I’m back in the Northern Hemisphere (where did all the light go?) after spending two weeks with its brighter, warmer southern twin. To avoid blogging overload I’m going to split this trip into two and talk about Australia first!
With Jeff, Carolyn and Maria
More cousins!
The impetus for this trip was Claire and Mitesh’s wedding in Sydney, which I rashly promised to attend back in the feel-good cousin vibes of Jamie’s San Francisco wedding of 2014. To have a family scattered across the world is a wonderful thing, but to have a global family where everybody actually likes each other is even better. Deborah and Rob, Claire’s parents, were incredibly generous and hosted two evenings of family reunions – including a Sydney harbour cruise – before the main event. (I didn’t take photos of the wedding itself, so until the official ones emerge, you will have to believe me that I dragged a new suit around in my backpack for two weeks. But I did!)
From the London branch, Carolyn and Maria turned up with a bundle of Cadbury chocolate to tide me over until my next UK visit: it looked like we were smuggling drugs. Many many thanks also to David and Ginger, who took me out for dinner on the first night even though I was probably frazzled and incoherent from all the flying. I also got to meet a wide selection of new cousins (at least, new to me!) which continues to expand my network of people to beg sofa space from in the future. And, of course, thanks and congratulations to Claire and Mitesh for making the whole thing happen. Never have I heard wedding vows quite like theirs.
The world doesn’t really need another shot of Sydney Opera House, but I’m giving it one anyway
On the Bondi to Coogee beach walk
Cool birds in the Botanical Gardens
More of the Botanical Gardens
After the family jamboree was over, I hung out in Sydney for the rest of the week and was really impressed by the city. It’s a delicate balance to be an obviously ‘working’ city and yet have so much going on for tourists, and Sydney is helped in doing this by a network of ferries and beaches. I checked out Manly and Watson’s Bay, but my favourite was easily the Bondi to Coogee beach walk, pictured above, which I did on Australia Day and so was surrounded by families picnicking and young people drinking and/or not-drinking on the beaches (there was some divergence between the flashing prohibition signs and actual behaviour). This stunning walk was also one of Emilie’s top recommendations, and her suggestions formed an excellent guidebook while I was there.
In the spirit of serendipity, I also want to put in a word for Sydney’s Justice & Police Museum, which I ducked into at random and fully embraces the “yes, we were originally a convict colony” history of European emigration to Australia. It’s one of those museums where you can wander around and interact with an old police station, cells and courthouse, force random strangers to take photos of you looking judgement in the judge’s seat, and admire the history of the Australian TARDIS police box. I realise people don’t go to Sydney for the museums, but if you happen to be walking past, you should check it out.
At the falls, making incorrect assumptions about how much of the hike I had completed
Without a doubt, however, my favourite Sydney excursion was to the Blue Mountains, a mountain range which – despite being a two hour train journey out from the city centre – is ludicrously cheap and easy to get to. After tapping out my ‘Opal’ card at the other end, I really did feel ashamed of the comparative cost on Britain’s railways. My Airbnb host, Mark, had recommended the trip and directed me to Wentworth Falls as the best place to go. (Tangent: I really, really love Airbnb. Especially if you’re travelling alone. This was one of the highlights of my whole trip and I only did it because I had a real resident to chat to.)
Although I knew I would get a waterfall – obviously – I was deliberately ignorant of what exactly I was going to see. This led to a lovely moment where I thought I’d got to ‘the’ waterfall, took a bunch of photos, and then realised that the path continued to a much, much larger drop overlooking a beautiful wooded valley. I was absolutely not wearing sensible shoes and had no idea how far away food would be (later a kindly hiker brought me up to speed) but I still decided that it would be silly to come all this way and then not do the ‘hard’ hike with signs like ‘Valley of Waters Slacks Stairs’ and ‘descend ladders facing inwards’. So I did, and I descended the ladders facing inwards, and it was an immensely satisfying and scenic trail with some fun challenging sections (i.e. “now get through this river somehow”) which concluded, mercifully, with a café serving restorative lunches for hungry walkers.
Looking out at Wentworth Falls, Blue Mountains
Beyond these trees, the universe ended
After lunch, my day at the Blue Mountains descended into farce as I moved on to the Three Sisters rock formation – getting mightily drenched in the process – only to discover that mist now rendered them completely invisible. And I mean, literally, to stare out from the ‘viewing station’ was to gaze into a pure white void, which still didn’t stop tourists looking and taking photos and (most confusingly of all) taking selfies against nature’s blank canvas. It was hilarious, and felt like a postmodern art project, and was probably more fun than actually seeing the designated sight to begin with.
On my last day in town, I also went to see Groupon people who usually exist solely on video conference calls. Cassie took me to lunch to try some of the laksa which Nolan had insisted I try in Sydney, and later I went for beers with the famous Bobby, a fellow ex-UK colleague Dan, and others from the Australian office.
With Bobby Mulligan
To round off, I would like to praise Australia most sincerely for its predominance of pies. After living in a desert of pies for so long, this was a joyous reversal, and to the extent that even the café on the ferry – where I’d expected crisps, drinks, maybe sandwiches – offered a selection of hot meat pies and sausage rolls to eat. If you live there, I guess you take this for granted, but it really is the most marvellous achievement and made me very happy while.
In my next post, I will ‘cross the ditch’ to New Zealand and continue my adventuring…
Happy new year! Now for a tale in three acts…
Act 1: Malibu, California
Randi and I spent Christmas itself with her family, who – despite being newbies to the whole ‘Christmas’ thing – indulged me in all of the traditions I claimed were important. So after watching The Muppet Christmas Carol the night before, Christmas Day was a riot of wrapping paper, lots of chocolate, my family’s annual Christmas quiz via Skype, playing board games (Would I Lie To You was particularly good) and – of course – watching Doctor Who. The walks on the beach, dreidel shaped Hanukkah stockings and latkes were less traditional but also wonderful. (Although you would be surprised at how quickly Cadbury Dairy Milk will melt in the Californian sunshine. Still delicious.)
A Very British Christmas
But also a very Californian one (her name is Sadie)
The traditional Boxing Day walk was a little more spectacular than normal
I’m keeping a close eye on this one
As you can see, we also did quite a bit of hiking (the perfect prelude to In-N-Out burgers), plus a day trip to Yorba Linda – where Randi grew up – to see her family’s friends, gawp at swimming pools in back gardens (in retrospect, my childhood was terribly impoverished) and, naturally, visit the Nixon Presidential Library and Museum. Or rather, we tried to, but in a typically tricky Nixonian manoeuvre, most of it was closed for restoration. So instead we saw Nixon’s helicopter, his childhood home and a gift shop where you can buy Ann Romney’s memoir In This Together (“when Mitt and Ann Romney met in their late teens, a great American love story began”).
Act 2: Vegas, Nevada
I thought I would hate Vegas. I don’t enjoy gambling, prostitution isn’t cool, and I have no need for an urgent wedding chapel. But I could hardly pass through Nevada without stopping here, and – if you think of it as a night in an adult Disneyland – it’s actually pretty fun. Randi’s uncle very kindly drove us all the way down the strip so we could see everything, and then we wandered in and out of the most spectacular sights: the fountains outside the Bellagio, the gondola rides through the Venetian, the line to check-in at Planet Hollywood…
Welcome to Vegas
Instead of a photo under the famous sign, here’s a photo of me deciding against the queue
Literally Britney Spears
We were staying at Planet Hollywood because I still wanted to do something properly Vegasy, and the choice which seemed most appealing was to see Britney Spears in her residency show. And you know what? She was great. She sang and danced and changed outfits a lot and at one point descended from the ceiling dressed as an angel – I mean, quite frankly, if you don’t enjoy Piece of Me then I don’t think there is a Britney Spears concert out there for you. But judging from the two women behind us, she was on safe ground with this crowd. And I’m not excluding myself from Britney-mania: we even tweeted our way to the jumbotron.
(Side-note: it is actually fascinating to contrast the sound of pop music from the early 2000s with today. It was obviously most exciting to hear Oops I Did It Again and Stronger and Lucky – I mean, that last one was a staple of the mix-tape cassette from many a family drive growing up. But now it’s all bass and beats and Work Bitch, which – as it happens – also sounds like the soundtrack to a dystopian Republican fantasy. I’ve grown slightly obsessed with the lyrics ever since. Did you know that Britney places a ‘party in France’ alongside Lamborghinis and mansions as markers of extravagant success? What if you just happen to live there already?)
Act 3: Zion National Park, Utah
Together with Randi’s mum and brother Alex, we pressed on to our final destination for a different kind of spectacle altogether. Zion National Park, in Utah, is really quite stunningly beautiful. The whole thing is a great canyon bordered by huge cliffs of a deep red colour, and any walk or hike will yield amazing views, even if – in December – you occasionally slip on ice along the way. For some Utah history we also visited the famous ghost town of Grafton, which we had all to ourselves when we were there, and was suitably eerie.
Welcome to Utah!
Zion National Park
With fancy post-Christmas jumper
The dream of home ownership (in a Mormon ghost town)
After so much adventuring, Randi and I cheated on New Year a little by celebrating our countdown to 2016 in GMT (the London fireworks were lovely!) rather than waiting for midnight to work its way to the Pacific. I think we can be forgiven.
In the run-up to Thanksgiving I had a couple of fun evenings: a movie salon at Robert and Julie’s examining The Breakfast Club (and its atrocious ending), a horror-themed Escape the Room-style adventure for Constance’s birthday – better characterised as a we-came-nowhere-close-to-actually-escaping-the-room style adventure – and an old-fashioned evening of chatter at Motel with Sean and Dre. And then, Thanksgiving itself!
One of the many great things about Thanksgiving is that I have no childhood vision of what it should be like, unlike Christmas, which is not really Christmas without presents under the tree / Christmas crackers / a family argument before sitting down to watch Doctor Who at midnight and so on. My only traditions so far are great food, great company and giving thanks for things, and I got all of this again at Catherine and Jason’s this year. It was such an enjoyable afternoon, and a total pleasure to meet Catherine’s parents and play Fibbage against them. Plus, all of the food turned out so well. And there was rhubarb pie!
Thanksgiving!
For the rest of the long weekend, Randi and I went exploring two more roadtripable states. Our first destination was Louisville, Kentucky which was holding its annual Light Up Louisville celebration. This included music (carols, churchy stuff, colour-coordinated children), some appealing German market touches (especially currywurst, mulled wine) and a full-on holiday parade, which was narrated by two unnervingly peppy stars of local radio. It was also accompanied by a fair amount of rain, which made it rather difficult to capture in all of its glory, but didn’t actually detract from the city spirit.
Bourbon cocktails and Southern food in Kentucky
Behind us, you can verify that Louisville is, indeed, lit up
I was so, so disappointed that this was a sporting venue and not an interactive KFC museum
The next day, we left our B&B (a B&B which, it must be noted, surprised us with free slices of piecaken) and headed back north for a night in Indiana.
This is Indiana ’15
I feel a little bad for Indiana. By broad consensus, its sole purpose is to plug an otherwise awkward-looking gap between neighbouring states. And no doubt, the view from the interstate – endless warehouses selling fireworks plus a giant billboard bearing the sophisticated slogan that ‘HELL IS REAL’ – doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. So instead of searching for a mediocre city, we sought out small-town charm in Corydon, who were throwing their own Christmas lights switch-on bash for the town’s roughly 3000 residents.
One fully festive Gazebo
It’s a little odd, actually, since tiny Corydon started out as the capital of Indiana when it acquired statehood in 1816. The original constitution even states that the town “shall be the seat of Government of the state of Indiana, until the year eighteen hundred and twenty-five, and until removed by law”. But come 1825, the provision ran out and the capital immediately shifted to Indianapolis, leaving behind a small but charming community where the local chemist is called Butt Drugs, the local café serves up the best chips I’ve had in ages, and bells very confusingly ring out tunes from Oklahoma on the hour.
The lies of limestone
And that would be that, had it not been for all the roadside advertisements we passed for underground ziplining at Louisville’s Mega Cavern. Having never been ziplining before, it sounded amazing, and my mind was made up after checking TripAdvisor and learning that even those who believe it’s an outrage against God still gave it 4 out of 5 stars.
So back we went to Kentucky, and down an old limestone mine, to whizz through caves on ropes and wires. It was a strange mixture of adrenaline rush and quiet beauty, and if you do ever find yourself taking a roadtrip around this part of the way, you should check it out.
Zipline buddies
Final word of the trip must go to Todd, for recommending Yats in Indianapolis, our final stop on the way home to Chicago. It serves New Orleans-style food, and it’s amazing. Enough said.
For the past two weeks I’ve been travelling again for work. Back to Warsaw first, and this time joined by Bex who very graciously endured my abridged, second-hand re-enactment of an Old Town walking tour. It was also great to see Mark and Caroline again, and along with a couple of others we visited what I can only assume is one of the city’s premier gambling establishments. Alas it still failed to arouse my interest in actually gambling (no surprise there) and so instead I amused the Italians by ordering tea (with milk) at the bar. I was desperate.
Bex, Sara, Rossella and me
Caroline, Mark and Rossella in a Warsaw casino
After a couple of hours wandering around Brussels on a layover, my next stop was Morocco. Having been advised that Marrakesh would be a more interesting place to spend a weekend than Casablanca, I started there.
Inside the Majorelle Garden
I was excited – this was actually my first visit to any African country whatsoever, let alone Morocco – and spent Sunday exploring the city. (Yes, I know I’m wearing a super-touristy hat: it’s only because I needed to get some change for entry into the Saadian Tombs.) The central square, Jemaa el-Fnaa, is breathtaking and the souks alongside are fun to explore, just as long as you watch out for the motorbikes which some people see fit to ride through the packed, narrow paths.
I’m also very glad I visited the Majorelle Garden – it’s a small, enclosed space but is astonishingly colourful and peaceful inside. The perfect calming antidote to a bustling market, and the last thing I saw before catching my train to Casablanca. (A three hour ride, in wonderful old-fashioned compartment style for about $14. The rest of the world should take note.) I’m pretty sure the two Spanish men to my right were complaining about the English, though.
Jemaa el-Fnaa
In the souk
Looking out over lunch
Catching the train to Casablanca
I should mention that Morocco is very much an Arabic and French speaking country, and the limitations of my English-only tongue were particularly evident in the taxi journey from Casablanca’s main railway station to my hotel. I was somewhat confused when another passenger joined us – this turns out to be a normal and, I guess, somewhat economic quirk of their taxi system – and then the driver grew increasingly impatient with my inability to answer any of his questions. Thankfully, the atmosphere lightened when he stopped the car in order to hide away some cash in a secret cubby hole hidden in the middle of the steering wheel, and we both started laughing together. You don’t really need to share a language to bond. A shared love of the absurd will do.
With Francisco
I didn’t get a chance for much touristy stuff in Casablanca, although I was well taken care of by Francisco and Jessica while I was there, and enjoyed hanging out with other visitors from the French office. We did make it to the world’s third-largest mosque one night, right by the sea, which was beautiful.
The Atomium at night
But soon it was time to go home, and fortunately this time the mysterious gods of yield-management airline pricing granted me an overnight stay in Brussels. So as a lovely bonus to the whole trip, my parents popped in by train so we could have dinner together and see the city sights by night.
So now, in terms of tourist sightseeing, I can tick off the Grand Place, the Mannequin-Pis (or the “peeing boy statue” as everyone actually says) and the Atomium. We worried the latter would be a wasted cab ride – with nothing to see in the dark – but were pleased to discover that at night it lights up and sparkles more than a Twilight vampire.
Oh, and in the midst of all of this, I also scored theatre tickets to Harry Potter and the Cursed Child from an intense online booking queue. But that is a story for next year…
Dinner in Brussels
At the Manneken-Pis
Durham loses marks for ditching the National Rail symbol
For the second week of our trip, we embarked on Dom’s Complete Railway Tour of the UK (Abridged) using our magical BritRail passes, which grant non-residents an unlimited ride on trains across the country. It does feel like a scheme set up in the glory days of British Rail and then buried under a carpet, as the passes you get haven’t been updated in almost 20 years, but weirdly the merest glimpse of one is enough for a ticket inspector to decide not to bother investigating any further. And so, thus armed, we set off for our first destination. (It’s worth noting that our B&B in Bury St Edmunds was several centuries older than the country I’m writing this from.)
I’m starting to doubt the town is making much progress on the Abbey
Randi and Kuzco
Most photos of us in Cambridge feature rain and ponchos
Our next stop was a rather wet and windy Cambridge: partly for the history, partly so I could pop into the bookshop. After a day of sightseeing and sheltering, we were joined in The Eagle by Mandler and Calaresu – two of my supervisors from uni – who were kind enough to make time for a drink and some catching up. This also proved to be Randi’s opportunity to try fish pie, which she took up with relish.
(Deviation: I do wish ordering at the bar was more of a thing in the US.)
EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED at Caius. No, wait. Nothing has changed.
“Our sprinkles are different to your sprinkles”
Heading up north, we impulsively changed trains for Scarborough – which I’ve never been to before – and spent an afternoon at the seaside. There’s not a huge amount to write about Scarborough – and at one point I may have been over-ambitious in my expectations of the cliff lift “tramway” – but it was very nice to stroll along the beach and see the castle from a distance.
Who needs California?
ConSoc would be proud
Our best B&B was in Durham, because we were hosted by none other than Katie “I live here” Self! The three of us had a great time together touring the city, while also finding time to stuff ourselves with a pretty representative sample of my British food longings: Indian curries, English breakfasts, jacket potatoes and lots and lots of biscuits. It’s not about food being fancy, guys, it’s just about food being great.
Everything looked particularly beautiful here
For comparison, here we are in 2010
Talking of great: bowing to Randi’s repeated requests to see Edinburgh, we headed there next and were equally blown away by how beautiful the city is. Along with the castle, I ticked off a couple of things I didn’t manage last time, including a fantastic walking tour and a hike up Arthur’s Seat.
And of course, I checked back in with my old friend David Hume.
Seems like only one of us is getting older
Pretty stunning
At the summit
Finally, we headed to Windermere in the Lake District, which was a perfect place to walk and relax at the end of the holiday. There were sheep. There were cows. There was a bus which cost £4.20 per-person. Most importantly, though, there were stars at night – and it’s been a while since I’ve been in proper darkness, able to lie down and look up at the milky way.
Sheeeeeep!
Contemplating (mostly about how expensive buses were)
So, that’s it: a condensed account of a whistlestop tour, which hopefully did a good job at selling the country to an American. The tourist board can thank me later.
Helen on It’s (waiting) time.: “Fabulous news, congratulations to you both! X” Jun 8, 21:51
