I write from fair Verona...

As I say, I write from fair Verona, the first blog from the new set of travels that we are making along our path towards home. We have four days left, only Venezia to go and then we find ourselves back in the United Kingdom to celebrate Christmas with my darling parentals who are joining us all the way up from the land down under.

In typical Kit fashion, the trip has not been without its hiccups...thanks again to food poisoning! This time I actually thought that I was dying and was considering having JJ take me to a lawyer to write up a will...just in case. It was horrendous! You do not need the gory details but you all have imaginations...so use them...

Um....I am pathetic, I actually wrote the above when I was in fair Verona, but now it is the end of Christmas day and I am sitting on the couch after having just sent two very jet-lagged parents to bed. As many of you are now aware...I am engaged to the darling Jono Carstairs (which means that I am soon to be Mrs Kathryn (aka Kit) Carstairs...KC...I rather like the sound of this. I have tried this name out LOTS since the proposal and had many sleepless nights planning the wedding in my head!). It was the most magical day of my life and must for a moment delve into the world of soppy and say that I am more in love with my man than ever. Nuff said, you all know that I am weak at the knees when it comes to him so you will all be able to imagine that I am living in la-la land now and walking around with a smile permantly plastered to my face. I think JJ is considering proposing more often...I am being that nice to him! Haha!

This blog was supposed to be about Italia but it has been a little overshadowed by the fact that I just accepted to stop being an individual solely living for me and be one half of a whole! A strange but very comforting feeling.

Italy, for the third time, was awesome...actually...you know what? I cannot be arsed to write about Italy except to say that we had a swell three weeks rollicking around in our little hire car that I named Fifi (I thought that it was a Fiat...but it was actually a citron...whoops!), being guided by Tom (the GPS...TomTom). We had some pretty awesome days and nights and caught up with many of my old friends from my past travels there. It was colder there than I have ever experienced but it was wonderful to see Venice totally covered in snow and ice. Unfortunately though the magical snow and ice caused us a little spot of bother when it came to returning to the UK...it took us 17 hours to get back (it should have been a 3 hour journey...max!). Insane.

Anyway, I am nodding off from too much food and wine and excitement from seeing my parents, so I will leave you. Sorry for being really shit and not really updating you on anything...but there is so much else going on that I am finding it hard to concentrate!

Merry Christmas and much love to all you wonderful people!
Love Kit

Homeward Bound

Well my dear friends, there is only so much excitement a girl can take and I think I am almost at overload! The year that has just passed me by has been a tremendous joy; full of fun, adventure, friends and new experiences. But now I begin the journey that takes me homeward, which is where I know that I belong. No one expected me to disappear forever, I am far too Australian and attached to my home, family and friends to be absent for too long!

This experience of travel has been much less bumpy along the way than my last sojourn. So many things have contributed to this; maturity, money, companionship…I think perhaps this was the real key. Sharing this journey with my lovely gentleman has made it all so much the sweeter. I feel that we come home as a more unified, solid couple than the day we departed (this could just be the natural result of time passing...or...it could be that you really need to learn to like and love the other when the companionship is so constant and when there is no other shoulder to rest upon). I think without each other this journey would not have lasted and certainly would not have been dotted with so many lovely trips throughout Europe and our new "homeland".

I have been a terrible correspondent over the last months and failed to update you all on the travel, work and the general experience of settling into our home. But there has been so much going on that finding the time to write just seemed an insignificant priority. I won’t bore you now with a detailed summary of the ups, down’s, in’s and out’s…just know that it has been fabulous, hard, interesting and wonderful. And that we come home fully satisfied with our lot!

I think a particular highlight for us was the house share, which despite saying we would leave; we remained in the entire time. It has been full of fabulous spontaneous support, friendship and fun. Just last night I helped decorate 100 cupcakes for a housemate to raise money for charity…before pasting the icing onto our own faces and posing for photos!

Work has been an interesting component to our lives over here. The recession was not a friend or ally when it came to finding work and finding work that we necessarily wanted! The experience for JJ was not what we had anticipated and was somewhat sporadic and unpredictable. And for me, well, as I sit pondering on my second last day of employment at TR, I can see what I will take away from it all. Working in this role has given me exposure across Europe (including a few cushy work trips to places like Oslo and Dublin) and the US and opened up a whole new insight into different cultures and workflows. It has been fascinating working with a multilingual team, listening to them dive in and out of the many different languages that they are ALL able to speak. Although this aspect has managed to make my feel ever so slightly inadequate! I am stoked to have been able to operate in a management role that has given me the autonomy to make decisions, implement changes, develop workflows and manage my time with out a hawk watching over me. Although TR is not where I ultimately see myself, it has certainly helped me to carve a clearer picture of the future that I do desire and it has equipped me with knowledge that will be priceless in moving forwards.

I leave London with some very happy memories, many new friends and new skills. I feel that I am on the brink; I could stay and become fully absorbed into the expat life, or return home to the comfort of a beautiful country, gorgeous friends and the best family I could ask for. Although the former is tempting, to disappear entirely into a different world, the latter is most definitely my preference!

I look forward to keeping you all updated on all the travels we have ahead of us and even more I cannot wait to swap stories with you in person! We still have so much ahead of us, but home is on the horizon; so see you soon!

PS. I have found a few travel quotes that I quite like and thought that I would share them with you, rather than being essentially about travel, they are about returning home after travel...

"As the traveler who has once been from home is wiser than he who has never left his own doorstep, so a knowledge of one other culture should sharpen our ability to scrutinize more steadily, to appreciate more lovingly, our own".
- Margaret Mead

"You may wonder, 'How can I leave it all behind if I am just coming back to it? How can I make a new beginning if I simply return to the old?' The answer lies in the return. You will not come back to the 'same old thing.' What you return to has changed because you have changed. Your perceptions will be altered. You will not incorporate into the same body, status, or world you left behind. The river has been flowing while you were gone. Now it does not look like the same river".
- Steven Foster

And finally a few words of wisdom from Mark Twain:
"We wish to learn all the curious, outlandish ways of all the different countries, so that we can wow and astonish people when we get home. We wish to excite the envy of our untraveled friends with our strange foreign fashions which we can't shake off. All our passengers are paying strict attention to this thing, with the end in view which I have mentioned. The gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become until he goes abroad. I speak now, of course, in the supposition that the gentle reader has not been abroad, and therefore is not already a consummate ass".

Settling into Londontown

Well, I left you last in the beauty of High Wycombe, glorious weather and picnics. Now we enter into the ongoing saga of hunting the job market for positions that a) Gave us a chance to show our colours rather than ruling us out before we had even thought about applying, b) We liked and, c) Payed more than 15,000 pounds p/a. Slowly we inched closer to all of the said requirements and finally job prospects began knocking on our door. We were hoping that these prospects would be trying to knock down our door to get to us, but I think perhaps in this dismal economic climate, that thought was a tad too optimistic!

We have certainly had our struggles on the work front, but I am pleased to report that offers were placed on the table and accepted graciously (aside from the haggling I did for a measly 2000 more per year! I wanted to experience salary negotiation, like a real adult!). You are now reading the blog of a fancy pants manageress who is dating a schmick freelancer. So that said, all I need to do now is actually start the job!

The Victorian house that we find ourselves settled into is very comfortable and homely. The housemates are all (relatively) easy to get along with. We have had a few delightful evenings in the company of the other inmates, involving poker and homemade pizzas. And have also spent many companionable nights in front of the television, engaging in in-depth conversations about who is more talented in "Britain's Got Talent" and who is the most likely to win the British version of "The Apprentice". We are all unashamedly hooked to the crass reality TV shows that British television spits out to us, the happy consumers.

The house itself has a character of its own with all the groaning from the floors and walls, not to mention the tick tick ticking of the boiler that sits under the uneven floorboards in our room. Then we have to remember that the walls are waifer thin, and being next door to the shower room means we get to hear the ensemble of splashing, squelching and singing that echoes out. But the view that we have of our very own little garden brings us right back to the thought of paradise, until a doof doof car speeds by and does donuts on the corner or the baby four houses down wakes and screams until its absent mother comes to suckle it or until...no really London is such a paradise of peace and quiet. Really, suburbia is a wonderful invention...

We have spent many hours scouring through food markets at Camden, London Bridge and Nottinghill, tasting the different English offerings of cider in as many different pubs as possible and enjoying tube rides to every corner of our new city. Our adventurous spirit has seen us hiring cars and speeding through the Kent (where we visited the white cliffs of dover and a quaint seaside village called...sandwich!) and Cambridgeshire countryside. We have visited the great houses of lady's and Lords and royal residences along the way. We even helped celebrate King Henry the Eighths coronation anniversary!

We have friends coming, going and staying which makes this new life seem more vibrant and settled. Suffice to say the world is being generous in her offerings to us and we are lapping it up in the same spirit of generosity. The weather is assisting our smooth transition into this adopted country, showering us with sun, blue skies and warm weather (I have a acclimatised, it is not really that warm...the term 'heat wave' is used when temperatures reach 26 degrees Celsius! And I find that 20 is warm enough to wear a summer dress!).

So here we are, we have arrived and are finally settling! Never fear though, as much as we love this temporary life, that is all it will ever be. If I have learnt one thing on our journey it is that we are extremely lucky to come from a country such as Australia and we could never choose to leave forever. I promise that we will be back before you can catch a cockroach!

Farewell for now!

London Town

There have been many calls for a London blog, and not being the one to disappoint, I am here delivering said blog. I am thrilled to report that I do have a wonderful (perhaps a slight exaggeration) tale of deceit to tell. It all happened in our first hours of arrival in the fair 'Mother country'. In our search for a roof over our heads in London we posted an advertisement on the infamous "Gumtree". Not twenty four hours later I was contacted by one Ella Peaderson, claiming to have a wonderful, empty apartment in the very convenient location of Southwark. We jumped at this gem and requested an inspection. Emails floated through the etha between this Ella and ourselves until an innocent email requesting money to be deposited in a neutral Western Union account arrived in our inblox. The girl claimed that she had shown around prospective tennants before us and they had all but let her down. She wanted 'security' she said, she wanted us to fax her a receipt of the deposit before she would come to London to show us the apartment. Being the intelligent, streetwise people that we are, we smelt a rat. There was no way I was going to guarantee funds for a place that I just wanted to inspect. I sent Ms Peaderson a firm email declining her request and that was that, we never heard from her again. We later found out that the Western Union scam is a well known one. If we had sent Ella a copy of a receipt then by Western Union standards that would be enough for her to withdraw our precious funds.

Aside from that little drama, finding a place to live was relatively hassle free. We arrived on a Wednesday in sunny London, spent Thursday sussing out the possibilities, Friday morning we confirmed our choice of residence and by Friday we were comfortably installed into our new living quarters. We chose a characteristic old house on the boarder of Wood Green and Bounds Green in North East London. It is a five bedroom, three story house with a fully equipped kitchen, loungeroom and three bathrooms. The house is inhabited by four couples and a slightly dysfunctional single. we have become tight with the other couples, sharing nights in making pizza and playing poker. It is friendly without being suffocating, suffice to say we are very comfortable in our new home.

Our time in London has been mostly occupied by the tedious task of applying for jobs. Applying is such a long and involved process that you are knackered upon completion of each one. But the waiting game is the worst part of it all, employers are quick to reject an application but somewhat slower to invite one in for an interview and a cuppa. Despite that aspect (which we knew all along was going to be hard) London life is pretty swell. We have been treating ourselves to little outings here and there which has been important to our morale. We first took ourselves off to High Wycombe (Buckinghamshire) where we visited High Wycombe Manor and the Hell Fire Caves. The caves were commissioned to by dug by Sir Francis Dashwood (of High Wycombe Manor) to provide employment to the local lads. They mined chalk which was used in the development of roads. Once the caves were no longer used for employment, Sir Francis used the space for his own pleasure; turning them into a debaucherous place for he and his cronies to entertain the ladies. The caves went down to a depth of 300m and even had underground lakes! Very eerie!

Our second outing was into London one Sunday for a picnic in Hyde Park. We had perfect weather for it and the day was even semi-warm! We took a stroll to Buckingham Palace where we were treated to a marching band of the fuzzy hat/red uniformed men. Our third outing was to Camden Town for a stroll around the markets, lunch and then a stroll that led us to Regents Park...I want to live around there, I have even chosen my future house! Then on another day we took ourselves off to the Museums, for a cultural indulgence. And today has seen us enjoying more good weather downing pints (or half pints for me) at the pub. Oh, and we went on another picnic at Fulham Palace yesterday and soaked up more good weather.

So amidst many picnics and suprisingly nice weather we have had a jolly fine time. Next weekend we might even venture out in a car on the open roads....

Stay tuned!

Intro to Morocco...the journey ends here!

People say that you can smell Morocco from across the waters in Tarifa, Spain, but it is not until you arrive that you know what these smells are. In every Medina that we have frequented, we have been engulfed by the dizzy smells of mint and heavy scents of simmering Tajine.

Mint tea is the warm welcome that you receive where ever you go, sweet and syrupy it invites warmth and comfort. This is how we were greeted by our hosts in Chefchaeoun, along with a drag on their Kif! We arrived in Morocco hesitant about what we would find. Our first stop was a wonderful way to settle any uneasiness, Chefchaeuon is a modest town set into the folds of the Rif Mountains. It is a rabbit warren of blue painted alleyways that house the multi-lingual inhabitants in its cramped space. We stayed in the house of a mad scottish family who have settled 100m above the Medina. We spent some very happy hours soaking up the sun and the lush view of the surrounding Mountians and Valleys on their comfortable rooftop terrace.

Our endearing but somewhat scatty hosts generously offered us a lift to the bus station on our last morning with them. We eagerly accepted but readily acknowledged that the bomb that they called a car had a strong possiblity of not starting. As expected, we found ourselves pushing the dusty mercedes backwards up the hill before clambering in. Silently we prayed that the car would start once we had the momentum of the downwards "slope"of the Mountain. It started thank fully and the breaks brought us to a halt once at the baron location that they referred to as the 'bus stop'.

Our next stop was Fes, actually our next stop was a tiny orange stall on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Our bus driver had decided to carefully hand pick a whole sack full of oranges whilst we sat waiting patiently on the bus! We had a good old giggle about it with our new friends Jo and Chris, a lovely couple from Sheffield. We fast became friendly stalkers for them, leeching onto them to find the accommodation that they had booked and we hoped to book into (thanks to our "winging it" attitude). Our new friends became our devoted side kicks over the following six days....starting with a guided tour of Fes with our proud guide, Albi. He was very thorough, taking us through an unfathomable network of market streets with stalls selling everything from socks to snails (I was genorously offered a back pack full of them by a playful stall owner)!

Although there are many lovely Moroccans (like the affore mentioned snail man), there are three times as many scammers. Unfortunately it meant that we did not want to trust anyone by the end of our sixteen day adventure. Befriending opening lines always led to a hard sell and the method of guilting you into buying their merchandise. It was unfortunate that every "nice" local was generally only out to make a profit from you. Despite this we actually felt very safe traveling through Morocco, you just have to keep your wits about you and be prepared to juggle manners and an attitude to not be suckered in.

Our friendship with our new buddies continued into the Sahara desert and through the Atlas Mountains when they invited JJ and I to join their five day private tour. It was an amazing experience, the first day we drove mostly through the Rif mountains to get out of Fes and then slowly we headed further out into the desolate landscape that is Morocco (out that way at least), our first night was spent way out over the 30 metre tall sand dunes in the Sahara desert in a traditional tent. We helped our guide, Mohammad, prepare the evening meal of Tajine in a traditional cooking tent before devouring it with bread and our sandy fingers!

The next day we woke at 5am to watch the sun rise and then trek back to the 4x4 (on our camels), we had a monumentally long day driving from 7am till 9:30pm!!! I woke with a gurling stomach that fast turned into an aggressive bout of stomach upset...stuck in a car for the entire day whilst driving through the desert (which in turn means no readily available toilets) meant that it was possibly my least favourite day of our travels! The sights that we passed in the car that day though were rather majestic!

The three days following we spent doing some pretty serious mountain hiking through the Atlas mountains...if we knew how much there was going to be and how intense then I am not sure we would have done it, but I am glad that we did! We stayed the first two nights in a little Berber town called Imlil which sits about 1700m above sea level. The first day we took it easy, climbing to 2500m. It was a pleasant walk through villages, down rocky hill sides, over streams and along the man made irragation systems. It took us around six hours in total. Day two we started with an 800m hike directly up to the top of the mountain where the soil was rocky and soft and hard to grip; thankfully we had a mule to carry our ruck sacks and a mulateer to provide us with lunch at the top! We spent the night in a tiny Berber village where we slept on concrete floors and had no particular comforts (a foam mattress was as luxurious as it got)...it was freezing...there was snow on the mountains!!! The third day was much easier, we only climbed another 400m and then back down through the valley to the pick up point, although by that time I must say, our hearts just weren't in it! The first day we walked 22km, then the second day we walked around 30km, followed by about 15km on the last day. A grand total of 67km!!!

Our next stop was spent in a seaside town called Essouira, where we took the time to recoup and enjoy the creature comforts like hot showers, and western style loos...I never thought that I could be so excited to see a western style toilet...until my nasty dose of diorreaha!! We spent a comfortable four days being lazy on the roof terrace that over looked the bay and the fishing port. We enjoyed laid back mornings consuming crepes and the fresh OJ that Morocco does so well. We have been consuming the stuff by the jugful...which led me to my second bout of bowel tangling smelly horror! My last evening was once again spent in friendship with the loo...although by this time we had at least made it to our luxury Riad in Marrakech! Oh, and to finish of the drama have I told you about the flea bites that I got from my towel in Essouira?

Despite these small dramas the whole of our trip was issue free. We had an amazing time consuming all of what Morocco had to offer. I wish I could provide you with a better picture of the extremes in landscape that the country threw at us, but it is one of those things...it will never be the same as being there. All I can say is, it is and was an adventure worth exploring!

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - Mark Twain

Farewell Sevilla, welcome to the cobbles of Granada!

I don´t know where to start! I wrote to you last of our escapades in Sevilla but what I did not get to write to you about was our fabulous last evening! Lets go chronologically...

Our farewell Sevilla dinner was consumed in a little bar in a backstreet Plaza (do not pronouce the ´z´as ´z´but as a ´th´/lisp) around the corner from our hostel. We were ´forced´to consume a few bicchiere (glasses ) of Tinto de Verano and beer before the kitchen opened at 8:30pm. The little bar was packed full of crazy locals who were not afraid of demanding (loudly) their orders above our heads. We worked out pretty quickly that the staff were not just going to give you their attentions, so after a short while of observing I learnt the art of domandare and quickly received a remark of ¨perfetto¨from the seemingly humourless waiter!

A list of food ordered and devoured:

• Patatas Bravas x2 (Potato wedges with a yummy orange sauce)
• Tortilla con shrimp
• Corquetta´s (essentially deep fried spinach)
• And Chicken pieces in an almond sauce

With a few Tinto under my belt I half tripped, half giggled my way out the door! Map in hand (JJ´s, not mine, I was too happy to concentrate) we navigated our way through a random compilation of streets that lead us to a very remote corner of the city where nothing was to be found but a little bar with a gorgeously warm open log fire. We managed to disentangle ourselves from the warmth, slide through the crowds and into a large ¨beer hall¨ with long rows of tables and wooden benches. When we arrived, the room was mildly filled with locals listening to a traditional Spanish band which included two classical guitars played by sombre men, an accordian held by a red faced jolly grandfather, a double bass strummed by a head bobbing gentleman, a drummer with a drumkit and a face for expressions, and an enormously enthusiastic singer/tamborine man. Their reportoire included a number of tunes that the locals sung along to, thus making the atmosphere particularly warm and fuzzy.

Once they finished they exited stage left and a Flamenco dancer, a soulful wailer and a classical guitarist arrived to introduce themselves. They were, what I consider, typically Spanish looking; dark skin, ink black hair and deep black eyes. The flamenco lasted half an hour and had me entranced the entire time. It was a truly fabulous evening!

The next day brought us to Granada and a slightly kooky guesthouse which was run by a mildly insane spanish lady. She, Raquelle, insisted that we provided a two hour window for our arrival so that she could make sure she would be at the guesthouse at that time to let us in. We walked for a good twenty minutes in the pouring rain and freezing temperatures before locating La Casa Maria, we then found ourselves thumping on the door for a further fifteen minutes, still standing in said rain. Raquelle had decided to go out for a ¨potter¨around the shops rather than wait for us! Another fabulous tale!

Granada is a really unique and characterful place. It is a mountain town nestled at the foot of the snow clad Sierra Nevada. The houses are typically beautiful and the streets are cobbled in a delicious white grey marble. The city´s Arabic past lends a certain charm also, like the towering Moorish/muslim fortress, The Alhambra, which is set high on the hill and looms its protective embrace over the city. We woke at 6:30am and stood in the freezing cold for two hours so that we could have the privilage of visiting this historical magnificance. I was wearing a thousand layers (no exaggeration) of clothing to keep warm against the blistering cold. Despite that though we were estactic to get two tickets, which are a rare commodity apparently. The Alhambra is a suberb example of what the human race is capable of constructing in the name of religion and monarchy. We spent almost four hours exploring the lavish gardens, extensive walls and elaborate palacios and courtyards. It was a great piece of living history.

The remainder of our time in Granada was spent enjoying the free Tapas that come with every drink purchased. We had a wonderful guide, an old Uni friend of mine who now lives in Granada . The tapas is such a great way to enjoy socialising whilst consuming great food at the same time! Thanks to Jane, we got to experience some of the best of Granada´s Tapas. Thanks Jane (thanks also for dragging us up the hill of Sacromonte to see the gypsy caves and the wonderful view!!)!

Onwards and upwards again, we are now in Tarifa, a city where you can literally smell the scents of Africa. Across the sparkling Atlantic waters Africa looms, waiting to shock us with her frantic culture and seductive appeal...

¨Travelling is almost like talking with those of other centuries¨ Rene Descartes

Faro...and onwards to Sevilla...

Oh, I have some disappointing news for you...I have no hiccups to report! What will I write about! Well, I could write about how inconsiderate hostel roomies can be, but then we have all had experience with this...Or I could write about how every new friend we have made on the road has a name that starts with "m", but, what do you care?

I could write to you about how I was disappointed with our last Portuguese stop, Faro. It was described in particularly good favour as a town with atmosphere and character. The engagement of the word "town" was accurate as it was certainly small enough to be branded as one, "atmosphere" I think was lacking thanks to the Easter weekend hibernation of all the local and tourist population, and "character" I think was a definite stretch of the imagination. But the stay was not entirely wasted, we had a private room, so we used the time to recoup...without the disruption of the afore mentioned roomies!

Portugal was a lovely surprise for me in the sense that the people were all so helpful and friendly. I was anticipating a lot of difficulty in communicating, knowing that my awkward Italian skills would not get me through our Portugal travels. Thanks to the poverty though, the majority of the population have learnt English as a way to move up and out. So we said our fond goodbyes to the homely Portugal, climbed aboard our bus and travelled back across the border to Spain. So, on Easter Sunday while you were all searching for chocolate eggs in the garden we were on a long bus trip headed for Sevilla.

We arrived in this sunny city at 2pm and immediately raced out the door down to a nearby church as we had heard that we would be able to catch the remnants of the Easter Sunday parade. Unfortunately we were too late for the procession but we did get to absorb ourselves in the festival atmosphere and watch the children all in their Sunday best; the girls all wearing gorgeous 1930s dresses, tiny cardigans and coats, thick colourful stockings, Mary Jane shoes and massive bows in their hair, it is like walking back in time! The boys outfits I am not so sure about, it could almost be considered cruelty to children... leather sandals, socks pulled to the knees, tailored short shorts, tucked in shirts, ties and cardigans...obviously not keen to encourage masculinity, mini metro's!

Aw, the bells just rang 5pm, they call this place the city of churches and they're not half wrong! There are dozens of them! We went to explore the massive cathedral on the first day of our arrival and then pushed on to the Alacazar, an old moorish castle that was a fascinating mix of Spanish and Arabic styles. It was really rather beautiful!

We are starting to become absorbed by the late night culture of Spain, we have noticed that we are naturally managing to eat later and later every night. On Sunday we went for Tapas at 10pm, we are normally found in bed at 9pm, so this is a major break through for us! Tapas was a little highlight for me, we went to a locals bar where the owner took a particular liking to me, he was a little cartoon of a man, small in stature, he had missing teeth, the rest were bucked, his skin told a thousand stories through his wrinkles, his eyes were wide in excitement and his brows were glued high on his forehead! He thought my "Spanish" skills were good...but obviously not that good, he babied me through the process and did not make me join the self service line!

Oh, what a long entry! I have one last note to make before I give up on this damned keyboard and allow you all to return to your lives! We visited the Bull fighting stadium yesterday, I was unsure what the "sport" entailed but what I found out disgusted me! I am unsure why this "sport" still exists! Who can enjoy watching a bull killed so inhumanely? Honestly I am devastated that it is still an authorized activity, the poor bull has to endure six spears before the Matador has the decency to put it out of its misery! It is such a primitive occupation, the Spanish who engage in this should be entirely ashamed of themselves!

One last note, I have a new Favorite drink: Tinto de Verano, it is very similar to Sangeria but it is sweeter and much easier to consume! I advise you try it next time you are in Spain!

Cheerio! And love to all!

New ports and news hiccups...

Shall I start with the hiccups again? Then perhaps we will be done with them for the remainder of the trip, or, perhaps that is all too wishful. Actually, honestly, I am not sure I want our hiccups to go away. Despite their annoying quality of ruining plans, they do manage to make themselves just a little useful as they morph into wonderful stories to tell.

Our introduction to this interesting city, Lisbon (Portugal for those of you not inclined towards a sense of natural geography), was not a bump free journey. We were tired, thanks to the over night train that we took from Madrid, and tiredness is not conducive to managing unfortunate situations well. The train took ten hours, eight of which we were tied up in our dreams. We have found a magic pill that is all natural but helps you to zonk out as soon as your lids close over your eyes. So the train trip was not a bump in the road until a helpful stranger offered us the wrong information that saw us exiting the train a stop too early. Still not a big bump, we found the metro and a friend and rode it (the metro, not the friend) until we arrived at our destination. Alighting we heaved our heavy packs on our backs and began the steep ascent that led to our hostel. Imagine the hills and the trams of San Fransisco and you have an idea of the hills of Lisbon. So, up the hill we walked. And walked and walked until we found a quaint little hostel like the one we had seen in the pictures. We were thrilled to have arrived and to find that the hostel was so close to the centre of town!

I am now going to make an anti-Ad-
Never book a hostel through hostel bookers

We booked through them, they took our deposit, sent us our confirmation email, which we printed and showed the non-English speaking receptionist. She looked bewildered momentarily, muttered to us in Portuguese, shook her head and then pointed to a computer screen that did not include our names on the reservation list. We had been double booked! Not a huge deal normally but it is currently spring break over here (and in America) which means hostels are all fully booked!

Thank fully the receptionist cared enough about our predicament to ring around other hostels to see if they would take us in out of the cold (and boy is this city cold!!!). The god of luck had obviously woken on the right side of the bed as a hostel was found that had just had a cancellation not five minutes earlier! Whoopee! Or not so...the receptionist wrote down a few very nondescript directions and sent us on our way. We asked for a map, but alas she had run out of maps!

Mapless, tired and 100% fed up we set out to locate the new hostel. It all started badly when we hopped on the wrong tram, which took us 15 minutes up the road before we re-asked, alighted and turned to catch a tram back down the very steep hill from which we had come. We found the correct tram but did not find the correct stop ( thanks again to a helpful stranger who directed us to alight) which left us a 2km hike up a hill before we reached a little plaza full of quaint shops, but I do not have time to describe these shops to you just now...remember, I am fed up! So, we arrived at said plaza where we located the correct stop, but this is where the directions finish excepting a brief mention of stairs that we would need to find. We saw multiple sets of stairs in the plaza by the time we completed our 360 tour and were left feeling somewhat deflated by the thought of NEVER locating the hostel...or at least I was feeling deflated, the wonderful boyfriend was still acting as my worthy knight (I am not sure where his energy was coming from!). At this point the god of luck had obviously awoken, eaten and was ready to hand us more of his good fortune.

Are you looking for Jonnie´s Guesthouse? We heard a swedish voice dodging its way through the packed plaza. She was Jonnies mother, sent down to locate two lost looking travelers.

Everything from that point on has been marvelous and the hostel has been a real gem of a find! We spent our first two days eating pastries and exploring the many nooks of the city, we have no time to feel guilty about the pastries, thanks to the wonderfully steep cobbled hills that paint the city. We spent one magical day in a fairytale village called Sintra where we climbed 6km to the top of a mountain to walk through the ruins of an 11th century castle. We were enthralled by the condition of the castle, which you can truly imagine being used all those years ago. It was like walking through the set of Robin hood with the medieval castle, forest and beautiful natural springs (where we filled our water bottles with the sweet ´nectar´).

We have been surprised by the way the wind cuts a path through our layers of clothes and finds a way to bite at our skin. It has been a constant game of tag, we pile on layers against the wind and then the sun comes out and warms us beyond the need for layers, so we remove them, and welcome back wind! It has been all fun and games with the weather of Lisbon.

The most important note is that we are happy travelers managing to experience all the ups and downs that we have been waiting for.

"Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness". ~Ray Bradbury

Leaving, Arriving and Hiccups...

Well, my dear friends, it seems that I find myself on the road once again. It felt odd and not entirely real to begin with. It was only in the moments of my tearful goodbyes to my parents that it began to feel as though it was all happening. I think the oddness in feeling that I experienced was thanks to my general happiness in my own country and general state of being, it feels strange to be leaving when every aspect of my home life is so fine and dandy. Despite all that I am happy to be a young and carefree traveller again, although, typical of Kit travels, it has not been without a few minor hiccups...

The two most ¨Kit¨ hiccups share the word ´pass´. The first of the passes includes a fallen and consequently momentarily lost passport. Jonathan had been the sole carer of my passport before arriving in the Mother Land, upon arriving he thought that I (being an adult)would be responsible enough to take care of my own identity. He was wrong. The passport slipped from my lap onto the floor without my knowledge, I walked off the plane, walked halfway towards customs before panic, in the form of a swift metaphorical slap, hit me clean across the cheek. I ditched Jonathan´s look of confusion and disbelief and sprinted back towards our A380. Thankfully the passport was dutifully waiting where it had been left.

Hiccup number one complete.

Trouble number two involved Kit being removed from the train in Madrid, pale as a ghost and as dizzy as though I had been around a roundabout several times. I came particularly close to my friend fainting in that moment on the train, luckily we escaped the confines of the train before I keeled over on all unsuspecting Spainards!

I promised there would be a hint of drama, and there you have it!

The motion of the following few days has been smooth. Madrid is a masterpiece of architecture and gardens. The Madridian people are very friendly, two inhabitants in particular have been wonderful company! I have two friends who took us out for a Sangreia haze of a night in a marvelous place called The Cave. We had a fabulous time being smothered by the attentions of surrounding Spanairds when they (the girls) took a fancy to my boyfriend...he quickly fell into the position of celebrity, he did so with such ease that I am beginning to wonder if I could make some money from his star quality!

The days in general have seen us lolling about in gardens and palaces, the nights have filled us with sangreia and tapas...despite the initial difficulty in ordering these items.

We spent Saturday in a fascinating walled town called Toledo, a medieval village which has been frozen in time and now we are preparing to check out of our hostel and take the overnight train to Lisbon, Portugal. It has been a wonderful reintroduction to the world of traveling, thanks for following us.

Love to all of you!

Welcome

Welcome to this, my first, Lady Kit Blog!

Since the art of picking up the phone is an almost forgotten one, and the process of emailing is now considered "backwards" I thought that it may be fitting to produce a blog in which to update you all on the weekly travels of Kit (myself) and JJ (my dashing boyfriend Jonathan James). I, as many of you are more than aware, am an obsessive compulsive writer. I often get overwhelmed with the task of writing everything in my journal AND writing home so I decided that this would suffice as my medium for both. I am also vaguely obsessed with organisation so this method of communication appeals to me as it is ordered neatly and easily accessible in the one location!

I hope, for my sake, that this blog will not be as entertaining, dramatic and as full of despair as my last overseas adventure emails, although I do hope that there will be some spice that will once again have you hooked! I am certain though that I will find just a few small drama's to interest you soapie lovers out there!

Please do not think that this excuses you from writing to us with updates on your world! I expect lots of emails from ALL of you! Insert foot stomp here ***. I look forward to exploring the open road ahead and look forward to taking you all with us on the journey.

"Every exit is an entry somewhere else"- Tom Stoppard.

Love to all from Kit and JJ.

xoxoxoxoxo


Email us at:
kit_henderson@yahoo.com.au
jono@audiorealm.com.au