tea and vomit

When you travel alone, if you don't interact with the people and scenery around you, you're left to hide away and explore the dark corners of in your own head. When you're a team, having someone to continually bounce off of, the locals turn into an exotic wall paper you admire occasionally as you joke about people and situations thousands of kilometres away back at home. But returning to a foreign city with a friend after doing the hard work by yourself, the place takes on a beautifully textured experience that allows you to be a tourist in a place that is distantly familiar. While I've loved the flexibility and freedom that travelling alone provides, there's something special about having a good friend to turn to and say: "I'm glad you're here". This was Vienna last week.

Showing Luke around Vienna was a lot of fun. Problem is, after a day of looking at the gorgeous buildings, we quickly fell into my old routine of chilling at MQ, Naschmarkets and cafe hoping. On the first night, we stayed with Daniel, a guy who plays hardball in the European Union's youth sector. We met up with Martina, the couchsurfer that kidnapped me (and eventually Rodney), up to the Tyrolean mountains a couple of weeks back. After staying with her, we jumped on a boat and headed down the Danube to Bratislava where we picked up the keys to Radovan's (another CS peep from last year), flat and stayed there for 2 nights. On the first night we chilled out in front of some European cable TV. The following day we walked all over the town, checking out the main castle and catching a bus out to Devin Hrad. Afterwards we dined on excessive amounts of Slovak cuisine, and then hit the Buddha Bar for beer and Becherovka. This triggered some sort of visceral memory within my body of the night out I had in Prague with Martine, and once we returned to the flat, I revisited portions of my Slovak dinner. Thankfully none of which landed in the toaster this time.

Once Bratislava was out of the way, we caught a train to Budapest and are staying with Vera, a Hungarian I stayed with last year. When we arrived, she had made a soup and dip for us to revitalise on and then we went for a wander around the neighbourhood. While walking near the Oktogon, we bumped into Rodney, who we knew was going to be here, but hadn't teed up a time or place to meet. This worked well for all concerned and we all walked down Andrassy and checked out Hero Square. Rodney peeled off and the rest of us went to Szimpla for a beer. The next day we climbed the hill I had ridden up probably 30 times while I was here last year and checked out the castle, sneaking a look over the other side at the San Francisco like districts in Buda. For dinner, we cooked a small feast at Vera's place and invited Rodney over for a bit of eggplant paprikash. After dinner, Vera went to bed and us boys went to Kuplung, the small bar around the corner and proceeded to get arse-holified. The next day was a write off and I spent most of the day trying to become active, only to get sick with movement. After another session of driving the porcelain bus, I felt much better and gave a couple of Budapest mates a call to work out a time to meet up. Mizik at 7. Julianna at 8. We brought the party to Szimpla, ate food and drank tea, catching up on the last 8 months of adventures. Further plans for World Domination were made.

happiness come from the achievement of goals

When you're going to take over the world, you need to have the best help you can get.

Mr Toop arrived a couple of days ago bringing much needed wind to my sails. No Farmers Union Iced Coffee though. So far I've shown him Vienna (my adopted city), Berndorf (the village that adopted me), and tomorrow we head east along the Danube to soak in some post-soviet hospitality. We will be bouncing around Hungary, Serbia, Slovakia and Czech for the next couple of weeks. If you're in the blast radius, I encourage you to join us.

where has the writing gone?

Honestly.. It's not all Facebook.

I realised in the mountains, that while I had access to the internet on someone else's computer, whenever I sat down with my own computer, writing wasn't the first thing that I wanted to do. A few weeks back, I fixed a problem with my laptop that has prevented me from doing any complicated video editing for the last 6 months. Now after busting out a few videos recently, I've picked up a nasty habit of editing whenever I get a spare moment between the doing the travel thing. So to sum up.. Currently, I'm more compelled to play with videos than to write. I feel kinda weird about neglecting the writing side of things, but seeing as there is no rule book to being creative (what an incredibly wanky thing to say), I'm going to strike while the iron's hot. Once the writing thing comes back to me, I will fill in the gaps.

Thanks to Martina (and friends), for a wonderfully colourful and entertaining 10 days in Graz and the Tyrolean Alps. It was also fun to randomly catch up with Rodney and go hiking through the mountains with a fellow gentleman. I am now in Vienna awaiting the arrival of the next chapter of the journey. Time to practice the In Time/Through Time dance moves.

the writing is on the wall

Since I left Switzerland three weeks ago, I've been in Ravensburg for five days, staying with Ina, the super hospitable couchsurfer. Then crossed the border into Austria to Feldkirch to hang out with Maria, who I travelled with in Cuba. Then to Salzburg where I stayed with couchsurfer Daniela who lived in Australia for a few months. Now I’m in Graz, staying with another group of couchsurfing people, where it has been sizzling hot for the five days straight.

During the last month, I’ve had plenty of fun and random adventures, but have lacked the motivation to write about it. I've sat down about 20 times, begun to write something about my days and then lost my train of thought. I put this down to my travel energy being low, with a need to find the right time and head space to regroup before the next chapter of this journey rolls around in a couple of weeks. That and Facebook has become the second thing I check after my email. Dangerous little time wasting, homesickness generating gremlin of a website.

To find some inspiration and the lack of a temptingly, mindless wandering internet connection, I’m heading into the Tyrolean Alps for a week to sit by some water, retreat into a disconnected Nell-like state, and read, write, film, edit and photograph my way out of this mental block I’ve been experiencing for the last couple of weeks. I expect to have a full report of the places listed above and have made half a dozen virtual friends with people I already know and have the email address of when I get back.

ohh.. someone's just written on my wall..

spinners

one story I forgot to share was the train ride from Budapest to Vienna.

I rocked up to the station the day before to buy a ticket. In the line I met a couple of girls from the States. They were a little flusted with the ticketing situation and through the confusion missed the train they wanted to catch. Bummer. When it came to my turn at the window, the guy spoke enough English and German for me to be able to get my request across, but when it came to getting a ticket for the bike, he said that the train I wanted to catch didn't offer bike tickets. Hmm.. He then added that I should try my luck, put the bike on the train and see what the conductors say. Last time I bought a train ticket from Budapest to Vienna (coming back from Sziget with Gubi in August), the ticket window operator at the station flat out refused to sell me a ticket, making it clear that buying a from the conductor whilst on board was the preferred method. This did lead to an interesting game of "you can pay 22 Euro for a ticket.. or you can pay 10 Euro for no ticket. wink wink. nudge nudge" with the Provodnik preferring to conduct the financial transaction in between the carriages. And here was me thinking Hungary was Central Europe. I think the window girl was getting a cut.

The next day I arrive at the station nice and early, just in case I need to navigate my way through nonsense to get my bike on the train. I made a deal with Andy and Laurie that if for some reason I couldn't take the bike and trailer I would lock it up somewhere near the station and they would give it a good home. I sussed out my options and headed for the front carriage just behind the loco, where I could stash the bike and trailer next to the door causing minimal fuss for the other passengers. I packed it all up, fit it in and received no friction from the guards or coppers. Nice. I find myself an empty compartment next to one occupied by the border patrol police (one of whom shared an uncanny resemblance with Mike Patton), the train departed and my bicycle entourage and I we're on our way to Vienna.

About 15 minutes into the trip, a guy pushing a snacks and drinks cart passes my cabin. I peered out of the door and make sure my stuff isn't in the way. I catch his eye and we exchange nods of reassurance that everything is alright. Another 10 minutes go by and he comes into my compartment and sits diagonally opposite me. I greet him in Hungarian and he greets me back and starts talking to me in Hungarian. I say "Nem Magyr. Igen Anglo." (No Hungarian. Yes English), and he reintroduces himself to me in English. Thomas is in his early thirties, married, lives near an island on the eastern banks of the Donu (Danube), about 20km north of Budapest. He works as a gardener in summer and a train attendant in winter. After the usual pleasantries and him laughing at my piss-poor Hungarian, he asks if I want to share a beer with him. I say yes and he goes back to his trolley and returns with a bottle of czech beer and two cups. He pours out the beers, we mash our plastic cups together (ageshagadre), and I take a sip while he skulls the entire thing. Thomas tells me he likes to drink while doing this job as it is pretty boring and helps to pass the time. The train goes through Kormarno and I see my fort from the Hungarian side of the river. 20 minutes later, we go through Gyor and I see the bridge I made a wrong turn on. It was like watching my bike trip in fast rewind.

After swapping a few travel stories with one another (and me getting a new title of World Patriot), and a couple more beers, Thomas says he has to return to work and leave the cabin. Nice bloke and I wish him well. About 20 minutes later, two burly female conductors stand at the door to my compartment, check my ticket and ask if the bike is mine. I nod and they both enter the compartment, close the door and sit down. For some reason I was reminded of being in (one of), my school principal's office after getting kicked out of class for doing something stupid. They exchanges some weird look and start explaining to me in simple terms "no bikes on this service.... but we can come to some arrangement" - It cost me 2000 Frt, the last of my Hungarian cash and all of my treasured 200 Frt bills I was saving for gifts. Arse. And it was only until the border, when the Austrian conductors took over. However, the Austrian guy checked my ticket, asked if the bike was mine, said it wasn't allowed on the train but because it was out of the way he didn't care and left it at that. No bribes needed.

Catching up with all the dudes at Hirschengasse has been fun. Last night, I was taken along to the birthday bash for a pub, where we talked our way into a room packed with B-list Vienna celebs and a shitload of free food (caviar, little schnitzels, salmon), spread over about 5 tables. Nice one. After that, Petra and I met up with Kathia and we headed to the Cuban club where some fairly atrocious yet entertaining dancing may or may not have been performed by me.

I've started drinking coffee again. This time things aren't bad. I'm sleeping ok and not feeling like shit anymore. I guess not dreaming about of getting shot in the face, having a car accident and over excited squirrels helps me to sleep better. Frankenbike is being donated to Hirschenasse as a house bike. I'm sad that this part of the journey is over and that I have to leave my new friends behind. But the post-travel comedown can wait. London is almost here.

Österreich

After almost 3 months riding around Slovakia and Hungary, I'm back in Austria. It's strange to feel so at home in a place that isn't my own country. The weather here is unseasonably warm, with none of the snow I was promised three months ago. When I got into Vienna, I dumped my stuff at Hirschengasse and headed to MQ to kill some time before the others got back. Where I found the big red blocks which had been used as seats in summer had been stacked on top of each other and turned into a bar serving hot wine and Schnapps. Then I met up with the Hospitality Club member I organised to stay with before the Hirschengasse kids offered their couch.

Now I'm in Berndorf hanging out with the Wildberger, the family which adopted me on my first ride through Austria. Yesterday, Paul took me to the nearby driver training course where I got to drive the family's Nissan around the course. Last night we cooked up a big soup and Clara invited a few friends around. Much laughs were had.

This afternoon, I head back to Vienna to hang out with the Hirschengasse household.

Did you know that Margaret Thatcher is partly responsible for modern Ice Cream?

A video for Austria

Top Gun

Another fab week spent in Berndorf with the bestest* family in Austria. Thanks to Paul, Gerlinde, Felix and Japanese Clara for feeding me, keeping me entertained and basically making me feel like I'm at home. A few of the highlights of the week: Walking into a bar in Wiener Neustadt and hearing the theme tune to Top Gun; Cooking food for the family and having about 9 people visit, sit around the table and enjoy my cooking too; talking for 5 hours straight to 4 different classes at the local high school about travel and life in Australia; Meeting Anita's grandma and hearing stories about Anita's uncle who built a boat and sailed around the world, finding pirates and elephants on the way. It's so hard to pick from the many great little experiences I have whilst travelling. I guess I'm just building up deja vu points.

So I rode from Berndorf to Bratislava yesterday. A one hour journey by train from Vienna. But the night before I began the 8 hour ride by bike, I did the trip from Berndorf to Bratislava in about 5 minutes. Serious. I got an extra special ride in an F-18 and flew east from Berndorf across the plains of south eastern Austria. This allowed me to get an idea of what the terrain is like and see which way to go to avoid any nasty hills. A couple of times I blacked out due to G-forces, but eventually I got to the Danube and followed that down towards Bratislava, where I saw the moon rising and the towns I would go through. Once I crossed the border, the scenery below me became confused and the Danube river suddenly disappeared. I guess the graphics for Slovakia aren't as good as they are for Austria. Of course, I wasn't actually flying, I was using one of Paul's flight simulators. It's the first time I've used a computer game to get an idea of the area I'm about, and surprisingly it gave me a pretty good idea of what the followng day's ride would consist of. Even the moon was the same. If I ever visit the tracks featured in Gran Turismo (Nurburgring anyone?), I'll probably know them like the back of my hand.

As for getting to Bratislava, it may have helped if I had written a few directions on the back of my hand. On the way there I got stupidly lost. But it was a good lost, as I got to see a few cool things, including Austria's biggest concentration of wind turbines up close. I'm a sucker for these things. People go on about how it takes 20 years for the costs of setting up a wind farm to break even with conventional energy production, but that's 20 years of energy production with minimal pollution. And like Al Gore says, we have to do something now. Oh yeah.. did I mention I rode a bike?

Anyway, back to getting lost. I found someone's secret crop hidden in a corn field. I haven't touched the stuff in almost ten years, but to see if it was the real deal, I broke some off and ate it. This was the beginning of the end when it comes to being lost. After eating this stuff I forgot about reading the map and just headed in the vague direction of east (vague meaning anywhere but east), busying myself with getting a bit more creative with my camera. By the time my mind was clear, I found that I had followed my directions in circles and had to ride an extra 20km to get back on track.

Luke. Come to the dark side.

I lost my bike lights in Vienna, but as I had planned to be in Bratislava before dark, I held off buying some until I got to the cheaper side of the border. This was a mistake and by 6:30pm I found myself in complete darkness, with the only illumination coming from the occasional swerving truck and beeping car. This was one of the few times I've felt unsafe out on the road, so in an act of desperation, I stole borrowed a flashing roadworks light and tucked it into the back of my trailer. After a bit more riding I finally caught sight of Bratislava Castle lit up in the distance. According to a road sign (not the one in my trailer), the city was only 25km away. Cool, only another hour or so of riding. Or so I thought.

I went past what I first thought was the car only border crossing (correct), then doubled back across a freshly plowed field (mistake), thinking that I had missed the only border crossing (mistake). I got to the Austrian gates and nobody was there, so I continued to the Slovakian gates where i joined a cue of vehicles. When my turn came, the guards looked my bike up and down and just shook their heads. This was not my border crossing. I was instructed to turn around and head for the other crossing, about 15km away, through the town of Kittsee. I was told to hurry as this crossing station closed at 10pm. It was 8pm. Plenty of time. So I headed back up the way I came, took the turn to Kittsee, making my way through the town quickly. Then I hit no mans land. An unlit stretch of road which consisted of a long sweeping bend and then a bridge (also unlit), over the highway. From the bridge I could see the first border crossing I had attempted to use, the border crossing I was headed for and the 500 metre pathway between them. Mo Fos. And instead of a stamp in my passport indicating that I have left Schengen, I got a shrug from the border guards.

Today I bought lights and a helmet. I now feel a lot safer. I broke two lights in the shop just to demonstrate to the shop assistant what kind of quality I demand. Tomorrow I ride to Gyor Hungary. Hopefully the border crossing will be easier.

I also made a movie about cycling in Austria. I hope you enjoy it.

*not a real word

links - past, present & future

Today I went back to school.. No, not like Rodney Dangerfield*, I had an invite to Clara's high school to talk about travelling and life in Australia. I spoke to four separate classes over five hours about: how many Austrias fit into Australia [91], Steve Irwin's death, AC/DC, the upcoming Austrian elections, what a kebab is called in Australia, the poor integration of white settlers with aboriginal cultural, BBQs, Aussie dialects. When the talking had finished I tourtured educated some of the kids with a Vegemite taste testing. I really enjoyed convincing a bunch of young Austrians to travel to Australia via the least amount of flying as possible with sayings like: "Come to Australia by land and see the world on the way" and "Why rush it if you're going for 6 months?" Hopefully I'm able to take my own advice when I finally venture back to my sunburnt country.

After I got back from school, I called my grandparents. Looks like this year's crop of Triticale is going well and the latest rain fall of 2 inches (5cm), has helped out Fram Doyle* in a big way. Expect to find some of it in your Australian muesli or porridge in the coming months. Grandma was excited to hear from me. She loves Strauss, Mozart and those fancy horses, so my postcard and ticket from the Schönbrunn had gone down treat. Granddad said he's not too worried about his pacemaker operation in October and ironically finished our conversation with "chop chop", which is an old family saying that brought a smile to my face.

Ok, here is where the Kevin Bacon Experiment starts to work, things begin to get weird and the world becomes a smaller place. I met Clara while getting a free pizza from a stall at the NUKE Festival In St Polten. She emailed me after the festival and a week later I was staying in Berndorf with her and her family. On one of my day trips to Vienna, I went to the Naschmarket where I met Anita, who I asked about whether she knew of someone renting a room. She didn't at the time, so I handed over my details in case she found something later on. After swapping a few emails, a random dinner party and some hanging out, I find out that even though she grew up in Vienna, her family was originally from Berndorf and had moved away when she was five. But tonight Kevin Bacon clicked things into place. It turns out that Clara's dad was in a band with Anita's uncle about thirty years ago and that the two families had known each other quite well back in the 1970s, but have since drifted apart. Talking about the two families we uncovered some fab stories. The coolest involving Anita's uncle who built a boat, sailed it around the world and foiled Indonesian pirates with carefully placed shoddy economic workmanship, with his only boating experience coming from reading books about sailing. Sounds like I've got a new thing to put a tick next to on my check list. I also got to look at some old Austrian family photos complete with lutes, super cool moustaches and lederhosen.

I forgot to mention that an hour before getting on the train to Slovakia last week I managed to pick up a replacement Leatherman free of charge. While it is now a brand-spanking-new knife, its super sharp blade took a chunk from my finger while I cutting an apple and lacks the well earnt travel scars. In other news, there's stuff in Australia that's about to come to fruition, which has been brewing for a while and will allow me to finally put a whole bunch of shit behind me real soon. But more on that later.

*check out who wrote it
**not a typo

puppets

I've left Vienna.. No really. I've left properly this time.. I promise..

Vienna has been such a good place for me. Riding through the streets lined with old buildings, drinking coffee at the fancy cafes, visiting the museums, dancing all night or just chilling out in the flat. A big thanks to the Hirschengasse posse (Petra, Kathi and Thomas), for letting me use their spare room on and off over the last month. Thanks to Rastko and Jesssca for the wine and tips on Vienna night life - hopefully we'll catch up in Belgrade. Thanks to Elke, Eva and Esther from Cuntstunt for allowing my crazy cooking adventures. And a special thanks to Anita for hosting my first random dinner, being a top Austrian sheela and taking good care of me over the last month.

I can’t believe I missed out on Friday Night Skating until now. I’ve made a couple of attempts at joining the small wheeled masses around the streets of Vienna, but each time my plans have been foiled by other super fun thing to do. But on my final Friday night in town, I was determined to check it out. And it didn’t disappoint. 400-500 people tailing a music blasting panel van while it drove around a 18km road blocked loop of central Vienna. If you're thinking about coming to Vienna, make sure you check this out because it's a great way to see the city and it isn’t the usual touristy thing visitors do. They have city bikes which can be rented free for an hour, and sweet Fanny Adams after that. Once that was out of the way, we made our way to the Gurtle Ring where we danced and made puppets until about 5am. I will be coming back through Vienna on my way back into Western Europe to meet Jo and Craig in December, so I’ll be able to hang out with my Viennese buddies again. Unfortunately, looking at the calendar, I’m wont have the time needed to do Iran and Turkey properly, so they might have to wait until after Christmas so I can concentrate on sketchy South Eastern Europe.

Now I'm in Berndorf hanging out with Clara's family, the same people I stayed with way back in July. Yesterday's ride from Vienna involved much of Friday night's Sturm pumping through my veins and it wasn't that pleasant. It's cool because this time around I get to meet her dad Paul, who is big on taking photos and has an impressive collection of lenses and various cool camera tech. He knows a lot about the areas where I’m planning to ride through and has already given me a few tips on what to see and do along the way. Last night, I went to a few bars in a near by village with Clara and a couple of her friends, where we pulled out some choice dance moves and pretended to be elderly deaf people. On the way, I got rather excited as I spied my first ever one of these out of the car window. Today I've been tooling about with computers, testing out Clara's 8 year old brother's new stereo system (which has a USB port for mp3s - some Beatles, Stones, Hendrix and Radiohead should start him off), flying a flight sim over Vienna, building hedgehog nests and drinking way too much coffee. Later this arvo there is a some Kleinbahn (model trains), action on the cards.

Tomorrow I'm going back to school to talk to a few different English classes about Australian life and my travels. If you have a suggestions of what I should talk about other than kangaroos, Vegemite and Chinese trains let me know.

an experimental dish

Back in Vienna to grab my bike and say goodbye to the friends I've made in this fine town. Maybe they can help me drink the bottle of Slovak wine I brought back from Devin Castle. Last night I cooked an experimental dish of pumpkin, avocado and feta, which tasted fantastic. Never cooked such a dish before and I just added stuff that I thought sounded good. This is an approach to food which can yield varied results. This is one I'll repeat. Instructions on Flickr. This morning there is a few logistical things to do, like sorting out some accommodation in a few places, getting an idea of which roads to take and seeing which of the Eastern European borders I can cross on a bike and which ones I'll need to take a train through. However, I really have to start staying at places without internet so that I actually leave the house once in a while.

This weekend I have been invited back to Berndorf by the the family I stayed with in July. I've even been asked to give a talk about my travels at the local school. It's hard to say no to Austrian hospitality and minor celebrity status. I would have liked to have been in Budapest to see the protests and riots happening there, but getting my bike before heading too far east was more important than getting beaten up arrested by the Hungarian police. Although it would make for some cool photos. Maybe I'll jump a train (with the bike), and head to Budapest a little earlier than planned. Apparently Eastern European soccer hooligans (the scariest kind), hijacked the peaceful protests a few days ago and have started burning cars, looting shops and punching cops. Cue the water cannons, tear gas and "give me a job Getty Images" photo ops. At least it sounds a bit more interesting than what's happening with Thailand's pissweak coup.

Did anyone notice the fancy new header?

Time to leave Austria

Daham = local colloquialism for "Austria. My Home. My Castle"
Statt = Instead
Islam = you get the idea

The Austrian federal elections are happening in about three weeks and these posters have just started popping up at bus stops and car parks. This is the only poster for the FRO Party that doesn't feature the blue eyed, white teethed Führer smiling back at you. Apparently he's popular with the older ladies "oh, he's so handsome. I'd like my daughter to marry him" and all the 'good old days' set. My sign and signifier spidey sensors tell me that this guy is not to be trusted. But at least they're being honest about being bigots, unlike some of the slippery political fuckers back at home. Time to sit back and enjoy the wonders of uninformed consent democracy at work. Again.

In a few hours I jump on a train to Bratislava to spend a few days wondering around a city that until recently I thought was a country in its own right. Then next week I head to Budapest for a bit and then south to Serbia, Bosnia and Croatia. Doubt I'll see many of these posters down in that neck of the woods. In the first week of October, I'll return to Vienna briefly to pick up Frankenbike and trailer, and then I'll head east again, probably starting with the Democratic Republic of Bratislava.

My Leatherman broke the other day, so I've dropped it in to be repaired/replaced under its 25 year warranty. The guy said it would be ready today, but I'm still waiting for the phone call. I get the feeling I might be leaving home without it.

In other news, new TV on the Radio stuff is floating about the place. Haven't had a chance to give it a proper listen yet, but apparently one of the guys is producing the new Massive Attack album. Hmmm.. May make for an interesting mix. If you're up for wasting some time (and bandwidth), check out Robot Chicken. These is another bunch of dodgy phone videos are up on the more fab things links page and I have recently acquired some super crazy camera tech lust.

land of milk & honey

It's really weird hearing myself speak another language. Sure, I'm not that competent in German and if the usual Q&A involved in buying food at the supermarket deviates from the regular script I'm screwed. Ask anyone who's taken LSD and then attempts to buy a Mars Bar from the Hindley Street Servo at 3am and they'll know what I mean. But back here in Austria, I can follow some conversations (sorta), understand most adverts (kinda), and pronounce stuff correctly (maybe), without totally slaughtering the language (almost). There are times where I wished I had learnt another language when I was at school. It may have made this baptism of fire a lot less toasty. But I'm finding that I'm clinging onto the words I learn with more passion than could be found in the shitty schools I attended. This is thanks to the situation or challenges involved in adding that word to my vocabulary. Geez.. I can now say "hello/goodbye, yes/no, please/thankyou, Cheers!" in six languages. What frustrates me is 90% of the people I'm meeting speak reasonable to excellent English, so there's really no pressure for me to learn new words.

However, today I was talking to a friend, retelling my stomach troubles from a couple of years ago and some of the more amusing arse situations that have reared (ha!) their ugly heads while I've been travelling and I was reminded of just how lucky I have it here in Austria. This subject came up after posting 20 Euros to Porvoo for a forgotten medical bill, which was acquired (thankfully indirectly), via a large lubed up hose and an attractive but severe Finnish nurse ("so when was the last time you.. err... make a shit?"), who assured me it would all be over real soon.

In China, there was the great laxative hunt, which included such classic moments as me miming to the chemist that I couldn't poop (pointing to my bum and then making a cross with my arms), and that I needed something that would make me poop (miming the taking of a pill, pointing at an imaginary watch then miming the blast from behind). Once the message had crossed the cultural divide, she handed me a box covered with Chinese Kanji and again I made the "taking a pill" mime. She started laughing at me, shaking her head and made it very clear that it wasn't to be taken orally. Oh ok. Xie xie. I tried the tea, but that didn't shift it.

In Russia, I tried the same mime I used in China at a chemist (aпteka), only to be scowled at by some nasty looking babushka. пpobaлиbaй. Not to be fazed by this hurdle and to get to the bottom (ha!) of my issue, I went to a book shop, found a Russian-English dictionary and carefully wrote down the Russian word for laxative (cЛaбйteльнoe cpeдctbo), on a piece of paper. I went to a different chemist, handed the younger, embarrassingly attractive clerk my piece of paper (to which she answered in English: "oh, so you are having trouble going to the toilet?"), and walked out safe in the knowledge that relief was almost at hand. Cпacиbo. Looking back, I was in discomfort for most of April and May thanks to my lockdown, but because it was my arse that had the issue (sounds familiar?), it had a humorous edge to it which lacked the severity of a stingray barb through the heart or a baby with cancer.

Anyway, the person I was telling this to (who speaks decent Russian and has just quit her job as a nurse), said that the best cure for constipation is a milk and honey enema. This, as you could imagine, came as a surprise to me and I quizzed her on its effectiveness. She then told me about a woman who reported to hospital with chronic lockdown, had vomited poo a couple of times (yes, that really happens), and was on the verge of surgery to remove the blockage. About an hour before the operation was to take place, the nurses in her ward took it upon themselves to give the milk/honey/tube technique a go. They handed the tools to the new girl and got her to perform the procedure and within 5 minutes the lockdown lady was sitting on the toilet enjoying her first bowel motion in nearly a month.

Moral of the story: No matter what language it is, I'm still talking shit. And even when I present something as comforting as milk and honey, some people will just tell me to stick it up my arse anyway.

An amusing, non-poo related appendix to this story is that "Rad" in German slang means "bike". So it gives me great pleasure to present to you a new improved version of Radz on a Rad. True power needs no translation.

My creation.... It's ready!

A quick little post to let you know I have put together a separate links page, called more fab things. There you'll find a list of the people I've met during my travels. If we've met and you're not on the list, email me, because I lost my notebook with all my addresses in it. There's also a couple of videos I've put together, a list of places I've visited (soonish) and a few Australian related links for the non-Aussies.

RIP
Peter Brock
Steve Irwin
Colin Thiele

more adventures soon..

Dear Osama....

Dear Osama bin Laden.

I hope I find you well. I’m sorry if I repeat things I’ve said in previous letters, but as I haven’t got any replies from you, I guess it doesn’t hurt. So grab yourself a cup of tea, because we have a lot to catch up on.

When I contacted you last time, I was thanking you for doing that thing you did so well. Watching those plans fly into the buildings made me reassess everything in my life. I almost lost my job because of something I wrote on a website about you, but that was ok as that formal warning worked as a catalyst to many other things. I guess I was wrong about people not paying attention to the silly interweb. So, after this I focused my cynicism on my work rather than my personal life and for the first time since my fairly tricky teens I began to open up emotionally. I fell in love with photography. I started to make real close friends. I contacted my dad after not speaking to him for six years. And I even think it contributed greatly towards me returning to study and getting meself edjucated. It was really a pivotal point in my life.

But now after being emotionally burnt a few times, losing friends, discovering my dad is still a cunt and studying a fairly shitty degree, I’m trying to work out if it was worth coming out from behind my wall. Considering I’m typing this email to you from Vienna, I think it was. I’ve now have a better relationship with my mum and sister. I know that university isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I still like taking photos. I know that even though my dad had a bad life, he still had the choice not to be a cunt. And I’ve found that not knowing what to do with your life can be both shit scary and exhilarating at them same time.

Not that I condone violence or war, but a billion out of ten for getting the world’s attention with that plane stuff a few years back. Wow, is it almost five years ago already? I was reminded of you a couple of days ago on a tram journey while I was tossing around another solid steel resolve in my head (“OK. This time, it’s going to be different”), and shit like that. As I disembarked in a fairly vague, day dreamy manner I was nearly hit by a VW Golf with the numberplate W AR 911. The "W" stands for Wien if you were curious. Not as good as the WTC911 I saw on a Mitsubishi Magna a couple of years ago, but still worth a mention. No, this isn’t me getting delusions of reference here, but we all receive messages from the universe from time to time. And number plates seemed to have been a constant in my life. When I was growing up, there was a game my sister and I played while driving on our many journeys to visit Victorian relatives. After the excitement of driving past Eagle on the Hill and the monster 24/7 servos (which, apart from the one near the airport, were the only 24/7 anything in Adelaide at the time), we would press our faces on the windows and make up amusing acronyms matching the number plates on the passing cars. Funny family stuff which I’m sure we got from our maternal uncles. After my parents broke up, my uncle Jamie, who was always a bit of a drongo, made the clanger comment about my mum’s number plate VEM – Which he stood for “Vinnie’s Ex Missus”. Classic in-joke that I’m sure is lost on you. I know it seems like a bit of a bogan thing to do, but it passed the time and stopped us kids bothering the olds until we got to Keniva, where we would always ask dad to stop the car with cries of “Kaniva wee dad”, even if we didn’t need to go. Anyway, with the introduction of personalised plates (which I was also a victim of), and the onset of puberty, the fun of this childhood game lost its edge.

So do have a family? You know, wife, kids or are you hanging out for that Martyr = 77 Virgins thing the western media likes to ham up? Maybe you’re gay? Imagine that, the big bad boogieman from the Middle East is into other guys. Wow, George W and his minions would have a field day. They could then lynch a whole other group of people they don’t like with assumed permission and have themselves a big ol’ fashion lynchin’ party. I’m not exactly worded up on how Islamic faith looks upon our pink brothers and sisters, but going on how other religions interpret homosexuality, you guys probably don’t dig it either. I'm not sure what the problem is as I’ve had some pretty fun times with gay friends. They really know how to party. There’s a few other things about Islamic faith I don’t have an idea about. Is it like Christianity, where there are several different versions, all claiming to be the real version? And what’s with the beards for men and covered heads/faces/full bodies for women? I was in Vienna during Austria’s nastiest heatwave since records began, and I saw an Islamic women in the full get up (covered head to toe in black, with only a small slit for eyes), walking around, breathing heavily and stopping every few metres to rest. I can imagine that in the Middle East, people would be more acclimatised to the heat, but still, shorts and a t-shirt would probably be more practical. Then again, people in western society are fooled into thinking they need to look a certain way just to be accepted. Just look at guys with their collars up and girls with their eating disorders. I guess if I had the choice, I’d prefer to be brainwashed by something that wasn’t as insidious as Cleo, TV and “the right thing to do”. You do have a very nice beard though. Well contoured and very distinguished. When I grow beards, they’re bad for a few reasons:

• My beards are red, when my head hair is clearly brown
• Mum says I look like “you-know-who” (no, not Voldermort, someone worse)
• By about week two my neck itches so much I just want to shave the thing off
• Beards don’t really do it for the ladies
  

But dude.. if I was going to choose a beard to have, yours would be up there with Radz and Karl Marx’. But I guess the whole societal influence thing is a construct and not something we actually require to live. Sorry, I used the word “construct”. I must have been wearing my Marx beard.

While I’m writing this, I’m listening to some tunes on the mp3 player my sister gave me. Really quite the perfect gift, next to Vegemite and Tim Tams for a random traveller such as myself. The gesture of music from home is appreciated, but the Kasey Chambers and Missy Higgins had to go. I’ve now got a mish mash of old and new on there. At the moment, one of the tracks from Thom Yorke’s new solo album, The Eraser is playing. The track is Harrowdown Hill, and the rest of the album is a bit like the more out there Radiohead stuff which came along on with Kid A and Insomniac. I saw them perform in Hungary a couple of weeks ago and you could tell they enjoyed playing the new stuff a little bit more than they did the old. But only a tad. Street Spirit still did it for me (with the help of a low flying jumbo), and Just – I danced around singing along as loud as could. Strangely, if it started raining, I would not have minded.

If you don’t have a family, then do you have a lady friend? You know, are you someone’s gentleman caller? I’ve been having love hurts for the last few months, but I recently started hanging out with a girl and it looks like we might travel together for a bit, check out Eastern Europe for a month or so before her life has to start again and I keep on travelling. I’m a little cautious about the whole thing, because last two times I went travelling with a partner, it didn’t go so well. The story is I met this girl a couple of years ago. She is, or at least was a cool geeky chick, with fairly broad music tastes (you need it growing up with a staple diet of Adelaide live music), good looking and a bit of a nutter. My type huh? We tried the relationship thing once, then broke up for a while, got back together and tried it again. It felt better this time. We had the same friends, our families liked their new pseudo in-laws and everything was rosy. But there was an issue. I wanted to go travelling and she didn’t. But not wanting to lose our relationship (or contradict guilt trips plans made in former times), rather than being straight with me, she said it was cool and joined me. Big mistake. Now we hate each others guts and it looks like we can’t even be friends without doing something dumb to each other.

I got a DVD of music from one of the girls I’ve been living with here in Vienna, and there was some good stuff on there that I haven’t heard in ages. Do you have an iPod like gadget with you? You get into Pink Floyd? I remember going into Student Radio one night where some guys were doing their late night show. The studio stunk of dope, which I couldn’t care about, but knew that if the station manager found out I would get my arse kicked. Anyway, they were playing a track from Wish You Were Here, which is chock full of Doctor Who synths. These guys are both well versed in music, but one of them had the “I’m so cool because I like music you’ve never heard of” attitude. They started talking to me as if had never heard of the band and that Pink Floyd was their own magic discovery. They were taken aback when I told them my parents were pseudo hippies who brought me up on the stuff, and listed off some of my favourite tracks. I’m not trying to dance around here saying that I’m cooler than anybody else because of this, I just hate it when people assume you’re an idiot because you don’t dress a certain way.

Ah.. the song cut short. Must have been some shit on the disc when it was copying. Next track.

The Police. No, not the real ones. You know, Sting and the other two guys. Sure, they’re daggy, but most pop music is. Walking on the Moon is such a good song for when you meet someone new. Even better if it still means something when you’ve got some history behind you in a relationship. Roxanne. I did this at karaoke once when I was quite drunk in the Unibar (That really narrows it down to a specific day). I got bored in the bits I didn’t know, but screamed the "Roxanne" bit with my best Jimmy Barnes voice. What is your favourite karaoke song? Mine’s November Rain. All 8:57 of it. You can sit down and drink your beer during the four (count them, 4), guitar solos. This is closely followed by anything Australian. Maybe something from Whispering Jack (Don’t laugh, they had it in Japan), or AC/DC. There’s a club here in Vienna that offers a practice page on their site, so you can hit the stage knowing all the words to your favourite “indie” hits, having practiced in your jarmies at home first.

Oh. And now Sting is singing about politics in Russians, a song about the cold war tensions during the 1980s. You know, kids growing up these days only know the Middle East as the place where terrorists come from. My grandmother still doesn’t trust the Japanese. Do you guys still hate the Russians? Isn’t that what Rambo III and James Bond: Living Daylights were about? US and UK government agents helping the Taliban fight the nasty commies? Oh how times have changed. It’s funny that when united against a common foe, differences are thrown aside. But when that foe is defeated, you turn on each other, scrabbling to be on top. I guess that war with the Russians was more about land than it was about ideology. This song is a fairly deep for a pop track. Sounds like something news services would put under slow-mo, black and white video of little orphans in Chechnya. It makes reference to the cycle of violence in the world and how if you don’t think of the kids, they might just grow up hating the same people their folks did. Like the number plate thing I talked about earlier, it is really surprising when you realise just how much your childhood influences your adult life. Just recently I figured out that the reason I feel weird while swimming is actually an irrational fear based on a couple of near drowning experiences when I was a kid. Same with drugs and conflict. The only thing I remember of my parents when they were together was that they were either fighting or stoned. Now I avoid conflict to the point of bursting and don’t smoke drugs to the point of appearing like a straight edge. Learning from your parents mistakes is really important for evolution. How was it for you when you were growing up? From what I’ve read, you come from a fairly wealthy Saudi background, with its roots in oil (der), and construction. This is all getting a bit Freudian, but do you think teenage rebellion is more about the evolution of society than it is about zits, boobs and wet dreams? Is this why you hate capitalism so much? No, not wet dreams. Your family relying on cash from the whities to buy the same shit they think is important. Rolls Royce and Gucci don’t come cheap you know. How much do you value respect? I guess it depends on what kind of respect we’re talking about. If it’s the type where you respect your purported religious beliefs, you would been up there flying one of those planes instead of one of those other guys.

Hang on.. If there was one thing I have learnt at uni, it was typing while lying on a bed only leads to a sore back.

Ok.. better. Where was I? Bugger. Lost my train of thought.

That paranoid bit of my brain was thinking that maybe, just maybe, the whole September 11 thing was all a big conspiracy, and you are actually in some underground bunker in Area 51, hanging out with ET and Elvis, getting wheeled out when ever GWB needs to poke some fear into his people. If this isn’t the case, do you reckon that forth plane was brought down by the passengers or was it shot down by US fighter jets? And that website showing close up pictures of the Pentagon after it was hit. It doesn’t look like a plane was there at all. I guess you don’t want to share your location with me anyway. On that, how do your cronies know how to contact you? I’ve heard the terms “activity” and “chatter” used on the news when referring to suspected terrorist cells, but I never really worked out what that meant. My logic says if the Feds are listening in on some “chatter” and people start talking about putting bombs on trains, you think they would have some idea where they’re at with all that spy gadgetry you see in Spooks and the like. Surely there are other methods you guys are using to talk with one another. There can’t just be radio silence. But at least with silence, there’s no chance of miscommunication. Imagine that. You send your dudes off into the wilderness with the intention of recon, only to fuck up the original plan by passing confusing messages between one another, thus losing them in action. I guess the problem is with radio silence is that you never quite know when it ok to start the “chatter” again.

It is a little ironic that the weapons, training and money given to you by western governments is now being used to attack them. Maybe it’s to do with your team taking its situation for granted. You sit there in your cave sending out guys with bombs strapped to their bodies, disguised as just another Joe Blog, blowing themselves up in public places to cause maximum carnage. Do you reckon it a bit hypocritical attacking the system where you got the majority of your strength, or is it just poetic justice? It’s a funny old world. Though I do agree with you that the west needs a good kick in the pants occasionally just to remind them how good they’ve got it. Do you get to see the news much? Does your mum still record Aljazeera every time one of your tapes gets played? You’re clever to use the old analogue stuff, as most of the digital gear carries serial number information on the recorded media. For no particular reason of course. I read about how with most old school magnetic tape you can tell roughly where in the world it was recorded by the slight variations in the position of the iron oxide particles due to the different magnetic zones of the earth. Crazy stuff.

And seeping through the headphones is Please Bleed by Ben Harper. I’ve liked Ben Harper for a long time. Shit, I remember giving a Ben Harper – Live at the Tivoli poster to an old flame. Now he packs out the Entertainment Centre. Did you ever go to the Tivoli before it turned into The Tiv? I never really got into Ben’s recorded stuff, but he’s a fantastic performer and his live shows are always impressive. Lately I’ve grown a bit tired of his stuff, but it’s not the music that has soured. It’s that pious, ‘I smoke pot and have camped lived in Byron, therefore I’m holier than you’ attitude that his fans carry that really gets on my tits. Have you ever associated something negative with something positive thus spoiling the good part of the experience? It can really fuck with your good/bad differential, causing you react to a good something in a bad way. Sure, he writes good music, but I just can’t listen to it anymore without getting annoyed. Can this be fixed?

So, I’m sure by now you’re asking yourself, “why the fuck is this guy emailing me again?” Well, I feel I need to explain myself. I’ve had friends and family emailing me about a comment I wrote earlier in the week about an old girlfriend. You know, the one I was talking about earlier. We broke up.. blah blah blah.. Eventually people move on, which is all part of life. And when people tell each other, there is always an emotional pang inside, signalling the real end of things. I know for me, a dose of sexual healing (it’s a Marvin Gaye song and not Ben Harper you dredlocked fuck), is good for the self confidence and through some weird plutonic love/romantic love confusion, good for the soul. Figuring I’d be a good sport, I told my ex about meeting someone new, using the most sensitive language possible (taking it slow, being cautious, making me realise what an arse I’ve been), which roughly translates to “I’m having fun with someone new but I still care about your feelings”. I’d assumed she had done the same, with her having a very similar plutonic/romantic confusion as mine. How the news was made official to me was not as gentle as my version, it was quite the opposite. It was fairly personal information which tore me apart. But it was just that: Personal. It was not something you share with everyone, and certainly not something you share with you most recent ex boyfriend. Sure, I have conversations like that with an ex girlfriend and I do find them funny, but there’s eight years between our relationship and her amusing anecdotes. I was going to tell you what she said, but I figured “no, that’s her personal stuff”, So if you want to know what she said that was so offensive, you’ll just have to ask her yourself.

Tomorrow I head to Prague with Thomas and Barbara, where I’ll hang out with Martine from Adelaide and check out some of the secret non-bridge sites of the city. I’ve already been recommended a skate park, cocktail bar and café to peruse, so I’ll let you know how I go. I’m planning on heading through Turkey and Iran after Eastern Europe, is there any place you recommend I go? And more importantly, after those bombings in Turkey recently, is there places you recommend I don’t go? I know I’m white and take my global position for granted, but I really like Turkish food (if you’re ever in Melbourne, check out Alasyas in Brunswick), and I would love to see Iran, as I feel it hasn’t been getting the best press lately. Maybe if I make it near where you are chilling, I can come over and cook for you. So far, it’s been a really good way of sussing out the locals when arriving in a foreign city. I’ve met so many cool people this way, and I have a completely different impression of Vienna then what is presented in a guide book. Maybe you should consider having your enemies over for dinner rather than blowing them up.

Take care and make sure you get some sun.

Regards

Dan Murphy

six months in a leaky boat

Last night I went to the Gurtel Night Walk, an annual event promoting a group of clubs and pubs which have been built into an old train station. It wasn't too bad, with bands performing on either side of the elevated platform and overcrowded bars underneath the tracks. I met up with Petra at Mezzanin, a place where punters can stand under the stage (where a ska band performed ska covers of Don't Worry, Be Happy and Just a Gigolo), and afterwards we went dancing at the sardine expereince that was Chelsea until about 4. I ran into someone I had played poker with in a random, hidden away club at 3am the other night and the feeling of being in Vienna for too long started to creep into my mind.

I now have a whole bunch of fresh music (courtesy of Petra), and something to listen to it on (courtesy of Craig), is working for me.. Having grown up on a staple diet of Pink Floyd, Hoodoo Gurus and Crowded House/Split Enz, it's really good to hear this stuff while I'm so far from home. Later this week I'll be making my way to Prague to hang out with Martine, who has been studying there for the last couple of months. Another person I can hit up for some music in exchange for a Vegemite sandwich. Or even a Tim Tam.. Thanks again Jo & Craig. These things are like drugs in a prison. You'd be amazed what they can be exchanged for.

On a totally unrelated subject which doesn't involve the exchange of Tim Tams, I've met a nice Austrian girl, who is just finishing up a four year stint as a nurse and is looking to take a break before going to art school. This opens up several new possibilities with travel, but we'll see how things unfold over the next few days before rushing into anything. Very exciting though.

However, through some misguided sense of loyalty and heeding the advice given to another bicycle loving chum after he met a new lady, i decided to tell my ex about meeting someone new. This was followed by some fairly piss poor behaviour, and after a chat with a random person at the bar last night, I've come to a few conclusions:

• When a person is apparently unaware of the psychology motivating their actions to the point of crudity, disrespect and tactlessness, it will come as no surprise that their hobbies include luring you closer under the cover of friendship just to hurt you. Totally by accident of course.
  
• A person who drags you down to feel good rather than pulling themselves up will never be happy.
• Not all things in life are a competition.

The question remains: What exactly do you owe someone who always seems to upset you? Anyone?

The Great Australian Breakfast

My sister is the greatest.. and Craig isn't too far behind. I picked up my parcel that has been patiently waiting for me at the post office for the last week. I was expecting a tube of Vegemite and a cheesy letter, cheering me up with its familiar hand writing and we-both-know-what-we're-talking-about humor. What I got was the best thing since the automatic bread slicer. Two tubes of Vegemite, a packet of Tim Tams and Craig's old MP3 player chock full of classic Aussie music. Fucking nice one Bruvva. I've never been so happy to hear Powderfinger and Missy Higgins before.

Thanks guys..

You've really made my trip so much better. I can't wait to see Jo & Craig this December in London where I'll enjoy my first White Christmas and meet Craig's new niece. I wonder what the Russians made of the Vegemite I left on the train back in St Petersburg? Petra, who has been to Australia, has been eyeing off the Tim Tams all morning, and Irish Clair says that Tim Tam Slams are her fav.

Tonight:
Dinner with the creators of Cuntstunt. I promise I wont drink as much wine as I did at Wednesday's dinner party. I really didn't know I could drink that much without falling over. I think the last couple of weeks has increased my tolerance somewhat. But as every good Aussie knows, Vegemite makes a Fetzen (Austrian for hangover), go away nice and quickly. That and a meat pie, which, thankfully was not in the parcel.

who needs cheering up?

According to my new fangeled counter, I've been travelling for 200 days now.. and today is a very good day. I think I might curl up on a blanket in the sun and eat some fruit.

Later today I go pick up the packages (!) waiting for me at the post office and spend some serious geek time with my laptop.. Oh it's been so long. It will be an emotional evening. Last night's dinner party went swimmingly and I now have earned some new Austrian buddies. So much beautiful food, but not much videoing. Oh well.. Alles Klar. More photos soon.

Belle & Sebastian fans

Ok.. I do have clearer pictures than this one, but you know.. there are kids watching..

I spoke these guys while they were putting their clothes back on after the show, and I asked them why they decided (of all places), to dance nude at a B&S gig. Their response: The music was all hippie like and they wanted to be free to feel the vibe. Fair enough. Surprisingly they were Austrian. Unsurprisingly they were super stoned.

I'm still in Munich eagerly waiting for the Massive Attack gig tonight. But tomorrow I have to somehow get back to Vienna before the evening to make my first cooking stop. Should be an interesting and possibly expensive adventure.

badges

Ok.. now I'm really missing my laptop. It's only been two weeks and I have had access to other computers along the way, but shit... I'm having withdrawals. But that's cool.. It didn't get smashed or stolen at the two music festivals I went to and is safely sitting on a shelf back in my room in Vienna. But now that I'm back in Munich, I want to go sit in my favorite wifi spot in the park and soak up some nerd time.

So just quickly, while I pay through the nose for this net time:

I lost my little note book at frequency, which I've been using to write down thoughts, band reviews and email addresses. If you're reading this and you gave me your email address at some crazy festival... I don't have it anymore. But you'll have mine, so email me.

frequency

Hmmm... I think I have a problem.

I only arrived last night at the Frequency Festival here in sunny Salzburg and I'm already planning my next trip to Munich for a MUST SEE gig this Tuesday.

the line up:

Massive Attack
DJ Shadow
TV on the Radio

If you were to stop me in the street and ask me "hey dan murphy, what would be your ultimate gig?" The answer I would give would closely resemble the above list. All of these acts have music which caves my head in with musical bliss. I have been listening to Massive Attack and DJ Shadow fairly solidly over the last 7 years and since Sara introduced me to TV on the Radio two years ago, my life hasn't been the same.

Perhaps Tool, Portishead and Radiohead would get a guernsey as well.

Sziget and Frequency stuff soon....