standard conditions. It reminded me to be thankful for what I had, and more thankful for things I took for granted – like unlimited food and running water, flushing loos and heating.<br /><br />Lunch and reflection over, it was time to get back on the bus and drive to Meknes.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-13401836224229206942008-01-13T21:23:00.000+00:002008-01-13T21:45:29.393+00:00Day 2: 24 December 2007; Palaces and Kasbahs in RabatIt took a couple of hours to drive out of Casablanca across to Rabat. It was time for our first Moroccan lunch, and we were herded into a little restaurant in the main drag. I tried a simple omelette and mint tea – both of which were to become staples for the next few weeks.<br /><br />Bread also features heavily in Moroccan meals...every Moroccan meal to be precise. It’s offered automatically, and is great for soaking up juices in tagines, soups and pretty much any Moroccan food.<br /><br />Our local guide then joined us on the bus for a quick coach tour round the main streets. Every Moroccan town’s main street is called after the king – Mohammed V. At least that makes it easy to always find the main drag.<br /><br />We drove into the guarded ground of the Royal Palace, which had a number of stylishly understated buildings. Fountains and broad boulevards sprawled before us, and our local guide explained that this area was actually a little city in itself. VIPs and the King’s servants and their families lived in various parts of the grounds. The guide pointed out the King’s personal mosque, where he recites prayers each Friday.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS3wX9_5_Vb_1xMWd3fSrwTQ3E5wCXG9mf-TZBOgF1l4SapmCv8wjzeYVwrnPSSJNRbzM1Fcfv5YvBAiKxf9vt4Ep4CILGcXLrk-YjpTCBzJCa07ttVsSce_jCEOzEvvJ8_E/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+029.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155075832016094082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS3wX9_5_Vb_1xMWd3fSrwTQ3E5wCXG9mf-TZBOgF1l4SapmCv8wjzeYVwrnPSSJNRbzM1Fcfv5YvBAiKxf9vt4Ep4CILGcXLrk-YjpTCBzJCa07ttVsSce_jCEOzEvvJ8_E/s400/200712+Morocco+029.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Next stop was a visit to Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. They’re REALLY into mausoleums in this country, and this one was another example of ornate decorations. The grounds of Hassan Tower were lovely and looked out over Rabat to the sea.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOIkGgeRVlwzXOQMG-WljgOQ55dXhWQV6GrNmidtcVsMzfX6OHT6nFEZ5nhcE4dqhZYH_b11sEZdvhDFK5B6twR85pUChasqyo5asew85M528h-3IZPUn4_vSN6OSpN_ql_8/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155076270102758290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOIkGgeRVlwzXOQMG-WljgOQ55dXhWQV6GrNmidtcVsMzfX6OHT6nFEZ5nhcE4dqhZYH_b11sEZdvhDFK5B6twR85pUChasqyo5asew85M528h-3IZPUn4_vSN6OSpN_ql_8/s400/200712+Morocco+041.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The sun was well and truly out now, and it felt like summer – a lovely feeling in the middle of a northern hemisphere winter. It was starting to feel like a holiday!<br /><br />Our final sightseeing stint for the afternoon was Rabat’s Kasbah – or Kasbah of the Oudaias. You can’t see much from outside the towering walls, which are ten metres high and 2.5 metres thick, but once inside, a magical maze of blue and whitewashed walls and narrow little streets revealed itself.<br /><br />Cats scooted amongst the tourists and cars, as we walked slowly through what I reckoned was one of the most beautiful old towns I’d ever been in. I just loved the feel of the place.<br /><br />We walked upwards to a large open area that overlooked the sea, and the rest of Rabat. It was on the walk back down through the Kasbah, that our local guide asked if I wanted to stay in Rabat with him and be his second wife. Nice! Fortunately the widely accepted practice of Moroccan men being allowed to take up to four wives was abolished some time ago. So I had to decline.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2_pqHRtvkDomS10GQNjSbrQtGkW9-rU6sFFsxHvL_zwaetvPFIZ-xAmZPgaTJITjANFvzgt9SvfKuJagDwOHhv0rBReVpujB611aOpJ0KmorRQBN5zNUQs0pMuGeWEj3jXw/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+051.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155076708189422498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2_pqHRtvkDomS10GQNjSbrQtGkW9-rU6sFFsxHvL_zwaetvPFIZ-xAmZPgaTJITjANFvzgt9SvfKuJagDwOHhv0rBReVpujB611aOpJ0KmorRQBN5zNUQs0pMuGeWEj3jXw/s400/200712+Morocco+051.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As we continued to head down the stairs, past people’s houses and yet more cats, we arrived at a fabulous little open air cafe that served mint tea and delicious Moroccan pastries. Some pastries resembled baklava, some were crisp pastry crescents, and they were all syrupy sweet and almondy.<br /><br />The scent of citrus and the sea wafted everywhere, and we left the cafe to walk through lovely gardens. Orange trees laden with fruits lined the gardens, and as we were to see throughout the rest of the trip, lined pretty much every street.<br /><br />Rabat’s Kasbah was indeed a little oasis in this buzzing city, and it was unfortunate that we couldn’t spend more time here.That said, we’d had a long day on limited sleep, so it was nice to get into the hotel and have a back bash for a few hours before dinner.<br /><br />Our hotel was just opposite Rabat’s medina, which appeared from the outside to be completely packed with markets and people. Interestingly, our tour leader warned us not to go into this medina at night, and certainly not to go there alone.<br /><br />We’d agreed to have a group dinner, and it was this evening I tried my first real Moroccan tagine – lemon chicken with olives. It was delicious!<br /><br />It was also Christmas Eve, and the group was excited about the tour and in festive spirits. We sampled our first Moroccan red wine, the brand incidentally recommended by Lonely Planet, and a raucous night was enjoyed by all.<br /><br />This was also the group’s introduction to Billy the Bull – Susie’s stuffed travel companion. Billy was sporting a stunning pink Chinese evening outfit, and he generated much interest from the locals, who I’m sure thought we were completely bonkers.<br /><br />I wondered what awaited us for Christmas Day...<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-84579775766113657952008-01-13T21:01:00.001+00:002008-01-13T21:22:49.616+00:00Day 2: 24 December 2007; Cruising in CasablancaWith a solid three hours sleep under my belt, the tour group congregated for breakfast and did quick introductions. Mohamed, our tour leader outlined the trip, and we set off for a morning of sightseeing in Casablanca.<br /><br />The streets were busy, and men wearing cloaked jellabas were everywhere. We were to see many more jellabas in the coming days.<br /><br />We passed <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/05/06/casablanca.ricks/index.html">Rick’s Cafe</a>, made famous in the film Casablanca, and headed directly to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hassan_II_Mosque">Hassan II mosque</a> – undoubtedly one of the most iconic buildings in Morocco.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRexNH_hmbSpA54q1eEmzl1Q8OGRJ6boSZg8y1ag7M7l_6bW8Uius4cx0-w-4cU2z36d9e3qa_N6ejzGc_AVhkQ2mEShOcLYqDFx3OPUWSNiJ31U6SNYAClJRXLTsz32QyaTk/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155069728867566418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRexNH_hmbSpA54q1eEmzl1Q8OGRJ6boSZg8y1ag7M7l_6bW8Uius4cx0-w-4cU2z36d9e3qa_N6ejzGc_AVhkQ2mEShOcLYqDFx3OPUWSNiJ31U6SNYAClJRXLTsz32QyaTk/s400/200712+Morocco+028.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Completed in 1993, this monstrous structure and its vast esplanades overlook the sea. Our guide explained that some 6,000 builders worked day and night, in shifts, to complete the build in just six years. Impressive work!<br /><br />Our tour inside the mosque took us past huge halls, decorated with ornate plaster carvings, marble, granite, cedar wood – all material came from Morocco with the exception of 57 Italian chandeliers and Italian marble pillars.<br /><br />It was astounding to think that this building could accommodate 25,000 worshippers inside and another 80,000 worshippers outside, at any one time. Because it was a working mosque, the guided tours were squeezed in between the five prayer sessions each day.<br /><br />Our guide was quick to point out which behaviours were part of the Islamic religion, and which were not. Taking shoes off at the entrance at the mosque for example, was not a religious thing, but simply a way of keeping the mosque’s floors clean.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNc8h48XB1-RlasceqVIKhdrab6DLZZy4hbpwTaV_pRNceqAFdF_1aDyWq2BXCZoNfQnCQtnlMI74GQwezoGw5qLiaii-WBm9ix7zvt_3_Y2V3ja1y8jFt2Cgs-fmtMs8-Qc/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155069930731029346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNc8h48XB1-RlasceqVIKhdrab6DLZZy4hbpwTaV_pRNceqAFdF_1aDyWq2BXCZoNfQnCQtnlMI74GQwezoGw5qLiaii-WBm9ix7zvt_3_Y2V3ja1y8jFt2Cgs-fmtMs8-Qc/s400/200712+Morocco+012.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The mosque was deceptively high tech, with a roof that actually opened like those in sports stadiums. They reckon it got pretty warm and whiffy in the summer heat with 25,000 people inside...<br /><br />Hundreds of loud speakers were ingeniously hidden in the timber pillars in the ceiling, and the floors were apparently centrally heated. The attention to detail was amazing. Millions of zellij (mosaic) tiles lined the walls and everywhere you looked, there were intricate designs in any manner of materials.<br /><br />We then walked downstairs into the huge ablution rooms. It’s not obligatory to wash at the mosque, but it’s available if people want it. Again, this would be an amazing site to see, when fully packed with people.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jlFHs_MbkAn3X64NjRRj4TBlGMoFq85nA7XmEvcd7zFmZPJUOto2QNHAHcqtzufX7E_FBhTRlw4JNKVJphVel_l5OdExCJENCE6W_ik-pbffU6wxb35d4jBMvbE6rfoq7qw/s1600-h/200712+Morocco+025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155070136889459570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jlFHs_MbkAn3X64NjRRj4TBlGMoFq85nA7XmEvcd7zFmZPJUOto2QNHAHcqtzufX7E_FBhTRlw4JNKVJphVel_l5OdExCJENCE6W_ik-pbffU6wxb35d4jBMvbE6rfoq7qw/s400/200712+Morocco+025.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The final stop was the enormous Turkish bath underneath the Mosque, built mainly as a way of showing curious tourists what Turkish baths are like. Again, this isn’t a formal part of the mosque, but more used as a social add-on to it, and is really common throughout Morocco. This Turkish bath had never been used though, and there seemed to be continued debate as to whether it would be opened up to the public, or simply left as a nice place to sit for a few minutes.<br /><br />We mosied back to the coach, just as the sky cleared up and gave us a great view of the mosque under blue skies. It was warming up too. I was liking this place!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-5171658506862126702008-01-13T20:58:00.000+00:002008-01-13T21:01:19.122+00:00Day 1: 23 December 2007; Christmas chaos at HeathrowThe first day of my holiday started with a pea-soup fog blanketing much of London. There was bound to be traffic carnage out on the roads, and people carnage out at Heathrow, as some 18 million Brits embarked in the annual Christmas getaway. Blurgh!<br /><br />My bus ride out to the airport was uncharacteristically on time...so much so in fact, I arrived at Heathrow four hours ahead of my scheduled departure time. Oh well...i didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Morocco was calling!<br /><br />And that’s when the real chaos began. Shabby T2 was packed to the rafters with people desperate to escape the UK for Christmas. Tempers and frustrations were obvious as the ground staff herded only those people whose flights had been called, into the check-in area, while everyone else had to wait in the overcrowded top floor of the terminal. People were sprawled over chairs, the floor and every other available space...Heathrow’s much anticipated Terminal 5 is allegedly going to improve this increasingly feral situation this year, but I think it will be a very long time before this airport can live by BAA’s ridiculous tagline of Making Heathrow Great. Making it bearable would be a good start.<br /><br />Hours rolled by, and finally my Royal Air Maroc flight was declared open. The basement floor of T2 was even more crowded than the top floor, and flights were now being delayed and cancelled left, right and centre. Disappointed passengers were asked to leave the airport, because there were no facilities to rebook their flights onsite. They called in airport police to the check-in counters just prior to announcing the cancellation of a flight to Algeria...I don’t know what they thought the problem was going to be, but it certainly fuelled more angst amongst an increasingly pissed off crowd.<br /><br />Royal Air Maroc had about 200 people in its check-in queue at this stage, and as we watched the clock tick by, it became less and less certain that we were actually going to get away at all. News eventually came through that our plane hadn’t even left Casablanca yet, and that they would only board us if our flight could get out of Morocco. There seemed to be about 3 million screaming kids, and even more screaming passengers, as BA, Alitalia and Lufthansa continued to cancel more flights...I felt truly sorry for the many Christmas plans and family reunions that were being systematically stuffed up by the fog.<br /><br />Finally...after more waiting, we got the fantastic news that our plane was on its way, and we could be checked in. It took about another hour to process the huge queues, get through security and find somewhere to perch in what was now the most over-crowded airport I’ve ever seen.<br /><br />Departure times were being constantly revised and pushed out....it was shaping up to be a very long night. My flight finally took off just after 10pm, five hours after its scheduled time.<br />Two of my soon-to-be tours buddies were sitting next to me, and we acquainted ourselves, chatted for a bit, then slept.<br /><br />Casablanca’s airport was fairly quiet, and it took no time to get through customs. Large piles of luggage congregated around the carousels, which didn’t bode well. Some bags from our flight arrived, but it took another 45 minutes for the next batch to come through. The cleaning staff were busily mopping, while we weary tourists wondered if we’d get to our hotel before daybreak.<br /><br />My bag finally came – thankfully – and I went out to meet the tour guide, and let him know that my travel buddies still had not received their bags. He mentioned that two of the tour buddies that had arrived early had still not received their bags....unluckily for them, bag-tracking would be an ongoing nightmare throughout the trip.<br /><br />Some 45 minutes later, the remaining bags arrived, and we exited into the chilly Moroccan morning en route to our hotel in Casablanca. My head hit the pillow shortly after 4am, but I was at least there, and couldn’t wait to get out and explore this mysterious land!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-59880232323052211742007-12-14T20:13:00.000+00:002007-12-15T10:04:38.327+00:00A belated Turkey for ChristmasI've always found one of the best ways of beating the post-holiday blues is to ensure I have another holiday booked....and Turkey has been somewhere I've wanted to go for a long time!<br /><br />So...this is the next big trip on the list after Morocco...a two-week birthday present to myself :-).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXpzuanzVkOdtB5TbSXCpTDjxw3JR_e3PYJ40X9Io-75lFoGd5XxfoqoUEGQakHGkH5kdVSLgaKqeB0AVh4jg3Mi7uBEG5yfQLOK9VvvGTqtHCZwI4U6pYATWVAU4OGgaizo/s1600-h/turkey2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143925886462280514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXpzuanzVkOdtB5TbSXCpTDjxw3JR_e3PYJ40X9Io-75lFoGd5XxfoqoUEGQakHGkH5kdVSLgaKqeB0AVh4jg3Mi7uBEG5yfQLOK9VvvGTqtHCZwI4U6pYATWVAU4OGgaizo/s400/turkey2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />* This picture is courtesy of Explore UK.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-64354403758727382492007-12-14T20:07:00.000+00:002007-12-14T20:47:08.921+00:00Apparently I should be living in TokyoA funky little application in facebook called <a href="http://apps.facebook.com/whatcity/">WhatCity</a> suggests I should be living in Tokyo.<br /><br />You plug in answers to a series of questions - sort of like a little personality test - and WhatCity returns the city that think most resembles your personality traits.<br /><br />Here's what it says about why I should be living in Tokyo:<br /><blockquote>"Admit it - you love the taste of teriyaki bowls, sushi, tempura, and a side of wasabi. Salivating yet? Living in Tokyo lets you treat your tongue to new and exciting experiences. Have fun with all the new tools and gadgets, making your life easier in this technologically-advanced city."</blockquote>Given my love of all things <a href="http://surpliceofadventure.blogspot.com/search/label/Japan">Japanese</a>, this was hardly a revelation!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-53379713081326226532007-12-14T19:45:00.000+00:002008-01-13T22:20:14.727+00:00Show me the Souk!I'm SO excited! Only a few sleeps to go before I head off on a two-week <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/Tour+Detail+Page.htm?TourCode=MR&BrochureCode=EWW2008">tour</a> through Morocco.<br /><br />I've previously spent one day in the Moroccan port town of Tangier, but two weeks of roaming round the imperial cities and out the Sahara desert will be something altogether unique.<br /><br />I'm travelling once again with the good people at <a href="http://www.explore.co.uk/">Explore</a>. I liked the length of their tour, and that it covered all the imperial cities as well as the desert. Bring on the souks and the mint tea! The optional night's camping in a Bedouin tent in the Merzouga Sand Sea and the camel ride should be unforgettable.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAvJ0mZo54SvJf_sNOIZQYmjhJqD2Z7T9hYNUyDl4lTm7-BQ16M4zFYhnvz5B_13rYbsl7yWiXpp5ANed67UPZ-Sy5mz7RrbCNHxsRxNaMz4JIjI4BPX_-Wiojfi3uNwjXjo/s1600-h/tour.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143920453328651058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAvJ0mZo54SvJf_sNOIZQYmjhJqD2Z7T9hYNUyDl4lTm7-BQ16M4zFYhnvz5B_13rYbsl7yWiXpp5ANed67UPZ-Sy5mz7RrbCNHxsRxNaMz4JIjI4BPX_-Wiojfi3uNwjXjo/s400/tour.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The travel dossier warns me that it can get rather chilly out in them thar hills....freezing in fact...snowing in fact! Should be interesting.<br /><br />I look forward to many blogs posts with amazing desert pics, and am most curious about what Christmas Day in Rabat will be like.<br /><br />Whoohoo...not long to go!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-31110539621324037712007-09-09T21:05:00.000+00:002007-09-09T21:11:50.531+00:00Day 4: Meandering through German wine-country<div><div><div>We woke up to dark clouds and another hearty German breaky. I think I was consuming more bread, rolls and crackers than I do in an entire year, but the bread was fresh and seemed to be the thing to do. I was also getting into the cold meats and cheeses, ala continental breakfast.<br /><br />Throughout the day, we climbed slowly in altitude and it was starting to get chilly.<br /><br />We were driving through yet more green hills, and saw what looked to be a concorde perched on a building. Despite Betsy’s nagging and flashing, we detoured into a town called Sinsheim, and into the carpark of a huge open air aeronautical museum. There was indeed a concorde perched aloft the building, and all sorts of other planes held by huge metal struts in really interesting positions. Talk about a random place to build a plane museum! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhy5xca11XD45gug5Ztaxb1clKrz34Q7NjR6H3jTX8pDqD3eQHuPn13lPo1ozloTIKsP2i5UxhlAaqX86tnp9LxYpycfJsZzQkILLGL9cbBF4Y90BMkaRR4ogax6saUgT5Hs/s1600-h/20070903+Sinsheim+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108314306792302898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhy5xca11XD45gug5Ztaxb1clKrz34Q7NjR6H3jTX8pDqD3eQHuPn13lPo1ozloTIKsP2i5UxhlAaqX86tnp9LxYpycfJsZzQkILLGL9cbBF4Y90BMkaRR4ogax6saUgT5Hs/s400/20070903+Sinsheim+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>We carried onwards to the town of Tubingen. By this stage it was pizzing down – our first real unpleasant weather of the trip. We finally found a parking spot and headed into the Old Town.<br /><br />More quaintness, this time with a little river flowing underneath the front doors of a row of houses. They all had little bridges from the footpath to their front doors. Wouldn’t want to take a wrong step after a big night out…We eventually found the main piazza and the huge Rathouse (townhall). It was ornately decorated and like most places in Germany, sprouted little planter boxes of geraniums and other coloured flowers. Other buildings in the piazza had that characteristic Old Town lean about them. I loved the decorative signs and murals on the buildings. It’s just so much nicer than drab grey concrete. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8PwVbB9yvhIjSd-nhzatBiW0E5fS479ZQa0Dkr1BqmUNrGZnVD6jiF18UlwV92z6IzsXzpEZbBMFTmsyOvX5v8_V3RzHbLMXd8SeuTo-UojaMfroBTqNIvwVTnXODWtyk8s/s1600-h/20070904+Tubingen+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108314749173934418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8PwVbB9yvhIjSd-nhzatBiW0E5fS479ZQa0Dkr1BqmUNrGZnVD6jiF18UlwV92z6IzsXzpEZbBMFTmsyOvX5v8_V3RzHbLMXd8SeuTo-UojaMfroBTqNIvwVTnXODWtyk8s/s400/20070904+Tubingen+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>The rain continued to fall, so we headed back out of town to find a hotel. That was only because we couldn’t find one hotel near the centre of town. The “hotel route” signs seemed to take us round the town in loops, and Betsy was madly beeping and flashing. The Greek-family owned Meteora Hotel became our bed for the evening. They even ran a very large Greek-restaurant, which for some reason made me chuckle. The area – reasonably high in the German alps - did not have a particularly Mediterranean feel about it. Surprisingly, we saw a lot of Greek restaurants during the rest of our travels through Germany, Switzerland Italy. </div><div> </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrSPBwTTPaGj524LW5D-7lLwLwgP6bv5D3CpGUcBq4HUdSAQwhVDVvIdCu2xj4pO2F9GrPLaMAStCumLley_bHV7JZBdcILn-KkbgUMoeQGJSt6r4mP0iV3ATRkyRObzBxNg/s1600-h/20070904+Tubingen+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108314538720536898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrSPBwTTPaGj524LW5D-7lLwLwgP6bv5D3CpGUcBq4HUdSAQwhVDVvIdCu2xj4pO2F9GrPLaMAStCumLley_bHV7JZBdcILn-KkbgUMoeQGJSt6r4mP0iV3ATRkyRObzBxNg/s400/20070904+Tubingen+007.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>For dinner, we passed on Greek food and set out to find something a bit more German. We came across what looked like a great restaurant – warm and cosy, full of people and a good atmosphere. They said they were full, but we were welcome to try their downstairs restaurant. So off we trotted – down what looked to be the first and only flight of stairs. There were bathrooms, and two other doors, one of which I gave a mighty push and barged into the kitchen. The other door didn’t seem to lead to anything substantial, so we poked around outside in case we had misunderstood. Again, there was another door right round the other side of the building, but with no markings.<br /><br />We were slightly exasperated at this stage, and went back in to get clear on the instructions. The waitress ushered us out to the loos and insisted that the next door did in fact lead to steps, and to take them all the way to the bottom floor. Right. So…down we ventured…and down some more, and then the dining space appeared. It was completely underground, dimly lit, full of chairs and tables and a couple of patrons, and a huge collection of homely junk. There were old sewing machines, palm trees, barrows of mock fruit, paintings, kitchenware and quite randomly, a big plastic flying duck attached the ceiling. It was very bizarre – hilarious in fact!<br /><br />The menu looked great – it featured Swabian food, which we discovered was the region we were in. They had the ever-desirable schweinhuxe, which Dad and I decided to have – again. The Swabian version of pork knuckle was different. They called it suckling pig, and instead of roasting the pork to make the fat crackly, they left it soft. While I probably didn’t need any more lard for the day, it was slightly disappointing that there was no crackle, but the pork was delicious and tender. There was sauerkraut galore – also a slightly different version to what we had been eating in the north of Germany. This version was more pureed. And of course, there was spetzle – German noodles that are sort of like long flat pasta, but more randomly shaped cos they’re homemade. All that was covered in rich gravy and washed down with some fine Swabian beer.<br /><br />The guts and butts were growing by the day, but we were indeed enjoying the food! </div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-16817385558578704662007-09-09T20:53:00.000+00:002007-09-09T21:05:13.216+00:00Day 3: Here comes HeidelbergA big hearty German breaky helped the inescapable hangover, although the bendy little roads did not. By about 11am and a few coffees though, we were starting to feel less shoddy. Ten points to Dad who had the unenviable pleasure of driving for the day – and negotiating with Betsy - with a pounding head.<br /><br />Heidelberg was our destination, and we meandered through green rolling hills laden with vineyards and orchards. They looked to be mainly apples and stone fruits, and the squat trees were absolutely bulging with fruit. European drivers flew past us. We were doing a respectable 90-100kms/hour on secondary roads, but these guys had to be overtaking at speeds of 120-140kms. They do like to go fast!<br /><br />Heidelberg finally came into view. The Neckar River runs straight down the middle of this predominantly student town, although the side which houses the Old Town and the huge old Schloss was definitely the side to see first. Parking was once again a nightmare, and we had to do a couple of laps of the town before we could find a space. It was interesting to hear a news report that morning that estimated that by next year, more of the world’s population would live in cities than in rural areas. God knows where we’re all going to park in the future.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFSVwDR6JUsZRlwZMjThWjwteDpm2ySrc8TNQQ5fT6W0xWd5F8RB2HwpkjT0k_UpwVMW36kKYNKNYdsUg9ojnYAg_YTZ5T-YOLpojisbgV4mwJ4DZnEvU4cZ1hEzF-nJzUuA/s1600-h/20070902+Heidelberg+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108311149991340274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFSVwDR6JUsZRlwZMjThWjwteDpm2ySrc8TNQQ5fT6W0xWd5F8RB2HwpkjT0k_UpwVMW36kKYNKNYdsUg9ojnYAg_YTZ5T-YOLpojisbgV4mwJ4DZnEvU4cZ1hEzF-nJzUuA/s400/20070902+Heidelberg+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Anyway…we eventually found a small gasthoff right in the old town – next to a sex shop I might add. The sex shop looked out of place amongst such grand old buildings. A big hot lunch helped to take the final edge off our Rudesheim heads, and we were then ready to tackle the 320-ish stairs to the top of the Schloss. Our guide book noted that this was one of the oldest castles in Germany.<br /><br />The main castle was being restored, so unfortunately had scaffolding round some of the turrets. Nevertheless, it was immense and stunning. The grounds were lush green and very well kept, and the huge trees looked like they’d been there as long as the castle. The view over the city from the top of the hill was great – I love looking over Old Towns, with their uneven and colourful rooflines. A charming arched bridge crossed the river and Heidelberg’s cathedral seemed to stand out as the centre of town.<br /><br />The castle had sustained some fairly major damage in the war, and they had left the remains of a huge chunk of turret where it h ad fallen. Amazingly, huge amounts of the castle remained intact, and while we didn’t go inside, people wandered round the turrets and walls. It would have been a historian’s paradise. I just like very old chunks of rock!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQn9NaAhq3tWqSVnqD-nnR6FPAz-EpHCFVr17IgdeJu5QPSTe2ZETwyUA3u3WX12WtGZtz1bwZO3k5vlb9P7neTTjoP9k3GwA_QBRybovgCjPUeSz6RoldQuSsiNucTyqiak/s1600-h/20070902+Heidelberg+027.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108311356149770498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQn9NaAhq3tWqSVnqD-nnR6FPAz-EpHCFVr17IgdeJu5QPSTe2ZETwyUA3u3WX12WtGZtz1bwZO3k5vlb9P7neTTjoP9k3GwA_QBRybovgCjPUeSz6RoldQuSsiNucTyqiak/s400/20070902+Heidelberg+027.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We admired yet more view, then made our way down the 320-ish stairs, headed straight for a café to rest the knees and ankles and pigged out on yet another strudel. We were on holidays after all!<br /><br />We then walked across the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the Neckar, to get some pics of the town and castle from a different perspective. It was quant and quintessentially German.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp42AhNvJwLXaBbiyYSfTG5C4zSegSNrgKWjdMj78KWFvQFvhB5iBfaf-wDDhLHF_k-1q1EzSXa69DZwOOAIpbSVVzqJoJHdmGSsl7-SqrvtafRFfUfreqRl_AHXOFQMUudk/s1600-h/20070902+Heidelberg+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108310973897681122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp42AhNvJwLXaBbiyYSfTG5C4zSegSNrgKWjdMj78KWFvQFvhB5iBfaf-wDDhLHF_k-1q1EzSXa69DZwOOAIpbSVVzqJoJHdmGSsl7-SqrvtafRFfUfreqRl_AHXOFQMUudk/s400/20070902+Heidelberg+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />By dinner time, we were (surprisingly) up for a beer again, and tried more local lager – or pils as they say. We found a quaint little German restaurant full of old musical instruments used as decorations – violin and tuba light shades abounded!<br /><br />The food, as it had all been, was hearty and yummy. I had a game-stuffed ravioli, although it looked more like a green lasagne. In any case, it was great.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOMFHRrss3siM0RQKViGBI-p-KDNxhn_C7Ord77Uj-rA8o2IbeJHD59Dr2HRc-KOAEn5VLd_8D9PYo1-COhaa1yIgwVo_yhEukKPYI5mfMAveTw-fLT3liitXAIjDhLei_ps/s1600-h/20070902+Heidelberg+050.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108312803553749282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOMFHRrss3siM0RQKViGBI-p-KDNxhn_C7Ord77Uj-rA8o2IbeJHD59Dr2HRc-KOAEn5VLd_8D9PYo1-COhaa1yIgwVo_yhEukKPYI5mfMAveTw-fLT3liitXAIjDhLei_ps/s400/20070902+Heidelberg+050.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We called in an early night after a final wander back over the bridge, and a peek of the backlit castle. Wunderbah!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-71962548325296386422007-09-09T20:43:00.000+00:002007-09-10T08:57:35.326+00:00Day 2: Get your motor running – driving down the RhineThe Rhine beckoned and we were up and out early. Mum and Dad had previously been to a small town called Rudesheim, about 30kms north in the wrong direction, but said it was worth seeing. Lonely Planet chose to differ and said Rudesheim was kitsch, overpriced and a tourist drag. So..I was interested to see what it was like.<br /><br />The satellite navigation system in the car, which had been nick-named “Betsy”, took us off the freeways and onto the little winding roads through small towns and villages. We weren’t in any screaming hurry, with a week to wind our way down to Stresa.<br /><br />A little car-ferry punted us over the Rhine, straight into Rudesheim, which I loved straight away. Give me kitsch and quaint any day!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1dxQXJmX5j2gSrayja4ytQnPOGLhbcBGlQr4Yjk2z_e0yEbA8QUVgmAhjzyB0cAaVTWLvjdgejPdAM4QIxXgz50PY_G6VSAGTznhWNPtT2L_y_yLFvrgZ9G163NKjWvD5ps/s1600-h/20080902+Germany+047.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108308796349262002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1dxQXJmX5j2gSrayja4ytQnPOGLhbcBGlQr4Yjk2z_e0yEbA8QUVgmAhjzyB0cAaVTWLvjdgejPdAM4QIxXgz50PY_G6VSAGTznhWNPtT2L_y_yLFvrgZ9G163NKjWvD5ps/s400/20080902+Germany+047.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Rudesheim fronted the river, and yes, to be sure, a whole bunch of very touristy shops lined the streets. But the buildings were gorgeous and the cobbled little paths screamed to be explored. We had beaten the tourist buses, so got a good look at the place before it really started to heave.<br /><br />The stunning Boosenburg Castle, which still touted its 12th Century tower, dominated the foreshore, while cruise boats and a train ferried tourists up and down the river. Old castles perched high on the green hills and vineyards – it was fairytale-esque.<br /><br />Keen to sample the local fare, we decided an apple strudel was in order, and pottered back up the hill into the old town. With cream and icecream, the warm apple strudel was fab. It seemed a fitting early lunch in this gorgeous little town.<br /><br />We decided at that stage that we liked it so much we’d stay the night, and found a quaint little guest-house right in the centre of town. They were also able to garage the car for the rest of the day and evening, which got it out of the way. We were noticing that parking in these joints was a complete nightmare!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlLE48rVaMs3b-DVDxk2gKaT-OhEH3kh2O5omfmp790w-a2u8X6ZfvHX4k2YcGlSwTkxjcjR3SK07sSZXNwnQN9PSjW8l2UvBXvPvpZ6Di7EybozdjubKXoTBlHSqFOkYudE/s1600-h/20080902+Germany+044.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108309058342267074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlLE48rVaMs3b-DVDxk2gKaT-OhEH3kh2O5omfmp790w-a2u8X6ZfvHX4k2YcGlSwTkxjcjR3SK07sSZXNwnQN9PSjW8l2UvBXvPvpZ6Di7EybozdjubKXoTBlHSqFOkYudE/s400/20080902+Germany+044.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So…free of car and with a bed for the evening, we set about sampling some of the local lager. After a gruelling search for the best pub, we lurched into a little open air biergarten where a band was just setting up.<br /><br />There were table-loads of oldies boozing away, and then the band started its oom-pa-pa music. They really would have passed as a German band, but we later discovered they were Czech.<br /><br />Anyway, one drink turned into a round after round, and our drinking buddies at neighbouring tables started to lean over and chat in broken Germanglish, Frenglish and Italinglish. Eventually we all resorted to the universal language of Slur and understood each other perfectly. Many hilarious things happened in that drinking session – much of it captured on blurry video. History will show a bunch of very drunk people singing very loudly for a long time, but for us it was one of those classic afternoons that you simply can’t plan or manufacture. Our fabulous (and cute) Czech oom-pa-pa band finished their 4-hour set and a “woman” (read, mutton dressed as Suzi-Quatro style lamb) and her two band buddies took the stage for the evening session.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkDGyPXwxhed7WquqYqE0fsSF1_p_go79QIRYtbbrDnbTslhN9CJZ2MTrmrybOcduXKG521keRCqB8OPGWMfq2mtM1tlqVNaQkcr221OMpFdl8pYtOKKyNtOrepENg37no10/s1600-h/20080902+Germany+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108309646752786642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkDGyPXwxhed7WquqYqE0fsSF1_p_go79QIRYtbbrDnbTslhN9CJZ2MTrmrybOcduXKG521keRCqB8OPGWMfq2mtM1tlqVNaQkcr221OMpFdl8pYtOKKyNtOrepENg37no10/s400/20080902+Germany+012.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />How we managed to eat dinner that evening is beyond me. I do recall that it was great food, but I don’t recall how we managed to find our way home. People partied way into the early hours of the next morning, and sang the whole way home. Together with bells that chimed all evening, and raging hangovers, I can safely say that we had been well and truly Rudesheimed!<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-75533283314958976912007-09-09T20:30:00.000+00:002007-09-10T08:54:07.321+00:00Day 1: My Big Fat German and Italian Road TripMy parents are over, and we’ve just started a driving holiday through Western Europe. I shall declare it my Big Fat German and Italian Road Trip.<br /><br />I arrived in Frankfurt on Thursday evening and met up with some colleagues in the Dow Jones Frankfurt office for lunch. Thanks to Matthias, Frank and Connie for giving me an introductory German lesson, and introducing me to hanuta – yummy chocolate wafer snacks. For Australians, they’re kinda like inside-out Tim Tams.<br /><br />I caught the train back to Mainz, a sizeable town about 30kms south of central Frankfurt, and reunited with the folks after their 3-day drive through Frrance. We met at the Mainz Hauptbahnhoff, dumped our bags and set off for an afternoon stroll around the Aldstadt (Old Town).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtkzvFXdh6RtV_K0hPw_WFV6PMRDpQWQSodjmB47rVUMm3B2DAivgAY0X0XxcsPjtQewxMoiAhd3kLU5nEzQ6w0QmRKGMDq6jonkGy2aT7Ux4bA4Mj7xxeNsivFTk_Yk-Cas/s1600-h/20070831+Mainz+old+town.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108305850001696914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtkzvFXdh6RtV_K0hPw_WFV6PMRDpQWQSodjmB47rVUMm3B2DAivgAY0X0XxcsPjtQewxMoiAhd3kLU5nEzQ6w0QmRKGMDq6jonkGy2aT7Ux4bA4Mj7xxeNsivFTk_Yk-Cas/s400/20070831+Mainz+old+town.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />German architecture is quite distinctive – I have no real clue about which period of architectural history it comes from, but it’s colourful and ornate, and really nice to look at.<br /><br />We made a bee-line for the Rhine – I didn’t realise it was such a wide river – and then mosied our way through narrow cobbled streets into the Aldstadt.<br /><br />The Domstrasse (cathedral) dominates the square and there are heaps of little pubs and cafés around. The weather was good and heaps of people were out, having a quiet Friday afternoon drink. As we did too.<br /><br />We were desperate to find somewhere to have schweinhuxe – roast pork knuckle with sauerkraut – which has long since been a favourite pig-out food in our family. Our recollection of pork knuckle from a little Bavarian restaurant in Sydney’s Beverly Hills brings back memories of hugely lardy, crackly pork, lots of gravy and cholesterol overload. But god it’s good!<br /><br />A few beers into it, we set off in search of schweinhuxe, and our search ended successfully all of five minutes later, when we found a lovely traditional looking restaurant. We confirmed that they served this pork with attitude, and had ordered three before we’d even sat down. Our collective mouths watered.<br /><br />Our three big shanks of pork arrived pretty quickly, complete with the symphony-inducing sauerkraut and a creamy horseradish dip, which I’d never seen or tasted. It was like white wasabi, and went fantastically well with the meal, although it had that wasabi-like tendency to nearly blow your head off.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJdWTLlZe5OfhvmeklpUxbsZLlwOKdEcIOEjy1sPAdb48Z-UGu9BgXbD0_y39xQq2KP6dgnSTuXRjtw4SAwIJxVcCzc3Dy6nmsBRPFYaSzJIBef35eFydjOP6FBRXflHTZD0/s1600-h/20070831+Mainzport+knucke.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108306597326006434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJdWTLlZe5OfhvmeklpUxbsZLlwOKdEcIOEjy1sPAdb48Z-UGu9BgXbD0_y39xQq2KP6dgnSTuXRjtw4SAwIJxVcCzc3Dy6nmsBRPFYaSzJIBef35eFydjOP6FBRXflHTZD0/s400/20070831+Mainzport+knucke.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This pork knuckle seemed to be a healthier option – not so much dripping with lardy crackle, but there was a good slab of it, and the pork itself was very tasty. More beers, and we toasted many times to the first of what we knew would be a bunch of spectacular German meals.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-4677710566890794682007-08-23T18:55:00.000+00:002007-08-24T15:38:33.241+00:00A little Japanese Cocoon in London<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWUsOZDmNf-mXiEuAlVFntSqkADb0LERkSO6PT7B6Jwi0wQSHKwE-wscPV_wHpysO-0zwrZrV2LS0HuPUi4ZLnNRlqXwk3QeaNLRUX0SaI9IV2pyBIIdHyBqkeV-IV2XrNuc/s1600-h/new-3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101976704589932674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWUsOZDmNf-mXiEuAlVFntSqkADb0LERkSO6PT7B6Jwi0wQSHKwE-wscPV_wHpysO-0zwrZrV2LS0HuPUi4ZLnNRlqXwk3QeaNLRUX0SaI9IV2pyBIIdHyBqkeV-IV2XrNuc/s400/new-3.jpg" border="0" /></a>Following the yummy <a href="http://surpliceofadventure.blogspot.com/2007/06/let-gormandising-begin.html#links">Taste Festival</a> in June and a sampling of its delicious wagyu beef over hot stones, a visit to Asian-fusion restaurant <a href="http://www.cocoon-restaurants.com/">Cocoon</a> moved rapidly onto the to-do list. We crossed off the task last Saturday night.<br /><div></div><br /><div>It's really centrally located, just off Regent Street near Piccadilly Circus.</div><div> </div><div>When you walk into the bar and restaurant section on the 2nd floor, you walk into a sea of mute green and orange - it has a modern, casual, somewhat retro oriental feel to it. And then you're seated at low tables with rose petals sealed into a laminate table top. The cocoon shape is everywhere - round edges, smooth lines, circles.</div><div> </div><div>Two veteran sushi chefs were in full view of our seats, preparing bits and pieces. I shall remember to try to get a seat at the sushi bar next time - I love watching sushi chefs do their thang.</div><div> </div><div>We munched away on some steamed edamame beans, which somehow now seems the thing to do before a Japanese meal. While I was very tempted to order the wagyu beef on hot stones, I really could not stomach the £65 price tag. So...instead, I ordered yellowfin tuna sashimi and beef gulgogi for the main, with a side order of sesame spinach. Ant ordered the wild mushroom spring rolls and BBQ chicken. And sake to wash it all down.</div><div> </div><div>The meal was really well presented and delicious. The servings of the mains were huge - much bigger than you would usually expect in a place like this. We couldn't actually finish everything on our plates, which is pretty rare for me.</div><div> </div><div>The one thing I didn't really like about the service was that the waitress cleared our plates too quickly...she practically grabbed them as soon as the last mouthful went down. Although the place was crowded and we had to be out before the second setting, there was really no need for them to be as er....efficient as they were. The sake really complemented the food as well.</div><div> </div><div>Cocoon is renown for its sashimi and sushi and the yellowfin tuna was spectacular. I would love to go back again and try a more fishy meal. </div><div> </div><div>This one is definitely worth a visit!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-89867207814841693962007-08-05T21:14:00.000+00:002007-08-05T21:23:54.876+00:00Trip Advisor's travel map in facebookAh, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/">facebook</a>...the distraction of it. <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/">TripAdvisor</a> has created an addictive little application that you can install into your facebook profile, and lets you plot down to a city level, where you've been.<br /><br />I like this version better than some of the earlier attempts, that would shade the entire country of Russia if you had only been to Moscow. This version lets you mark specific cities or states.<br /><br />It tells me I'm up to 265 cities in 41 countries - I still reckon Scotland and Wales count as seperate countries, but this version does not. Anyway...as you can see, there's some vast empty areas on my map, which are yet to be explored, but are definitely on the list.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLJzyqGb7Wo4gEKSTEZx20bM2wuznfLwipi8i1mVOUU55dFnv-C1CBu5JPSeJNzHHBahtotoRhBT2ImwqkkFrqhY4zCsWQg0gLVYBM7_RwAZJ3RODXnHKKVG4sjOOb5hbx5Y/s1600-h/travelmap.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095328429654279506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLJzyqGb7Wo4gEKSTEZx20bM2wuznfLwipi8i1mVOUU55dFnv-C1CBu5JPSeJNzHHBahtotoRhBT2ImwqkkFrqhY4zCsWQg0gLVYBM7_RwAZJ3RODXnHKKVG4sjOOb5hbx5Y/s400/travelmap.jpg" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30354776.post-77900502073356871262007-08-05T19:54:00.000+00:002007-08-05T21:11:40.334+00:00I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think soInspired by the brief visit to Japan earlier this year, we decided we'd do a Japanese themed dinner party last weekend. Japanese ingredients are really easy to find in London, particularly in the <a href="http://www.japancentre.com/">Japan Centre</a> in Piccadilly (which even offers a home delivery service), or most of the shops in China Town. Most large supermarkets even stock sushi rice and seaweed sheets these days.<br /><br />Anyway, Ant and I decided that sushi and sashimi would be the order of the evening. I made a brief detour en route to work a couple of days before the big event, and spoke with the very helpful fishmongers at <a href="http://www.allinlondon.co.uk/directory/1159/30933.php">Applebee's Fish</a> near the delectible Borough Markets. They said they would have sashimi-grade salmon and tuna in stock on Saturday. Apparently it's best to check in advance that they'll have the very freshest of fish the day you need it.<br /><br />I decided on the Friday afternoon that I wanted to expand the meal to include a few side dishes, and surprised Ant with the er...amended meal plan. Let me just clarify that neither of us had individually or collectively prepared a meal like this. Nothing like a meal with high risk and a high degree of complexity to be served to unsuspecting friends:<br /><br />- Tuna and salmon sushi, sashimi<br />- Inside out <a href="http://www.bento.com/trt-caliroll.html">California rolls</a> and maki rolls<br />- layered sushi<br />- shiitake mushrooms simmered in soy<br />- <a href="http://www.bento.com/trt-green.html">beans with sesame miso dressing</a><br />- edamame beans<br />- spinach with sesame dressing<br />- <a href="http://www.bento.com/trt-peppersteak.html">bite-sized pepper steaks</a><br />- pickled ginger<br />- <a href="http://www.cdkitchen.com/recipes/recs/37/Black_Sesame_Ice_Cream37449.shtml">black sesame icecream</a> served wth <a href="http://www.japancentre.com/?cmd=itm&cid=&id=493">Pocky sticks</a><br />- sake. of course!<br /><br />On the Friday night, I began early, and started to prepare the black sesame icecream, because it was one of the few things we could do in advance. The smell of toasted sesame seeds filled the kitchen. It sort of smelt like a nutty, coffee smell. I'd never really toasted them before. The recipe I was using (not the link above, but similar), required the mixture to be stirred a couple of times after it had started to freeze so it all remained creamy. It sort of resembled the colour of Cookies & Cream icecream without the really chunky bits. Even in liquid form, it tasted pretty good. I was happy to have one dish on the way!<br /><br />We set off early on Saturday morning to collect the fresh goodies. Borough Markets was comparatively empty at that time of the day. By 11am, the place is teeming - so it was good to be in and out before the hoards arrived. Applebee's had brought in a huge batch of wild Scottish salmon, smaller and less fatty than farmed salmon, but deliciously fresh and lean. I bought a whole fish, which the fishmonger then gutted and filleted for me - thank god. They know exactly what they're doing, and it looks extremely messy. I'm a wuss when it comes to fish blood and guts. I also bought two chunky tuna steaks. I found a nice chunk of something that looked like rib eye steak for the bite sized pepper steaks, and we bought a heap of vegies for the various salads and side dishes.<br /><br />We were home by 11am, and literally did not stop cutting, cooking, rolling and arranging food until 7pm.<br /><br />Japanese food is not at all difficult to make - it's just fiddly and each recipe usually requires a couple of stages of preparation. Sushi rice took the longest time to prepare, because it needs to be washed several times, allowed to sit before it cooks, cooked and then cooled before you can work with it. See my previous post on the joys of <a href="http://surpliceofadventure.blogspot.com/2007_05_01_archive.html">sushi rice</a>!<br /><br />And that really needed to be done first, so that we could use it in the various dishes.<br /><br />The shiitake mushrooms simmered in soy was an interesting dish. It used dried shiitake mushrooms, dashi (a fishy kinda stock which I'd made from dried seaweed and katsuobushi, which are dried bonito flakes), mirin (a stock, distilled alcohol flavoured seasoning), sake, soy sauce and dark brown sugar. After I'd reconstituted the dried mushrooms in warm water, I pretty much just chucked them into the rest of the mixed ingredients and let them simmer for an hour. It was a shame I only used one packet - they were yummy!<br /><br />The layered sushi was also an interesting spin on the traditional rolled sushi and/or nigiri sushi pieces. It used a sheet of seaweed on the bottom layer, piled with a layer of rice - flattened, topped with a sheet of smoked salmon, then repeated with another layer of seaweed, rice and smoked salmon and topped with yet another seaweed sheet, to create a 3-coloured, layered sushi. It was also chopped into squares, which breaks with the traditional shape. Each piece was topped with wasabi mayonnaise - a simple mixture of wasabi and Japanese mayonnaise that created a tangy, less vicious version of the infamous nose-rattling wasabi.<br /><br />The rest of the preparation went pretty much without hitch (well, er, there may have been one or two tense moments, and a couple of sharp intakes of breath...), although it took much longer than we'd anticipated to roll all the rolls and arrange the sushi. We tried to be as pedantic about presentation and layout as the Japanese are.<br /><br />In anticipation of the party, I had been accumulating a range of little Japanese bowls and plates. Having had the <a href="http://surpliceofadventure.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html">full monty Japanese meal</a> in March, I wanted to attempt to create a Japanese table with pretty little bowls and platters. The Japan Centre has a reasonable selection of crockery, and also useful stuff like disposable chopsticks - yes, unenvironmentally friendly I know, but the pile of washing up was already mountainous....<br /><br />Funnily enough, when it was all laid out, it didn't look like enough food or effort to have sustained 2 people each working continuously for about 7 hours. We also had miles of fish left over beyond what we actually laid out, and enough sushi rolls to make a substantial lunch and dinner the next day, but hey...better to have too much than not enough.<br /><br />Our guests eventually arrived, and we got stuck into the food pretty soon after. I was keen for the fish not to sit around for too long! We cracked the sake and began to eat. The fish was delicious - definitely good quality, really fresh, and easy to eat raw. The boys had wasabi ironman championships and we all picked our way through the various tastes, textures and flavours. By all accounts, it was pretty good.<br /><br />A couple of guests were slightly dubious about the sesame icecream - until they tasted it. Not a drop was left in their bowls, and we did a round of seconds. I had made a double batch of icecream on the basis that it was such a hassle, and on the remote chance it was good, I wanted to be able to serve everyone reasonable amounts of it.<br /><br />Anyway, the party continued and we ate Japanese for a few meals afterwards. It was a fun night, and definitely worth the effort. Thanks to Ant (for his ever-present patience), Anne, Andrew, Kinga, Darren and Clare for being brave enough to try my untested Japanese experiment.<br /><br />Here's how it looked before we demolished it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2uVk0GgQDm9GXu-kMAlO2bSvjsGO9s568LxV7DOMGZt8FXpwvRsmPxMan0DOmSxAXAsC0XMVHsxigukEy-fquALbK8WtmNB6WqSllrMhvWhm6U1FcKtczXSTW0NJAhqk_Zw/s1600-h/200707+Sushi+Party+014.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095308492416091442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2uVk0GgQDm9GXu-kMAlO2bSvjsGO9s568LxV7DOMGZt8FXpwvRsmPxMan0DOmSxAXAsC0XMVHsxigukEy-fquALbK8WtmNB6WqSllrMhvWhm6U1FcKtczXSTW0NJAhqk_Zw/s400/200707+Sushi+Party+014.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This article came from A Surplice of Adventure. © 2007 Melanie Surplice</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0