New York has always been on the top of my travel wish list. It promises so much, a quirky, crazy and formidable city. Let me tell you, it didn't disappoint!
From the moment we landed at JFK I felt like was walking onto a movie set and I was the star of the show! All the yellow cabs, wailing sirens, bright lights and bustling streets were exactly how I imagined, right down to the steam rising from the grates on the road.
It's incredible restaurants, fantastic shopping, awe-inspiring art galleries and architecture. As a lover of art-deco, I was in my element. I had come home. Every street corner held another delight and steeped in its own individuality.
The class divide has never been more apparent then in NY, walking down Fifth Avenue with its Gucci and Chanel, to then see the poverty of the Upper East Side was like going from night to day. There was no middle ground, not in its consumerism nor its very being.
I loved Brooklyn, it was the rough diamond of NY, along with Harlem (the birthplace of jazz, blues and hip-hop). It's funky bars and ridiculous political debates with the locals.
NY is my favourite city, it offers me the best of everything I love about life. Somewhere I could happily settle and be the writer, boho chick I've always wanted to be.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Tunisia
As I do with all my trips abroad, I lose myself in the trusted Lonely Planet. I want to learn all about country; it's culture, history and politics. Hungry to learn exactly what that country has to offer and experience everything.
Tunisia tantalised me, despite the dubious cover depicting a man kissing a camel. Such rich heritage with Carthage, being conquered by the Roman, Greeks, Phoenicians and French. Rich is Islamic, Arabic and French.
The Tunisia I experienced wasn't the Tunisia I expected. Mainly due to being trapped by an all-inclusive resort on the coast of Tunis. Camels were everywhere; every souvenir feature this animal. You could take one step without being greeted by a camel in one shape or another.
The Lonely Planet warned of 'forward' men and this was certainly the case. They loved the English girls, although I was mistaken for Brazilian, oddly! Being approached and asked if you have a 'friend' and 'I want to spend night with you' was laughed off. The hotel treated us to crazy shows of men in drag miming to Celine Dion and re-enacting Titanic or dancing with the bottoms of the trousers cut out...curious.
The food was mainly generic meat and fish, served with generic potato and salad. I was the only one who sampled the local dishes, which were a wonderful hybrid of Mediterranean and Arabic cooking, although with a little punch!
We successfully polished off our duty free wine, Bisson vodka and Captain Morgan's to take the edge off the constant harassment and cheesy music. Also made dancing with the Germans who were making shapes that can only be likened to an epileptic fit!
The beach was beautiful, although choppy - although I was more interested in causing mischief and losing myself in Russian literature (perhaps not the best holiday read) - this also contributed to being called a Communist by my friends, a tag that I thought I had avoided by hiding my copy of The Communist Manifesto when I was younger and never speaking of it again.
Despite normally immersing myself in a country and trying to live it, I really enjoyed my holiday - lots of random fun with a bit Tunisian sense of humour. I did feel a bit cheated that I didn't experience the best of the country, but I'm sure I'll go back to visit as traveller and not a tourist.
Tunisia tantalised me, despite the dubious cover depicting a man kissing a camel. Such rich heritage with Carthage, being conquered by the Roman, Greeks, Phoenicians and French. Rich is Islamic, Arabic and French.
The Tunisia I experienced wasn't the Tunisia I expected. Mainly due to being trapped by an all-inclusive resort on the coast of Tunis. Camels were everywhere; every souvenir feature this animal. You could take one step without being greeted by a camel in one shape or another.
The Lonely Planet warned of 'forward' men and this was certainly the case. They loved the English girls, although I was mistaken for Brazilian, oddly! Being approached and asked if you have a 'friend' and 'I want to spend night with you' was laughed off. The hotel treated us to crazy shows of men in drag miming to Celine Dion and re-enacting Titanic or dancing with the bottoms of the trousers cut out...curious.
The food was mainly generic meat and fish, served with generic potato and salad. I was the only one who sampled the local dishes, which were a wonderful hybrid of Mediterranean and Arabic cooking, although with a little punch!
We successfully polished off our duty free wine, Bisson vodka and Captain Morgan's to take the edge off the constant harassment and cheesy music. Also made dancing with the Germans who were making shapes that can only be likened to an epileptic fit!
The beach was beautiful, although choppy - although I was more interested in causing mischief and losing myself in Russian literature (perhaps not the best holiday read) - this also contributed to being called a Communist by my friends, a tag that I thought I had avoided by hiding my copy of The Communist Manifesto when I was younger and never speaking of it again.
Despite normally immersing myself in a country and trying to live it, I really enjoyed my holiday - lots of random fun with a bit Tunisian sense of humour. I did feel a bit cheated that I didn't experience the best of the country, but I'm sure I'll go back to visit as traveller and not a tourist.
Toulouse
I've always been a lover of France. I spent a childhood travelling around the country of fine wine, cuisine and exquistisite language. The language, literature, movies and history of this country is second to none.
Toulouse is a city I have previously visited, but this time I was heading two-hours south to the boarder with the Pyrenees. We were staying a beautiful old farm house, complete with views of the French countryside and mountain range. The house was completely secluded, we'd be lucky to see one tractor a day. The house was located near a fois gras farm, one that I wanted to venture to but didn't manage to leave the compound!
The air was fresh and wine was flowing, can't argue with 10 litres of red wine. We watched the the sun rise on more then one occasion. Watching the night slowly turn to day over the house.
We spent most of the days sampling fine local cheeses, pates, fresh breads and meats from the region. It really is a life that I would love to live. Perhaps in Montpelier though.
The highlight of the holiday was writing the most superb rock opera, that involved elephants made out of midgets, being African dancers and riding a huge inflatable Michael Jackson. This was closely followed by freaking ourselves out by the remoteness of the house and the lights flickering, before moving from room to room carry a box of wine like a man down.
This decended into chaos as we embarked on crossing the fields as morning broke to investigate a dubious light coming from the trees. Armed with nothing but one pair of flip-flops between the two of us and a glass of red wine each. This was not the fairies that we imagined, but light from the moon bouncing off a hidden lake!
Toulouse is a city I have previously visited, but this time I was heading two-hours south to the boarder with the Pyrenees. We were staying a beautiful old farm house, complete with views of the French countryside and mountain range. The house was completely secluded, we'd be lucky to see one tractor a day. The house was located near a fois gras farm, one that I wanted to venture to but didn't manage to leave the compound!
The air was fresh and wine was flowing, can't argue with 10 litres of red wine. We watched the the sun rise on more then one occasion. Watching the night slowly turn to day over the house.
We spent most of the days sampling fine local cheeses, pates, fresh breads and meats from the region. It really is a life that I would love to live. Perhaps in Montpelier though.
The highlight of the holiday was writing the most superb rock opera, that involved elephants made out of midgets, being African dancers and riding a huge inflatable Michael Jackson. This was closely followed by freaking ourselves out by the remoteness of the house and the lights flickering, before moving from room to room carry a box of wine like a man down.
This decended into chaos as we embarked on crossing the fields as morning broke to investigate a dubious light coming from the trees. Armed with nothing but one pair of flip-flops between the two of us and a glass of red wine each. This was not the fairies that we imagined, but light from the moon bouncing off a hidden lake!
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