Easter Getaway

Amidst a massive pile of review materials and the upcoming mid-semester exam next week, I bravely left my study desk and headed to Innes National Park for a day trip with my friends last Sunday.  After enjoying the invigorating alta vista at Stenhouse Bay Lookout, our next stop was Cape Spencer.  The weather never cooperated creating a dull reflection of the overcast sky on the historic Investigator Strait.  Facing south, I still tried to capture the best photograph I could take of the lighthouse across... and moved my eyes right and left, up and down so I could spot a remarkable scene around.  From the edge of the cliff where I was standing, I noticed a couple down the great platform of rocks- which I believe a granite.  The strong, chilly wind and the rough surf down there didn't deter them from whatever intentions they wanted to pursue.  They've honestly inspired me to stay on track as I work towards the fulfilment of my dreams and, like these sturdy rocks that have stood the tests of time, to face the enormous challenges in the university this year.  Cape Spencer, Innes National Park, Yorke Peninsula, South Australia.

 

    

The Cape Spencer Lighthouse that I was referring to...  The couple on the platform of granite rocks featured on the photograph above was seen below the right side of this slope. 

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For my eyes only

One thing I've discovered about Rome is that orange trees are everywhere, and during my visit on the first week of February 2013, they're all bearing fruits!  After enjoying Fontana de Trevi, my newly met friend Danniel and I decided to proceed to one of the baroque churches in the city- Santa Maria della Vittoria.  We walked through Via del Tritone and finally Via Barberini where I took this photograph.

There were lots of people walking along these orange-adorned streets in Rome- locals and tourists, but I had observed that nobody dared to pick one of these brightly coloured and delicious-looking fruits!  Ripe oranges were left hanging on the bending branches setting my salivary glands off to squirt thereby leaving my mouth entirely flooded.  Curious, I stopped to ask one local who's having a morning break from work outside the building.  With a very typical Italian hand gesture, she told me that those oranges were not very palatable, they're sour and bitter!        

Three hours before my flight back to London, I was still rushing along the streets and alleys around Piazza Navona which really seemed like pathways in the maze to me.  Just before crossing Corso Vittorio Emanuele to catch the bus to Metropolitana di Roma's Repubblica station, this massive, ancient wall of a building in Piazza di S. Pantaleo caught my attention.  It houses one of Italy's leading designer botiques; and since shopping was on the bottom of my list, I didn't enter...  I took my mobile phone out and used its built-in camera to capture this angle, instead.       



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Spires and pipes

I am currently tipsy.  Niño and I were guilty of finishing off 1.05 litre of single malt Scotch whiskey.  I haven't drunk a reasonable (or intoxicating) amount of whiskey for almost a decade now, and if not because of my recent trip to Edinburgh I wouldn't dare drinking it to the last drop. I just felt earlier that doing it would simply complete my remarkable Scotland experience.

Actually, I wasn't very keen to visit Edinburgh... but my hosts here in London, six of them, were so excited of this Scotland trip.  They'd been preparing and looking forward for this weekend escapade since November last year.  But just like most of the carefully drafted adventures, it didn't happen as planned.  Only Auntie Monette and I  turned up!

Scotland's capital- Edinburgh, was a ten-hour bus journey from London.  We left late in the afternoon, so aside from the red tail lights of the vehicles on the motorway and the artificially illuminated bus stations of the boroughs and cities, the rest of the sight were awfully pitch black- no hills, pastures and meadowlands, no country houses and bridges, no coastlines; nothing!  Then at around 2:00 AM the bus dropped us off at the dimly-lit, cold main street lined with century old, sandstone buildings that would've looked desolated without the sleepy cab drivers in their parked vehicles and a few drunk teenagers.  That was my first impression of Edinburgh before we helplessly fell in the loving arms of Morpheus.

I got up after five hours, took a shower, had my breakfast, headed to the reception and asked for direction to the closest tourist attraction.  The receptionist told me that it's forty-five minutes to one hour away.  A bit disappointed of the given distance, I stepped out of the hotel and was surprised of what I saw; standing from the doorstep, every angle, for me, was a tourist attraction!  I could see the Edinburgh Castle on top of the hill (a dormant volcano), the Scott monument, shops in century-old sandstone structures, churches, countless spires, lush and green parks, and stacks of  brownish heritage buildings gracefully standing on the hill!

  
Auntie Monette's high school friend- Tita Elen and her family had just transferred in Edinburgh.  We're very lucky and grateful for their seven-star accommodation.  They gave us heaps of very useful tips on how to conveniently roam around this lovely city.

I fell in love with the leisurely pace of the city, it actually reminds me of Adelaide.  The locals were not as friendly as those I've met in Brussels but they're apparently polite, and of course their accent was cute. The sett pavements, architecture and the entire cityscape of Royal Mile were so enchanting that I would love to shut my eyes at this moment so my imagination could take me straight back there!  Those brown Lothian buses crossing the North Bridge with a beautiful backdrop of monuments and castlellated structures comfortably sitting on Calton Hill seemed to be creating a real identity of captivating Edinburgh!  Just imagine seeing all these sceneries while a traditional Scottish music was clearly audible as an unseen local wearing kilt was playing his Great Highland Bagpipe somewhere.   

The North Bridge, Edinburgh, Scotland.

I haven't been to other cities in Scotland, but I have this feeling that the country is so obsessed with spires.  I have seen spires in almost every angle around the city... castles, palace, abbeys and the like... they're everywhere!  And I believe those structures are the living witnesses of the horrible stories of the 1700's- the countless public executions- that were considered as the dark past of Edinburgh.

If there's horror, there are some rumours and riddles that's haunting this part of Scotland, as well.  I spared four hours for my short yet meaningful trip to Rosslyn Chapel.  The interior of this small worship hall, constructed in the mid-1400's, is totally adorned with detailed carvings, codes, signs and symbols whose ultimate meanings or messages are yet to be known and understood.  There's a crypt in this chapel that's coupled with legends that the mummified head of Jesus Christ, the Holy Grail and some treasures are being kept.  How I wish photography was allowed inside the chapel!   

Exterior.  The details- Rosslyn Chapel, Scotland.

The Scotch whiskey's still in my veins and arteries, I can feel it.  My London bed has been dragging me, too!

Without any regret, I'm glad I pursued our plan to visit Edinburgh.  I, honestly, would love to go back and find a job there- everyday must be a holiday in that city.

By the way, it was daytime when we travelled back to London, so I've seen the picturesque landscape I hadn't seen on our way forth.  

Traditionally...

The tourists crossing the street.  Cowgate, Edinburgh, Scotland.

A flock of sheep...

...with Auntie Monette at the entrance of the Edinburgh Castle.

   
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étranger

I am currently occupying one of these elegant wooden tables in the Apple Store here at Leidseplein, Amsterdam.  I've been here for half an hour now, taking advantage of their free WiFi while waiting for my 9:30PM depature to London tonight. 

My legs and thighs are aching, and I am trying to bear this unsoundness due to lack of sleep and endless walking for five days now.  This is the price of...

That's my unfinished blog entry five days ago, and because I've been enjoying the comfort of this humble dwelling (my 'home' in the UK) since Saturday, I am afraid that I cannot continue and finish that post anymore.  I have already forgotten how exhausted I was that time because what's left in my memories are the beautiful sights, magnificent man-made attractions, world-class transport facilities, friendly locals, invaluable artworks, and the indescribable feeling of being dumped in another planet! 

That funny feeling started the moment I stepped off the bus in Paris from London (where I wrote my preceding entry).  I was expecting a covered and well-heated coach station after nine hours of travel so I was surprised upon getting off and seeing the ankle-deep snow at Porte Maillot Coach park!  Too bad, I didn't get it the first time I read my booking notice- it was a 'park', NOT a coach station!  Totally disoriented, I had the feeling that that place was in the middle of Paris, poorly lit, deserted (we arrived at 7AM but it was still dark) with two busy road tunnels nearby, without any toilet and there's a relatively huge shopping mall across the street- with a name I couldn't even utter (Le Palais des Congrès)!  Luckily this building was already open so I tried to enter and was absolutely relieved to feel the warmth after being exposed to a lower-than-zero 'C for a considerable period while being left alone and completely lost in that cold and foggy Parisian street.  

One of the stations of Paris Métro that I love to pronounce.

After a few attempts, I successfully got an information from one of the cleaners of the mall (who, though broken, could at least speak the language I used), so with the aid of the 'arrows' on a series of signage written in French (that, again, I couldn't even pronounce and understand, I found my way to the underground train station.  I spoke to the lady behind the information booth and told her that I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower as the day breaks.  She recommended and offered a two-day travel pass (for any public transport across Paris; since I'll be staying in Paris for that period, anyway), directed me to the underground train line after giving me a small piece of folded glossy paper- where the colour-represented train lines were mapped.  There was an encircled word on that brochure- a Paris Métro station, my destination so I could see France's most famous landmark.  Then I realised that I should have studied French before deciding to venture in Paris!  Everything was in French!  The language spoken, the name of the train stations, the streets, shops, cafes, the labels of the foods and drinks, etc. (even the description of the artworks in the Louvre Museum)! 

The Arc de Triomphe, Paris, France.

To cut this story short, the direction given by that lady in the 'information' booth was wrong- just imagine a sleepy, totally disoriented tourist who's so excited to see the Eiffel Tower... going out of the underground train tunnel and saw the century-old arch in front of him, NOT a tower!  Well, it was a historic landmark of France, so I took my camera out of my pocket, set it on auto-capture mode, positioned myself with my 'thumbs-up' signature pose and smiled as if I was not disappointed.  I explored Arc de Triomphe, of course, and the rest of my stay in Paris was an interesting history! 

The Eiffel Tower hiding behind the clouds (fog?) This photo was taken from Trocadero area.

Tour Eiffel la nuit!

 NOTE: étranger is the French word for 'foreigner'. 

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A frosty treat

After five weeks of exploring London, I feel like I'm ready to go back 'home'. [I feel so lucky every time I use the word 'home'- I have Philippines and Australia; in this post, I mean Roseworthy, South Australia.  I would love to take a flight from Heathrow to NAIA but some unsettled university issues (mentioned on my previous entry) oblige me to follow my original itinerary to fly straight from London to Adelaide on the thirteenth of next month.]

I still have twenty-three days left in England but I honestly don't know how to spend this remaining days wisely. For me that was it- I have visited and taken photos of myself with Big Ben, the Parliament House (both with and without snowfall) and Westminster Abbey; I have seen the Buckingham Palace, entered St. Paul's Cathedral and the British Museum; crossed River Thames while walking over the Millenium Bridge, discovered Madame Tussauds, Notting Hill, and Harrods; been to the ever mysterious Stonehenge, the unique Roman city of Bath, William Shakespeare's birthplace (Stratford-upon-Avon) and explored the Warner Bros. Studios-UK (and discovered how Harry Potter films were made) as well as the lovely town of Cambridge. For me, that's what England is all about, and I don't want to demand (or honestly, stress myself) for more.

Days were actually getting boring lately; but the weather came to the rescue- it did give a bit of excitement! London wasn't generous enough to let me experience white Christmas (a cool and very wet Christmas, instead) but just recently, those hovering grey clouds eventually decided to turn into flurries!  And last Friday, amidst the risk of railway and bus travel cancellations, I still ventured to meet my friend Phil in Central London and considered to charge it to experience if ever worse would come to worst... so, with more than enough provisions packed in my bag, at the blink of an eye, I found myself outside Bayswater Underground Station in the middle of a heavy snowfall! I was not alone, though, I saw tourists posing inside or beside those red telephone booths along the streets wanting to have their photographs taken during that interesting (well, for me it was interesting) weather event!

Snowfall at the Parliament House, Westminster.

I have seen how this charming city transformed into a huge freezer!  Yesterday afternoon, I was enjoying a piece of buttermilk sponge cake and a cup of green tea by the window- and the view of heavy snowfall with those leafless tree branches, pines and Victorian houses along Elmer's End Rd gradually getting covered in finely crushed ice was like a gigantic movie screen to me- a real 4D experience, all for free!

And to quench my thirst, I stepped out of the flat, took photos of the frozen streets, joined the kids at the frosty park nearby and played like a 3-year old!

I am actually typing this in a bus, we're about to depart for quite a long journey... so it's time to 'park this pen' now.

Beyond Blue

...at Greenwich prime meridian marker.

Many people would think that I did something silly today.  I paid GBP5.00 just for a photograph while sitting on the ground with my legs crossed (photo above).    

That behaviour might be a sequelae of my slight depression after receiving a very upsetting email from the university yesterday- declaring that I need to do my two-week production animal clinical placement again due to some allegations given by my clinical supervisor which for me, was a treatment that's very unfair and too personal.  I just can't believe that in an intellectual environment like the university, I could encounter this kind of attitude.  The only good thing is, the extra-mural studies' advisory committee has given me a chance to discuss this decision with them at my earliest convenience and opportunity.  So I've been keeping my fingers crossed that I can sort it out to the best outcome I could imagine.

Indeed, there's no such thing as a perfect holiday!  But instead of grieving, I ate the most sumptuous breakfast I could afford, took a shower and explore the Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill and the luxurious Harrods at Brompton Road yesterday.  I am grateful for my uncle for the real treat of taking me to those fabulous places.

...at Harrods.

...at Harrods.

...at Harrods.

Aubergines at Portobello Market.

A variety of lettuce sold at Portobello Market.

Mushrooms for sale at Portobello Market.

Mold-ripened sausages at Portobello Market, Notting Hill, London.

We were at Portobello Market at four P.M. and didn't have the opportunity to see it at its peak but I have this feeling that it was comparable to Salamanca Market in Hobart, Tasmania.  The temperature was 3'C that afternoon but I have seen international tourists and locals along Portobello Road taking advantage of the last minute sale of fresh fruits and vege, flowers, beadworks, cloths, textiles, antiques, pastries and cakes such as Belgian waffles and French crepes.  My uncle and I enjoyed a medium cup of mocha and a waffle with two swirls of perfectly whipped cream, decorated with slices of fresh strawberries and drizzled with their sinful, thick chocolate sauce.

From Notting Hill Gate, the underground railway took us to Knightsbridge where the glowing Harrods shop was confidently standing!  Business hours was due to end in an hour so we navigated straight to the food section where the 'golden' meat and meat products, cheese, nuts and sweets were elegantly displayed.

STILL AT HARRODS.  Luckily, Patchi chocolate's national manager was standing by the shelves, so before I could say a word, she gave us a piece of milk chocolate with almonds wrapped in a nicely labelled, sparkling material- all for free!  Patchi chocolate was GBP8.00 per 100 grams but it was, honestly, worth it!  That chocolate variant we've tasted was so lovely (as how the English people would describe a great-tasting food)!  My uncle purchased some- in wide assortment!

"Life is like a box of chocolates!" -Forrest Gump

 DESPITE THE FREEZING TEMPERATURE this afternoon, my auntie and I were determined to visit Greenwich Park.  At the entrance, the place looked a bit deserted- though there were a few families and couples who braved the cold to walk along the concrete path in the middle of the lush, green lawn under the leafless trees- big and small.

I posed for a photograph at the view deck with the London skyline and the Queen's House behind (and below).  I was a bit surprised that another pose at the Prime Meridian marker would entail five bucks.  Since deep in my heart I believe I was a tourist, I paid a student concession (thankfully they honored my University of Adelaide student ID) and shortly after, I found myself queuing, setting my camera for an auto-capture and just like other well-wrapped yet uncomfortably chilled tourists- I sat down right on the official prime meridian marker at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich for a photograph!

The world's official prime meridian- I was there!

A prime meridian is a meridian, i.e. a line of longitude, at which longitude is defined to be 0°. A prime meridian and its opposite in a 360°-system, the 180th meridian (at 180° longitude), form a great circle.
This great circle divides the sphere, e.g. the Earth, into two hemispheres. If one uses directions of East and West from a defined prime meridian, then they can be called Eastern Hemisphere and Western Hemisphere.

- Wikipedia 

The London skyline with a streak of green laser light that represents the prime meridian.

"O degrees.  This laser installation projects a beam of light along the Meridian Line during the evening.  It runs true north for a distance of about 15 miles." -The Royal Observatory, Greenwich, London

Now, do you think I'm silly?




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Stunning Stonehenge

Elmer's End Road, Penge, London
7 January 2013

Common cold virus is gone but another virus came to invade my body!

My feet were very itchy the other night and I know that it was a pathognomonic sign- 'travel virus' had conquered my system resulting in an irresistible desire to hop on a tour bus and visit this circular man-made structure dating back to 3100 BC- the Stonehenge.

These stones measure  2 x 1.5 x 0.8 metres- the heaviest pieces weighing around 4 tons each.  This monument was completed in 1,500 years, and some of its major materials existing today were discovered to have come from the Preseli Mountains in Wales, UK which is 386 kilometres away!

The very purpose why the Stonehenge was built remains a mystery until today.  Archaeologists believe that prehistoric pilgrimages could have happened here for astronomical observation; others say that ancient people possibly came to get healed, to bury their dead or to worship.

This 2013, I came to visit!  

The tourists visiting one of the UNESCO's World Heritage Sites, English county of Wiltshire, UK.

    
WHEN MY URGE TO TRAVEL assaulted me that evening, my fingers eventually became submissive... my hibernating computer rekindled to life and my wallet obediently unclasped so on the last minute, my internet connection aided me to book a day trip to the mysterious Stonehenge, including the alluring and relaxing Roman city of Bath and to a small yet lovely town where William Shakespeare was born- Stratford-upon-Avon.

I kept tossing and turning on my bed overnight... and eighteen minutes before my alarm went off I found myself inside the steaming shower cubicle.  I left the flat at six A.M. but it was still dark and cold.  From the spot where I was standing, a heavy fog was obscuring the bus' LED route board as this service vehicle crept slowly towards me.

I arrived forty minutes before the scheduled train departure but after purchasing my one-day travel card from a machine, an unseen lady was heard over the speakers announcing and apologising for the cancellation of the rail service to London Victoria station (where the tour's one and only pick-up point was)!

I only have 20 minutes left to catch the tour, so I rushed out of the station to find another transport that could quickly take me to my tour's pick up point.  Unacquainted with the bus routes and unfamiliar with the roads and streets around Greater London, I hopped on the first bus that stopped to drop a passenger off.  I stood beside the driver and asked him to take me to a place where I could get another bus or a cab so I could find my way to Victoria Coach Station at the shortest possible time.

While the driver was propelling his bus through the dark and hazy road, I rang the tour company to inform them of my situation and current location.  I didn't get any assurance.  Over the phone, the representative told me that  the coach could only wait for another fifteen minutes. 

Heaven must be very good to me.  After all the dramas- transferring from one coach service to another and running more than a human speed around the Victoria train station along the Buckingham Palace Rd. to the coach station's gate number 6, I luckily caught the tour bus!  I was heavily panting and my heart was beating like the loudest drum in the marching band when I presented my reservation number and I.D. to our friendly guide.

He smiled and said, "Good morning, Sir!'  I couldn't respond if it was.   

AS THE SKY ABOVE THE misty city began to glow, the bus carefully traversed southwest, crossing rivers over humble bridges.  Comfortably sitting, I was enjoying the warmth of the coach and as I gazed through the window, it was obviously cold outside.  The leafless trees and the triangular, steeply sloping roof of the Victorian houses were silhouetted against the gloomy sky and the foggy horizon.  As the bus driver hit the gas pedal, these silhouettes were rushing the opposite direction... then buildings were getting lesser and woodland's getting  denser.  I was imagining the hills, the valleys and the verdant meadows hidden behind the haze!    

A closer look: The Stonehenge...

IT ONLY TOOK US AN hour and a quarter to get to the Stonehenge!  It was chilly and misty when I was queuing at the visitor's centre... and as our group pushed towards the prehistoric site, the ancient monument was gradually revealing it's concealed elegance and hidden charm amidst the fog.

Our tour guide told us that, approximately, there were only 100,000 people around England when they started building the Stonehenge- and how this people, without our modern ways of communication, united and planned to build this fascinating structure was a really a big thing.  They didn't have luxurious transportation but they managed to source and take these heavy materials from that mountain in Wales to this hill in England.  They crossed valleys, rivers and streams while handling these monoliths, and they had managed to arrange these stones- 1,500 years in the making, with their original 'blueprint' carried through- in a way that modern architects and engineers would undoubtedly admire!   

Those prehistoric people achieved something that has lasted for thousands of years.  The Stonehenge is not only a physical monument but a living legacy that could remind every person of today that harmony and solidarity really make a difference and give us the power to achieve our common goals that the coming generations can savor and enjoy!

A photo opportunity with the Stonehenge. 6 January 2013

 

The travel virus, the transport drama, the monoliths...  My visit to the Stonehenge was very memorable, and I concluded it with a giant piece of a delicious, hot sausage roll sold next to the souvenir shop.

The locals selling cakes and pastries at the visitor's centre.

The sausage roll that I had at Stonehenge.

 


NOTE: I'll try my best to write my experiences at the Roman city of Bath and Stratford-upon-avon soon. 




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