London, festivals and a lost wallet

The first major event, the one that drew me back to London, was my birthday. That Wednesday saw Lee come down from Manchester to visit and we spent the day together before heading out with a few of the East Finchley clan to Camden for some (correction: a lot of, and possibly too many) drinkies. I had a lovely evening - we managed to avoid getting stabbed, no thanks to Jubby - and I really enjoyed catching up with Steven (we studied Galois Theory together at Adelaide Uni) for the first time in nearly 3 years. The following day, after a massive fry-up, Bee took her train back to Manchester and I celebrated a successful celebration by buying myself an acoustic guitar off Gumtree – as we all know, Gumtree is THE place to be J
That weekend saw the first of many festivals come around, this one being the O2 Festival, which I went to with Ella and a few of her mates. The Saturday line-up welcomed Booka Shade, Fatboy Slim, Underworld and a bunch of others to Hyde Park. We even came across a few hidden gems such as the Japanese Popstars and some random guy making strange coughing and barking noises in front of a double decker bus. People were booing him, but I could see the potential. The next weekend brought a more organic group of artists to Finsbury Park for the Rise Festival – a festival dedicated to raising awareness of, and bringing to an end racial prejudice and discrimination. Pretty much a hippy fest, there was everything from African beats, a solar panel stall, Beardyman (if you haven’t seen him before, check this out) and some rad show rides!
I managed to catch up with Tom (a dude I worked with at the Polytech in NZ before we parted ways a few months later to continue exploring that wonderful country) for a few beers in a Sam Smith pub in Soho. It was while we were sitting at this pub that he pointed out that the artwork on the opposite side of the street was actually a Banksy – one of many I started to notice around the city – and this conversation somehow evolved to involve a fellow punter telling us about the racism issues within Australia and the UK and that he wanted to drive around in a Kingswood the next time he went to Australia..?
Lee had advised me of an upcoming student night in Manchester and soon I was on a 5-hour bus. Manchester is quite a nice city, although the weather was not the best while I was there. It is significantly smaller than London (obviously) with a proportionately smaller version of the London Eye, and the locals definitely have a very distinctive accent (Mancunian). We had a great night, although I did manage to lose my wallet with all my credit cards, driver’s licence, oyster card, and about £60 in cash. This meant that I was basically without access to funds for 3 weeks until I received my replacement cards – thanks Bee and Jubb, you guys were lifesavers!

Photos:

Baghead

birthday celebrations with Steven!

Jubbonaut

getting hot and steamy at O2 wireless!

Emily, Ella and the guy with the headband

a big blue mouse on the decks??

this little one loved the drums @ the Rise festival

suck those cheeks in!!

in the Man Chest with the Mobberley crew

A memory of the lazy man - migration off the continent

Whoa Nelly! So it’s been a wee while since you last heard from me.. About 3 months according to my calculations. If you had been relying on my blog to keep you updated on my whereabouts, you’d be justifiably mistaken in thinking that I was still in France – Lyon to be exact. Well, in fact, I’ve actually spent the last 3 months in London, half of the time being a bum (doing relatively little with the majority of my days in between sporadic bursts of job-hunting) and the other half working in one of the most interesting jobs I’ve ever had. But more on that later.
I left Lyon at 9pm on the 25th of June on a Eurolines bus bound for the Victoria Coach Station in London. 16 hours was the scheduled travel time. In my relaxed state of mind that I had acquired in this city, I casually strolled out of Anouck and Vincent’s house leaving myself very little time to actually get to the bus station and so needed to hop on the underground. Unfortunately, the machine refused to take my euro notes and I was left stranded until a lovely woman, sensing my heightened stress levels, suggested I squeeze through the turnstile behind her. I arrived with about 3 minutes to spare! That evening I watched the sunset (yes, the sun was still up at this time in June; nowadays, in early October – not even winter, mind you - the sky is already nearly pitch black by 1930hr!), the day turn to night, the stars and moon producing arcs amongst the black backdrop, the lights of Paris pass us by in the distance, the late-night attendants serving customers in several 24-hour truck stops, the sunrise the following day, the green fields and vineyards, and this was all before we reached Calais, the French gateway to the Channel Tunnel and the British Isles.
After quite a long wait and a few of the passengers being searched by the French border patrol (including myself, it’s always me – remember those small white tablet shaped expandable wash towels you gave me Rachel? Ecstasy maybe?) the bus rolled on down to a waiting train and proceeded to drive inside one of its yellow-lit carriages. The seamless transit through the 50km underwater tunnel took about 30 minutes and I was again on UK soil ready for Round Two with only a few hours of sleep under my belt.
Nic met me at King’s Cross station on her lunch break and she kindly handed over a spare key to her place. I was to stay at their house for 3 weeks. The initial plan was to get a flat with Jubby for a few months, but due to unforeseen circumstances he had to cut his own working holiday short to go back to Australia mid-August. Ella also had booked her ticket back to Adelaide for about the same time. This changed my plans considerably, in fact I had no plan and took each day as it came, merely pondering the necessary questions. Would I get a job here? When would I get it, before or after those guys left, and where? Would I get a flat? If so, would I decide at some point to up and leave, potentially causing problems with the lease? Not surprisingly, for the next 6 weeks I ended up not working and spending as much time as I could with my Adelaide crew along with hanging out a with few other mates I had met along the way on my travels, past or present. After all, I am over here to enjoy myself right?

Photos:

Sunrise

inside the Channel Tunnel train

a fairly typical suburban London street

punk is still alive and well!! @ the Camden Markets

Nic and I doing some shopping at the markets

looking mighty happy to be standing in Piccadilly Circus, Ella

London underground

meeting on the Thames

Grand Old Lyon

Kiss count: 2. Left-Right.

As I said in my previous post, I left Avignon early, about 8h30 and the TER-network train to Lyon (Lyons in English - again... why?) took around 2 hours, passing some lovely countryside on the way. The final station, Gare de la Part Dieu, is situated about 2km east of the centre-ville of Lyon, the city itself situated in central south-east France. It has the second largest population in France with around 2 million inhabitants, and it is easy to see why so many people choose this as their home, it just has such an air of grandeur about it. And while it appears a lot more commercial than many of the other cities I have come across so far in France, with some fairly upper-class stores and a few wide pedestrianised shopping strips, Lyon is also one of the country's cultural heavyweights, second only to Paris, meaning there is always some sort of festival or event going on at pretty much any point in the year. Interestingly, Interpol has had their headquarters here for the last 20 years, although I didn't get a chance to find it...
To give you a sense of orientation, Lyon is divided crudely into 3 sections by two rivers, the Rhône and the Saône, that actually meet at the southern end of the city. The 5th arrondissement (or district; Lyon is divided into 9 of them), comprising Fourvière Hill and Vieux Lyon (old Lyon) and cut off from the other 2 areas by the river Saône, is the smallest, oldest and most visually exciting area. Sandwiched between the two rivers is the main shopping and cultural area of Presqu'île, with a number of large public squares dotted along the roughly north-south axis. On the eastern bank of the Rhône lie the districts known collectively as Lyon-Rive Gauche (left shore) with the predominently commercial areas a little further out.
My last 5-and-a-bit days in France were spent with the awesome CSers Anouck and Vincent, and their soon-to-be ex-flatmate, Greg. These guys were very welcoming and accommodating: they took me to a huge house party the first night I arrived where I met a whole bunch more cool French guys; they made me their temporary interior designer, rearranging their living space to make it more agreeable for potential new flatmates; they cooked dinner for me on a couple of occasions; they took me out to see a bunch of live local music; and they introduced me to the wonderful world of Woody Allen films!
After pulling myself out of bed (well, technically, off the couch) around 10h30 the morning after the house party, I took a stroll around the Presqu'île area and then worked my way through colourful Vieux Lyon - I don't think I've ever seen so many vividly couloured buildings, each one distinct from the next - before ending up at the white Basilique Notre Dame situated at the top of Fourvière Hill. Nearby on the hilltop is the famous Tour Métallique (metallic tower), a transmitting tower that looks very much like a mini Eiffel Tower - the original of which is, coincidentally, also used primarily as a broadcast tower. From this vantage point, the entire city sprawls out before you in a sea of red roofs.
Fête de la Musique: An absolutely brilliant idea that I think should be brought to Australia immediately - although, having researched a little, it looks like capital cities in Australia have already been celebrating this day (the 21st of June) for the past couple of years, but calling it something along the lines of Musicfest? I've personally never heard of it. The idea behind la fête de la musique is that the government loosens restrictions on public music performances, with bands, DJs, solo artists, etc. able to perform on the streets freely (and for free) for the entire day throughout the entire country. Starting from Place des Terreaux, the large open square near the guys' appartment, I had such an awesome night roaming the streets by myself, watching and listening to all sorts of music being played on basically every block - there were some great acts too; my favourites being an army brass band, a DJ with keyboard and trumpet accompaniment causing a stir, and another group on the brass pumping out such hits as Daft Punk's "Around the World".
Some more noteworthy things I got upto in Lyon include: visiting the fabulous and famous museum/fine art gallery known as Musée des Beaux-Arts; checking out some more of those impressive painted building murals I saw in Montpellier (in fact, in a few of the other cities I've visited as well) showing everything from 25 local famous personalities to an artist's impression of 'the ideal city' to an entire building of huge books; learning (and, er-hem, winning) a cool new card game called Jeux de Tarot; and lastly, exploring the early history of film at the Musée Lumière, situated in the building where the Lumière family (coincidentally the word lumière translates as "light" in English) lived in the late 19th century while producing some of the world's first (silent) motion pictures.
Most of my time in this city, however, was spent just relaxing as opposed to constant sightseeing. I played Vincent's guitar quite a bit, chilled out eating pains au chocolat (so bad but oh so good..), and just generally wandered about. I really liked this place and it was certainly a good choice as an ending of my time in France - so lively, warm and friendly... I will be back!

Photos:

count the vineyards...

some interesting folk at the party..

Place des Terreaux and the Hôtel de Ville

looking across the River Saône with the Basilique in the background

the view from Fourvière Hill

the grand buildings of Lyon

Fête de la musique!!

across the Rhône

enjoying a quiet beer

now that's a bookshop!

inside the Musée des Beaux-Arts

ONE of the cheese sections in the supermarché

checking out some live music...

the city of mysterious energy

Kiss count: 3. Left-Right-Left.

What can I say about Avignon? It is a fortified city, with its almost completely preserved walls considered to be one of the finest examples of medieval fortification in existence. Its streets and café-filled squares are lovely, its museums are very interesting, and again the architecture is quite aesthetically pleasing. It is home to the Pont d'Avignon (bridge of Avignon) - officially called Pont Saint-Bénezet - which spans almost across the Rhône (all but 4 of its 22 wooden spans were washed away by a catastrophic flood in 1668) and is the star of the famous French song, "sur le pont d'Avignon." The city is most famous for its history under Papal rule between the 14th and 18th centuries, which came about due to political turmoil in Rome at the beginning of the 14th century, forcing the pope to migrate and reside (along with several of his French-born successors) in Avignon.
What attracted me to Avignon, however, was not any of these things in particular, but the overall unexpected energy of the place. For some reason, the moment I jumped off the train in this new city at 9pm I felt oddly revitalised. I usually would be getting tired by about this time and couldn't be bothered doing anything, instead here I was keen to drop my stuff at the camping ground/hostel and begin exploring as the sun set. Turns out that from this point on up until now as I write this, I have a renewed vitality about my days. Strange. But not at all unwelcome!
After walking around much of the city's walled perimeter and many of the interior streets, I ventured across the river to Avignon's picturesque sister-city known as Villeneuve-lès-Avignon. This is where many bishops associated with the papal court built their massive residences, despite it being an area under French rule as opposed to papal rule. Nowadays, it remains a fairly quiet residential area but retains a very medieval feel with crumbling stone buildings winding up the hill towards a huge fortress-like monastery.
That evening, I bumped into a Luxembourgish couple (how many people can say that?) and we spent the evening at the local Irish pub chatting about anything and everything - they were a good laugh! The next day was fairly uneventful except for a visit to the Musée Lapidaire, which houses one of the most interesting collections of ancient Roman and Egyptian artifacts I have seen, again that could be partly due to my enhanced mood as of late. I watched the sunset over the river and pont d'Avignon on this night.
During my last day here I decided to check out the interior of the colossal gothic Palais des Papes (popes' palace) within the city's walls. It was constructed during the 1300s and the inside was apparently decorated with amazing tapestries, carpets, stained-glass windows, etc. None of these adornments are present today, however, as they were all either pillaged or destroyed in the many fires that ripped through the building over the centuries, and this made for a much less absorbing visit, although the grand scale of the rooms and building itself was quite exceptional. One intriguing thing I learnt was that every time a papal conclave was required, they would actually knock down a few of the walls of this building to make more room for the popes during their time of isolation - afterwards the walls would be resealed and everything would be back to business as usual.. A lot of effort for the sake of a few days in my opinion..
The rest of my afternoon was spent lounging in one of the parks, observing the (fairly unsuccessful) courting ritual of pigeons, before heading back to the hostel and finding myself in with a group of 10 other Aussies, chatting general crap and drinking beers as we do. I stayed my final night in Avignon with another CSer, Sabina, who had quite limited knowledge of English and we used this to our advantage by turning the evening into a massive language lesson for both of us. She is a lovely person and I was a little sad we didn't get a chance to spend more time together as I left early the next morning for my last overland train in France...

Last stop: Lyon!

Photos:

The city, the Rhône and the pont d'Avignon

these are the city walls

the French love their protests...

Palais des Papes with the cathedral in the background

gives a whole other meaning to climbing plants

in Villeneuve-les-Avignon

some more of Villeneuve

the Luxembourgish, Alessio (Alex) and Conny

mesmerised by a street performer

the Opera house

loving the gothic theme

Beaucoup de Mostiques!

Kiss count: 3. Left-Right-Left.

The most famous resident of Arles was one Mr. Vincent Van Gogh. The Dutch painter spent the penultimate year of his life creating some of the world's best known, most popular and most expensive paintings here whilst battling severe depression. It is also here that he stalked his artistic partner, Gauguin, with a razor blade on 23 December 1888 before famously slicing off the lower part of his own left ear lobe, wrapping it in newspaper and giving it to a local prostitute, named Rachel, telling her to "keep this object carefully." Van Gogh committed himself a few months later to a nearby mental hospital where he would spend the next year before shooting himself in the chest with a revolver, on 27 July 1890 at the age of 37, in a field near Paris. Oddly, he didn't die in that instant and didn't realise he had fatally wounded himself - he died two days later in his bed. Van Gogh's last words, as reported by his brother Theo, were "la tristesse durera toujours" - French for "the sadness will last forever"... Poor guy...
Despite Van Gogh being such a prominent part of Arles' history, not a single piece of his work can be found here - except for some reproductions by other artists - which I find very odd. Nevertheless, the city is quite charming with its Roman architecture and colourful buildings situated on the banks of the River Rhône (one of the main waterways in Europe, passing through France and Switzerland), and you can see where he was able to find the inspiration for his paintings.
Like many towns in the area, Arles (pronounced Arl) only prospered after it became a Roman stronghold around 49BC. The city soon replaced Marseille as the region's major port and within a century-and-a-half had become such an important centre that a 12,000-seat theatre and a 20,000-seat amphitheatre, reminiscient of Rome's Colosseum, were built here. Today, these structures still stand and are used for cultural events and even bullfighting (with a slight twist - around this area, known as the Camargue, a non-lethal form of bullfighting is practised whereby white-clad razeteurs attempt to remove ribbons tied to the bulls horns using hooks held between their fingers).
On the Saturday morning of every week a massive market, stretching on for what seems like miles, is held in the streets of Arles with everything from fresh produce to jewellery, used electrical goods to Islamic fashion items (it appears as though there is quite a large Muslim influence in France). I checked this out for an hour or two before going on my obligatory wander around town. In the evening, two girls from the hostel and myself headed to place de la République in the city centre where a four-piece female a capella group was performing - we had a great time listening to them but unfortunately had to leave early as our hostel had an 11pm curfew.
The following day I took a bus south to an old farmhouse-turned-hostel in the heart of the Camargue, a huge delta of the Rhône famed for its expansive beauty, white horses, black bulls raised for bullfighting, flamingos and mosquitoes! So many mosquitoes! Anyways, so I managed to hitchhike down to the coast to the main town in the area, Les Saintes-Maries de la Mer. I spent a good few hours here and bumped into some of the people from the hostel in Arles before bussing it back to the hostel where I spent the night eating dinner and trying to make conversation with a lovely French family from Lyon using our very limited knowledge of each others' language.
I spent most of the next day riding a bicycle (a velo) I had hired around the Camargue. Unfortunately I had given away my insect repellent to Alana and Brooke in Beijing and it was way too expensive to buy there so I decided to brave it and go without. Big mistake! I got to see thousands of flamingos in their natural environment but at the same time came back with thousands on mozzie bites all over my shoulders, hands and ankles. I don't know how they got to my shoulders since I was wearing two thick long sleeved tops... Mutant mosquitoes maybe? After all this fun, I decided to give hitchhiking another go back up to Arles - very unsuccessfully. I was picked up once but got dropped off about halfway and eventually had to catch a bus after another hour or walking.
When I arrived back, instead of staying in Arles - where there was no vacancy in the hostel anyway - I walked to the train station just outside of town and bought myself a ticket...

Photos:

Simona and Angel

enjoying the bread at the Saturday markets

the streets of Arles

the amphitheatre

from a different angle

some more artwork

who's been playing funny buggers?

my Japanese friend Satoko!

flamingos

flamingo

the famous black bulls

given up.. waiting for a bus in the middle of nowhere after a couple of hours hitchhiking