Security

I am terrible at airport security. I have never been able to walk through without something happening. Sometimes this is as simple as getting waved by the wand, or pulled over for a random drug search. In security to get to Paris, I had to walk through the metal detector several times, before we worked out it was my hair tie. I then lost my boarding pass. In security from Paris to London, it was something more serious. This time I lost my passport. Thankfully it was returned by a very cross french security woman, who apparently had been calling my name for five minutes, while I was panicking trying to find it. I barely recognise my name when my friends call me, so in a crowded airport, with lots of noise and strange accent rendering my name unrecognisable unless I was listening for it, its no wonder I didn't hear her. After that rather stressful and embarrassing procedure I forgot to take my water bottle out of my bag. So I was again hauled over by security for having liquids in my bag. Its not because I'm careless or that I don't respect the procedures. But I tend to get nervous when surrounded by so much authority, and my brain goes off at hundred mile an hour, without actually doing anything productive, like keeping track of my passport, or taking any notice of what my hands are doing. So I always do something at the airport to make something happen. I'm thoroughly convinced I'm going to get myself arrested one day. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't get it right. 

Eros and Psyche

One of my favourite statues in the Louvre is of Eros and Psyche. Their story is a love story. It is how the God of Love found love. 

Once upon a time, in Ancient Greece, there was a woman named Psyche. She was very beautiful. Some even dared to call her more beautiful than Aphrodite. This made Aphrodite jealous, so she sent her son Eros (cupid) to make her fall in love with a hideous creature. Upset about his duty, Eros made himself invisible and entered her room one night while she was sleeping. He felt pity for her, because she was born too beautiful for her own good. But before he can pierce her with one of his arrows, she wakes up and startles him, looking straight into his eyes, despite his invisibility. She startled him so much, he accidentally scratched himself with his own arrow and fell in love with her. He flees, unable to finish his mission and reported back to his mother, Aphrodite. Aphrodite was very angry and cursed Psyche to never find a suitable husband. This made Eros very angry, and he vowed as long as Psyche was cursed, he would no longer shoot his arrows. 

Aphrodite eventually had to give in, as without Eros, young were not being born and the earth was growing old. Psyche remained unmarried, and when her parents consulted an oracle, she told them to leave Psyche on a mountain top, as she was not meant for mortal men. When left of the mountain, Psyche was carried by the west wind to a great house in a lush valley. There she was tended by invisible servants, and at night, Eros visited her. Eros didn't want her to know who he was before the time was right Psyche was forbidden to see his face, but every night he visited her, and they slept together. One day, Eros permitted Psyche to visit her sisters, but warned her not to listen to them. The jealous sisters convinced Psyche that she should look at the face of her lover, as they thought she was married to a giant serpent (not quite sure where they got that idea, but it was Ancient Greece). So that night, while Eros was sleeping, Psyche lit a candle, and looked at his face. When she saw him, she recognised him as Eros, the God of Love. She accidentally pricked herself with one of his arrows, and falls in love with him. However, Eros woke up and seeing she betrayed him, left. 

Psyche left heartbroken wandered into a temple and, seeing it a mess, starts to clean it up. Demeter appears and tells her that she must call on Aphrodite, who started the mess. Psyche calls on Aphrodite and Aphrodite sets Psyche several impossible tasks. First she must separate a basket of grain by sunset, which a group of friendly ants help her achieve. Then she must collect some golden wool from some very vicious sheep. This time a river gods helps her, advising her to collect the wool caught on the bushes in the field. Thirdly she must collect some water from a cleft which cannot be reached by mortals, and was guarded by a serpent. An eagle helps her collect the water. Finally she is sent to the underworld to bring back a piece of Persephone's beauty in a box (as you do). She manages this as well, surviving all the dangers of the underworld, and bringing back a piece of Persephone's beauty in a box. As is so often the case, after surviving all these impossible challenged, curiosity again takes over, and Psyche opens the box. Instead of beauty, there is an infernal sleep, which covers her. Eros, seeing her in trouble, and forgiving her, flies down and wakes her. He then flies back to Olympus and petitions Zeus to allow him to marry Psyche. Zeus agrees, and ives Psyche a cup of Ambrosia, which makes Psyche immortal. And the only God who ever loved was Love himself. 

I have always thought that the story was very beautiful. This statue shows the moment, when Eros flies down to help Psyche after she opens on the box. Behind the two figures you can actually see the box. 

The Louvre

The Louvre. Home to some of the finest art in the world. Home to the famous Mona Lisa. The Louvre itself is impressive. I have heard that Parisians ask tourists if they like pyramids over the entrance. This is of course a trick question. Whichever answer they give, it is always wrong. They pyramids are either a disgrace and an eyesore, or one of the greatest works of art the gallery has. Whichever one you answer it's the opposite. But I have a different answer. Like the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, or the Seine itself, the pyramids, whether ugly or beautiful (I lean towards the latter) are a part of Paris, and without them, it wouldn't be them same. 


Inside the Louvre, is a large entrance hall with stairs leading off to the different wings. We took advantage of the later opening time to see the Louvre, but still only had 4 hours, which was only long enough to see one wing, and then only briefly. We picked the Denon wing, home of the famous Mona Lisa. But I will say, we did not just skip the rest. I looked at every single piece of art we came across, and I appreciated most of it. I have to say though, excepting a few outstanding examples, I am generally more a fan of sculpture than paintings. All of the paintings were beautiful, but only a fe of them spoke to me. Whereas with sculptures, they all manage to resonate with something. If I had to choose a favourite piece of art in the Louvre (forced at gunpoint or other deadly method) I would have to admit it to be the statue of Psyche and Eros. It is apparently rather famous, as I managed to find a miniature of it, which was one of the few souvenirs I bought for myself. The story of Psyche and Eros is very beautiful, but also very sad. In the end, the only God who truly loved was Love himself. A very close second is Michelangelo's  Slaves. Their expressions are heartbreaking. 


The painting by David of Napoleons Coronation was one I deliberately sought out. It is very large, and is one of my favourite paintings, just because of the story behind it. In another example of Napoleons flair and style, he crowned himself. Originally, he invited the Pope to Paris for the event, in an attempt to reconcile with the Church. But as the poor old Pope was about to put to crown on his head, Napoleon snatched it off him, crowning himself and declaring himself King. As I've said, the man had style. This of course, damaged relationships with the church even further, as many believed he did it on purpose to embarrass the Pope. Another interesting thing about the painting, is that originally, Napoleon's mother wasn't at the coronation, but Napoleon had David paint her in anyway. 


As for the famous Mona Lisa, it was beautiful. Some people complain that it is much smaller and much darker than they thought. I had heard this before I saw it though, so I was prepared. It was actually larger than I anticipated. It is exquisitely painted and it is a painting I can honestly say resonated with me. So I did enjoy seeing it. Even if it was behind glass. There are so many amazing artworks in the Louvre it would be impossible to describe even the fraction I saw. If ever you get the chance to go, don't just run in to see Mona. Take the chance to look at some of the other art as well. 

Treasures of the Past

I may have mentioned my small obsession with Napoleon. So seeing his tomb in Les Invalides was an important sight for me. I almost with I hadn't gone. I started the day in a terrific mood. We perhaps had a slower start to the day than we should have. We stayed on the bus for the whole trip, but I was enjoying the breeze and the music, and just driving around Paris and seeing and absorbing. I was at the point where you really get a feel for the town. It was day 4, by which time a lot of people have moved on (3 days is the average time tourists spend in Paris). So I was in a good mood to start with. Then we went to the Tomb. I knew it would depress me a little. Tombs, graveyards, anything to do with the dead tends to depress me. And I liked Napoleon, so I was a little sadder. But what I didn't expect was to be angry. Maybe it was me being naive. But I expected that the tourists, who treated the rest of Paris like a theme park, would at least have a little respect for the dead. But the Tomb was almost as bad as Louvre. People posing, pulling faces, throwing things. I not generally a fan of policing behaviour. But there are some things that I expect, because they are a matter of respect. You do not talk in a church, you do not walk over graves, and you do not talk in a tomb, you do not sing in a graveyard. Respect for the dead, especially those who commanded respect is something that I find very important. I respect Napoleon a lot, and to see all those tourists treating it like just another ride at Disney world made me angry. 


From to Tomb we walked across the road to the Rodin. The Garden was very pretty, but it wasn't my favourite museum. after the Rodin, we went to the Musee de l'Orangerie, home of Monet' Water Lilies. These are huge canvases set out in large, white, oval rooms. It was very peaceful to sit in there and look at the paintings. It gave you the sense of looking at water. There were very few people, as it was just before closing time. But again, there were people ignoring the rules, taking flash photography. While I enjoyed my time immensely in Europe, there were times when it brought me down a little. It makes me sad to see people acting so selfishly, and with so little respect. Anyone who has walked into a museum knows that flashes destroy paintings. Taking pictures is just selfish, damaging a painting just so you can have a copy of it, rather than buy a 50c postcard with the same image but without the damage. Some of the things I saw people do made me wonder why they bothered. Surely someone who races through the Louvre, from the Venus de Milo, to the Winged Victory, to the Mona Lisa and then leaves didn't really come to Paris for the Art. Why bother with Lisa, if you're not bothered with the rest? 


In the Louvre, I saw a lot of people do that. They would follow the signs straight to the Mona Lisa and then strait back out again. But while the Mona Lisa is beautiful, it is not the only amazing art work in the Louvre. It just happens to be the most famous. Someone looking at me bucket list might accuse me of hypocrisy at this point. I will admit that the Mona Lisa is on my list. And it is there because the Mona Lisa is famous, and because seeing it means something. But that doesn't mean I wanted to see it just to cross it off my list. I wanted to see it, because I believe that something becomes famous or popular for a reason. I do not avoid something because other people like it. Nor do I like just because other people do. I wanted to see the Mona Lisa, because it was famous, and I wanted to know why. 

A Land of Milk and Honey and A Lot of Stairs

Laduree is a cake shop. But that is a very poor description of it. The cakes they make are perhaps the nicest, and most beautiful creations ever baked. At first you think it would be a shame to eat them, because they are so beautiful. But this feeling is completely irradiated when you take the first small bite. It is also the place that invented macaroons. I found this out later, but it is not uncommon for people to line up for hours just to buy their macaroons. They are the best in the world. So when I stumbled into this humble cake shop thinking it would be a good place to grab some afternoon tea for our planned picnic at the Champs du Mars, I had no idea it was world famous. But when we were sitting under the Eiffel Tower, splitting them between us and guessing flavours, I know why they were so popular. 


That picnic is one of the best I remember. Not only did was have the yummiest food in the world to be nibbling on, we also got a bit of a show. Due to the huge number of tourists which flock to the tower everyday, there is a large concentration of souvenir hawkers there, wandering around, with everything from Eiffel Tower key-rings, to bottles of Champagne. Some of these hawkers don't know when no means no. We made the mistake of getting some of the Eiffel Towers they were selling, whilst we were still enjoying our picnic. Not satisfied with what we had bought, the man then wouldn't leave us alone, insisting we buy more. And then, mid-sentence, he stopped and joined his buddies high tailing it out of the park. Because the Police were coming. Apparently, given the high tourist rate, and the potential aggressiveness of the pedlars, Police patrolled the park. I'm not sure if it happened everyday, but in the hour or so we were there watching, mounted police chased them out of the park twice. Then, just when we were preparing to climb the tower, a whole host of police ran past after them. It was entertaining to watch, and I don't think the police ever caught them, but at least one guy was trying best to out-run them. 


The Eiffel Tower is a think of romance. When people think of Paris, they invariably think of the tower. I am no different. To me it has been the symbol of Paris, France, Europe and Travel in general. When I saw it for the first time in the distance, I was excited. When I saw it up close, I was ecstatic. When I climbed it I hate it. 


We decided in a moment of complete foolishness, that we were going to take the stairs. Then difference in the size of the line, and the cost of the entrance swayed us. At this point we were pretty tired. We had blister from our first mad dash around paris. I had swapped to my pink converse, which I had only brought for Thailand, as I didn't think them up to Parisian fashion standard. I'm glad I did, or I wouldn't have been able to walk at this point. As it was we could still barely walk, as it had been a very long day, and we'd already done the 248 stair in the Arc de Triomphe. But take the stairs we did. And I hated every last on of them. There are 347 steps to the First level. Then there are 674 to the second level. The only ting I can say is this. They were hell, I hated them, but in the end can truly say I climbed the Eiffel Tower. I didn't just glide up in an elevator, like so many others. I climbed every last damned step, and I really think there should be a distinction between those who climbed and those who glided. 


The views from the top of the tower were amazing. I will always be fascinated how people climb up really high and then zoom in with their cameras on things on the ground. We watched the sun set, and the blue come into the sky. We called my dad, still at home, and sat up the top, eating the last macaroons, and giggling about how we were in Paris! Then, realising the light was perfect, we climbed back down in a hurry to watch the lights come on against the deep blue of the sky, and the light show start. After midnight, we dragged ourselves back to our hotel, exhausted but smiling. We climbed the Eiffel Tower. 

Lost

When I was four years old, my father bought my mother ticket to the Brisbane production of the Phantom of the Opera. When she came home she brought with her the cassette recording of the London Cast production. I still have that tape. For 10 years I listened to that tape almost continuously. My little yellow walkman never had the chance to meet another tape. there are even video tapes of me attempting to sing along (totally cringe inducing by the way). So when I walked into the Opera Garnier, the opera house which figures in the famous musical, I was once again walking into a building I had been dreaming about my whole life. This place does not disappoint. From the gloomy entrance, you walk up stairs into the main hall, and it is absolutely beautiful. If you only had a day in Paris, I would still recommend you visit the Opera Garnier. Gold statues hold candelabras, everything is gilt and ornate. It even has a hall of mirrors, an imitation of the one in the Palace of Versailles. I was pleased to learn that even the underground moat and the tunnels underneath the Opera house are real. I could imagine the Phantom growing up there. While he may be painted as the villain of the story, I can understand how your morals would be a little confused, learning about life from plays and growing alone in that place could give anyone delusions of grandeur. 


From the Opera, we caught the hop-on-hop-off bus. This convenient little service took us around Paris, complete with commentary and classical music and stopped at the Arc de Triomphe. The Arc is huge. As with most things in Paris, it was so much bigger than I was expecting. And it is just one of the many things that Napoleon commissioned to build. As I've said before, no matter what you think of his policies, you cannot deny that the man had style. When he marched into Berlin, the Brandenburg Quadrega caught his eye. So naturally, he carted it off back to Paris. It doesn't matter where you look in Paris, his mark is everywhere. In fact, much of Europe has his mark. There are few men in history who can be said to have had that much of an effect. So Tyrant or emperor, he demands respect. 


One interesting thing I should mention, is that my mother has the worst sense of direction of anyone I have ever met (except maybe one of my best friends who can't even work out where she lives.) My mother still has to look at the signs in the shopping centre to work out where she is, and she's been shopping there since it opened 12 years ago. Whilst we were travelling I was the one in charge of the map, and working out where we needed to go. Another thing I should mention is that she loves taking photos. I don't know what she did before they invented digital, because she will take a photo of everything. She took pictures of every sheep in New Zealand (thats a lot of sheep). She even took a picture of a rock on the side of the road. An actual rock. Not even a pretty one, just a hunk of granite the size of a football, in the middle of nowhere.  


This bad habit got her in trouble a few times, but at the Arc was probably the worst. After we had climbed up the inside, admired the view from the top (and recovered from the 248 stairs up) and climbed back down, we were heading back to the underpass to the Champs Elysees where we had come from (and which I might add, we had taken plenty of photos from). I'm not sure at which point she stopped following me, or at which point it struck her fancy to stop for another photo, but at some point amongst the crowd I lost her. I wasn't too panicked, I decided I'd just wait at the top of the stairs, knowing she'd have to pass that point eventually to get off what was literally an island surrounded by cars. I had not factored in my mothers prodigious talent for getting lost. It turns out she found the only other way off the Island and after a long while of waiting I got was a text saying 'I'm on the street side'. I was confused how she had walked past me without me noticing, but crossed to the street side, which was even more crowded and tried to find her. After another 20 mins, I tried calling her, but my phone refused to co-operate. I even got desperate enough to ask another poor tourist, who probably thought I was trying to pull a scam, where a pay phone was. After having lost her for about an hour, I decided to try walking back through the tunnel....and met her coming the other way. It turns out my poor, directionally challenged mother had been standing on the street on the OTHER side of the Arc, not noticing that she was no longer surrounded by tourists, no noticing the absence of shops and cafes which dominate the Champs Elysees, not even noticing whereas before she had been facing the Arc head on, she was now looking at it from the side. Apparently, as she was taking pictures of this fascinating new angle, it never occurred to her that this meant she was standing somewhere different to where she was before. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But in the end I settled for shaking my head, and finding somewhere to have lunch. And that is when I stumbled across the greatest discovery I have ever made.....Laduree

A Blue Day

Something I should probably mention here, to give a better understanding of something that perhaps other people might not understand. I come from Australia. I live in a city that 200 years ago was bushland. I think some people forget just how young Australia is as a nation. While I do not mean to disrespect the Aborigines, their history is best known to themselves, and is not the material culture others are. Our oldest building was built in 1823. So for me, walking down streets that were long before we were a country, seeing places that I read about in history books, and staying in a hotel that was around long before the French Revolution, it was hard to believe. I was literally walking through history. To give it some perspective, the Eiffel tower was built in 1889. Australia's federation was in 1901. We are children compared to the rest of the world, and comparatively impoverished when it comes to material history. 


On the second day we took a proper bus tour of Paris. The commentary was terrible, but it gave us a good orientation of Paris, and we could finally put names to the places we had seen the day before. When the tour finished, we grabbed some cookies from a sweet shop and sat by the large fountain in the Tuileries gardens. With the Louvre in front of us, the ferris wheel on one side, and the Seine on the other, it was definitely one of the better morning snacks I've had. I really should mention the statues. Around the fountain were a number of statues on plinths. One in particular I liked. It is of what I assume to be a Rome, leaning improbably on his cloak (his only garment), giving all of Paris a very 'come hither' stare. The statue of Theseus slaying the Minotaur was also rather eye-catching. 


After this sojourn in the gardens, we headed over to the  Musee D'Orsay. This was something I had been particularly looking forward to. I will admit to being a Doctor Who fan. I will also admit that seeing the episode of 'Vincent and the Doctor' made  me very anxious to see the work of Vincent Van Gough. His paintings are amazing. But I have to say, I didn't see them quite the same way that the guide books, and other descriptions have suggested I should. Perhaps its because I know the story, but all of his paintings seem incredibly sad to me. Like someone desperately trying to capture a moment, because he know it'll be gone. There is something tragic about his work, and its a feeling I can't shake, no matter how hard I try to imagine the brush stroke as bold and the colour joyful. 


The D'Orsay is full of incredible art by some of the most famous artists in the world. Even the building itself is beautiful, converted from an old train station, it has high curved ceilings and glasswork typical of what I imagine as a 19th century railway station. Aside from Van Gough's work, there were two paintings that made a very strong impression, which is impressive in itself, considering the calibre of the work. The first was a Monet. I'm not even sure if it has a proper name, but it was very small, about 1 foot square, and was one of his haystacks. I swear that man could paint sunlight. It was not like looking into a photograph. Rather, as Plato would say, more like looking at the form of sunlight, the very essence, beyond the physical sunlight we normally see. It was possibly the most striking work I saw. The second painting was Whistler's Mother. This is a very fine piece, but not what I would normally notice. The reason it made such an impression is first, because I recognised it. I try to be as cultured as I can, but my education is sorely lacking in art and in some ways, art appreciation. So when I see a painting I immediately recognise it is a bit of a shock. But the thing about it that really surprised me was that I didn't expect it to be there. Perhaps it is may lack of education showing again, but I did not think that Whistler's Mother was displayed in the D'Orsay. I walked in expecting Monet, Renoir and Degas. I did not expect to find Whistler. 


From the D'Orsay, we walked back to the Ill de la Cite, to Saint Chapel. Again my luck turned up. People often don't believe me when I say we had to ask for directions to the entrance. Later in the week we saw the line for it and I understand their disbeleif. Usually, the line stretches from the entrance and around the block from open till close. When we got there, however, there was no line at all, and I didn't even know if we were in the right place. I put this down to good planning. We were taking advantage of the later opening times on the Wednesday evening, and either not many people knew about this later time, or thought early evening would be a bad time to visit the famous chapel and see the stained glass windows. Those people would be wrong. Something I have found is that in strong sunlight, stained glass windows have a tendency to become a little less impressive, the colours being bleached just a little bit. I have also found the on a summer evening in Paris, for about two hours before sunset, the light becomes blue, and this blue light perfectly accents the beauty of the stained glass windows of Saint Chapel. We were incredibly lucky to be standing in the Chapel almost completely vacant, and sit and watch the light change behind the glass. It was beautiful to watch, and I know just how lucky we were. Without trying to be superstitious, or self-congratulatory, Paris was putting on a show for us. And we were happy to take it in. 

Premier Jour

I do not sleep well (read not at all) when in transit. So while everyone else on the plane was fast asleep, I was wide awake. I have no idea why, but every time I have been travelling I cannot sleep no matter how tired I am. I think it has something to do with other people. Maybe its one of those long buried instincts about remaining alert when no in your own territory. I write it off as just one more strange quirk of my brain. But after travelling for over 27 hours with no sleep, I was more than a little sleep deprived. And this is what I blame our insanity on our first day in Paris. 

We got off the plane grinning like children. We managed to find our luggage, and get tickets for the Roissy bus and were on our way to Paris. Every few minutes between commenting on the cars and highway and every other aspect of everything we could see, quite possibly making the other people on the bus wishing we were far away, I would turn to my mother and giggle, saying 'We're in Paris!', and she would giggle back and say 'I know!' (this was repeated many times over the week. It was no doubt very annoying. But you have to understand that I never really believed I would get there. I don't think my mother ever thought she would get the chance, let alone take it. 

Paris was not what I thought it would be. But it did not disappoint. I know of many people that came back from Paris complaining about the rubbish, the street people, the traffic, all manner of things. But I loved it. We got off the bus at the Opera Garnier and walked to our Hotel. We were early, 2 hours before check in, so we left our luggage and went exploring. In our itinerary we had planned everyday, not in an obsessive, down to the minute way, but in a general, flexible way. But this first day we had left blank. This was a mistake, because in our excitement, with no plan and hours to kill, we made the mistake only rookie tourists make. We tried to see everything. And it backfired. To start with, we had no idea where we were going. So we ended up walking a very long way. We also had arrived on one of the hottest days of the summer, so we got sunburned very quickly, and very badly. And I don't burn easily. What happened was that we became very tired, very sore, had blister, sunburn and saw almost nothing. And this was on our very first day. When check in time rolled around we stumbled back to our hotel. I will say though that at this point I made a wonderful discovery. I found a metro station, a map, and bought some tickets and found that I had a gift when it came to the metro. Once I discovered it, I never got lost and we used it to get everywhere. 

After some much needed sleep, we finally had a plan. I wanted to see Notre Dame. So we walked down the Seine (this time on purpose) and in the twilight we entered the square and saw one of the buildings I'd been dreaming about my whole life. There are no words that can describe it. Not just the building itself, but what it means to me. I have a small (ok HUGE) obsession with Napoleon. Some people call him a hero, some people call him a conqueror. I don't pretend to know whether what he did was good or bad, but you have to admit the man had style. That he chose Notre Dame for his coronation is just one testament to that fact. The building is beautiful. And characteristic of everything I saw, so much bigger than I thought. 

With the luck that is typical of my travelling anywhere, outside we saw a sign advertising a concert. It was for a Choir from America, and it started in an hour. So we waited, took some pictures, and then got in line and waited. Inside, we walked around the inside of the church taking pictures. We found out later from another tourist sitting next to us that usually the inside of the church is closed. During the day tourists are herded in one door, out the other, and barely get ten steps inside. We were given free reign. The concert itself was beautiful. I was having a small contact high walking on the actual floor that Napoleon walked on, standing on stone that hadn't seen daylight in 800 years. The choir was singing traditional Church hymns and sounded like angels themselves, and when the Organ played the stones themselves shook. It was dim in the church, with the sun setting behind the Rose Window in front of us, blue light shining down and the arched corridors gloomy, barely lit by the chandeliers. At one moment, from a clear sky, thunder rolled in perfect tim with organ, and swear I had goosebumps. In another song, the choir moved to be all around us in a circle, and with sound coming from all sides, standing in the Cathedral, it was like a dream. It remains the most magical moment of my life. And this was just the first day. 

I see London, I see France

I always knew I wanted to travel and for as long as I can remember I have always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. But it was always one of those out-there-someday kind of dreams. I always thought it was something I would do when I was older, in the distant future. And then I started university, and I started meeting people who had been to Europe. I remember sitting in my history lecture with my history lecturer asking who had seen the Sistine Chapel, and watching hands go up all over the room. I was sitting there thinking 'I want to be one of those people'. I wanted my dream to become reality. And then in one of those bizarre moments, it did. I had talked to a friend about wanting to go to Europe, and had even gone so far as to make a plan. I will admit now, that I was influenced greatly by the book 'Eat, Pray, Love'. I didn't sell everything I own and run away to a foreign country for a year, but I did become convinced that it would be better to spend a longer time in fewer places and have a chance to really explore the cities I was in, rather than take the more traditional route of university students before me and catch the Contiki party bus around Europe. So with these still rather vague ideas about going, but a large dose of determination, I told my parents. And my mum surprised me by telling me that she wanted to come with me. It was surprising because before I had been to New Zealand, neither of my parents had left Australia. When I came back, they decided that it might be nice to go to New Zealand. But I never thought my mum would ever make it to Europe. Obviously I agreed. What happened next took me by surprise. The very next day we were at a Travel Agent. The day after we were paying for our flights and making bookings. My friend pulled out, as she didn't have the money to pay the deposit on the flight. We had planned to save for a few months and then book flights later in the year, but my mother was an unstoppable force. I think she may have been acting before her rational brain could talk herself out of it. Whatever the reason, within a few days we had a hotel booked in Paris for 7 nights, a hotel in Rome for 8, and flights, there and back again. 

It took all of my savings to pay for the flight. I then spent the next 8 months filling shelves at a grocery store to pay for the rest. That is a feat I am rather proud of. While my friends were out drinking, clubbing and generally wasting their money, I was sitting at home saving every cent I could, researching everything I could about travelling to Europe. I could barely afford to leave the house except for uni, but at the end of eight months, I got on a plane, everything paid and enough money in my bank account to enjoy my European adventure. A lot of my friends asked me why I bothered with this. I was travelling with my mother, wouldn't she just pay for everything? I could also see that written on the face of almost every person I told I was travelling with my mother. They assumed I was a spoiled kid getting treated by mummy. But its not true. I earned that money with a crappy job earning minimum wage. It was a matter of pride, precisely because I didn't want to be that spoiled kid. My family has never been rich, and we've had to earn and fight for every cent. My parents sacrificed I hate to think how much, to make sure we could go on excursions, and had the best chance in school. And while we are now much better off, with three kids no longer at home, and my mum having a much better job, I still didn't want to take her money. I hated asking for anything as a kid, knowing just how hard it was for my parents, and its a hard mentality to shake. I know now, a year later, that mum did struggle to pay for her half of the trip, and if I'd been relying on her, I don't know if she'd have made it.

After several revisions, our itinerary had us in Paris for 7 days, flying to Rome via London, staying in Rome for 3 days, heading north to Venice and Florence for 2 days and then returning to Rome. On the way back we stopped in Bangkok for three days before returning to Brisbane. In retrospect it may not have been the best way to organise our itinerary. But it worked for us. And this trip provided some of the most amazing and inspiring experiences of my life. 

My Misadventures in Kiwi Land

I did eventually return to New Zealand, four years after my first failed trip. This time I was with my family, road tripping around the South Island. As with all family trips, some days were tense, after being confined to a car for several days with no escape, and by the end tempers were frayed. But I also had some of the most amazing experiences in New Zealand. From my first trip, the best memories I have were near the beginning (the rest were tinged with drama). My favourite part, and still one of my favourite places in New Zealand was the Bay of Islands. 


I have always loved the ocean and everything that lives in it. In the Bay of Islands, I took a dolphin cruise. On that day I saw some Pilot whales up close, and for the first time in my life, I saw Orca (Killer Whales) in the wild. Free Willy was one of my favourite movies, and you can only imagine just how amazing that day was for me. I also had another encounter that was very important. On that boat I met a traveller from Canada who told me about the lakes in Canada where you can go kayaking and the Orca will come up around the kayak. This conversation had two effects.  The first was an immediate resolve that I would go to Canada and kayak with those Orca one day. And the second, less obvious thing that came from this conversation, was the realisation that there are millions of fascinating people in the world who travel and have adventures, with fabulous stories to tell and that this trip didn't need to be once in a lifetime. 


I never really made it to the South Island on my original tour. We crossed the strait, and made it to Christchurch when I was sent home. In what I felt was the best example of karma in action, my relatives continued the tour and got stranded in Invercargill due to extreme flooding and road closures and ended up having to fly home, the rest of their trip ruined.


When I came back with my family, the weather was still on my side, with the sunshine following us around the island in what was otherwise one of the wettest summers recorded. On this trip I had another amazing experience. I climbed the Franz-Joseph Glacier. We hiked from the bus turn around up to the base, strapped on our spike-shoes (I can't for the life of me remember the name of them) and started climbing ice. I honestly have to say that hunk of ice was doing its best to kill me. This wasn't helped by the fact that I had somehow ended up with my brothers spikes. This wasn't such a problem for him, as his were small but still fit onto his shoes and held fast for the whole hike. Mine on the other hand were designed for feet much bigger than mine (my brother measures his feet in actual feet). This meant that every three steps I took made my feet slip out of the spikes. While this wasn't much of a problem when we were walking up the stairs cut into the ice, it became a serious problem when we were required to walk down almost vertical walls of ice. The guide enthusiastically told us to 'trust our equipment'. and then gave a small demonstration running up and down the ice a few times. Needless to say I was not in a trusting mood, having almost fallen several times already on relatively flat surfaces. But I made it up that glacier and back down again, almost in one peice. I did almost successfully fall into a ravine that I'm convinced I would never have got out of alive, but apart from a few slips here and there I made it to solid ground, very cold, rather wet, injured but still alive and having walked an water (conveniently frozen at the time).


Between three separate trips to our friendly cousins in Kiwi Land, I have seen everything the islands have to offer to the casual tourist. I may go back to do something more adventurous, like horse riding through the mountains of the South Island, or hiking the Milford Sound track, but for now, my New Zealand adventures are finished. I have my sights set on more distant lands, and Europe was the first one on my list. 

The Current List

This list is the current one. It is by no means, the final one.

I have succeeded in crossing a few things off.

1. Kayaking with Killer Whales 
2. See the Northern and Southern Lights
3. Learn to Sail
4. Go Iceskating Outdoors in the Snow
5. Horseback Riding on the Beach
6. Sleep under the Stars
7. Hiking in the Swiss Alps
8. Learn Self Defence
9. Learn a Foreign Language
10. Sky Lantern Festival
11. Play Guitar on the Beach
12. Music Festival
13. Carnevale
14. Mosh Pit at a Rock Concert
15. Learn to SCUBA dive
16. Dive the Barrier Reef
17. Swim with a Whale Shark
18. Learn to Surf
19. Hot Air Balloon at Sunrise
20. Amazon
21. Drive a sports car
22. Trans-Siberian Railway
23. Drive Across America
24. Grand Canyon
25. Yellowstone
26. Washington
27. Go on Safari
28. Research assignment in Africa
29. Adopt a Pet from an Animal Shelter
30. Ride an Elephant
31. Pat a Tiger
32. Watch Turtles Hatch
33. Running of the Bulls
34. Sit by a Bristlecone Pine
35. See Uluru
36. Drive Across Australia
37. Japanese Tea Ceremony
38. Trinity College in Dublin
39. Pantheon and Acropolis in Greece
40. Greek Island Hopping
41. Hike to Machu Picchu
42. Sunset over the Pyramid of Giza
43. Sunrise over Stonehenge
44. British Museum
45. Trip around the British Isles
46. Loch Ness
47. St Peter's Basilica
48. Sagrada Familia
49. Notre Dame
50. St Basil's Cathedral
51. Duomo of Florence
52. San Marco Basilica
53. Colosseum
54. Petra
55. Great Wall of China
56. St Paul's Cathedral, Liege
57. Taj Mahal
58. Uffizi Gallery
59. Musée de l'Orangerie
60. Rodin Garden
61. Musée D'Orsay
62. The Mona Lisa
63. The Louvre
64. Temple of Rameses
65. Overland from Istanbul to Cairo
66. Sail on Ha Long Bay
67. Leaning Tower of Pisa
68. Visit the Caribbean
69. Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival
70. Learn the Constellations
71. Take an Art Class
72. See all of Shakespeare's plays 
73. Read all of Austen
74. Read the Classics
75. Iceland
76. Get a Masters
77. Get a Doctorate
78. See a Castle
79. Own an island (I can dream)
80. Fly First Class
81. Visit Tuscany
82. Costa Rica
83. See Snow
84. Cinque Terra
85. Donate Blood
86. Volunteer at an Animal Centre
87. Become a Zoologist
88. Write a book
89. Opera in Europe
90. Broadway show
91. Watch Shakespeare under the stars
92. Patagonia
93. Ice Skating at the Winter Olympics
94. Gelato in Florence
95. Pizza in Naples
96. Vertigo Restaurant
97. Underwater Restaurant
98. New Years in Sydney
99. Jump into a Pool fully clothed
100. Visit a Planetarium
101. Travel Solo
102. Travel with a Friend
103. Murder Mystery Dinner
104. Masquerade Ball
105. Learn to Meditate
106. Scavenger Hunt
107. Swim with Dolphins
108. Create a Library
109. Swim Under a Water Fall
110. Gondola in Venice
111. Bicycle through a European City
112. Drive in Movie
113. Swim in the Dead Sea
114. Help a Stranger
115. Christ the Redeemer
116. See the 7 Wonders of the World
1. Colosseum
2. Pyramids
3. Great Wall of China
4. Stonehenge
5. Machu Picchu 
6. Petra
7. Taj Mahal

As you can see this list is much more extensive. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do everything on this list. But I intend to die trying. 

The First List

This first list is very humble. It perhaps reflects with the very simple ideals I had at the time, or, more likely, the very limited knowledge of the amazing things there are out there. Very few of these are thrill seeking. I am not that kind of person. My bucket list is more about experiences. And as you can probably guess, I'm a bit of a nature fan, with a bit of ancient history thrown in for very good measure. So here I present the very first list:

1. SCUBA dive the Great Barrier Reef
2. See Uluru
3. Sleep under the stars in the Outback
4. Dive Ningaloo Reef with a Whale Shark
5. Great Wall of China
6. Golden Palace of Russia
7. Tower of Dubai
8. Rome: Colosseum, Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain
9. Drive a Scooter around Rome
10. Gondola in Venice
11. Athens
12. Temple of Artemis
13. Spain
14. Romany
15. France: Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Arc de Triomphe
16. Stone Henge
17. English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh Castles
18. Pyramids
19. Kenya: see Lions and Cheetah
20. Balloon Ride over the Serengeti
21. Grand Canyon
22. Yellowstone
23. See a Bear in Alaska
24. Nepal
25. Dive the Caribbean
26. Skydive
27. Christmas in the Snow
28. Learn how to Sail
29. Learn a foreign language
30. See the Northern and Southern lights

Not unambitious, and completely lacking any kind of altruism. But it was only a very rough draft. This list has been revised several times. Even my current list is being revised. The point of the list is not to do everything before I die. I hope to never stop dreaming, so the list will never stop changing and more importantly, growing. But it is a way for me to keep my goals in sight, and also a way of remembering all the amazing things I've seen and done. This list when I wrote it was a dream that I might achieve one day in a far off, distant time. But it never seemed real. I have since proven myself wrong. 

You Only Live Once

Life's an adventure, right? I have heard that YOLO seems to have become an internet sensation, used repeatedly by teenage girls and slandered by the cynics for its faux-inspirational message. I'm not sure about this, as I don't keep up with trends. I seem to be remarkably in adept at communicating with the rest of the world, and seem to live under a proverbial rock. But the important part is that despite the internet's prodigious talent for turning something meaningful into over popularised trash, You Only Live Once is still a valid point. I think Mark Twain said it best (as he so often does) when he said:

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that 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.”

My first travel adventures began almost 7 years ago, when I was offered the chance to go on a tour of New Zealand with a relative. I was very young, and I didn't take the decision lightly. I knew from experience that I would miss my parents, and I wasn't very close to the relative in question. But in the end I asked myself two very simple questions. Will I regret it if I don't go? and What do I want my life to be? The answer to the first question was obviously yes. The answer to the second question then became a bit clearer. 

In the end that trip turned out to be a disaster. For various reasons, few which are particularly clear, I was sent home, alone, half way through the trip. I was never given an explanation, and to this day I don't know why it happened. I do remember crying in a hotel room for several hours. It was pretty traumatic and was partly responsible for several long, dark years that had me contemplating the least painful way to die several times. Lets just say high school was tough. But I made it through in the end, and if I had to ask myself if I regret going on that first overseas trip, which ended so horribly and caused so much grief, the answer would have to be a very firm No. Because that trip started something. 

I think I was born to travel. I have never been comfortable with the idea of staying in the one place,  living and dying in the same place you were born without ever having seen the world. When I was seventeen I made a bucket list. This was partly inspired by the movie (which I would recommend to anyone), and partly inspired by the need to have a plan. I was at the age when you start to wonder about what you life is going to mean and what you are going to do with it. I was also at the age where the idea of having a 9-5 job, and a life that involved nothing by work, sleep and a drink with friends on the weekend was possibly the worst fate I could be condemned to. So I dreamed of escape. Which of course means travel. 

This list has changed a few times over the last few years. I still have the original. And I have the current one. It is my aim to spend my life seeing the world we are lucky enough to be born into. And along the way, I plan to make a difference. This is my record, a life-long travel blog. This is where I will write about my adventures both past and future. And they will be numerous.