This is the start of the letter I just received from the lady in Tanzania who is handling my placement. I thought I would publish it here so you know what I’ll be doing!

“Dear Claire,

You must be getting very excited; only 2 weeks to go until Tanzania! I’m writing to give you information regarding your individual placement and accommodation arrangements. You will be staying in one of our volunteer houses. Your house accommodates 26 people and is currently operating at capacity.

You will be placed at Elerat Care Centre. The centre has 28 children ranging in age from 3 to 7 years who attend classes during the morning and go back to their respective homes around noon. The centre also supports people living with HIV and AIDS by providing them with food and small house-holds. They meet once every month. Elerat also supports 30 widows with small income-generating activities by using revolving funds. Volunteers placed here will teach the kids and teach widows skills that will help them become entrepreneurs.”

It made me so happy to get this and know that I’m working with children in an age range I have experience with and love… and then to know that I will also get the chance to help people get back on their feet and the centre even supports widows, which is a subject close to my heart as we lost my Dad when I was 13. I am really really happy that this placement seems to have been tailored perfectly to what I want to give.

So STAY TUNED!! Because I will be using this page to keep people up to date.

Today I had 4 needles stuck in my arm, I’m going to have to have 5 more and get some antimalarials, all of which will come to about £450. That’s just immunisations and I’ll also need medicines like anti-diarrhoea tablets and I’m going to most likely buy my own mosquito net, in case the ones provided aren’t terrible new and aren’t treated regularly. Then there’s my sunscreen, mosquito repellant and so on which came to a tidy £50 in Boots and I still have more stuff to get!

So I’d just like to say thanks again to all the people who have sponsored me or donated money to my paypal account over there. It’s really really really great to think that your support is actually getting me over there because if I’d had to shoulder the cost all by myself I might’ve thought twice….

…although come now, me thinking twice doesn’t sound that likely, does it?

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this for long enough, it’s finally time to get my shorts in my backpack and get going!

It’s nearly the end of my stay in New York.

My Grandfather died a few days after he was taken into hospital.

So many endings.

What’s next?

…is unconscious in hospital. They don’t think he’ll wake up. He collapsed and they got his heart beating again and he seems to be breathing for himself but they don’t know how long it’ll last.

I don’t know what to do, besides keep calling and finding out what’s happening and… going from there.

I love my Mum.

I did mean to write about Venice, Saronno, Berne, Lyon and the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Luxembourg trip…. See also The Hague, Amsterdam and London.

But… yeah.

The dog ate it?

I’m in New York now. Have been for a while. I think we’re having a joint housewarming & birthday party on the 27th. Yup.

Once I arrived in Vienna, I met up with Mela, who showed me back to her apartment and the room I’d be staying in - Huge! Comfy! Perfect! I took it easy all afternoon and she held a small dinner party that evening - I enjoy bilingual gatherings even if I can’t always understand everything, I found that I was able to understand a lot and while I didn’t manage to speak THAT MUCH German I was able to follow most of the conversation and respond in English and I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle! Mela is a great cook & did a vegetarian goat’s cheese & tarragon dish…. mmmm.

The next day I had a massive lie in and then went for a quick walking tour of Vienna while the weather held. It is an amazing city, and I would’ve liked to have gone in the State Rooms, and the Habsburg’s crypt to check out the sculpture on the tombs. As it was I did a quick circuit of the city guided by the map I got at Tourist Information and their guide book which details ONLY the sights as you walk past them, handily numbered, and no restaurant or hotel recommendations which you barely ever use. I was glad for that - although the odd Lonely Planet or Time Out guide is useful, I’d rather have something cheaper with the details I want to know.

As it began to rain close to the street which led back to Mela’s, I decided to head home and again, we all put our feet up then grabbed some food.

Mela is a fantastic host and I do hope she’ll come and stay in New York some point this summer…..!

From Vienna I caught the train through the Alps - stunning scenery! and then transferred to a bus which took me all the way to Venice.

The directions from the Piazzale Roma were to take a water boat - of course, tired having spent 8 hours in transit, I couldn’t figure out where they were, so I decided to cross the first bridge I saw, because… surely… if you walk along a canal, you’ll find a water boat… right!? NO JOY! So I decided to walk a way… found a hotel that gave me a map and eventually I found a water boat stop, having asked a few people who thought I was crazy to even attempt to walk what didn’t look very far at all to me. It wasn’t - but it was already 9pm and I was getting pretty confused - lots the streets are tiny, winding lanes and alleys which often end in a sheer drop into a canal, and trying to follow a map by street names is impossible, although they’re all marked, sometimes you can’t believe that the street you can see is the tiny 3 foot wide alley between the 5 story rotting buildings. The whole place does have an air of decay and …while it’s beautiful, it’s slightly unnerving. I checked in and went for a walk, finding a spot with someone’s unprotected wifi for a chat with Brad - all the internet cafés charge €6 an hour. Hmph. Strolled around St Mark’s Square and then back - all in a thin dress, as it was SO warm! Finally! After being freezing in Bruges, Koblenz and Vienna I was thankful to have a chance to bust out some of the lighter clothing that I’d packed & not used.

The next day I just did wandering, checking out the guide book that I’d bought and booking my onward travel from the train station. I saw the Rialto Bridge, some Palazzos along the canal and then I took the water bus - a whopping €6.50 for an hour’s valid travel - and just went up and down the Grand Canal checking out sights along the way. As I was at the train station, I noticed that someone had left a book on a bin - English Language, an American edition of a novel that I then went back and read form start to finish that evening.
The next day I got myself up earlier and went to the Doge’s Palace, which was amazing - rebuilt mostly in the 1500s, covered in gold, painted ceilings and a fresco by Titian that survived the fire that destroyed most of the 12th Century interior. I then went for a wander back to the bakery I’d found the day before which sold big chunks of Focaccia topped with olives, peppers, or tomato and cheese for 80c, and quite by chance passed a Palace that was included in my ticket. Palazzo Mocenigo was gifted to the city when the family that had built it left around the end of the 1700s, and has survived as a typical Venetian rich family’s house… a small collection of clothing from the 17th and 18th centuries were displayed.
From there I headed back to St Mark’s and went inside the Basilica, an impressive building with dark, sombre pillars topped with a riot of gold mosaic. Then I headed to the Napoleonic Palace surrounding the square which houses the city’s collection of.. well, everything! Art, dating back to the 1200s, sceptre (Canova again!) and coins, small exhibits of articles form daily life of the guilds, and a collection of early written music with some instruments. I was surprised both by the age of the items and the blasé way they were displayed - paintings and sculpture, including a 12th century casket that had contented the body of a saint, uncovered and unprotected by anything more than an alarm which only sounded when someone tried to touch them (which I witnessed on more than one occasion… hmm!). In England, I get the feeling they’d be behind glass, away from the curious hands of tourists.

The final day I was there, I took my time walking with my backpack across the city - made it all the way, with a couple of stops for reading, listening to accordion players in the squares and the odd scoop of ice cream!

I arrived in Rome around 5pm Wednesday, and have since been struck with a lack of energy I have yet to conquer. I visited the Diocletian Baths which are a few minute’s walk from my hostel, and then tried to use their internet connection which is pitiful. I booked this hostel specifically because it promised free wifi - I would have far fewer complaints if I didn’t feel taken advantage of by an out and out LIE! The hostel is basic, clean enough (though the age old bathroom problem raises it’s ugly head - not enough for the number of people per floor) and cheap for the location, but I can’t get over the fact that the internet connection kicks you off every five minutes, cannot sustain a Skype connection and you have to PAY for the privilege when I’d selected this place to avoid such problems. Ho hum. I shall be reviewing this one, which I haven’t bothered with before, and it won’t be complimentary.

Today I’m so wiped out that I’ve decided to have a day off, I may wander to the Palazzo Altemps later as it’s supposedly open till 7pm (though they tend to close whenever they are quiet at the end of the day). As long as I’m there around 5pm I should be fine… but I’ve been living at such a breakneck speed for the past year or so, that to lie around and read a book feels like a luxury. I decided not to get up early this morning, and have made it as far as the supermarket in the train station where I downed a huge bottle of “drinking yoghurt” and a coffee. I ache from carrying my laptop around as there’s no secure place to leave it, and I’m tired, lacklustre and trying to work up enthusiasm for yet another headless statue is something that can wait till tomorrow.

Arriving in Koblenz after three nights in a dormitory was both nerve wracking and exciting - I had booked myself a hotel room as once I’d reserved the train tickets I’d discovered that the only youth hostel in town is closed until the end of the year. Although filled with hopes that I would get a restful night and a shower that produced ACTUAL hot water, the question that refused to allow me to rejoice in anticipation was … what exactly does €48 get you? I had visions of broom cupboards filled with camp beds and spiders, draughty windows, mould in the corner or a train rattling past at 1am. Thankfully, none of these turned out to be the case and I settled comfortably into a basic but impeccably clean room at the very furthest point from reception - top floor, end of the corridor, not even neighbours to disturb my peace with a television. A fast wifi connection allowed me to spend the evening planning train routes and hostels in the next few weeks, and I must admit that while I don’t consider myself girly in the slightest, I spent a hugely satisfying twenty minutes blow drying my hair.

In the morning, I discovered the Altstadt was a mere street away and set to exploring Norwich’s twin city. From the age of 4 or so, every time we drove past one of the signs along my hometown’s ring road, we were reminded that not only is Norwich “A Fine City”, but that it’s twinned with Rouen, Koblenz and Novi-Sad. During my high school years I visited Rouen for a week as part of my French studies, although the most memorable lesson learned is that young men everywhere are incredibly keen to speak to 15 year old girls in whatever language they understand best. Novi-Sad went through a tense year in the 90s while council officials debated whether or not to de-twin us due to the problems in the region and while I’d changed train in Koblenz once en route to a rock festival at the Nurburgring, I didn’t think that really counted. I wanted to see what our towns had in common, whether the locals would cast me suspicious looks, and how many tractors they had per capita. What awaited me was a small town centre with buildings of a similar age to Norwich, winding cobblestone streets interspersed with modern shopping centres and I must say, the atmosphere is indeed comparable, but whether that’s simply the power of suggestion at work I can’t tell. I walked around the old town for a while before heading to the Deutsches Eck - “German Corner” - where the Rhine and Mosel rivers meet. From there I could see over to the Fort Ehrenbreitstein of which most is closed to visitors this year. To prepare for the National Garden Show held in 2011, the whole town appears to be under renovation including the point of the Eck, although the Monument to Wilhelm 1, grand in scale and quite forbidding, was open for business as usual. It felt like a cross between a Greek Temple and a gothic tomb, all dark stone, dripping water and giant horses hooves looming over you.
I took a tourist-trap bus ride around the Altstadt to see if the commentary would have any more details than my basic tourist map, passed the Theatre and Schloss, which was built in the late 1700s, although again the gardens appeared to be one giant building site. They were laid out by the Empress Augusta, who would no doubt have been proud to see the digger’s hard work come into fruition next year.

Leaving by train that evening, I began to worry that my trip is cursed, accompanied as it is by the numerous dead birds that I’ve seen (sadly, in Bruges one flew into a window next to me and died right there) and now, a rare and apocalyptic occurrence - a German train running late! Although we arrived in Munich only 15 minutes behind schedule, my fellow passengers cat called, grunted and sighed at every announcement updating us on our progress, which as I’m sure my British readers will understand, amused me greatly. Raised eyebrows all round.

A short taxi ride to my hostel, and I was again pleasantly surprised by the standard of accommodation, the bunk beds being much more solid than in Belgium and offering a “cubby hole” feel, which helped me sleep rather late in the morning, so late that I was dimly aware of the staff emptying the bins and cleaning the bathroom around me! I had picked up a flyer for a free guided tour of the city centre, which I took advantage of. A 23 year old Canadian of German extraction led us around, and most questions she asked - “How do you think they attempted to put out the fire in the Opera House?”, “How do you think they raised the funds to restore the Church of St Peters?” - would be answered with a rousing yell of “BEER!”. Yes, if there’s one thing Munich is famous for besides the beauty of the Bavaria landscape, Mad Kings and their castles, and serving a mean sausage, it’s BEER. I’ve never been during Oktoberfest, when a bed in a hostel dorm has been rumoured to set you back up to €150, and I wasn’t about to recapture the spirit of many a rowdy tourist in the Hofbr
auhaus, as those of you who’ve been paying attention will remember… I’m teetotal on this trip. Yup, even passing through first Belgium and then the famous wine region around Koblenz, I have not touched a single drop of alcohol for an entire month now. However, chatting away with the group of Canadians and Americans who were also on the tour, it felt very sad to be surrounded by jovial old men in their Lederhosen, clinking Steins and NOT partake…..

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you… alcohol free Hofbrau. Where there’s a centuries old brewing tradition and peer pressure, there’s a way.

The tour, run by Sandeman’s NewMunich, was a great balance of historical facts and humour and touched only a little on WWII with some poignant reminders like the bronze strip through “Dodger’s Alley” and the unassuming monument to a Jewish family’s department store which was destroyed on Kristallnacht. I felt it gave us a good chance to remember that even though Germany is a relatively new country by European standards, 13 years is still a tiny stretch of time to focus so intently on…. nevertheless, the majority of tourists were also interested in visiting Dachau, and as someone who burst into tears in the first room in Anne Frank’s house, I knew I wouldn’t be able to visit despite the chance to reflect on the strength of the human spirit and will to survive that’s celebrated there alongside remembrance of the atrocities. One thing that spoke eloquently about respecting each other and being citizens of a more equal world was in the Church of Our Lady - when it was being rebuilt after the war, the local communities who got involved are remembered along the vaulting in the roof. One of these is a Menora, which I felt was a lovely symbol of different faiths coming together to reclaim their city. If you’re around my age, you will know people who lived through the war first hand, and while you may find your Grandparents have little in common with your generation, it’s important not to forget what they learned and experienced as relevant to us, today. Anyone living in London or New York or any large city will meet people from other countries and cultures, different religions and abilities. I feel privileged to live in the 21st century where we can all live alongside each other with fewer prejudices than ever before.

The next day, Thursday, had terrible weather and of course, the sensible thing to do would be to find a museum and spend the entire day trying to decipher the labels on each exhibit and wandering around in air conditioned bliss. So what did I do? Went for a 5 hour walk along the Isar, up to the ringroad and back through the English Garden, past the Kleinhesseloher See and the Chinese Tower - a pagoda tucked in a fairy-light strewn clearing which serves… you guessed it… as a beer hall. I’d been set up for the day by free coffee in the hostel, followed by possibly the worlds most literal interpretation of “vegetarian” pizza. I think every vegetable of note was represented, up to and including boiled potatoes. It was surprisingly good, as everything had been doused in oil and flavoured liberally with garlic, and on the way back through the throngs of Christians rocking out to gospel bands, Jesus-inspired death metal (afterlife metal?) and numerous enthusiastic buskers, I managed to find a Turkish kiosk open who’d serve me Pide, a kind of eye-shaped variant on pizza, which I had with spinach, nutmeg & feta. I had wondered why every hostel was fully booked on Thursday night, but the fact it was Ascension Day had completely passed me by until thousands and thousands of orange-clad Catholics descended on Munich with the intent to have a full-on street party and no mistake. Get down with your Holy selves!

So that brings me to today, Friday. I caught a tram (Oh, they’re SO cool, I wish they’d stick some in London. Sure, the building works would be even worse than Thames Water, but it’s like a bus… crossed with a train…. public transport mash up!) to the Hauptbahnhof, and am now sitting on the RailJet to Vienna. The hills rolling past are mostly covered in clouds, meadows with cows resolutely lying down - I guess some folk law holds true in Germany, too. I’m slicing up tomatoes with my Spork. We passed through Salzburg, which had a stunning view reminiscent of Durham as you come through on the rail bridge over a gorge to see a castle and elaborate churches as the valley view widens… I’ll have to come back at some point, it looks beautiful. This train goes all the way from Zurich to Budapest and is very modern and clean with lovely wide chairs and video screens detailing the journey similar to the flight path screen on aeroplanes. It also gives you the current speed of the train and a complete list of stops with times. Fantastic! I’m staying at Mela’s in Vienna and she’s off work today so will meet me from the train. I see much cake in my future, and a drink Lucy’s told me to watch out for, some kind of herbal ginger-beer-esque affair. It’ll be nice to have local knowledge after staggering around Munich as a complete rookie. I’ll have to book the onward train to Venice for Sunday as there appears to be some kind of work on the line & a bus replacement service. From Venice to Rome, and then Rome to Saronno, I’m trying to decide on a destination after that. It’s down to Monaco, Toulon, Cannes, Aix-en-Provence, somewhere around there. Anybody have any tips? I have to head up to Lyon afterwards, and then onwards to Luxembourg & Den Haag as I’ve given up on the idea of flying back to the UK from Spain. I don’t want to risk the ash cloud making me miss my flight to New York on the 3rd, and have enough days left on the Interrail pass to make it to Britain without extra cost. I’m taking a coach from Amsterdam on the 1st, back to Victoria, via the Turducken of vehicles (thanks Cath!) that is the Eurotunnel once more. So, Vive la France - comments please!

On Saturday morning I took my time waking up as I think I was still recovering from work and the early morning! Sitting in reception with the laptop and blogging was a nice easy start, and once I had stumbled out of the door to the supermarket & bought myself some bread & cheese for the day I was all set.

I decided to tackle the next walk in my guidebook, which was entitled “Bruges: B for Burgundy” after the Dukes that ruled the region at one point, after a trip to the chocolate museum.

Housed over several floors in a building that looked like a warehouse but has been used as houses and business premises over the years, the tour began with chocolate for tasting on the ticket counter! Passing through onto the first floor, Aztec sculpture and displays about the Spanish explorers conquering Latin America took us through the way chocolate became known and loved in Europe. Recipes were included for the earliest recorded methods of making hot chocolate - not a sweet, milky drink at all, but a frothy concoction mixed with corn and hot spices! I knew about this, but had never known the exact ingredients, which I may have to try at home point once I have access to a kitchen…

The next floor was about the production methods, from growing the bean, through harvesting and fermentation to transport and processing to make cocoa mass, and from that cocoa powder and butter. On to the production of what we know as chocolate - mixing, moulding, packaging. The top floor had a video taking us through that same process, and more of the history in Bruges and Belgium of the way they produce the fine chocolate they are famous for.

Back to the ground floor for an exhibiton of chocolate sculpture (including a life sized Barack Obama!) and… the demonstration and tasting session! A very talented young lady held a tri-lingual demonstration of filling a mould, pouring out the excess to form a shell, filling the shell with praline and finally closing the bonbon with another layer. She explained that it takes an hour and a quarter with chilling time at each stage to make a filled praline, and the final stage was whipping a batch she’d made earlier out of the fridge, onto a plate and through to the exit door for us to sample on the way out! YUM!

From there I headed to the Welcome Church of Our Lady, which houses Michaelangelo’s sculpture of the Madonna and Child, a rarity outside Italy and very nearly a rarity in Bruges, having been carried off by several occupying forces. A grand church with a wonderful rococo pulpit featuring Faith as a woman below “Veritas” (Truth) radiating light all over the world from above her head. I didn’t pay to go into the museum part behind the altar, and continued along through an antiques market on the bank of a canal to the Markt.

Those of you familiar with the film “In Bruges” will know this as the square where Ray spends a lot of time hanging out with his dodgy girlfriend and where the final chase takes place up the Belfry (my hostel’s free map & guide advised young tourists NOT TO MENTION THE FILM! as they’re wholly sick of it). Of course, I had to “do a Ken” & limp up the tower, although I refrained from telling any fat Americans that they wouldn’t fit up the spiral staircase which contains a whopping 366 stairs and 47 bells, although sadly the Carillon is being renovated and won’t play again until later in the year. As I was one of the last people to make it through the ticket office before it closed, I thought I had better go straight to the top in case I got sidetracked by a display on a lower level & was asked to leave before I’d taken in the literally breath-taking view. Along the way I saw plenty of graffiti related to THAT FILM, and by the time I’d reached the top I was glad to finally rest and peer through the grille to the square below. London was marked as 230 miles away, which isn’t terribly far at all. Thankfully, being one of the last visitors proved very useful on the way down as there was no one coming in the other direction to dodge on those narrow steps.

From the Markt I passed through some quiet streets past the City Theatre up to the Kortewinkel where a 16th Century wooden house stands. Through more deserted squares and past many statues of Flemish painters I passed a coffee house that had persistently replied to my mentions of Bruges on Twitter & I remembered it had free wifi so I popped in to have a chat with Brad even though it had already passed the closing time they displayed - I guess that’s the way they do things in Bruges, a young English law student and his friend were finishing off their beers and bought me an extra 45 minutes in which to tap away & recharge my batteries with a cup of warming tea. All very relaxed & friendly, and nice to have a chat with strangers and locals alike.

As the time was heading on, I made my way through the last of the walk to the Burg, where a large open air stage was set up for the opening night performance of the “Airbag” festival, a month of accordion music from all over the world. The first of two Russian acts playing in the shadow of the grand City Hall was “Gurzuf” - a pair of Metallers from Minsk appropriately attired in sleeveless waistcoats, stripey hats and pointy beards! Riffs that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Metallica album were looped through a Boss RC50 pedal (I gotta get me one of those) and an effects unit, bringing a completely new feel to their Balkan tunes… which quickly strayed away from all expectations and into a festival of drum samples, doomy bass-driven rock and even hip hop, rapping in French and finally an eclectic ending which swerved wildly through Celtic reels and more heavy rock, and involved the accordion player kicking his DM and skin tight jeans -clad legs around the stage while he headbanged and gurned in one of the most entertaining spectacles I’ve seen in ages!

Following them was a full on party swing band, led by someone who appeared to have taken Rasputin as his main inspiration, although Rasputin in Vegas after a few too many Pina Coladas. Again, quite something to witness.

-=-

Sunday was a quiet day for the whole town and I decided to complete my tours of the Museums and Churches at the top of my priority list, having carefully checked the opening times for visitors. First off I slipped back through the Welcome Church of Our Lady to the Gruuthuse Museum - Gruut being a mixture of herbs used for brewing beer before hops were introduced, for which the family who built the grand residence held the monopoly and taxed the local tradesmen accordingly. Again, half of the museum was under renovation while they prepared a new exhibition, so it didn’t take long to wander through the ground floors and the highlight for me was a 14th Century Clavichord which had been restored beautifully and I wanted to play… SO badly. Of course I resisted the temptation (aided by a thick sheet of plastic!) and made my way into the private chapel which the family had built linking their not-so-humble abode with the Welcome Church by means of a panoramic window which looks down on the Altar and Nave! Crafty! They had to get permission to knock a hole in the side of the existing church so they wouldn’t have to sit with the common folk down below…

Back to the scene of the previous night’s fesivities and a trip through the City Hall of which parts date back to 1297, contemporary with a lot of Norwich’s oldest buildings - Yes, I’m thinking of the Adam and Eve pub! Built on a much larger scale than our little tavern, the Gothic Hall was renovated in the late 1800s and redecorated with the splendid murals which include life sized portraits of notable Brugean and Flemish figures. Gold vaulted ceilings and an exhibiton detailing the growth of the city and it’s administration were well worth a look.

Beside the City Hall and directly above another church, is the Basilica of the Holy Blood. This is a relic on which many believe there remain traces of Jesus’ blood. Although entry to the Basilica is free, the relic is kept under the watchful eye of a Nun armed with blessing cards and a handkerchief, which she uses to wipe off the glass case when visitors have come along and touched or kissed it. I felt a little strange watching people lost deep in thoughts of their faith, resting their hands on the remains of their saviour and Lord, and making offerings in the money slots to the right of the relic. I didn’t feel comfortable joining the queue to get a closer look, so I skipped it and loitered around the aisle, taking in yet another nifty pulpit, this one in the shape of a globe with the lid taken off to make space for speaking.

From there I wandered through the courtyard gardens of the Groeninge Museum, back to the Welcome Church and through the back to the Beguinage, dodging a marathon and buying some chocolates along the way. Founded in 1245, the peaceful courtyard is now occupied by Nuns of the Order of Saint Benedict, and is reached from the street by crossing a pretty bridge from which I had a fine view of Bruges’ famous Swans resting en masse close to the Minnewater park’s “Lake of Love”. I sat & ate my chocolates watching them swim back and forth.

Past the last brewery still operating in Bruges - De Halve Maan, which brews a beer known as “Bruges Fool” after an encounter with the Duke Maximilian of Austria. The welcome procession for the duke’s visit incuded many brightly coloured fools and jesters, and when the townspeople later asked the Duke to stump up for a new Madhouse to be built, he reportedly replied, “The only people I have seen here are fools. Bruges is one big madhouse! Close the gates!”. I’m glad to have temporarily upped the number of detainees for a few days.

I nipped through the site of the Old St John’s Hospital on my way to the cinema where I saw the new Roman Polanski film “The Ghost Writer” - all in all, a bit rubbish. The story plods along without you managing to build up much enthusiasm either way about the fate of poor Scots-ney writer Ewan MacGregor (poor lad still can’t do accents - thoroughly unconvincing Londoner) who gets hauled around freezing rain-whipped islands, mystified by his dead predecessor’s hidden clues and seduced by ex-British Prime Minister Pierce Brosnan’s wife, played by Olivia Williams who does a good job playing in turns broken and defiantly brittle Ruth, who, it turns out - Oh, never mind. You won’t care by the end of it.

I managed to stay up a lot later than I had hoped and had just enough time for breakfast before heading to the train where I now sit writing, passing through Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany to tonight’s final destination of Koblenz. It’s with regret that I pass through the tiny country of Luxembourg, as it fascinates me. It always seems something of an underdog in the tourism stakes - who goes to Luxembourg on holiday? Apparently there’s stunning scenery, castles and tranquil valleys to be seen, but not on this trip.

My anticipation is building as to exactly what the cheapest room in this hotel will be like, whether I’ll be able to communicate in my scant 10-year-old German and whether there’s anywhere in Koblenz that’ll have free wifi. Time will tell, I suppose, and if you see this blog, you’ll know I’ve suceeded in finding somewhere to connect!

Yesterday morning I woke at the unholy hour of 5.30, which I felt less guilty about as Judit was getting up then anyway to collect people from Luton airport! She dropped me at Ealing Broadway & I blearily made my way round to Victoria.

The Eurotunnel confused an Australian (”Do I need another ticket for the train?”) and was a neat experience - the coach rolled into a big silver container carriage & was closed in with cars, vans, and so on. You’re free to walk between the carriages to find the toilet, but it’s a BAD idea to walk between the cars as people are advised to keep handbrakes on and gears engaged, but they recommend you don’t risk getting squished on a bump. It’s a very short crossing under the channel, and then you just roll off at the other end and hit the motorway! I was considering whether it would ever be possible to allow traffic through the tunnel independently, but really it would be a terrible idea as people are bound to crash and help couldn’t find them 10 miles away from the shore.

It was a quick trip through the flat lands around Flanders, with the clouds hanging low and menacing. Listened to Album Leaf some more - all their songs really do sound the same, but they’re lovely anyway, so who cares?

My initial impression of Bruges was as good as Hitman Ray’s - dual carriageway, concrete bus station. Blergh. I managed to book my train to Koblenz, as it’s Norwich’s twin city, found a sandwich and mooched around a bit. Found a bus that took me over to the hostel, a basic set up, clean in the rooms but something of a building site vibe out in the corridors. Plaster dust on the stairs, etc. Hopefully they’ll build an extra toilet when they finish - I’m in a 12 person dorm, split into three smaller rooms in an L shape, which is nice - I’m in the one furthest from the door so it may as well be a 4 person room. There is one toilet on the main corridor to service ALL of the dorms, and it was being cleaned this morning when I wanted to use it. OH JOY! Complaining aside, it’s a bog standard backpackers, full of Australians on a bus trip. I met a nice health care worker who’s been in Grimsby & who has traveled through Africa so we swapped tales & tips.

Once I was turned around & unpacked, I did more adminny stuff, booking a hostel in Koblenz…. oh wait. Koblenz has ONE youth hostel & it’s closed until the end of the year…. oops! Well, frankly, after spending the last 24 hours listening to the club next door thumping away til 2am & the screeching Aussies everywhere, I’ll be so grateful for a private room that I’ll gladly pay the howevermanyEuros for a dose of German Hospitality. I found a small hotel which seems to be half decent so I’m all set, and have booked a backpackers for Munich the next day, which is shockingly expensive and city wide low on availability for Thursday - some kind of event? Hmm. Anyway, that’s all set, now all I need are reservations for the trains between Koblenz, Munich & Vienna on Friday, which I can handle once I reach a Deutsche Bahn station and can have confidence that everything will run smoothly! Oh, DB how I do love you.

-=-

Yesterday evening I managed to get myself motivated (after a nap!) to go for a walk around Bruges. I have a small guide book which had a 4km “Strolling Through Silent Bruges” route which took me through some of the less touristy, quieter areas and along the canal. As it was heading towards dusk, I decided pretty lights over the water would be a good one to tackle, and headed off. I passed Saint Walburgha’s church which was open and playing choral music, some of which was familiar to me from my stints at St Pauls in Covent Garden! It had a beautiful communion rail carved in marble, but was on the whole a plain, clean lines & white walls kind of church with a more over-the-top high altar. Baroque, apparently. I’m mostly clueless about architecture unless it’s Neo Palladian (with a dash of 10th Century Norman… and bits of Rococo thrown in for camp) so don’t be fooled if I try and sound knowledgable about anything I’ve seen here! Heh.

From there I walked through what was once the artist’s quarter, Memling was supposed to have lived somewhere around there and Jan van Eyck had a studio on the street I walked down, though I assume it’s gone now as there’s no indication of where it was.

St Giles’ Church used to be in a rural location that was swallowed into Bruges and the tiny, tiny cottages for workmen were very cute and mostly residential. From there I hit the canal and walked around to the ramparts which are parallel to the ring road, sadly. A couple of giant tankers have been turned into homes and I am still very jealous of people who get to live on houseboats, but BOY, these were houseboats with a difference! The scale of them was immense, and one family had written their names on the outside - a couple with 4 children. I expect they STILL had plenty of space. I passed four windmills, two of which are open as museums if you get there earlier in the day. Through a few more quiet streets passing the folklore museum and lace centre, to Bruges’ oldest pub - a tavern since 1515. I ducked my head in and it was rather reminiscent of Take Five in Norwich, hehehehe.

Sleeping was easy enough with an aching bottom (thanks, MBT trainers - I’m sure it’s good for me!) despite the sudden arrival of about 6 loud french girls at midnight. So far this morning I’ve managed to persuade a laid back barman to make me coffee despite being late for breakfast (my iPhone reset the time to London when I plugged it in and I didn’t notice…) and sat here plotting and finishing off the last of my future planning, bookings and so on. This evening, the Airbag festival opens with a free concert in the Burg, so I’m heading there at 8pm - it’s a festival of accordion music! I’m so excited! I might go to the Vegetarian restaurant I saw yesterday for a solid lunch before heading up the classic Belfry/Chocolate museum tourist traps that have to be done.

My facebook account has an album full of photos from Bruges so far… HERE

I’m in my now ex-employer’s house, waiting for some workmen to come - I thought they’d be here before 11, but it’s going to be noon! Then I have a few errands to run, a doctor’s appointment at 5pm, and I have to fit in a trip to Askew Road to vote.

>>>* VOTE *<<<

Yes, vote. Even though I fear the results I have resigned myself to, I know how important it is to make my voice heard, even if I assume it won't influence the outcome. Every vote influences the outcome in a tiny way, I suppose, and that counts. I'll be in Belgium by the time the results come through... and then won't be back in the country for any stretch of time before January. I wonder what I'll come back to. I'm getting to the point where I just want to throw my hands up and wait for the Civil War, but hey. Every little helps, y'all.

Everything was sad & sweet yesterday, saying goodbye to R and her family at the airport. She really didn't make it easy - lunchtime was filled with "You're my BEST FRIEND..." and lots of cuddles, and... that's the worst part of the job. Leaving. Thankfully she's still a little young to really grasp that when she comes back from holiday, I won't be there every day. Hopefully it will slip away easily because of the break. She's been a joy to look after & I'm sad that I won't see her little brother grow.

But... onwards. Tomorrow morning I board a coach that'll take me to Belgium, and from there I think I will head to Munich. My pathetic German language skills will get an airing. My brain seems to switch into German when I hear foreign languages being spoken, as in the Netherlands earlier this year... but with a vocabulary of roughly three verbs and no remaining grasp of tenses, articles and so on, it should be FUN FUN FUN for everyone involved. Hopefully I will fare better in Vienna with the lovely Mela...

The last few days have been quite manic, landing at 8.30pm on Monday and heading to Judit's house in Hanwell. I managed to get an average 5 hour night (I don't sleep much at the best of times) having beaten jetlag by getting only 2.5 hours sleep the night before I left. If you're so tired you don't notice which time zone you're in, it makes it easier to fall asleep when you know you should! Between thunderstorms on departure and the scariest "hit the ground, bounce, tilt plane to 45 degrees and skid across runway sideways" landing I've ever had, I'm just grateful to be in one piece, albeit on the wrong side of the Atlantic.

Tuesday night I went to see the brilliant North Atlantic Oscillation who I discovered on a random gig night with Stephen last month (decide to go out that evening, scan listings, pick random band at venue you like). They’re like a little bit like Secret Machines, heavy Radiohead influences by the sound of it, I’m also informed they have a song which sounds like a Sigur Ros take-off, so… yeah. I mightily enjoyed seeing them on “Power Cut Night” which was also their album launch at The Lexington. They played an all day festival in Herne Hill the weekend before I left, so I tripped down to South London & caught another short set there as they were heading back up to Edinburgh that night. I collared the singer, Sam, who delivered a CD to my table and witnessed the last drunken-Clara escapade for some time (did I mention I’m now teetotal?). It must have been memorable as I ran into him on the way to the loo in Hoxton and he said, “Claire! What are you doing back here?” (jibber) and we had a brief chat before they played yet another short, short set. Those boys need to book the next morning off work when they play London, I tell you. I want more NAO for my money! Watch out for them at festivals over the summer.

There’s been plenty of good music in the past couple of weeks, including a trip to Cake Shop NYC on 25th April, a charming little venue celebrating it’s 5th Anniversary this month. We saw Girls in Trouble, who played as a quartet of Upright Bass, Accordion, Guitar/Glockenspiel and loop-pedal driven Violin singing songs about Women in Bible Stories (caps intentional). Alicia has a LOVELY voice which comes across so beautifully live, I was really rather taken with them and @Cathhh bought the album. They’d been booked as support by the power of Twitter by @cars_and_trains (www.carsandtrains.net) aka Tom from Portland OR, who started following me a while ago on what I assume was a publicity trawl, and I followed him RIGHT BACK, only to discover him having conversations with the lovely Jon (www.boyeatsdrummachine.com) which is either a pleasant coincidence, or further proof that the world does, indeed, revolve around me and my friends.

You heard me, underlings.

The following weekend on 1st May I caught Album Leaf at the Bowery Ballroom, which was both good and sad at the same time, slightly baffling as I think I prefer them on record by miles. The majority of the crowd left about 2/3 of the way through the set and poor, pretty Jimmy LaVelle was left playing “Always For You” to the last few hangers on, most of whom are probably like me and can only remember the name of that one track. It’s catchy. Hmm. We bailed before the second encore and caught the subway back to Astoria, where we’d ditched the car after lunch with Joshie.

….and that brings me back to last Monday’s flight and the fastest three day week I’ve ever had, which I should now continue by heading to the Launderette and the Polling Station and the Doctors and and and……….. *headdesk*

Judit drove me to the airport last thing on Thursday night as I’d decided that it might be safer to get to Heathrow as early as possible. 12.30am seemed reasonable when I thought of it, but the check in desk for American Airlines didn’t open til 5am and for a while, I wondered whether there was anywhere indoors to wait, as the departure section of the Terminal wasn’t open.

Earlier in the day we had jumped in her car & delivered the broken Tambourine that I found outside the gospel church to Amanda Palmer. I had tickets for Evelyn Evelyn at Koko (though Evelyn wasn’t there, she got stranded by the ash cloud) and Amanda had tweeted for a tambourine and kazoo earlier in the day. After getting everything packed, I remembered that Tiina and I were going to bake that night - so although I was ready to go to the concert, I ran inside the venue, spotted a man with a headset who turned out to be the manager, showed him the iPhone tweets and he kindly took the tambourine off somewhere. I don’t know if it reached Amanda, but I’m glad I got it there. Judit was an absolute star, putting up with my craziness, but it felt important for me to give something broken a new lease of life. It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with a Godforsaken & ruined tambourine, it can still bring happiness.

Once I was at Heathrow, I found somewhere in arrivals to sit down & wait. And Wait. And Wait. At one point I fell asleep on the phone to Brad & woke up 30 minutes later to find he was still connected - all together now, aaaaahhh.

Anyway, I checked in fine, the computer skipped the part where I pay an extra charge for my extra bag, OR the overweight fee (24kg and 26kg, both over the 23kg limit). I was seated right at the back of the plane and alternated watching DVDs of Mad Men with catching 45 minute naps. No vegetarian meal for me - so I went hungry. Thankfully I had already eaten a flapjack so wasn’t starving - but really, what’s the point of having that field in the booking system if it doesn’t get processed? I was told that the pancakes were “probably” vegetarian (they weren’t the last time I flew American, had a bit of smoked ham under them) but then they gave away all the pancakes before they reached me anyway. Fail. I am to call customer services before I leave and make sure it’s logged in the system. I might ask for Vegan on the return flight just to be EXTRA awkward now. Whatcha gonna serve me that has no cheese? HMM?

Since I’ve been here, I’ve been cleaning Brad’s disgusting kitchen (we’re talking WITHNAILIAN STANDARDS here) and mostly sleeping - although the theory was that an 8am flight would make it easy for me to skip jetlag as I’d just be staying up late once I landed, getting no sleep in the 24 hours preceding it really wiped me out! I think in total, I slept for 17 hours and lost all of Friday - oh well!

On Saturday we went to the “National Wholesale Liquidators” which is across the street from Brad’s place. It sells everything - computers, homewares, clothing, food - sort of like a giant Tesco but with bankrupt stock only. I got a hairdryer, straighteners, and a million storage containers to stop the cockroaches getting into things like dried pasta (see?). Also happy to discover that the same Polish gherkins as you find in Shepherds Bush get imported here, they have a huge section of the same dried pulses you get in Indian shops in London, so I’ve stocked up on red lentils, millet, and some spices. Today we’re going out REAL grocery shopping and I’m going to cook the world’s largest vegetarian lasagna. I might also make my old bosses’ Chickpea and Leek soup, which is delicious and which I messed up in January last time I tried to cook it. You just need to let the leeks & garlic cook REALLY slowly, so there’s a job that’ll kill time when Brad’s at school tomorrow.

Tonight we’re seeing a gig by a guy from Portland called cars and trains who is playing at the Cake Shop, which I think will be my new favourite venue! Jason’s already found a Sunday night open mic and I’ll chat to Cath about it - 2 girls, a ukulele and a glockenspiel…?

I’m going to be 30 tomorrow.
Weird.