Wow was I stoned last night on one space cake! It took well over half an hour to take effect, but then all of a sudden... tingly, tingly, light-headed quasi-lucidity. You know that advertisement for some expensive alcohol, shot on black & white stock I think, scene at a bar, man spies a lone woman, orders a drink for her from across the bar... Cointreau, I think? It's illegal to serve alcohol in a cafe that sells marijuana, so I started pondering equivalent scenes in the same sort of classy bar, so the same footage, sounds of a noisy bar, image of man talking to bartender but you can't hear what they're saying, bartender looks across at woman and back to man, nods, goes and does something, brings woman a drink... woman looks at it and asks, "What is it?" ... bartender shrugs and says "A hot chocolate. From the gentleman." Man gives her the eye whilst woman looks quizzically from hot chocolate to man and back again. Hmmm. Another one, but this time when the woman asks, "What is it?" the bartender replies "A rohypnol-spiked vodka cocktail." It was terribly amusing when I was stoned last night. I was in the Bulldog cafe at the time, a very "hezeleg" (? wrong spelling) place, ah, free time almost over, ciao!

Still regurgitating my written diary from Prague, no, I think this is the first day in Berlin, doesn't really matter, as it is just a note about an amusing remark that Bernard, the guy that ran the military antiques store made after he had had a few drinks... as I said, we were in U Flecku with his young daughter, and I was telling him that I was going to hear Dvorak. He was so impressed with the way I pronounced "Dvorak" with a rolled `r', that he said, "You are the king, I am the rook." Hilarious, though I was a little embarassed. Little did he know that I was merely repeating how I have heard it pronounced it on ABC Classic FM!

19th January, 2004
11:20pm It is very lonely, celebrating one's VTAC offer acceptance, alone in a restaurant, where everyone around you is speaking another language. It's about as much isolation as I can take. Earlier today I visited the Erotik Museum of Beate Uhse. I have never before looked at so many illustrated cocks and cunts in one viewing!
[Later, on the train.] Even in Berlin I evidently attract attention, the bartender from the restaurant tonight followed me out onto the street to ask where I was from, saying "We were curious." Walking away from the restaurant, thinking about visiting a bar but realising that it would only increase my feeling of isolation, I succumbed to feeling sorry for myself, two rolling droplets to show for it. However, the African dude opposite me on the train pretending to fellate his banana soon cheered me up. This group of Africans opposite me aren't speaking in German or English, but I can tell that they're talking about penis sizes. Their good humour is infectious. Perhaps 'cause I've had a few.

20th January, 2004
1:40pm Another coffee in Cafe Einstein. Much less busy and less impressive staff. Much happier than I was feeling last night. Left the other three to book our flight to London, as I find it excruciating to watch someone else flounder in the web. The cheesecake here is not bad at all. A tension between the barista and the waitress? He reached to touch her hand after some slightly strained words, which she seemed to jerk out of his reach. An exchanged look between the the waitress and another.

21st January, 2004
4:50pm Ahhh... Barcomis! A mixture of homeliness and trendiness. I could tell from across the road, my heart lept (boing) at the promising atmosphere, betokened perhaps by the bean roaster in the window and the walls, that rough effect where plaster is scraped on and then glazed smooth.
I have just noticed what I believe to be an Australian with a backpack covered in patches from different European countries: something tackier I have not seen for some time! I'm so glad that I didn't follow through with my threat to do the same thing. I see lots of people with dogs and babies; it seems to be the culture to take them everywhere with you, and public services are set up to cater for it. Shit! I just got a cafe laté served in one of those French fucking bowls. The couple in front of me look more Italian than German, and definitely yuppies. He looks like he is wearing almost as much makeup as her, his face looks so perfect. Not particularly attractive, just seamless. Plucked, tanned (fake?) and styled.
8:45pm Having dinner now in Dur Letztes Instanz, the oldest pub in Berlin. Located in Waissenstrasse, just behind the Podewil [where I had just seen a large exhibition of modern art, including some very funky assault rifles decorated in sequins, velvet, diamonties (?), leopard print, etc].
10:10pm The Englishman that joined my table just left, after an enlightening conversation about culture and politics in Britain and Europe.
This pub is quaint and fairly cosy; dark timbre [err, timber, heheh] chairs and benches and picture frames filled with kitsch German images [of countryside, kitchens, etc]. Hanging leadlight lanters protrude along the wall at two-metre intervals. The tables, however, are of a pale timber, the floor is `brick tiles'. An old circular staircase with decorative iron-work in the body of the railing ascends to the next floor. German kitsch is dotted everywhere. Two Japanese at the table behind me remind me that this place is invariably a tourist attraction, though the other clientele I have noticed seem to be locals.
North Sea Oil, newly formed parliaments, one nationality.
11:30pm Now I am somewhere nice, the Cinema Cafe on Rosenthaler Strasse, sitting in a highbacked, somewhere worn red velvet couch, collections of b&w portraits taken in the cafe on the typically pale cream walls. I love it when people speak German to me without realising that I have no idea what they're on about. I just smile politely and sort of nod, unless they persist and seem to expect a response, in which case I pull out the practised "Ich spreche kein Deutsche." It seems that café style drinking and socialising is more prevalent than bars here.

22nd January, 2004
6:50pm Kurvenstar, that's where I am now, convinced by the charismatic boss, Matteo, a Polish dude in spanking new hip hop gangsta clothes, ala Ali G without the bling. The wine is South African apparently; whatever it is, it's as smooth as silk.
"Marques de Almonacid" Cariñena (Crianza). Spain. Ok, so it's not South African. Now today... no sign of Heuy, Duey and Louie. Haha, the other night, the same day that Peter [Peter Simon, our landlord] had told me his story about his early days with Mobil Oil, or actually it was at the end of that same conversation, Peter remarked "And next time you come to Berlin with a more attractive woman!" and held his finger up to his nostril to indicate Mel, who has a large ring in her nostril there. Haha! His story, avoiding the army by going to university a second time and studying `boat engineering', even though he hates being on them, haha! But then he was called up again only to be rescued by his uncle in Hamburg who gave him a job with Mobil Oil, organising the replacement parts for ships rather than docking them. Then his Mt Fuji story, the wrong clothes, the girl with the anorak, the summit, the quick slide down, the bare arse, the respect on the train for his staff, the American company using a German to infiltrate the Japanese market... fwoah. Hmmm, the fussy Australian strikes again... I just showed the bartender exactly how to replicate my favourite rum cocktail from Misty bar. Went to the Pergamon and Deutsche History museums today, the latter being the first museum creation of I.M. Pei. Who? He designed the Louvre, sweetie!
9:40pm Had a very pleasant dinner and drinks at the Kurvenstar, especially with the bartender, who lived in East Berlin before the wall came down. I see a real variety of `polizie' here. Ones in black, green, now plum! More, I'm sure. But I don't get the impression that they are looking to harass people like Australian cops have the reputation of. [stupid gaijin! not that anything happened, but really... what a stupid observation]

23rd January, 2004
1:45pm Just had my first "whinging pom" experience in a French patisserie, but rightfully so if his complaints about his breakfast being forty-five minutes late and cold are valid. However it was the tone of voice in which he expressed his displeasure and his emphasising it with "Oh dear, oh dear" that made it peculiarly English. I was thinking of having the same breakfast here tomorrow, but perhaps I will stick with the "ready to eat" baked goods.
11:40pm Somewhere called Elbow Room now, a bar/pool hall. Young, a bit try-hard, a bit `boob'. Red Stripe here tastes nothing like what I've had in Melbourne: it just tastes mediocre. There it is again, mediocrity. [I won't bore you all with my ramblings of angst about mediocrity.]
My flight over here was only €45, compared to the €80 or so the others paid for theirs. Staying with Jerry, the Italian going for a job at the casino, and "Ilovich"(?), the French dude that lives and works there. [And two others that I had not yet met.]
It's kind of cute how everything relates back to the monarchy here. Even this pint glass has a crown on it with the number 16; is that 16cl?
[Ramblings about how crap the bar I'm in is and how I miss Muslimgauze.]
Some fucking Pom just harassed me in unintelligable Pommy-speak [giggle], wondering if I was from some fucking band and writing songs. I honestly thought he was speaking German initially. It's not so bad sitting here; inspirational in the same way sitting in Southland is, except I can get drunk here! [Much rambling about how mediocre the venue is, right down to the carpentry.]

24th January, 2004
2:25am [At the bus stop. You can tell that I've been flying solo since Berlin by the frequency and detail with which I am writing!] Ahh, the moustache strikes again! Crowds of post-adolescents gather to inquire and compliment. One girl was sure that I was an astrologer with a website of some sort. Bizarre.

25th January, 2004
6:15pm Large chicken shawerma for £3.95 coming right up. Probably didn't need to order a large. Visited cool record shop, These Records, near Elephant & Castle the other day, where a very chatty Muslimgauze fan worked behind the desk. He was quite interesting to chat with, and/or listen to as he was very capable of carrying on the conversation single-handedly. Learnt some of the history of :zoviet.france: amongst other things. He happened to have on loan from a friend, an _extremely_ early Muslimgauze vinyl!! Called Buddhist on Fire, it is perhaps his first actual album. It was terrible. :) hahahh, I had to ask him to take it off, it was early '80s industrial dance stuff... really, not, right.
Later on met up with Tam, who I hadn't seen since he was in Melbourne... a few years ago. Went out to a bar called Crazy Larry's; which was mostly full with conservative yuppies. So, terrible music, but very amusing. Again, much attention for 'tash, people trying to grab it to see if it was real, grrr. Met this guy, Barclay, who practically took me by the arm upon seeing me and said, "John Galliano?" [A fashion designer that I apparently bear a striking resemblance to.]

27th January, 2004
2:10pm Fwoah, now I know what it is like to rush for a plane in a huge airport! Not much fun. God, what a schermozzle this morning was. The night before, I accidentally left my crucial diary at Rob's place. So I got up early(ish) this morning in order to go and pick it up before returning to collect my pack and go to the airport. Uh, the tube... it can be good, and it can be bad... I end up taking four trains to get to Rob's. I call him from the station and... his phone is off, argh! I don't remember how to get to his place from the station! I walked up the street, concluded that I didn't know which way to go (even though I was practically standing across the street from his place), walked back to the station and called him again. By this time I realised that time was... not to be wasted. Ok, Rob answers, cool, meet me at the station, cool. Ah, waiting. Ok, Rob arrives, cool, where's the diary? At home? What? Argh! Ok, back to Rob's. Get the diary and pen, realise that I'm not going to be back at the hostel in time for checkout. Find the number in my diary, call them up, explain this, they misunderstand and say "Your luggage will be removed", "nonono, I'll only be half an hour to an hour!", "Oh that's ok", you bet it fugging is. Right, that's ok. Gotta go, ciao, Rob. Back to the station [oh this is all on a single ham+cheese croissant, no coffee or shower or anything, so I was feeling pretty vague and half awake], get the train one stop from Kentish Town to Camden, get off to change trains, cold, put hands in pockets... no diary. Pen, but no diary. How? No diary. But, pen, pen goes with diary, always, no diary. How can there be no diary? I just picked up diary? Check all pockets, no diary. Check all pockets again, no diary. Inside pockets! No diary. But... no diary. F*#K!!!!! Don't think, get on train back to Rob's. [Somehow I blindly found the platform back in seconds.] How no diary? I went to Rob's to PICK UP DIARY FOR F*#K'S SAKE!! Deep breath. How long till plane departs? Hmmm, still a few hours. Hostel checkout? Let's hope they're not impatient. Diary, diary... AHHHH... took it out to find number for hostel. Ok. Back to Kentish Town... ohh... ticket... my tube ticket is a return... from A to B and back to A... not A to B to B to A... will the station let me OUT of Kentish Town, let alone back IN to Kentish Town a second time, as I apparently never went anywhere from there? Will the Transit Officer think that I am trying to jib the system and detain me, making me miss my flight? [The prospect of buying another tube ticket (which is not cheap) seemed unfair.] Ahh... at Kentish Town, there is an exit gateway stuck open, I don't have to validate my ticket on the way out... safe! Kinda, sorta. Back to Rob's, get diary. Back to Kentish Town, check that I have diary, check again. Ok, last hurdle, how to get IN to the station without validating my ticket... a commendation to the London tube is that there are numerous staff at, well, all the stations that _I_ visited. Walking IN through the stuck open exit is a little obvious, but I really don't want to have to explain why I deserve to, or buy another ticket. Walk into station and... the transit officer dude... is tying his shoelaces... with his back to me... so I walk swiftly through the exit and on to freedom. A minor victory in the scheme of things, but what a massive hurdle it seemed at the time. And how naughty I felt, realising that all those station entrances have CCTV, and the thought that I am `on tape', somewhere, apparently committing blatant fair evasion. Amusing.
-------------------------
And that, brings me to the end of my written diary for now, and to the present moment. Which is, at the end of another relaxed day in the house of Wim, my exceptional host here in Leusden. Today... well, really, we did very little, it was great. In the afternoon we visited another great uncle of mine, Wim's brother, Pleun. These guys are from my mothers side of the family, they are the brothers of her father, Dirk Wilhelm, who was the eldest. Pleun has a lovely house in Gorinchem, which is just twenty minutes drive from here. It is with Pleun that we stayed a while when Sophie and I were here ten years ago. Pleun made some joking remark, I think about my moustache, saying that he thought a Dane had arrived... I'm not quite sure...! Pleun is 80 now, pretty impressive, and far from infirm or invalid. He's still contracted by, I'm not sure who, local governments or such I think, to perform, as he calls it, "calculations" for them, as he is an engineer (civil) by trade. And he makes damn good coffee, Indonesian style. It's vaguely similar to the Vietnamese style of making coffee, from memory, but not sweetened so much on serving. I actually recognised his street as we drove into it, and his house on arrival, and even some aspects of the town.
Soon we went to pick yet another brother, Johanne, who is not fairing so well as the others. We had dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Gorinchem, which was pretty bloody good! Pleun, testing his venerability on me and showing where his son Marten gets it from, stirred and teased me about my long hair and moustache. In hindsight (staircase wit, eh, Peter? what is that word?), I should have suggested it was past his bedtime, as he was also joking about how polar opposite his and my waking hours are.
It has been quite nice to spend a few days doing nothing after what I only now realise is _five_ weeks of travelling! Though yesterday when I got up, I felt weird not doing something, not in a rush to see something. Oh well, I will be back in the fray tomorrow when I hit Amsterdam! What a line-up I have ahead of me; there is a great venue it seems, called Paradiso (http://www.paradiso.nl) that shows a variety of musical performances. I think I will be there on Friday, Sunday and Tuesday nights, you can see the details why for yourself. Then on Monday night there is a performance at the Frascati Theatre featuring DAT Politics, whom I have never heard, and... Francisco Lopez! How nice. :) I have my accommodation, in the heart of the red light district, booked. Now to take on Amsterdam single-handedly I just need, hahah... Dutch courage!!! hahahhha...

Ahem. Sorry, it must be the Chimay. Living adjacent to Belgium means that 750mL bottles of Chimay are about... less than $10. Hmmm, I seem to have crept back to the topic of alcohol.

I intend for my return date to be 12th February, but at the moment it is still slated for the 16th, I think. I miss you all, as although travelling is a blaze of stimulus and experiences, oh forget it, I'm not going to get all sentimental. Ciao.

In Leusden now, a small town near Amesfoort, which is a biggish town about a forty minutes from Amsterdam. Staying with my great uncle Wim Wilhelm, a retired software engineer. Had a great night last night with him just talking about the family, travel stories, looking at old photos of the family, etc over a home cooked meal and Chilean wine. It was almost 2am when we looked at the time, thinking that it would only be around midnight. So now, I just relax for a few days, visit the family, play some chess, before I go to Amsterdam for the weekend.

Woooo! I just saw DJ Vadim at The Jazz Cafe! Didn't see much of him unfortunately, as we (Robby and I) got there a bit late... fashionably late by Melbourne standards, but the English seem to actually start at the time advertised on the flyer... crazy! But we saw DJ Vadim & DJ Woody (?) do a duo of beats and scratching that was pretty cool. Vadim wasn't the main act, though, it was Prince Paul, which meant nothing to me until Rob explained that he's from De La Soul, Hansom Boy Modelling School, Gravediggaz, etc. So anyway then he played a set that was a bit of a history of hip hop from his perspective, which was nostalgic for many there I'm sure, but didn't tickle my fancy. Of course I had to take the opportunity of the laid back setting to go and shake Vadim's hand and congratulate him, etc. heheh, Rob was tempted to take a photo of us together but didn't want to be seem like a dick. :P feh, I wish he had, just for the hell of it! Oh well, next time, Rob! :)
Earlier in the day I visited Tate Modern in an awesome old powerhouse on the Thames... great ugly/impressive/oppressive architecture. Inside is great too, the old turbine room has a ceiling covered in mirrors, dim lighting (no it's not a huge porno bedroom) and a semicircular light with its flat edge against the mirrors, so it appears circular. The dim lighting gives the illusion that it's not mirrors but actual building. I think they even have a smoke machine operating in there! Weird.
Then I popped down to the embassy for the Kingdom of Elgaland-Vargaland and completed a passport application! The Kingdom of elgy-vargy-whatty? (http://krev.org)
Then popped up to visit Rob and Dan, had a few beers and some Indian before Vadim. Anyway my time is almost up, ciao.

Ahh, my god, I can sort of... stop... and, relax. No stupid internet timers, nothing in particular to do for an hour or so... just sit, and internet... then I'll go back and smoke some more hash and play pool with my South African and Italian roommates. :)
Still feeling a bit dazed from the few tokes I had on an empty stomach that hit me like a punch.
Everything is a tad expensive here in London. Not incredibly so, but significantly.
Anyway, that's not the point...
Since the 13th, hmmm... I have been writing in my diary in cafes, etc, so I will paraphrase and regurtitate from it. The names have been changed to protect the innocent...

13th January, 2004
9:50pm Back in U Flecku. If anyone comes to Prague, they should come here for dinner, and then come back again, and again. The restaurant I went to earlier, so pathetic in atmosphere that it's name does not deserve mention but which I can identify by the meal "Pit and the Pendulum" that I had, was not worth the excursion into variety that I am such an avid exponent of. I think I may be slightly drunk, because I ant to tell the waiter how great I think this restaurant is.
The group at the middle table just got punked by the bill! This square guys face just fell when he saw it. Guess he wasn't counting the Becherovskas as well as the waiters do. [From memory, they only served two alcoholic drinks at U Flecku: their microbrewed beer and the traditional Czech drink Becherovska. When you order one, they just draw a stroke on a certain part of your bill and tally it up in the end. All night waiters walk around with a platter of beer or Becherovska, and regularly offer it to you when they see you've finished yours. Perhaps, as I initially thought, the customers presumed the Becherovskas to be complimentary, owing to the manner in which they are proffered when one first sits down, and so just kept ordering them.]
I love this piano-accordian + tuba duo [in U Flecku]. He can't sing for shit but it still sounds great. Good god, I just sang along to a few lines of "Glory, glory, hallelujah." [Probably because it was one of the few tunes that I recognised.] Or is it called "When the Saints come Marching Home"?
Hanging out overseas certainly pushes one to define what one is interested in. A day wasted is sacrilege, so prioritising is paramount. Mucha today was beautiful, but just as much were the records I bought from Twilight Zone [http://twilight.zone.cz]. [Here's hoping they reach home intact via post.]

16th January, 2004
10:30pm Ok, I feel better now that I am sitting in a warm restaurant/bar/cafe, which most establishments seem to be in Europe. Everything in one that is. This Lager Schwartz is not bad at all. There are four people playing a trick based game of cards at another table. I wonder which game. Germans are not particularly attractive in general. I want to play cards! They tend to listen to the most awful English music in Europe! Phil Collins, etc! Trick _and_ partner based game. Haven't had many dreams since I've been o/s, not that I recall anyway. Wow, this place is full of rich boobheads. This place is novel, because it's foreign, but there's no way that I would eat here in Melbourne.

18th January, 2004
12:18am Thankgod I found somewhere still serving food and not packed on this Saturday night. I'm in, Meilstein, I think. Just saw Dämonen at the Volksbühne. Impressive building, and I'm sure the play was too if I could understand German. The acting and set was still entertaining, but four hours was a stretch! Found the red-light district of Berlin too, along with some of the coolest cafes, bars & restaurants.
Saw most of the sites of Berlin from the 100 & 200 bus yesterday. Went to a crap goth club at the Lime Club. Small, red lighting, blah music, boobheads... all the Melbourne cliché identities were there too. [We could literally point at people and say "That's so-and-so, and that's so-and-so". Funny how the same stereotypes exist just with different faces.]
[Had a big night in Prague on the last one. Was out drinking with a couple of people that worked behind the bar at the Marquis de Sade and some local backpackers that were easily the coolest ones I've met all trip. Oh and the Germans reappeared again! Oh that's right, after U Flecku I went to the Marquis, had a few drinks there talking to an American, Thomas, who is working in Prague teaching English and this rude Pom, whose name I forget. Went to some other bar called the Chateau, I think but that promptly closed, so we all went up to the lounge room of the Apple Hostel where most of these backpackers were staying, and stayed there till 5am. This Mexican guy brought out some food that he'd cooked, which was great; there were people from everywhere, including Azerbaijan. From there went to a pub that must have been the Carlton Club of Prague... open just about all night and plain dodge. Finally got home, had a couple of hours sleep and caught the train to Berlin.

Have a gig to go so will continue catching up later.

Well, the Internet is good for something after all; The Age website just told me that I have been offered a place in Science at Melbourne. Currently using the Internet in the cellar of our very hospitable Zimbabwe-born German landlord, whose property, on which we are staying in another building, is in the Toorak of Berlin.
Berlin has been a bit fo a schermozzle, finding accommodation, etc. Last night went to Volksbuhne and looked around Mitte, happening immediately upon, of course, the red-light district. Anyway, must go and be a good tourist.

So much happens, so little time... I haven't even mentioned the Germans we met and keep bumping into despite missed appointments and Terence's fast talking...

A few nights ago I went to another classical concert, which, this time, was sublime. Yes, there are a lot of sublime things going on. It was held at the Municipal House (http://www.obecni-dum.cz/e_index.htm), which is really impressive, and I heard one of my favourite symphonies, Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 "The New World". Unlike the previous concert I went to, this time I was riveted. The first piece was a piano concerto by one of Dvorak's pupils, I believe, I can't recall exactly, but it certainly seemed to have some of his qualities of drama. The pianist was an old dude with longish, tussled grey hair, who played, not with gusto, but with... something. Anyway. I am almost hesitant to write about the 9th... I'm not quite sure what to say... something that stood out to me in both concerts, is just how inferior a stereo reproduction of classical music is, particularly in regard to brass. Perhaps it is in hearing something live, that there is a tension in the air, and a performance seems tighter and closer to the edge than a recorded version. The conductor did the 9th without sheet music, he just knew exactly when everything should fall into place. The first (wood)wind solo was so intense as that my lips felt to be on the reed itself, reverberrating in sympathy. Hmmm, I won't go on, 'cause I guess if you don't know the symphony, it won't mean much, and it's hard to write about anyway.
SO anyway....
Yeah, Bernie and I went to U Flecku for a couple of beers and some beer-cheese... he has also invited me to stay at his place next time I visit the Czech Republic. Bizarre. The weekend wasn't particularly exciting here, there's not much of an alternative or underground scene, at least in the way of clubs or venues. I did go to meet Terence and Mel at this '80s, '90s retro club that made the Metro look good, so I was out of there as soon as I determined that they weren't there. I actually can't remember the past few days too well... I've been visiting Kafka things, the exposition in town, walked around a bit of the old Jewish quarter... saw a big wall of graffiti that was used to write anti-Communist slogans in the past, and now it's all anti-war.
OH we went to Kutna Hora! To the Sedlec Ossuary! The church with the interior decor of human bones... pretty cool. Maybe I'll remember the rest of what I did if I look at the map... hmmm.... but not now, time to do stuff.

Monday already! I think... yes, it is. Because everything was closed on the weekend. :( They tend to open and close late in the day here, and not open at all on the weekend. Fascinating, hey? I thought so too. Don't worry, plenty more where that came from. Hmmm, now, working backwards... just got back from Cafe Arco, a place famous for being frequented by Kafka back in the day. It just plays commercial radio in its all too brightly lit atmosphere now, but it was kinda cool, you could imagine it being a haven for the German speaking intelligentsia of Prague. Now it's pretty ordinary.
Prior to that I was dashing around Prague Castle, trying to see everything in two hours. St Vitus was probably worth spending the entire two hours in, except that one would just overload and burst with its grandeur before the time was up. It's the cathedral inside the castle, and it's just grand. Looking up at the high vaulted ceilings is dizzying, as if one is falling. And it's freezing cold in there, at least five degrees colder than outside! Went into the Powder Tower, where I gather some of the original alchemists were busy practising "tertium non data", heheh. Churchy buildings, medieval stuff... it was just kinda washing over me a bit after a while. Looked into the house where Kafka lived for a while, nothing special. So let's skip to last night, where I was taken out to dinner! Kinda...
I was in the Military Antique store again, deliberating over what to buy, and the proprietor was deliberating over whether to have another drink, as he had obviously been enjoying his wine... evident by his loud, excited outbursts about anything, and his delight in Australian rock playing on the Czech radio. :) (Hilarious hearing everything from AC/DC to Phill Collins on the radio in these countries.) I was trying out some hats and some WWI binoculars, when he said the whole outfit was worthy of a photo... welllll, photo we did, me in a very Laibach pose, just missing the mountain backdrop. We got along so well, despite his broken English, that he suggested we go to U Flecku (the place I mentioned earlier) for a drink, on him! So that we did, and two more 0,4L glasses of that fantastic beverage I did devour, accompanied by his, Bernard's, favourite snack there: beer-cheese. A creamy, rich cheese, a bit like... I dunno, I'm not a cheese expert... but... eeep, we're off to dinner for Tarley's birthday now, continue later.

I write these words still warm from the rich, dark, aromatic microbrewed beer served at Bivovar u Fleku, just around the corne from where we are staying. Established in 1499, their beer brewing apparently extends for around 200 years, and I tell you, it was as smooth as silk. It is the only beer they serve there, and there is a waiter continuously circuiting with a huge platter of the stuff in pint size glasses... one need only raise one's empty glass at him and it is immediately replaced with a full one. Also on circuit is another waiter with the traditional Czech drink that tastes very similar to Pernod. Long, dark wooden tables dominate an overall dark decor room, but with pale ceilings criss-crossed with a dark frame. Smoky, chatter-filled atmosphere, suddenly interrupted by the warming sound of piano-accordian and tuba, a veritable beer-drinking atmosphere if ever. A goulash for which meat has rarely fallen apart so tenderly, as to remind of meals cooked by my Dutch grandmother. On the way out, Terence and I were apprehended by some friendly Huns, curious as to our origin... they had assumed Scotland, for some reason... and were surprised to learn that we were from Australia. Terence had to dash, as Mel must have come in to inform him that Tarley's dog, Jedda, was about to be, or already had been, put down. I stayed and chatted a bit, they were very friendly, one of them was a medical science student doing her PHd on the creation of neurons from stem cells in mice, which was pretty cool. Felt a bit of a dud being able to say what interested me but knowing next to nothing about it. :) And there are some words that just aren't as familiar as others to them, such as "science"... "what is `science'"? ..ahh.. `Wissenschaft'! Yeah, vissenwhatever. Then I remembered that I was talking to an air hostess. :) hahhaha.... ahem. And `psychiatry' was a bit of a teaser, too. Never mind. See them back there again tomorrow at 9pm.

So last night I actually made it to a classical concert... cost about $30 though, which is daylight robbery compared to Budapest. Smetana, Schulhoff and Schumann... the first two were short and quite enjoyable, the former being a symphonic poem and the second a piano concerto with some passages of modern, march-like percussion and crazy sounds... there were twice as many percussionists than usual for that piece. At one point, one guy had to play this instrument that involved wizzing something around in front of you much like a poi. The second time, though, he accidentally struck it against his box of goodies and completely lost his momentum and timing, failing to resume time with the orchestra. Immediately, that percussion passage finished, and all the percussionists sat down, looking like they were trying to control themselves from laughter, wiping their eyes, stroking their nose, looking at each other and rocking forward slightly. Meanwhile, the orchestra played on...
I've realised that this blog is not just a way of letting you all know what I'm up to, but how I'll be able to remember the details of my trip afterwards! So I'll probably try to write more, and in detail.
In Prague, I'm using the internet in this lovely cafe called Globe, which is set up for tourists as everyone speaks English and they accept Euro, Pounds and American dollars as well as the local Czech currency. They sell books in English, have the cheapest internet access that I've encountered so far, and a cafe that makes the best coffee I've had so far! Yes, wooohoooo! Though they do serve them in huge glasses. A latte is what you'd expect, and a cafe au lait is less strong and sweeter, both served in large glasses, at least twice the size of a regular latte glass. I've yet to try what they call a machiatto here. Maybe now... ok now I have a machiatto, or an espresso as he confirmed with me... and it's... hmmm... ahhh, I get it... an espresso, with frothed milk. But just froth... no liquid milk. Curious. I think that was maybe the problem with some of the coffees in Budapest... they had frothed, but no liquid milk. Yeah, anyway...
I think we're going to a rock cafe tonight, then Kutna Hora tomorrow to see the Sedlec Ossuary, and in the evening, the Prague thingy orchestra are performin... Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 "The New World", one of my favourites. Last night was a bit boring, all unfamiliar to me and my mind was wandering, thinking about people back in Melbourne, designs for volume controls, blah blah blah... and the concert hall, though very decorative, was smaller than say, Melbourne Town Hall, and less impressive, really. That was the Rudolfinum building, but tomorrow night... anyway, I'll write about it AFTER it happens. There are some things that I want to write about, but that I also want to leave as a surprise for when I get back. Oh well, I can always write about it later. Ciao.

Arrived in Prague this morning at about 6am by MAV train from Budapest, to a city covered in a moderately thick blanket of snow. Very pretty. Fortunately didn't get mugged or anything on the train. :) Didn't make it to the opera last night, as we caught this overnight train, but I did go to the biggest bathing house in Europe! Pretty cool... I think I only investigated a small fraction of it, as it looks huge from outside by I only saw one interior area (comprising three baths) and one outside area with two large pools. Unfortunately I didn't find a pool over 38 degrees, either. :( By comparison, we were bathing in 40 degree water every day in Tokyo! There's a large board listing all the various salts and compounds in the baths, including their chemical formula, which of course tickled my fancy, but I had no camera on me, oh well. It seems that disposable cameras in Europe are about ten times the price in Tokyo... we meant to stock up on them there, but I also meant to do this trip, hmmm, four years ago. Speant most of my brief visit there in the outside pool, which seemed a bit more chlorinated than the inside ones. Had quite a mystical feel about it with huge clouds of vapour rising from the pool against the moonlit night sky (it gets dark around 5pm), puncuated by an angelic statue generally looming above. Now that I think about it, it was spectacular.
Even if we had got a couchette last night, our sleep would hardly have been sound, having our train ticket checked thrice, and our passports checked... four or five times during the trip. Ahahahahah, there is this special piece of paper with our photo on it that is part of the Czech visa and has to be presented with one's passport. Mel had her passport on hand, but the piece of paper was apparently "somewhere in her main pack" and she only bothered to look for it when the Czech passport control officer arrived. Mel has novice traveller paranoia, and has been locking her pack with combination locks. She arrived in Budapest only to find that her combination lock had `broken' and she couldn't get it open. Now, a week later, the same thing happens. So she's cursing and swearing until the others remind her that she can access her pack through another zip inside the bottom pouch... but of course the special piece of paper she needs is at the top of her pack... so out come the entire contents of her pack from the bottom up to find this piece of paper. Underwear is strewn around her corner of the cabin along with everything else, only to find nothing. It occurs to her to check her travel documents folder contained in her small pack... and there it is. :) But then it's a _different_ officer that she hands it to, that notices his colleague has already stamped her passport, and so he wanders off with the piece of paper to find his colleague... many minutes pass... but it's all ok in the end. Funny... should have taken a photo of that. There's a photo of me lying sick in bed after that club in Budapest with a couple of pieces bread next to my pillow, one of them only slightly nibbled on as I could hardly stomach it, heheh.
Got a nice apartment here in Prague, not quite as nice as in Budapest, but just as central. And there's this GREAT army disposal store around the corner! Aye carumba, I might have so send a package home at this rate.
Please email me and let me know what you're up to. OMG I had a decent coffee today! My feet are FREEZING here, I think I'll have to buy some, dare I say it, practical footwear... fur/fleece lined or something. And some better gloves, these Australian-climate woolen things just don't cut it. Ciao.

Today it snowed from early morning to mid-afternoon, and I tell you, it was picturesque like nothing else. I'm sure I've walked through swirling snow whilst on Mt Buller or Falls Creek, but I don't recall it being anywhere near as atmospheric or beautiful as when there are huge grey gothic, neo-gothic, romanesque and/or baroque buildings in the background. Yeah I'm not up with my architectural classifications. Suffice to say, the snow adds a delightful touch to everything. Until everyone walks through it spreading dirt, heating it up, and it turns to slushy shit.
So yeah we hit Buda Castle this morning, which is where it was so picturesque in particular. Had coffee at two places but still nothing even vaguely good. We have become ardent fanatics of the apparently truly Australian sport of `splitting the bill'. Every cafe and restaurant we go to ends in the producing of paper, pens and a calculator. I watch on and think "I could swear we don't do this at home, so why here???" Yeah it feels kinda moronic but it makes everybody happy in the end.
After Buda Castle was.... SHOPPING!!!!!!!!! And oh boy did I shop. We went to three different retro clothing stores, and I bought a few articles from each. :) From Retrock I found the most confronting paisley tie in history, I think... green & white design on dark brown background. Looking forward to that one, aren't you, Peter? ;) And a keyring of... Sadako! From Ring... you know, the little girl with the demonic powers that always has her looong hair in her face... now I have her as a rubbery keyring, it's very cute. Anyway I won't go into detail of everything... a jacket, shoes, some scarves and a... well, a helmet, of sorts. Military issue, it's a gem. It's just crazy, not really something I can wear down the street, just wait and see.
Then dinner at Bistro Castro! Yes, named after Fidel, but with a Serbian menu. Again great food and local wine, though it may have been a bit rich for my blood this time, as I think Montezumas Revenge has finally caught up with me. I've been cast-iron until now, but I was crying "Fire in the hull!" on the way home. Mmmm, you needed to know that, didn't you?
Rest of the troops are fine, no recent near-death experiences either personally or nearby, though Terence insists on wearing his overly ventilated jeans and risking hypothermia. I better post this now, as this computer seems to be dying... all going well, I'm going to see Wagner's The Rhinegold, not at some minor theatre this time, but at the State Theatre (ooooh), which is meant to be truly impressive, and then it's off to Prague. Ciao.

Hmmm, Sunday evening. Spent all of today in bed, after drinking tooo much at a goth club last night. :( Everything in Hungary is quite cheap by comparison to Australia, so we're kinda living like Romans... just bring on the food and drink! The club we went to reminded me a lot of clubs in Melbourne, except the music was generally better. Drinks were just wayyy too cheap, so Terence and I were continually at the bar doing shot and chasers and after a few the barman gave us gratis a shot of some pretty potent stuff. Mmmm, foolish gaijin. So anyway, before I got sick and went home it was quite fun, though didn't meet anyone new. As the night and drinks drew on, Terence and my homoerotic antics on the dancefloor increased, combined with him pretending to hump me against a concrete pillar on the way home caused sufficient consternation in the minds of some nazi skinheads that were also present there. Well... they thought they were, anyway... one of them had a tattoo of Adolf Hitler on his inner forearm. I didn't get to know them any better, as that was at the end of the night and I was quite tanked and something about fascists really annoys me, so I had also told them that I was part Jewish, heh, which probably meant that they didn't really want to get to know me either.
Earlier in the day we did go to the opera at the Erkel theatre and saw Rossinni's Cinderella. Well, it was a bit of a let down... full of kids in the audience, and the content of the opera was, well... Cinderella! Well performed, but, boring. And the heating! God, they have great heating everywhere here, but it can send you to sleep, which it almost did in the theatre.
When you ask for a cappuccino here, you get a Vienna coffee.
And it really is quite cold.
Ah, there was more, there's always more, that I was going to write about, but it has slipped my mind. The hardest thing to write about is the nuances... events are easy, but the peculiarities of a country are hard to crystallise. They're everywhere, which is perhaps what makes it so hard. Have I mentioned that the architecture here is sublime? Anyway, busy day tomorrow, so must get some sleep. Oh that's right, something that Kaori (in Tokyo) showed me was a Robert Crumb comic book... of Kafka stories! His artwork suited it so well, and even in Japanese I could follow the gist of it. Ciao.

Fwoah, where do I start??? Currently in Budapest, finally listening to my new DJ Krush CD for the first time, which is not bad, but not great. Tokyo, Frankfurt, now Budapest... near deaths, nightclubs, Germans singing at the dinner table, prison showers, your English is really good for an Australian, sold-out concerts, Merzbow, flight-food, roast duck for breakfast... the mind boggles.

Luckily, I have been writing a bit in a notebook when particularly memorable things happen...

Ah, so missed seeing Riow Arai at Club Simoon, because, stupid gaijin that I am, didn't put my card into the Citibank ATM properly... heh, programming computers ain't nothing on overcoming nervous foreigner syndrome... anyway, I could have sworn I put it in exactly as the picture depicted, but, blah, no banana. But I was well rested for Merzbow the next night. Oh, but before I even get to that, there was the crap goth club, CyberAgeVooDoo, that Tarley dragged us to, almost killing Terence with hypothermia on the way. heh, finding ANYTHING in Tokyo is near impossible. If you haven't heard, only main roads have names, secondary and side streets don't. Mmmm, kwazy. Not to mention the fact that this goth club was in a converted apartment in a completely residential part of town and none of the locals have any clue how to find anything either, it's madness! Oh and it wasn't actually _the_ red-light district of town that we walked into on that first night, they were just "snack-bar women" as Germain (the American we met in the goth club) referred to them as: they just sit and have a drink with and talk to you for 5,000 yen per... hour or something. So anyway, Tarley took forever to get ready and we missed the last train anywhere, so we started to walk, from Bunkyo-ku to ... geez, where was it... far... forgotten. heheh, so anyway, oh, hehh, I actually ended up with a pretty smart outfit 'cause I borrowed a black shirt from Terence and had my purple paisley tie there and ANYWAY, we're walking, and Terence had neglected to rug up. We walk past the Tokyo equivalent of the Nylex clock in Richmond, and it says 4 degrees. :) So Terence just about died on the way there. yeah anyway... the club was tiny, played typical "goth techno" and no-one looked particularly interesting. There were a couple of Americans that looked stupid, but, yeah. :) It's funny how temperature affects one's impression of and manifestation of drunkeness. We had been sinking Asahis on the way there, but felt completey... mostly sober until getting into the club and warming up. Anyway I'm really rambling... ummm, we met a couple of Japanese girls that spoke English, Chie and Kaori. Kaori turned out to be quite into Western culture, and particularly liked the '70s, Kafka and Eastern Europe. She was pretty cool, so I met up with her and her friends again before Merzbow, and we went to a rock bar where we danced to a bit of '80s and I tried to explain what "taking the piss out of someone" meant... how the fuck do you explain that in non-colloquial terms?? Hmmm. They were great, so I send a big hello out to you if you're reading this!! anyway... Merzbow. :) The night was bizarre... although Merzbow + Bastard Noise were the headliners, there was noise, beatboxing, kind of grungy death-rock (I don't know!), and trance-techno DJs. Most diverse mix I think I've ever heard at a club, and everyone got into it. So I walked in to a DJ playing a cross between Autechre and Voitek, very dancy but a bit glitchy and broken. I went out to get a drink, came back and Merzbow had begun... and it was just a solid wall of noise. It was fucking great. Not particularly similar to any of his recorded work that I've heard, except Amlux I guess. Continual brutal textures of noise, with lower-end pulses that could _almost_ have turned into a beat, but never did. They just sort of thudded away with an arhythmic menace. Yeah, very satisfying. I was a bit concerned that he might do "merzbow techno" or something. Then the beatbox dude played, MC Squared, and he was _very_ impressive! He did his whole act miming the actions of turntablism and mixing behind real equipment... very slick and practised. He dropped in the Axel F tune at one point which most people thought was hilarious. I spoke to him briefly and he gave me a business card actually, check him out at www.mcsquaredbeatbox.com. The death/grunge rock band was good, maybe a little Zeni Gevaish. The rest were nothing special. Although the solo guitarist when I was leaving did have nine huge Marshall amp/speaker/thingies behind him for reverb. So I taxied home, got fifteen minutes sleep, then caught the plane to Frankfurt.

Well I've been here a while now so I'll just quickly mention and perhaps detail later some other things...

Germans... what can I say about Germans from one night in Frankfurt... they like to sing and drink (lots) during dinner. We had dinner in a traditional Frankfurtian (?) restaurant and it was GREAT! Gluitwein, Gypsy schnitzel, roast potatoes, pints of local pilsener, a table of singing German men behind us... it was touching. :)

New Years Eve in Budapest... our accommodation, the Yellow Submarine Club, in a beautiful old building with spiral staircase, tiled design floors ship us out to their 'other' premises in, how do I say this politely, a filthy ghetto! Well, it looked it anyway, by Australian standards. :) We were sure not impressed. But we headed back there at night for some free goulash and wine, chatted to some other residents, and were thinking about leaving when people start shouting and rushing because some guy has fallen over the banister from the third floor. :( Yeah, straight down to ground floor concrete. So he's lying there in a pool of his own blood, still alive, Terence yelling "don't move him", me wishing I knew something about first-aid not that it would probably help, hmmm, yeah so the ambulance took him away. That was at about 11:30pm. Fireworks, etc, heheh, fireworks and drinking on the street are legal here.
Had a great dinner at this incredibly popular restaurant here in Budapest last night... just delicious, so hearty... thick bacon soup followed by black pudding, liver and paprika sausages and cabbage and... oh, oh, food like nothing else. Local wine, Palinka (like vodka/brandy) digestives. hehh, and then this morning, I was drinking a peach brandy whilst waiting for my breakfast of roast duck to arrive, hahaha! It's quite cheap here in Budapest. :) Oh, and we escaped the ghetto with prison-style showers and no toilet paper to an inner-city plush apartment with private everything and everything provided for almost the same price. Go figure.
But I missed the classical concert at the Academy of Music concert hall tonight because they had sold out. :( But I think we're going to the opera tomorrow morning to see Rossinni's Cinderella, so I had better go now to have some "quiet drinks" before beddie-bies.

Oh, and coffee everywhere is shit so far, and I mean *shit*.