One Week In

I'm here! I actually did it, with no injuries, and made it all the way to Melbourne!

Following an extra few months in London I finally made the 26 hour flight to Melbourne. I flew China Eastern, and was pretty sure it was going to be the worst experience of my life. The flight was 150GBP cheaper than all the others I could find, so was not expecting great things, and I suppose it probably wasn't that great, but because I had never taken a long haul flight I had no basis for comparison, so it was ok by me!

Getting from the airport into the city is super east: hop on the SkyBus, $18 one way, which runs 24/7 and is really regular. Depending on the time of day it takes around 20 minutes into Southern Cross Station, from there you can take a train to where you need to be, or use SkyBus' hotel transfer service, which will take you to a number of hotels in the CBD.

Being honest, I haven't seen too much of the city yet because most of my time has been sent job hunting (fun fun fun!) but what I have seen is lovely. I have a great friend that lives in the CBD who has shown me around some lovely eateries, today we went for lunch at the Coconut House, which was nice and went for a look in the State Library. Having spent most of my life in the library as a student I never thought I would say this, but if you're in Melbourne take a visit to the State Library! The building was designed by Joseph Reed in 1854 and had a domed roof that was added in 1913. Its a beautiful building. There is also an art gallery inside which is worth a little look around. Outside you will find the grass area to be overflowing with crowds of people enjoying the sunshine sitting on bean bags or playing giant chess.

However, most of my time has been spent around Chapel Street, as I am staying with some friends that live close by. Chapel Street is amazing, there is little else to say! It's filled with bars, restaurants and coffee houses, big named shops and small boutiques. It is really quite charming. I have very much enjoyed wandering up and down the street and popping into cafes for an iced coffee and to use their WiFi!

All in all, my first week has been lovely, and pretty uneventful!

Quiz Tarrent at Lucky Voice

The more observant amongst you may have noticed I enjoy a good night out drinking with the girls, and its far from uncommon for me to over indulge. Last night at Lucky Voice on Upper Street, Angel, was no different.

The bar is lovely and stylish, but the prices were great! A bottle of beer was just £3.95! As a Northerner that figure looks painful for a bottle of beer, but as a resident of the capital for over 3 years it is music to my ears!

Get there for 7.45 on a Thursday night for a music quiz, £2 per player, and take advantage of the free karaoke booth after the quiz. Its also worth booking a table in advance as it can get a little cosy. 

Obviously with any pub quiz the most important question is "what shall we call our team?". We went with Quiz Tarrent. Get it? Like Chris Tarrent? Never mind, I thought it was hilarious.
The quiz is totally music related, think name the artist style questions and current music news. Some of the questions are a little tricky so brush up on your music knowledge before heading down. They also have some "get involved" rounds, like who can hoola hoop for the longest - winners get points for their team!

The quiz is a lot of good fun, but the real magic comes after the quiz has finished. With any luck you are all nice and merry by now, and you'll need to be, as you are taken around to one of the private karaoke rooms for you and your friends. Playing the quiz gets you 2 hours of karaoke free! It was a hard hitting moment for me when I realised I wouldn't be a winner on The X Factor any time soon, but we had a lot of fun choosing songs, playing with different sound effects for the mic and using the inflatable guitar.

Unfortunately, when I got up for work the following morning I stumbled late into the office I was feeling less than fresh, and a little embarrassed to say the least. But good fun was had all round!

Introducing Captain Meow at the Portside Parlour

Last week a group of us gals got together to head down to the PortSide Parlour at Broadway Market. This lovely little basement bar was delightful; being a rum lover my only disappointed was not finding the place sooner!

It’s worth pointing out that as you stroll down Broadway Market hunting for a doorway to a basement bar you will be wandering for a while. There is a lovely looking bar located on the corner of Dericote Street called Off Broadway, go in through there and follow the signs for the toilets, that's where you will find the pirate ship themed bar.

Unfortunately we planned this little trip to the rum bar well in advance, so much so we hadn’t accounted for the tube strikes. Eventually our party arrived and we began our endless assault on the cocktail menu. A Grace Jones followed by a Fishwife Punch, chased with a Prime Minister, each more delicious than the last. My personal favorite was the 1749, served with a little surprise.

The Rum Cocktail Menu

The bar itself is decked out like a pirate ship, with candelabras on the tables and jugs of water, tables so sturdy they would look proud in the captains quarter. Having spent many a party in my later teen years dressed as a pirate this place provoked loads of old memories, most ending rather embarrassingly with me falling over of puking into a bucket! Luckily I have grown to be a much more responsible adult so there was no pirate themed repeat from my past...or rather my last train home was at 9.45.
Due to the tube strikes we had the place to ourselves, which was great for what we wanted, but the lovely bar staff assured us it gets pretty packed out at the weekend!

All in all, I'm pretty disappointed I am unlikely to be heading back there any time soon. Their rum selection was fantastic, the bar staff were warm and friendly and the decor was very, erm, piratey! And, we even got to meet Captain Meow, the ships resident rat catcher!

I doubt he would make a good rat catcher really!

Ps. apologies for the blurriness of the pictures, the cocktails were just too good!

A tractor is not a car...

They have four wheels, like a car. Two wing mirrors, like a car. A steering wheel and a gear stick, like a car. Six hydraulic levers, like a...hold on a second! 

Whilst in Australia I plan to work on a farm, like so many others entering the country on a working holiday visa. Doing this is important for two reasons: To save more travel money and to enable a second year down under. Both are pretty good reasons in my opinion.

After a little research into harvest times and wages I learnt I could earn much more by getting a tractor driving job. Brilliant I thought to myself I grew up on a farm, of course I can drive a tractor, hell, I've been driving tractors since I was 5!

Over Christmas I went up to The Farm to visit the family. One not so exciting day my dad and uncle got one of the tractors out to fix a couple of fences.  Here's my chance for a little brush up course before I go.

With not too much persuasion I convinced my dad to take me out for a quick lesson before lunch. I heaved myself up the three huge steps and into the cockpit, the first difference between a tractor and a car, and sat myself in the driving seat, my feet swinging freely as I couldn't touch the floor. 

As I looked around I could see an abundance of levers, switches, pedals and dials. No, this certainly would not be like driving a car, and no, I certainly had not been able to drive a tractor since I was 5. I had sat on my dad’s knee and steered. Much to my surprise, I was about to find out driving and steering are very different.

"So I suppose we best start you in a field. Pop it in't gear and let’s be off down lane". I looked at the levers in front of me, pushed my foot as hard as I could into the clutch and tried to move what I had determined must be the gear stick. Dad looked at the clutch which, despite my best efforts, hadn't really moved, pulled his phone out and made a call back to the house "hold off on lunch, I think we might be a while".

It didn't really get all that much better from here. We drove very slowly up the lane to an empty field where my dad instructed me to stop so he could open the gate. "Stop here. Just here is fine. Now, Charlie! THE BREAK!" This is when I realised I could just do an emergency stop and hit the neutral button, unlike a car in which the break is applied slowly. Hindsight would say this was a bad moment to let dad know I hadn’t driven any motorised vehicle since 2010, asides from a gokart which I crashed and broke my ankle.

Slowly but surely my dad, who is slow to anger and rarely raises his voice, got more and more frustrated as I drove the tractor through the field, mildly avoiding ditches and hedge ways coming within inches of their lives.  

Just 10 minutes after entering the field I went over a sizeable mole hill at a speed and my dad was bumped out of his seat! I quickly stopped and helped him off the floor of the cabin apologising profusely. After a few minutes of awkward silence I went to set off again before my dad quickly interrupted “think it might be best if I take it from ‘ere”.  We were then left with the awkward act of trying to swap seats in the tiny cabin. I quickly decided it might be best for me to just walk home, and climbed down the steps, stumbling on the last one, jumping to the floor and slipping in the mud – “I’m fine!” I shouted up to my dad as the tractor door shut and he set off home.

When I eventually got back to the house – I took my time on the short walk in an attempt to avoid some embarrassment that was inevitable – I found the family sat around the kitchen table eating a ploughman’s lunch. I shuck my muddy boots to the corner and avoided eye contact with anyone until my aunt tried to point out some mud on my forehead and they exploded into floods of laughter, including my dad.

The conclusion of this nightmare? No, I don’t know how to drive a tractor. No, I won’t be getting a tractor driving job in Australia. And no, I do not make a very good farm girl.

The London Travel Show and Alborz Restaurat Review

At the weekend Graham and I went along to The Adventure Travel Show at Olympia, and what a day it was! Finished off with a meal for two at Alborz Restaurant, my only regret is getting a day ticket and not a full weekend pass!

The whole place was filled with adventure tours to global destinations, travel shops like Nomad and information about global sustainability and environmental responsibility.We spent the day learning about our destinations of choice in SE Asia and left weighed down with travel guides, magazines and leaflets galore to provide yet more inspiration for our plannings.

The most inspirational thing there, however, was not the glossy mags and perfect pictures of tropical paradise hanging at the back of almost every stand. It was the talks. Some of them inspired me to be more careful with recycling and encouraged me to think more about the impact my choices have on the world. Emily Penn, from Pangaea Exploration, gave a wonderful talk about plastic pollution in the ocean - never again shall I be guilty of taking a plastic carrier bag from Sainsbury's!

My favorite talk was certainly that of Leon McCarron, who invited us to join him on his walk through the Empty Quarter. Basically, him and a mate built a cart, dropped it in the middle of the desert and walked to Abu Dhabi. Clearly, there was a little more to it than that. The incredible heat, the endless miles of sand and the ever changing landscape. It was fascinating and really got Graham and I excited about all the possibilities for the road ahead.

At the end of the how, weight down like pack horses, the two of us mooched over the road to the Alborz Restaurant, a charming Persian place, just over the road from the exhibition hall. Here we sat in almost silence, save the odd "check this out" and "WOW! Holy cow lets go here!" as we pointed enthusiastically at pictures in our magazines. The food here was great. Our mixed started was served with fresh flat bread, baked right in front of us, the Kashk O Bademjan was delicious! For main I had the sea bass. It was good, but if I find myself there again I would probably give something else a try. 

It took us 2 hours to get home to our (very far) North London flat, but with our noses in magazines it seemed like nothing! We will certainly be going to some more of the travel shows coming up in London over the coming month!

A walk down memory lane

When I was growing up in the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Moors a good old town fair was never far away. Some of my greatest memories of growing up include playing on the rides, trying to win a giant teddy and filling my face with sausage dogs and candy floss. So you can imagine my delight when I received a call from my sister, who very recently moved to London, late Wednesday night.

Me- Hello?
Sammy- Take tomorrow as a duvet day
Me- Oh, hey Sammy. Why?
Sammy- We're going to Winter Wonderland.
Me- Done, see you tomorrow!

My sister and I share a special love for one ride in particular, an amazing ride so simple and pure no other comes close. Our love is made all the stronger because, at around the age of 14, we saw someone get hit by one! The Waltzers. So, after filling my stomach with a smoked salmon sandwich and drinking more mulled wine than I would ever advise, we made our way towards the fairground.

£4 each later we hopped into our little cart, careful to make sure Phil, my sisters rather muscly and weighty boyfriend, was on the outside to ensure maximum spin. We sat in anticipation, handed our tickets to the ride attendant who put the bar down and waited for the inevitable evil laugh that ques the ride to start. We travel the tracks with the cars not yet spinning, desperately leaning as far as we can to try get things moving when a count down begins. 10. 9. 8. 7. 654. 3. 2...1! All at once the cars go spinning out of control. I grip onto the bar across my stomach desperately trying to pull my head forward, a game Sammy and I used to play whenever on the ride. Whilst on this ride I laugh uncontrollably, only managing to catch a breath when the car looses momentum and we bob around the track looking out onto the faces watching the ride. When we all recover from out first spin we gauge the timing, then as we ride over the top of a hill and begin the short fall the 3 of us lean as far as we can to encourage the car to spin uncontrollably yet again. I howl with laughter, my sides begin to hurt in a way that laughter can only create. Then, when I thought I couldn't take anymore, the car picked up the pace. I tried desperately to keep my head pulled forward but couldn't fight it any longer. My head was thrown backwards as I howled and screamed with delight. By now my sight was about clear as at 4am as I stumble out of Club de Fromage, blared from crying with laughter as opposed to beer goggles. I manage to peer over to my sister to discover her also crying and laughing, only she is pointing towards me!

Notting Hill Carnival

Notting Hill Carnival takes place August bank holiday weekend every year, and has become one of the largest carnivals in Europe.

The event came from humble beginnings, with the main parade being made up of drums and lively dancers in a true celebration of the culture. If you ask anyone that used to go to the carnival 15 years ago they will give you a very difference account to what it is now, and they will also say its nowhere near as good as it used to be! I tried to get a picture of the dancers in their fabulous outfits but this was the best I could do; doesn't she look happy?

When I arrived it was amazing and I couldn't believe I hadn't been before, going to Liverpool's Matthew Street Festival every year instead. But this place was something else, with huge crowds and loud music everywhere you went. There were stages everywhere, with different bands and DJ's playing (the pine-apple stage was my fave). As we walked further around the carnival we followed our noses to an area filled with food stands. They were all boasting the best jerk chicken, rice and peas available, and they weren't lying either. The food on offer is incredible (if a little over priced) but it is the best jerk chicken I have had in London.

We then started walking back towards the tube station to meet another friend, and this is where I started to have different feelings towards the event. When we crossed the road from the main parade it took us 10 minutes to walk up the road, on the way back it took us over half an hour at least! I tried to get a picture to demonstrate and hope it shows just how busy is got!

At 2pm when we arrived



Taken at the same place 3 hours later, and it got busier still!

Later on walking back this way it was crazy busy! To make it worse (or better, depending on your idea of a fun day out) most people were pretty drunk and/or on drugs. Ok, so I had also had a drink, but not enough; I was grateful for the small amount I had drank but I think you would need to drink a fair bit more to catch up with these people and be able to enjoy it properly. Unfortunately, when there are large crowds, drugs and alcohol you also get fights. I was fortunate enough to get caught in the middle of a particularly brutal one.

I suppose I had a bad experience, I would still go next year, but with different expectations and maybe try stay clear of the main roads, maybe find a quieter stage away from the bigger crowds.

If you don't really want to drink or get caught up in the crowds get there early, have a look round, eat some awesome jerk chicken and head off before the masses arrive.

If you do want to stay late and enjoy the full day this sign on one of the out door bars sums it up nicely; If you're no drunk you're not doing it right!