England!!!

Internet in Africa continues to prove almost impossible to find, and while I am posting this entry today, it was actually written over a month ago! I hope to catch up soon!!!

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This evening I write from Etosha National Park, Namibia, a game-viewers paradise, and an absolutely spectacular home to my tent for two nights. Yesterday I ventured out on my first African game-drive, and was not disappointed! Ten lions, five rhino’s, dozens of zebra, giraffe, orix, kudu, springbok, hyenas and an elephant all joined forces to make my first day on safari one which I am sure not to forget. The Etosha campsite surrounds a stunning waterhole, and I apologise in advance for the standard of this entry – the 16 giraffe just metres in front of me, and the spectacular African sunset are sure to drag my concentration away from my computer screen!

I am now well and truly behind with my blog entries, and with only very limited power in campsites, and internet proving harder to find than the elusive leopard, catching up seems an impossible feat – of which I am determined to eventually achieve! Speaking of impossible feats, I have decided to keep my next couple of entries short and succinct… however I think we all know that is unlikely to happen!!!

Leaving Denmark (with Eliza still in tow), I was off to London, in search of friends Clarissa and Chris. I have known Clarissa (who has been living in London with boyfriend Chris for two years now) for many years – first as a co-invitee in the days of bath-tub parties – and since as the big sister of my friend Anita. Clarissa and Chris live in a great apartment in Fulham, where Eliza and I were quick to settle in, and before long the entire apartment appeared to have become ours, as our luggage took over the spotless living room, our laundry took over the kitchen, and I made my self at home stealing WiFi from a neighbour.

Our trip to London conveniently coincided with a small event some of you may have heard of – the Olympic Games. In an attempt to get ourselves well and truly swallowed by Olympic fever, Eliza and I spent our first morning heading out in search of the Olympic Village. The Village is located in Stratford, a suburb in eastern London, and has transformed an industrial area into a cultural and sports hub – even if it does now have a hideous tower in the middle.

We arrived at the village with great plans to bump into someone who unfortunately couldn’t make the event they had gold class, front row tickets to, at which point we would kindly offer to take the tickets off said unfortunate person, at no cost to them… that’s just how nice we are! Unfortunately, as hard as we both tried, neither Eliza or I came across this person we were waiting for, and with no tickets to any events (don’t even get me started on the ticketing system!), we were forced to accept the inevitable, and sit back and enjoy a coffee while we overlooked the line of excited fans heading inside.

With our plans dashed, we decided instead to set out to explore London – a city we have both visited on previous trips abroad, however a city which we had no doubt left plenty more to see. Our morning was spent admiring the impressive St Pauls Cathedral, visiting Ye Old Cheshire Cheese, Trafalgar Square and Buckingham Palace, before we headed to the Thames to visit the Tate Modern Gallery, Shakespeare’s Globe, the Borough Markets, London Tower and Tower Bridge. The foreshore of the river was absolutely bustling, with activities set up for the school holidays, pop-up cafés and bars, art installations, and an influx of foreign visitors of Olympic proportions.

With a day of city exploration out of the way, and still no luck on the Olympic ticket front, it was time to launch the most challenging part of my travels to date – ‘Eliza’s Cultural Intervention’. Planned as a 4-step program, Eliza’s Cultural Intervention was certainly an ambitious task, but one in which I was determined to succeed. Utilising the many various venues and performances of London’s West End, the gargantuan intervention was set to convert a young Adelaide girl from thinking decent ‘culture’ referred to the mould growing on Bernie Vince’s 2009 season cleats, into a refined young lady with an understanding and appreciation of quality theatre and musical viewing. Of course, with my one visit to The Phantom of the Opera when I was about ten, I was the perfect choice to take on the role of intervention-er.

The intervention began on our first night in London, with the sensational Jersey Boys, the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and was followed the next night with a brilliant open-air performance of The Taming of the Shrew at Shakespeare’s Globe. The quality viewing continued on night three with Wicked, before taking a turn for the boring the final night with Les Miserables – no idea what Josh raves about with that one!

Our last day in London was spent with Clarissa and Chris, out to lunch with a couple of their friends, before heading to the famous Abbey Road pedestrian crossing to risk life and limb for our own Beatles-style album photo, before heading into the city centre to get in touch with our inner child at the ever-exciting Hamley’s Toy Store.

Heading south out of London, we met my friend Fiona for breakfast in Clapham, before making our way to meet another friend, Aaron, in Brighton. Aaron has been living in the UK for six months, playing cricket for a club in Eastbourne, while working part-time during the week in Brighton. After checking into our soon-to-be-infamous hostel on the esplanade, we headed out for the afternoon to explore Brighton, the carnival-like Brighton Pier, and the questionable ‘beach’ – a popular recreation area, with grains of ‘sand’ (aka pebbles) the size of my left love-handle.

Brighton is a city on the south coast of England, with a population of around half a million, and is well known for its ‘beach’, and as a day trip by train from London. The town centre is a maze of small laneways and markets selling everything from antiques to sex toys (as we accidentally found out on entering what I thought was a clock shop!), and is home to countless bars, cafes and restaurants.

Returning to the hostel for the afternoon, we narrowly missed good friends Stan and Stacey (not to fear – there would be plenty of opportunity for them to involve themselves in my travels at a later date), before spending the night drowning ourselves in copious amounts of cider, and the seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time ‘Meal Deals’ at a local bar – 2 Cocktails, 2 Jagerbombs, and 2 Shots for £10… needless to say, we all ended up ‘cakeholed’!!!

With luggage noticeably lighter than on our arrival in Brighton, it was time to move on, and Eliza and I caught the bus to Eastbourne, to find out all about Aaron’s six months in the UK.

Eastbourne is the Victor Harbor of Southern England (minus the few young people Victor seems to have trapped), with an average age of residents three times that of the Australian Olympic Medal Tally, and quiet, neat and well-maintained homes and gardens. The town lies on the south coast of England, only a short drive from the Beachy Head district, The Seven Sisters, and the region’s famous white chalk cliffs. While Aaron was a great host, and took us on a day trip to the cliffs of Beachy Head, lunch in the quaint town of East Dean, and then a cup of tea and a scone at a Mr.Bean-like pebble beach, he was unfortunately outdone by one very unexpected tourist drawcard – the Eastbourne Public Bus!

After a less than impressive Ghost Train experience in Brighton, Eliza and I found the local public bus service much more entertaining (and slightly concerning) than anything Aaron had planned, and while I spent the majority of our bus journey teetering on the edge of my seat, ready to rescue fellow passengers, it was certainly an exciting ride. If I had thought the average age of Eastbourners was high, I certainly hadn’t anticipated the pure comedic joy of catching a crowded bus full of them! You know you are in for an interesting ride when walking frames out-number priority seats 4 to 1, the most common hairstyle is the blue-rinse set, and the back seat becomes the territory of recent retirees and those with only moderate mobility issues – as they are the only ones who can make the lofty ascent to the top of the two steps!!!

Leaving Eastbourne behind, Eliza and I were yet again on the move, and with my birthday just around the corner, it was time to treat myself – with a week in Iceland!