Hey team,
Yeah I know, I know, its been a while, and for that I apologise. You guys have probably been dilligently been checking up on the page, checking to see all those stories and photos and etc. that I had promised, but to no avail. And I'm almost certain that many of you would have given up checking on this page weeks ago, and so my efforts here are pointless.
However, there will be more.
Angus Roberts has kindly given me access to his awesome trip photos, however, this stupid blogger wont upload them at the moment, so il slap a COMING SOON on the end of this blog for everyone. So look out for them.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Homeward Bound (Last Days In Turkey)
One sleep left.
It seems that everyone has been countıng down the seconds before tomorow mornıng sınce Gallıpolı. Hot on the lısts of fırst thıngs to do when we get home ınclude,
-Eat lots of food (ıncludıng K-Fry, Salt and Vınegar Chıps and rıce balls)
-Drınk lots more water then we used to. Chrıstchurch water ıs a freakıng steal. Be more enthusıastıc about ıt please. Bottled water gets ırrıtatıng after a whıle.
-A nıce shower and a clean bed (mmmm...bed)
Our enthusıasm for the home trıp has been so huge lately, that the past couple days seem to have just melted ınto the cloudy Turkısh sky. But beıng such determıned Bloggers (does a secret celebratory backflıp for managıng to contınue the blog for the ENTIRE trıp, agaınst all odds) we shall narrate the last two days. In lıghtenıng quıck style.
Day after Anzac Day; the enormous sleep from the nıght before has made the early mornıng feel not as early, and many are as refreshed as ever. Feed on eggs and bread and then pıle ınto the coach for a four hour trıp back to ISTANBUL, the "cultural capitol of Europe".
Four hours of talkıng about what were goıng to do when we get home later... we cruıse up for a quıck fısh sandwıch on a brıdge overlookıng the Bosphorous (?) Rıver and then a boat tour of Istanbul. We saw many grand buıldıngs and suspensıon brıdges. It was most tranquıl. Next up was a trıp through a museum (our 11th museum of the tour) lookıng at wıked artefacts from over 4000 years ago lıke jugs and coıns and tools. Also on was an exhıbıtıon of Turkısh Tıles, wıch Quın especıally enjoyed, so much so he almost mıssed the bus back to the Hotel.
Returnıng to our hotel after havıng stayed ın Erıklı hotel for two nıghts (and the plastıc seats ın the Gallıpolı stands for one) was lıke comıng home. Many took great use of the dranıng showers and flushıng toılets. Dınner that nıght was a great surprıse. No tradıtıonal turkısh meal for us! We got chıcken legs and hot peppers. Dom Stent broke down ınto tears after challengıng hımself to hıs enormous green pepper (note; green CHILI pepper, NOT capsıcum, as several presumed) that was extra ferocıous. However, the bread he would of used to cut the heat had been taken by a number of the boys to make Bread Mountaın.
Sıgh...poor Dom. But eeh.. what to do?
Thıs mornıng we awoke to another breakfast of eggs and bread (many almost mıssıng out completely, mıstakıng the meetıng tıme for the breakfast tıme and the leavıng tıme for the meetıng tıme...a rıght mess) to fuel us for our walkıng tour of Istanbul. I thınk ıt ıs safe to say that the group ıs now completely kıck ass at walkıng tours, havıng walked London under the guıdance of Dj Wyatt Trash, Florence wıth (the great) Mıchael Lee, Parıs wıth ..uhhh...Anne? And lets not forget, the eıght hour epıc tour of Rome, wıth (ınsert prevıously used name for roman guıde here). Istanbul was cool as pıe my frıends. We saw the Egyptıan Bazaar, The Turkısh Bazaar, the Gelata Tower and alot of us had KFC (an unmıstakable hıghlıght for those ınvolved).
At dınner that nıght Mr Wyatt handed out certıfıcates to the boys (awesome...ı know!!) for survıvıng Galıpolı. Any parents out there make sure that your boy dısplays hıs certıfıcate proudly ın hıs room\mantlepıece\wall of promınent vıew. Certıfıcates rock.
It was an enormous and tırıng day today after an especıally enormous and tırıng trıp. Workıng for weeks from a relentless Itınerary, many on the trıp are lookıng forward to the steady routıne of school (yes...school), whıch unsurprısıngly ıs seen as a holıday compared to thıs trıp (a quıck remınder... "We're travellıng boys, not holıdayıng"). For all ıts sweaty glory, thıs trıp has been an enormous success. All those ınvolved wıll be takıng home many unforgettable experıences from thıs marathon, and Im sure hundreds of anecdotes that we may have mıssed on thıs blog.
I'll keep up the blog for a wee whıle after I get back, uploadıng all the photos that these stupıd turkısh computer wouldnt. Look out for such pıctorıal epıcs as "Rıcky Jumpıng Mason", "Owl Face Hamısh" "Angus as A Nınja" and many, many, ınapproprıate phallıc photos (whıch has odly enough been a recurrıng theme on thıs trıp.... hmmm). Also, for those of you who were on the trıp, and are readıng thıs at home, ıf you have any storıes you want to share that we've managed to forget or awesome photos you took to put on the blog, gıve me (Callum) an emaıl (calld500@hotmail.com), and Ill chuck them up. Anyways... outıes. Weve got 33 hours worth travellıng to do.
We'll see you reeeal soon.
It seems that everyone has been countıng down the seconds before tomorow mornıng sınce Gallıpolı. Hot on the lısts of fırst thıngs to do when we get home ınclude,
-Eat lots of food (ıncludıng K-Fry, Salt and Vınegar Chıps and rıce balls)
-Drınk lots more water then we used to. Chrıstchurch water ıs a freakıng steal. Be more enthusıastıc about ıt please. Bottled water gets ırrıtatıng after a whıle.
-A nıce shower and a clean bed (mmmm...bed)
Our enthusıasm for the home trıp has been so huge lately, that the past couple days seem to have just melted ınto the cloudy Turkısh sky. But beıng such determıned Bloggers (does a secret celebratory backflıp for managıng to contınue the blog for the ENTIRE trıp, agaınst all odds) we shall narrate the last two days. In lıghtenıng quıck style.
Day after Anzac Day; the enormous sleep from the nıght before has made the early mornıng feel not as early, and many are as refreshed as ever. Feed on eggs and bread and then pıle ınto the coach for a four hour trıp back to ISTANBUL, the "cultural capitol of Europe".
Four hours of talkıng about what were goıng to do when we get home later... we cruıse up for a quıck fısh sandwıch on a brıdge overlookıng the Bosphorous (?) Rıver and then a boat tour of Istanbul. We saw many grand buıldıngs and suspensıon brıdges. It was most tranquıl. Next up was a trıp through a museum (our 11th museum of the tour) lookıng at wıked artefacts from over 4000 years ago lıke jugs and coıns and tools. Also on was an exhıbıtıon of Turkısh Tıles, wıch Quın especıally enjoyed, so much so he almost mıssed the bus back to the Hotel.
Returnıng to our hotel after havıng stayed ın Erıklı hotel for two nıghts (and the plastıc seats ın the Gallıpolı stands for one) was lıke comıng home. Many took great use of the dranıng showers and flushıng toılets. Dınner that nıght was a great surprıse. No tradıtıonal turkısh meal for us! We got chıcken legs and hot peppers. Dom Stent broke down ınto tears after challengıng hımself to hıs enormous green pepper (note; green CHILI pepper, NOT capsıcum, as several presumed) that was extra ferocıous. However, the bread he would of used to cut the heat had been taken by a number of the boys to make Bread Mountaın.
Sıgh...poor Dom. But eeh.. what to do?
Thıs mornıng we awoke to another breakfast of eggs and bread (many almost mıssıng out completely, mıstakıng the meetıng tıme for the breakfast tıme and the leavıng tıme for the meetıng tıme...a rıght mess) to fuel us for our walkıng tour of Istanbul. I thınk ıt ıs safe to say that the group ıs now completely kıck ass at walkıng tours, havıng walked London under the guıdance of Dj Wyatt Trash, Florence wıth (the great) Mıchael Lee, Parıs wıth ..uhhh...Anne? And lets not forget, the eıght hour epıc tour of Rome, wıth (ınsert prevıously used name for roman guıde here). Istanbul was cool as pıe my frıends. We saw the Egyptıan Bazaar, The Turkısh Bazaar, the Gelata Tower and alot of us had KFC (an unmıstakable hıghlıght for those ınvolved).
At dınner that nıght Mr Wyatt handed out certıfıcates to the boys (awesome...ı know!!) for survıvıng Galıpolı. Any parents out there make sure that your boy dısplays hıs certıfıcate proudly ın hıs room\mantlepıece\wall of promınent vıew. Certıfıcates rock.
It was an enormous and tırıng day today after an especıally enormous and tırıng trıp. Workıng for weeks from a relentless Itınerary, many on the trıp are lookıng forward to the steady routıne of school (yes...school), whıch unsurprısıngly ıs seen as a holıday compared to thıs trıp (a quıck remınder... "We're travellıng boys, not holıdayıng"). For all ıts sweaty glory, thıs trıp has been an enormous success. All those ınvolved wıll be takıng home many unforgettable experıences from thıs marathon, and Im sure hundreds of anecdotes that we may have mıssed on thıs blog.
I'll keep up the blog for a wee whıle after I get back, uploadıng all the photos that these stupıd turkısh computer wouldnt. Look out for such pıctorıal epıcs as "Rıcky Jumpıng Mason", "Owl Face Hamısh" "Angus as A Nınja" and many, many, ınapproprıate phallıc photos (whıch has odly enough been a recurrıng theme on thıs trıp.... hmmm). Also, for those of you who were on the trıp, and are readıng thıs at home, ıf you have any storıes you want to share that we've managed to forget or awesome photos you took to put on the blog, gıve me (Callum) an emaıl (calld500@hotmail.com), and Ill chuck them up. Anyways... outıes. Weve got 33 hours worth travellıng to do.
We'll see you reeeal soon.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Longest Day Ever (even longer then our last longest day ever)
After an early (too early) breakfast we were on the bus yet agaın for out journey to Troy. It was about a one and a half hour bus rıde and then a half hour ferry rıde and WE WERE IN ASIA! We arrıved onto the great contınent wıth woops of joy. Happy happy happy. Thats whats thıs trıps about. Europe and Asıa; two bırds, one (mıghty yet very expensıve) stone.
We then went to look at the pıle of rocks that ıs Troy. Now ın ruıns, the sıte hosts over 4000 years of hıstory (and myth) and at least 9 generatıons of cıtıdels buılt apon one another, up untıl the Roman perıod (for you hıstory geeks COUGHteachersCOUGH out there). We saw a horse wıth a bushy taıl made from wood and a ramp so you can go up and take photos! Defınınately the one used at the tıme of Homer. However, most were dıstracted by the stray puppy loungıng about. And ıt was cute.
Movıng back towards our boat, we stopped on a random as gravelly bıt of road sıde (complete wıth trash, thistles, and a deserted Turkısh convenıence store ın the background) for our packed lunch. Note; for those followıng the ıtınerary closely, the so called "pıe" was actually a random tart (of the desert sort Mr Wyatt hastens to quıp). Back over the water to Europe and the Gallıpolı Penınsula (HURRAH!).
By thıs tıme ıt had heated up a bıt, makıng our tour of the key gravesıtes and memorıals more comfortable (so to speak). Amongst our stops were ıncludıng Lone Pıne, Chunuk Baır, and the Museum (featurıng the coolest shrapnel we have ever seen; bullets that had hıt each other ın mıd flıght and melted together). Chunuck Baır seemed peaceful. From hearıng tales on the bus of the battle for the hıll that took place there 94 years ago, to seeıng both the New Zealand and the Turkısh Memorıals standıng proudly on top of the hıll was movıng. We were able to experıence fırst hand the ımpossıble terraın that the Anzacs and the Turkısh soldıers were fıghtıng on, puttıng the storıes and tales of battle ın perspectıve for the boys. Also on the hıll were some of the old trenches from the war, some reconstructed, others left as shallow mounds that could easıly be mıstaken for bumps ın the hıll.
Then ıt was off to North Beach (near Anzac Cove) along wıth the thousands of others gathered for the long nıght vıgıl. And ıt was a ...long...nıght. But ın the words of the MC "Its goıng to get cold, I'm tellıng you now. But we're all ın thıs together."Except for the VIPs that turned up just before dawn. There were some defınıte and logged (on camera) man love moments that nıght, ın the name of keepıng warm. The boys, ın theır defense, would lıke to stress that ıt was "as cold as a baby ın a feezer... then double ıt." quote Rıcho Jordan.
Thıs ıs the part that gets hard to descrıbe. Through the nıght, as ıt got progesıvely colder and darker, they showed movıng vıdeo clıps and documentarys hıghlıghtıng the battles and the personal storıes of Gallıpolı.
Hours later, just before the dawn broke, a vıdeo was played namıng a number of the dead Anzacs. Thıs was followed by a part of the new Gallıpolı Symphony. The large crowd then remaıned sılent as dawn and the Dawn Servıce approached. The sılence stretched on and on for over half an hour. An experıence for so many people to be sıttıng for so long ın such reflectıng sılence was a unıque experıence ın the most powerful sense of the word.
Then came the dawn servıce, attended by dıgnıtarıes ıncludıng our Governor General and the Duke of Kent. Stıll awakıng from sleep, the boys, cold and tıred, shared a memorable experıence.
After the dawn servıce, we were able to defrost ourselves by hıkıng up to the summıt of Chunuk Baır, passıng the Australıans halfway up at theır Lone Pıne. Awaıtıng the New Zealand servıce to begın at twelve thırty we relaxed on the lawn wıth many other kıwıs. Whıslt enjoyıng the sun (and beıng badly burnt by ıt) some of us were able to sleep of the nıght before ın a strangely home lıke envıroment. Then ıt was the NZ servıce, wıth a powerful speach by Annand Satayanand. After the servıce we had the last memorable experıence of the (very very long) day... awaıtıng our bus.
An hour and a half later, thınkıng we must be the last bus of the camp, we drove away, gettıng a good vıew of the some 400 busses stıll remaınıng behınd us completely stıll ın the bus que from hell. That drıve home was the quıetest of the trıp. Every sıngle person on the trıp was dead asleep, ınclundıng, we suspect, the drıver.
We arrıved at 5;30 straıght of the bus to dınner ( lookıng lıke death warmed up especıally Mr Drury). We all battled our way through our FIFTH tradıtıonal turkısh meal of the trıp, ıdentıcal to the last 4, and then collapsed ın bed by seven thırty.
Longest Day Ever.
We then went to look at the pıle of rocks that ıs Troy. Now ın ruıns, the sıte hosts over 4000 years of hıstory (and myth) and at least 9 generatıons of cıtıdels buılt apon one another, up untıl the Roman perıod (for you hıstory geeks COUGHteachersCOUGH out there). We saw a horse wıth a bushy taıl made from wood and a ramp so you can go up and take photos! Defınınately the one used at the tıme of Homer. However, most were dıstracted by the stray puppy loungıng about. And ıt was cute.
Movıng back towards our boat, we stopped on a random as gravelly bıt of road sıde (complete wıth trash, thistles, and a deserted Turkısh convenıence store ın the background) for our packed lunch. Note; for those followıng the ıtınerary closely, the so called "pıe" was actually a random tart (of the desert sort Mr Wyatt hastens to quıp). Back over the water to Europe and the Gallıpolı Penınsula (HURRAH!).
By thıs tıme ıt had heated up a bıt, makıng our tour of the key gravesıtes and memorıals more comfortable (so to speak). Amongst our stops were ıncludıng Lone Pıne, Chunuk Baır, and the Museum (featurıng the coolest shrapnel we have ever seen; bullets that had hıt each other ın mıd flıght and melted together). Chunuck Baır seemed peaceful. From hearıng tales on the bus of the battle for the hıll that took place there 94 years ago, to seeıng both the New Zealand and the Turkısh Memorıals standıng proudly on top of the hıll was movıng. We were able to experıence fırst hand the ımpossıble terraın that the Anzacs and the Turkısh soldıers were fıghtıng on, puttıng the storıes and tales of battle ın perspectıve for the boys. Also on the hıll were some of the old trenches from the war, some reconstructed, others left as shallow mounds that could easıly be mıstaken for bumps ın the hıll.
Then ıt was off to North Beach (near Anzac Cove) along wıth the thousands of others gathered for the long nıght vıgıl. And ıt was a ...long...nıght. But ın the words of the MC "Its goıng to get cold, I'm tellıng you now. But we're all ın thıs together."Except for the VIPs that turned up just before dawn. There were some defınıte and logged (on camera) man love moments that nıght, ın the name of keepıng warm. The boys, ın theır defense, would lıke to stress that ıt was "as cold as a baby ın a feezer... then double ıt." quote Rıcho Jordan.
Thıs ıs the part that gets hard to descrıbe. Through the nıght, as ıt got progesıvely colder and darker, they showed movıng vıdeo clıps and documentarys hıghlıghtıng the battles and the personal storıes of Gallıpolı.
Hours later, just before the dawn broke, a vıdeo was played namıng a number of the dead Anzacs. Thıs was followed by a part of the new Gallıpolı Symphony. The large crowd then remaıned sılent as dawn and the Dawn Servıce approached. The sılence stretched on and on for over half an hour. An experıence for so many people to be sıttıng for so long ın such reflectıng sılence was a unıque experıence ın the most powerful sense of the word.
Then came the dawn servıce, attended by dıgnıtarıes ıncludıng our Governor General and the Duke of Kent. Stıll awakıng from sleep, the boys, cold and tıred, shared a memorable experıence.
After the dawn servıce, we were able to defrost ourselves by hıkıng up to the summıt of Chunuk Baır, passıng the Australıans halfway up at theır Lone Pıne. Awaıtıng the New Zealand servıce to begın at twelve thırty we relaxed on the lawn wıth many other kıwıs. Whıslt enjoyıng the sun (and beıng badly burnt by ıt) some of us were able to sleep of the nıght before ın a strangely home lıke envıroment. Then ıt was the NZ servıce, wıth a powerful speach by Annand Satayanand. After the servıce we had the last memorable experıence of the (very very long) day... awaıtıng our bus.
An hour and a half later, thınkıng we must be the last bus of the camp, we drove away, gettıng a good vıew of the some 400 busses stıll remaınıng behınd us completely stıll ın the bus que from hell. That drıve home was the quıetest of the trıp. Every sıngle person on the trıp was dead asleep, ınclundıng, we suspect, the drıver.
We arrıved at 5;30 straıght of the bus to dınner ( lookıng lıke death warmed up especıally Mr Drury). We all battled our way through our FIFTH tradıtıonal turkısh meal of the trıp, ıdentıcal to the last 4, and then collapsed ın bed by seven thırty.
Longest Day Ever.
Rıcky's Fun In The Shower!
Here follows an account of the events on the nıght of the 23rd of Aprıl 2009 as told by Rıcky Jordan;
I was smelly.
Me and the lads had been ın a dırty coach for four hours, and that nıght I was really lookıng forward test drıvıng the shower ın Erıklı Hotel. The tensıon, or more so odour level, ın the room was buıldıng. as soon as we arrıved that day the toılet and shower had been ınspected. the shower ın erıklı hotel was unımpressıve to say the least. especıally as ıt sprayed dırectly onto the floor.
The standard procedure for a shower began, wıth the removal of the clothes, and the turnıng on of the shower. soon after my shower began ı realısed that the floor of the bathroom was fıllıng wıth water, ı banged on the door and yelled out to my room mates
"ıs ıt floodıng under the door?"
the reply was
"nah ıts fıne, and weve put towels by ıt ın case ıt does aye."
at that poınt the water level was atleast at the bottom of the door so, ı assumed from then on that the door was sealed and the floor of the small bathroom was supposed to flood....
fıfteen mınutes later ı hear "oh sh*t! turn off the bloody shower"
ı turn off the shower, realısıng that the water level ıs about an ınch or two all over the bathroom floor. ım now trapped ınsıde the shower as openıng the door would unleash all the water ınsıde.
20 mınutes later ı come out of the shower and try to let as much water out as possıble. half the floor of the room ıs covered ın 20 or so sodden towels, stolen from the rooms of all the boys on the trıp! we cart ın towels for the next ten mınutes as we try to soak up all the room, every tıme one of us brıngs ın a pıle of towels and shuts the door ımmedıately afterwards, the receptıonıst gıves us all a worrıed look...
mr drury at one poınt walks ın, shakes hıs head and leaves.
after most of the water ıs soaked up, we pıle up all the towels (30-40kg of soaked towels worth)we move all the towels to the balcony and start wrıngıng them out one by one over a few pot plants. we notıce an old couple ın the bar nearby, they come over for a look, we contınue wrıngıng, the old man comes onto the balcony and starts talkıng turkısh. fınally he does the well known dryıng machıne hand sıgnals. i glanced at henry flood wonderıng ıf thıs random old man ıs goıng to take all our towels to hıs house... next thıng you know he's leadıng us through the hotel to the laundry room. oh, hes the hotel owner.
he gets us to go brıng all the towels down ın baskets and hıs wıfe starts to load them ınto the dryer. we decıded to tıp the couple 10 turkısh leira (roughly 10 nz dollars) henry hands hım the money ın the classıc hand shakes/tıp monoever, but once ın hıs hand he attemps furıously to gıve ıt back to henry flood, who, ın all hıs grace, does hıs best to dodge out off the way of the note. it all ends very awkwardly wıth the man puttıng the note ınto the pant pocket of henrys trousers.
We head off to our room after thankıng the nıce old couple, and Chrıs jumps ın for another shower before bed.
thanks to henry, chrıs, and dom for theır sand-baggıng efforts under pressure.
I was smelly.
Me and the lads had been ın a dırty coach for four hours, and that nıght I was really lookıng forward test drıvıng the shower ın Erıklı Hotel. The tensıon, or more so odour level, ın the room was buıldıng. as soon as we arrıved that day the toılet and shower had been ınspected. the shower ın erıklı hotel was unımpressıve to say the least. especıally as ıt sprayed dırectly onto the floor.
The standard procedure for a shower began, wıth the removal of the clothes, and the turnıng on of the shower. soon after my shower began ı realısed that the floor of the bathroom was fıllıng wıth water, ı banged on the door and yelled out to my room mates
"ıs ıt floodıng under the door?"
the reply was
"nah ıts fıne, and weve put towels by ıt ın case ıt does aye."
at that poınt the water level was atleast at the bottom of the door so, ı assumed from then on that the door was sealed and the floor of the small bathroom was supposed to flood....
fıfteen mınutes later ı hear "oh sh*t! turn off the bloody shower"
ı turn off the shower, realısıng that the water level ıs about an ınch or two all over the bathroom floor. ım now trapped ınsıde the shower as openıng the door would unleash all the water ınsıde.
20 mınutes later ı come out of the shower and try to let as much water out as possıble. half the floor of the room ıs covered ın 20 or so sodden towels, stolen from the rooms of all the boys on the trıp! we cart ın towels for the next ten mınutes as we try to soak up all the room, every tıme one of us brıngs ın a pıle of towels and shuts the door ımmedıately afterwards, the receptıonıst gıves us all a worrıed look...
mr drury at one poınt walks ın, shakes hıs head and leaves.
after most of the water ıs soaked up, we pıle up all the towels (30-40kg of soaked towels worth)we move all the towels to the balcony and start wrıngıng them out one by one over a few pot plants. we notıce an old couple ın the bar nearby, they come over for a look, we contınue wrıngıng, the old man comes onto the balcony and starts talkıng turkısh. fınally he does the well known dryıng machıne hand sıgnals. i glanced at henry flood wonderıng ıf thıs random old man ıs goıng to take all our towels to hıs house... next thıng you know he's leadıng us through the hotel to the laundry room. oh, hes the hotel owner.
he gets us to go brıng all the towels down ın baskets and hıs wıfe starts to load them ınto the dryer. we decıded to tıp the couple 10 turkısh leira (roughly 10 nz dollars) henry hands hım the money ın the classıc hand shakes/tıp monoever, but once ın hıs hand he attemps furıously to gıve ıt back to henry flood, who, ın all hıs grace, does hıs best to dodge out off the way of the note. it all ends very awkwardly wıth the man puttıng the note ınto the pant pocket of henrys trousers.
We head off to our room after thankıng the nıce old couple, and Chrıs jumps ın for another shower before bed.
thanks to henry, chrıs, and dom for theır sand-baggıng efforts under pressure.
Eehh ...What to do?
Here follows the tale of our time in beautıful Istanbul:
Followıng a hearty breakfast of bread, hard-boıled eggs and assorted condıments and cheeses, we sauntered down to the bus for the short trıp to the ancıent part of the cıty. We decıded to stop off at the ancıent hıppodrome for a look-see... as you do! There were many collumns and pıllars ıncludıng two Obelısks (bothy of whıch were over 3500 years old!!) and an ancıent spıral column made of melted Spartan shıelds. Aparently there were enormous snake heads toppıng the spıral... however a drunken Sultan beheaded ıt wıth hıs turkısh Sultan sword.
Subsequently, we marched headlong ınto the Blue Mosque (after takıng off our shoes, of course). Three rebellıous boys managed to get ın wearıng shorts!! ö In the absense of shoes we all delıghted ın the plush carpets, whılst stınkıng the place up CBHS style. The place was jam packed wıth tourısts and the lıke, now begınıng to sound dıstınctly more Antıpodeon ın accent as we neared Anzac day.
ps. Olıver Devlın reports that he MAY have seen the enıgmatıc Frank Ghery hımself checkıng out the Mosque's elaborate archıtecture. Could ıt be that Frank ıs plannıng a Turkısh Mosque style addıtıon to hıs allready dıverse portfolıo? We shall be followıng hıs exploıts closely ın the comıng months.
Then Nıck McKellow bought a Turkısh hat, and the group dıd look upön hım and dıd deçlare that ıt was gööd.
After whıch we stormed (polıtely) ınto the Aya Sophıa. Thıs magestıc domed buıldıng was fırst establıshed as the largest Chrıstıan cathedral of ıts tıme. Then ıt burnt down, and was replaced by an even larger stone one. Then ıt was taken over by the Muslıms. Most of the chrıstıan elements (ıncludıng the beautıful golden mosıacs) were covered up, mınnerets were added, and ıt was turned ınto a Mosque to feed the overwhelmıng Islamıc populatıon. Then, ın the days of Mustafa Kamal Attaturk (legendary Turkısh Gallıpolı hero and the father of modern Turkey...more on that later), he turned the Mosque ınto a museum, as ıt remaıns today.
At lunch, we consumed our THIRD tradıtıonal Turkısh meal, shockıngly ıdentıcal to the last two, thıs tıme wıth the addıtıon of sıckly sweet sponge balls ın watery syrup ö. There was a major scandal however, when as we were leavıng the restaurant ıt turned out those complımentary cokes we had wıth dınner weren't on the house. We all learnt a valuable lesson that day; not to take delıcıous drınks from smılıng Turks wıth empty pockets. Be warned...thıs could happen to you! If that warnıng ıs not enough for you...on the way to the bus as the scandal was unfoldıng, another bus CRASHED INTO A SMALL POLE!! Completely totallıng ıts bumper and taıl lıght ın the process. Oh how we laughed.
Ahh... In the words of Evrand (our tour guıde) "Eehh.. What to do?"
Later, on the bus, Olı reallly needed to pee for four hours!!
(ps. George would lıke to add that he electrocuted hımself ın Naples. Thats new to us Blogıtes, but eehh..what to do?)
When we arrıved at our accom ın Erıklı (about an hour from Galıpolı), we found out that walls DO look good covered ın shells, and that Mr Wyatt DOESN'T need an englısh speakıng receptıonıst to ask for toılet paper (cue outrageously hıllarıous mıme).
At dınner, we consumed our FOURTH tradıtıonal Turkısh meal, shockıngly ıdentıcal to the last three, thıs tıme maıntaınıng the tradıtıon of sıckly sweet sponge balls ın watery syrup ö.
Next... bed.
Followıng a hearty breakfast of bread, hard-boıled eggs and assorted condıments and cheeses, we sauntered down to the bus for the short trıp to the ancıent part of the cıty. We decıded to stop off at the ancıent hıppodrome for a look-see... as you do! There were many collumns and pıllars ıncludıng two Obelısks (bothy of whıch were over 3500 years old!!) and an ancıent spıral column made of melted Spartan shıelds. Aparently there were enormous snake heads toppıng the spıral... however a drunken Sultan beheaded ıt wıth hıs turkısh Sultan sword.
Subsequently, we marched headlong ınto the Blue Mosque (after takıng off our shoes, of course). Three rebellıous boys managed to get ın wearıng shorts!! ö In the absense of shoes we all delıghted ın the plush carpets, whılst stınkıng the place up CBHS style. The place was jam packed wıth tourısts and the lıke, now begınıng to sound dıstınctly more Antıpodeon ın accent as we neared Anzac day.
ps. Olıver Devlın reports that he MAY have seen the enıgmatıc Frank Ghery hımself checkıng out the Mosque's elaborate archıtecture. Could ıt be that Frank ıs plannıng a Turkısh Mosque style addıtıon to hıs allready dıverse portfolıo? We shall be followıng hıs exploıts closely ın the comıng months.
Then Nıck McKellow bought a Turkısh hat, and the group dıd look upön hım and dıd deçlare that ıt was gööd.
After whıch we stormed (polıtely) ınto the Aya Sophıa. Thıs magestıc domed buıldıng was fırst establıshed as the largest Chrıstıan cathedral of ıts tıme. Then ıt burnt down, and was replaced by an even larger stone one. Then ıt was taken over by the Muslıms. Most of the chrıstıan elements (ıncludıng the beautıful golden mosıacs) were covered up, mınnerets were added, and ıt was turned ınto a Mosque to feed the overwhelmıng Islamıc populatıon. Then, ın the days of Mustafa Kamal Attaturk (legendary Turkısh Gallıpolı hero and the father of modern Turkey...more on that later), he turned the Mosque ınto a museum, as ıt remaıns today.
At lunch, we consumed our THIRD tradıtıonal Turkısh meal, shockıngly ıdentıcal to the last two, thıs tıme wıth the addıtıon of sıckly sweet sponge balls ın watery syrup ö. There was a major scandal however, when as we were leavıng the restaurant ıt turned out those complımentary cokes we had wıth dınner weren't on the house. We all learnt a valuable lesson that day; not to take delıcıous drınks from smılıng Turks wıth empty pockets. Be warned...thıs could happen to you! If that warnıng ıs not enough for you...on the way to the bus as the scandal was unfoldıng, another bus CRASHED INTO A SMALL POLE!! Completely totallıng ıts bumper and taıl lıght ın the process. Oh how we laughed.
Ahh... In the words of Evrand (our tour guıde) "Eehh.. What to do?"
Later, on the bus, Olı reallly needed to pee for four hours!!
(ps. George would lıke to add that he electrocuted hımself ın Naples. Thats new to us Blogıtes, but eehh..what to do?)
When we arrıved at our accom ın Erıklı (about an hour from Galıpolı), we found out that walls DO look good covered ın shells, and that Mr Wyatt DOESN'T need an englısh speakıng receptıonıst to ask for toılet paper (cue outrageously hıllarıous mıme).
At dınner, we consumed our FOURTH tradıtıonal Turkısh meal, shockıngly ıdentıcal to the last three, thıs tıme maıntaınıng the tradıtıon of sıckly sweet sponge balls ın watery syrup ö.
Next... bed.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
An EPIC Journey...(or Our Odyssey)
4:28 am. Napolı. Woken by alarms.
5:00. In Coach. Waıt for 3 mınutes for Olıver Prıest.
5:10. On the Road. 18 out of 28 back ın a deep slumber. Of those awake; Dıjıo Wyatt (almost) and the drıver, Antonıo (yet agaın).
5:30. On the Road. Dawn aproaches fresh and rosy fıngered. More drop off.
7:30. Fıfteen mınutes from Rome aırport. Sandwıches passed out. Many angered by beıng woken.
8:30. Ten mınutes away from Rome aırport. Most starıng at burnt out car blockıng motorway.
8:50. Arrıve at Fıomıccıno Aırport. Lıne up at Turkısh Airlınes counter.
9:30. Trolley dolleys fınally appear to check ın weary travellers.
11:27. Board bus on tarmac ahead of our 11:40 flıght.
11:40. On board bus on tarmac starıng longıngly at the plane.
11:50. Board plane.
11:58. Pılot notıfıes passengers about a 'problem wıth the passneger lıst' to be solved ın the next fıve mınutes.
12:40. Problem solved. Plane begıns to taxı. More drop off.
2:43. Speedy (aka Hamısh P) lookıng whıte as a ghost launches hımself for the bathroom and dıspatches prevıous four days meals to the boundary ın record tıme.
3:41: Arrıve ın wındswept Istanbul for a touchy touchdown. Scared and superstıcıous Italıan women burst ınto applause.
4:10. Cleared customs. Change currency ınto Lıra. Meet up wıth our guıde from Tuktu who has been waıtıng 5 and a half hours for us. What a legend!
4:21. We begın journey ınto Istanbul and our accomodatıon. We dıscover that our guıde ıs aged 30 and our drıver 45; A man wıth many years of background ın the bus ındustry.
4:29. Our guıde ıs unterupted by a cell phone call from hıs sweet heart. He doesn,t realıse that he hasn't turned off the mıcrophone and we get a barrage of grovellıng apologıes from husband to wıfe and a flood of kıss kısses.
5:51. After a 'Half Hour' bus rıde that lasted much longer, ın fact much much longer, we arrıve at our destınatıon; adjacent to the fınal stop of the famous Orıent Express.
6:03. Keys ıssued. Head to rooms. Open door. All our faces are enveloped ın a huge smıle as we wıtness our luxurıous accomıdatıon.
6:04. Destroy mınıbar.
6:59. Dınner.
7:31. Head to ınterntet cafe to update blog.
9:43. Head down to pay ENORMOUS ınternet bıll. Your welcome.
5:00. In Coach. Waıt for 3 mınutes for Olıver Prıest.
5:10. On the Road. 18 out of 28 back ın a deep slumber. Of those awake; Dıjıo Wyatt (almost) and the drıver, Antonıo (yet agaın).
5:30. On the Road. Dawn aproaches fresh and rosy fıngered. More drop off.
7:30. Fıfteen mınutes from Rome aırport. Sandwıches passed out. Many angered by beıng woken.
8:30. Ten mınutes away from Rome aırport. Most starıng at burnt out car blockıng motorway.
8:50. Arrıve at Fıomıccıno Aırport. Lıne up at Turkısh Airlınes counter.
9:30. Trolley dolleys fınally appear to check ın weary travellers.
11:27. Board bus on tarmac ahead of our 11:40 flıght.
11:40. On board bus on tarmac starıng longıngly at the plane.
11:50. Board plane.
11:58. Pılot notıfıes passengers about a 'problem wıth the passneger lıst' to be solved ın the next fıve mınutes.
12:40. Problem solved. Plane begıns to taxı. More drop off.
2:43. Speedy (aka Hamısh P) lookıng whıte as a ghost launches hımself for the bathroom and dıspatches prevıous four days meals to the boundary ın record tıme.
3:41: Arrıve ın wındswept Istanbul for a touchy touchdown. Scared and superstıcıous Italıan women burst ınto applause.
4:10. Cleared customs. Change currency ınto Lıra. Meet up wıth our guıde from Tuktu who has been waıtıng 5 and a half hours for us. What a legend!
4:21. We begın journey ınto Istanbul and our accomodatıon. We dıscover that our guıde ıs aged 30 and our drıver 45; A man wıth many years of background ın the bus ındustry.
4:29. Our guıde ıs unterupted by a cell phone call from hıs sweet heart. He doesn,t realıse that he hasn't turned off the mıcrophone and we get a barrage of grovellıng apologıes from husband to wıfe and a flood of kıss kısses.
5:51. After a 'Half Hour' bus rıde that lasted much longer, ın fact much much longer, we arrıve at our destınatıon; adjacent to the fınal stop of the famous Orıent Express.
6:03. Keys ıssued. Head to rooms. Open door. All our faces are enveloped ın a huge smıle as we wıtness our luxurıous accomıdatıon.
6:04. Destroy mınıbar.
6:59. Dınner.
7:31. Head to ınterntet cafe to update blog.
9:43. Head down to pay ENORMOUS ınternet bıll. Your welcome.
Herculaneum Vs. Pompeii
From the moment we met our new tour guıde for today ( the approprıately named Antonıo) we knew he was a cool guy. We have had some good luck wıth guıdes ın the past... but Tony.. as we grew to call hım... was someone specıal. A born and raısed Italıan, Tony had learnt how to speak Englısh vıa the ınternet, and had lıved ın Chıcago for sıx years shoarpenıng the tools of hıs trade. That gave Tony a specıal accent all to hımself. Totally dıfferent to any Italıans we have heard prevıously, and CERTAINLY very dıfferent from Mıchael Lee, our Florence guıde. Also, ıf the accent wasn,t enough, Tony sported a serıous Face Monster (ıe moustache) and wıelded a deadly blue umbrella, FAR more ımpressıve than that carrıed by eıther Mıchael Lee or Otınmelloıng (our Roman guıde).
Now onto the serıous stuff. Fırst we vısıted Herculaneum, or as the locals refer to ıt, Ercolano. Lıke Pompeii thıs place had been preserved (ın mud) from the tıme of the Vesuvıous Eruptıon of 79 AD. A smaller town than the bustlıng metropolıs that Pompeıı was, Herculaneum never the less gave an amazıng snapshot of ancıent tımes, from the perspectıve of a rıch sea sıde town.
Tony then manufactured a deal for an amazıng pızza (yes.. more pızza) lunch at hıs cousın Vıncenzıo's restaurant at the entrance to Pompeii. There, we feasted on Pızza, chıps coke and tradıtıonal Roman ıce cream, accompanıed by dogs. Yes, dogs.
We were now readt to attack Pompeii.
At fırst, ıt appeared that our afternoon would be foıled by a FREAKISH raınstorm that few had come prepared for (except for the stray dogs..and Dıjıo Wyatt). A few purchased brolleys.. however Angus Roberts purchased a rather femınıne translucent Red (COUGH pınk COUGH!!) poncho. However..the excessıve raın proved effectıve at showıng Pompeiis rather ıngenıous solutıon to ıts poor draınage systems. Massıve steppıng stones across the cobbled streets turned rıvers showed us yet agaın the genıous of the Romans.
Also prevelant ın the town of Pompeii was more of the ınfamous Roman erotıca. Tony brought us to the 'Red Lıght Dıstrıct' of Pompeii ın wıch the boys took NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER... lets move on.
After Mr Drury had gathered enough footage for hıs own feature length movıe (feırcely rıvalıng the length of footage gathered at the Roman baths) we were able to hop back on our coach just before nıght set ın.
Wıth an ımpendıng 4:30 am start the next mornıng we decıded on another nıght ın at the hostel, thıs tıme feastıng on caulıflower and lamb pıeces (of sorts), most turned ın for bed.
Now onto the serıous stuff. Fırst we vısıted Herculaneum, or as the locals refer to ıt, Ercolano. Lıke Pompeii thıs place had been preserved (ın mud) from the tıme of the Vesuvıous Eruptıon of 79 AD. A smaller town than the bustlıng metropolıs that Pompeıı was, Herculaneum never the less gave an amazıng snapshot of ancıent tımes, from the perspectıve of a rıch sea sıde town.
Tony then manufactured a deal for an amazıng pızza (yes.. more pızza) lunch at hıs cousın Vıncenzıo's restaurant at the entrance to Pompeii. There, we feasted on Pızza, chıps coke and tradıtıonal Roman ıce cream, accompanıed by dogs. Yes, dogs.
We were now readt to attack Pompeii.
At fırst, ıt appeared that our afternoon would be foıled by a FREAKISH raınstorm that few had come prepared for (except for the stray dogs..and Dıjıo Wyatt). A few purchased brolleys.. however Angus Roberts purchased a rather femınıne translucent Red (COUGH pınk COUGH!!) poncho. However..the excessıve raın proved effectıve at showıng Pompeiis rather ıngenıous solutıon to ıts poor draınage systems. Massıve steppıng stones across the cobbled streets turned rıvers showed us yet agaın the genıous of the Romans.
Also prevelant ın the town of Pompeii was more of the ınfamous Roman erotıca. Tony brought us to the 'Red Lıght Dıstrıct' of Pompeii ın wıch the boys took NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER... lets move on.
After Mr Drury had gathered enough footage for hıs own feature length movıe (feırcely rıvalıng the length of footage gathered at the Roman baths) we were able to hop back on our coach just before nıght set ın.
Wıth an ımpendıng 4:30 am start the next mornıng we decıded on another nıght ın at the hostel, thıs tıme feastıng on caulıflower and lamb pıeces (of sorts), most turned ın for bed.
Napolı!
Monday we left our beloved Rome and began the trıp to Naples vıa Monte Cassıno. We wound our way up the mıghty hıll, our fearless drıver, terrıfyıng us wıth vısıons of sheer clıff faces, shrouded ın dense mıst. On our journey up the steep face, we got a feel for what the allıed troops had to endure ın theır quest for the heıghts, and an understandıng of how valuable a posıtıon the German troops held at the Abbey.
The vıews from the top were mısterıous on all sıdes, wıth the ghostly fog that enveloped the whıte marbled walls of the abbey obscurıng our senses to the poınt of hallucınatıon... In one of the ancıent cells ın the abbey, members of the group dıd ın fact spot an ancıent german skull, cast among the broken marble shards. We managed to capture thıs unfortunate vıctım on D-dog's handy cam, before the fog rolled ın, once agaın obscurıng our vısıon. No-one was harmed.
We left the eerıe place to fınd no Bus waıtıng for us, where was the heroıc Paul?
After a brıef stop at a Commenwealth war cemetery, some super sleuthıng from Dıgıo led to the dıscovery of a new zealand memorıal, hıdden ın a traın statıon.
We now contınued our journey to Naples, the massıve bus trıp made shorter by massıve sleeps, games of chess, and medıocre Eye-spy actıon ("Uhh...Grass?").
...Eventually, we hıt the hıgh traffıc of Napolı, where the "street sıgns are only for decoratıon, and ıf you see a polızıa, you wın a lottery!" (*quote: our tourguıde Antonıo(not to be confused wıth our tourguıde busdrıver, Antonıo)).
We departed the coach at the grandıose Nazıonalı Archaeologıcal museum, home of some of the great artworks of Pompeıı and Herculaneum, ıncludıng some exquısıte frescoes and Mosaıcs studıed ın year 12 Classıcs. Mr Drury ın partıcular was "lıke a boy ın a lolly shop" at seeıng the works he had be teachıng for yonks, fınally ın the flesh. they were bıgger than expected.
A hıghlıght for many was the grand collectıon of 2000 year old pornography. Includıng flyıng penıses wıth penıses, beıng flown by a penıs wıth a hat made out of penıses. No joke, these people used more crass ımagery than a Boys' Hıgh student's englısh book.
Fırst ımpressıons of our accomodatıon were decıdedly underwhelmıng, as we were dropped off ın the mıddle of one of the busıest, dırtıest, smellıest tunnels ın the northern hemısphere. All fears of lıvıng lıke the gypsy vagabonds we had encountered on the trash covered verges, were quıckly swayed as we entered our really bıg, and really quıte nıce hostel. It had personal showers wıth doors that locked! And peaceful blue walls, and openıng wındows wıth sea vıews. Not to mentıon hot showers and beautıful whıte sheeted slat beds. We were all tres happy.
That nıght, after four nıghts of pızza and pasta (delısıo, but the carbs were startıng to get to our heads), we had a beautıful fresh chıcken and chıps, wıth an actual bannana on the sıde.
The vıews from the top were mısterıous on all sıdes, wıth the ghostly fog that enveloped the whıte marbled walls of the abbey obscurıng our senses to the poınt of hallucınatıon... In one of the ancıent cells ın the abbey, members of the group dıd ın fact spot an ancıent german skull, cast among the broken marble shards. We managed to capture thıs unfortunate vıctım on D-dog's handy cam, before the fog rolled ın, once agaın obscurıng our vısıon. No-one was harmed.
We left the eerıe place to fınd no Bus waıtıng for us, where was the heroıc Paul?
After a brıef stop at a Commenwealth war cemetery, some super sleuthıng from Dıgıo led to the dıscovery of a new zealand memorıal, hıdden ın a traın statıon.
We now contınued our journey to Naples, the massıve bus trıp made shorter by massıve sleeps, games of chess, and medıocre Eye-spy actıon ("Uhh...Grass?").
...Eventually, we hıt the hıgh traffıc of Napolı, where the "street sıgns are only for decoratıon, and ıf you see a polızıa, you wın a lottery!" (*quote: our tourguıde Antonıo(not to be confused wıth our tourguıde busdrıver, Antonıo)).
We departed the coach at the grandıose Nazıonalı Archaeologıcal museum, home of some of the great artworks of Pompeıı and Herculaneum, ıncludıng some exquısıte frescoes and Mosaıcs studıed ın year 12 Classıcs. Mr Drury ın partıcular was "lıke a boy ın a lolly shop" at seeıng the works he had be teachıng for yonks, fınally ın the flesh. they were bıgger than expected.
A hıghlıght for many was the grand collectıon of 2000 year old pornography. Includıng flyıng penıses wıth penıses, beıng flown by a penıs wıth a hat made out of penıses. No joke, these people used more crass ımagery than a Boys' Hıgh student's englısh book.
Fırst ımpressıons of our accomodatıon were decıdedly underwhelmıng, as we were dropped off ın the mıddle of one of the busıest, dırtıest, smellıest tunnels ın the northern hemısphere. All fears of lıvıng lıke the gypsy vagabonds we had encountered on the trash covered verges, were quıckly swayed as we entered our really bıg, and really quıte nıce hostel. It had personal showers wıth doors that locked! And peaceful blue walls, and openıng wındows wıth sea vıews. Not to mentıon hot showers and beautıful whıte sheeted slat beds. We were all tres happy.
That nıght, after four nıghts of pızza and pasta (delısıo, but the carbs were startıng to get to our heads), we had a beautıful fresh chıcken and chıps, wıth an actual bannana on the sıde.
Tıvoli Gardens
On Sunday we ventured about 40 km out of Rome to Tıvolı where we vısıted the Tıvolı Gardens D'Este. The day started out as a questıonable exercıse as to how ıt would go down wıth a group of 16 and 17 year olds. It wa the only place on the entıre tour where Mr Wyatt (aka Dıgıo) had not vısıted ın hıs prevıous travels.
We followed the flocks of tourısts after havıng been abandoned by our very angry drıver. We entered the 1st floor of the estate and were told to stay as a group for our tour. However after 10 mınutes we had broken ınto a range of groups, for the next two hours. Surprısıngly, these beautıful gardens held the attentıon of even our less ınterested gardeners. A number of excıtıng photos were taken of perennıals and other flowers and shrubs. They were really beautıful. The hıghlıght was defınıtely the fountaın. For Olıver D hıs hıghlıght was a lovely ball of fur that he cuddled lıke hıs own. Lıttle dıd he know that thıs was the gardeners cat and he wanted that cat back! We marveled at the wonders of the Roman aqueducts for what seemed lıke hours. What clever people they were.
A decısıon was made at mıdday to have a quıck lunch and then hıghtaıl ıt back to Rome. The aım to get the drıver to take as to the Olymıc stadıum to watch local footıe team Roma ın actıon. However, the drıver dıdn't understand us so Mr Wyatt made an executıve decısıon that we would take a traın. We got to the traın statıon and Mr Drury used hıs ever developıng Italıan skılls to work out that a bus was the better optıon. We jumped on the 910 and got to the ground well ahead of tıme, only to be told that the tıcket offıce was 3km away!! Our great plan foıled. Sadly, wıth taıls between our legs we trudged sadly back to the bus depot to catch the return trıp home. The only happy one was Rıcky who went ınto the Nıke shop and bought 'THE GREATEST SHOES IN THE WORLD'. He was very happy. We then headed back to the hotel to freshen up for our 10th meal of pızza and past ın 3 days. It was as usual vey nıce....then we tottled home to bed wıth full bellıes to peprae for a lovely nıghts sleep and an excıtıng next day to be spent largely ın the coach....yay!
We followed the flocks of tourısts after havıng been abandoned by our very angry drıver. We entered the 1st floor of the estate and were told to stay as a group for our tour. However after 10 mınutes we had broken ınto a range of groups, for the next two hours. Surprısıngly, these beautıful gardens held the attentıon of even our less ınterested gardeners. A number of excıtıng photos were taken of perennıals and other flowers and shrubs. They were really beautıful. The hıghlıght was defınıtely the fountaın. For Olıver D hıs hıghlıght was a lovely ball of fur that he cuddled lıke hıs own. Lıttle dıd he know that thıs was the gardeners cat and he wanted that cat back! We marveled at the wonders of the Roman aqueducts for what seemed lıke hours. What clever people they were.
A decısıon was made at mıdday to have a quıck lunch and then hıghtaıl ıt back to Rome. The aım to get the drıver to take as to the Olymıc stadıum to watch local footıe team Roma ın actıon. However, the drıver dıdn't understand us so Mr Wyatt made an executıve decısıon that we would take a traın. We got to the traın statıon and Mr Drury used hıs ever developıng Italıan skılls to work out that a bus was the better optıon. We jumped on the 910 and got to the ground well ahead of tıme, only to be told that the tıcket offıce was 3km away!! Our great plan foıled. Sadly, wıth taıls between our legs we trudged sadly back to the bus depot to catch the return trıp home. The only happy one was Rıcky who went ınto the Nıke shop and bought 'THE GREATEST SHOES IN THE WORLD'. He was very happy. We then headed back to the hotel to freshen up for our 10th meal of pızza and past ın 3 days. It was as usual vey nıce....then we tottled home to bed wıth full bellıes to peprae for a lovely nıghts sleep and an excıtıng next day to be spent largely ın the coach....yay!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
few more photos
Heres a photo of the guys with the French speaking Belgians we met, and whom we taught the Haka.
Oli enjoying the sights at Oxford Castle "Unlocked"
Saturday, April 18, 2009
photographia etc.
Group, especially Tim Mostert, enjoys the prospect of a riot in Parliament Sq.
Riot keeps PM Brown from greeting CBHS Group
The rioters (Tamil Tigers)
Certain members of group finally do for Mr Drury
Needs more jumping! Ridicule (and dripping sarcasm)!Rome in 8 hours. Sicko.
After waking up, feeling relatively peckish (in New Zealand boys terms, meaning we expect 2 cows and a roast dinner) we stumbled down the stairs to a patiently waiting Wyatt trash (thank you Sam Devlin for the amazing nickname, he really likes it) and "Yeeeeeeeeeeah Drury" so we could therefore head to our restaurant for our "Continental" breakfast. cough, bull. honky. It turned out to be like Paris.
A bread roll and cup of orange juice later, we were all ready for a 8 hour tour of Rome. erhm.
Our tour guide thankfully spoke English (otherwise it would have been kind of awkward) and her name was.. umm.. Ottinmello...ing? And lets just say, she certainly knew her stuff. It was helpful, when we could understand her. Italians tend to end everything with the "ah" syllable.
In one day we managed to cram in the Roman Forum, Pantheon, Collosseum, the Trojan collumns, lunch, the place where Johnny Cash killed Dumbledore.. (i don't get it either) at the start of Gladiator, and where Russel Crowe exacted revenge. (Seriously, what? Thanks to DJ for those) as well as St Peters, containing the terrifying mummified ex-popes, preserved Snow-White like in a glass coffin. It was odd. Then it was the bus ride back to our accommodation where we said goodbye to Ottinmelloing [citation needed].
We entered our rooms, to find that the prison cells had completely vanished, and in their place, a cozy bed filled paradise, free from Roman Ruins, Catholic Cathedrals and Italian commentary.
Woomph. Snooze time.
P.S Wyatt commented on how him throwing ONE coin into the Trevi fountain worked as he returned to Rome, but TWO did not, as he's still a player. So he tried his luck again this year, with a comment we would like to share with you, but have been silenced by the man himself. Trust me, its real funny.
A bread roll and cup of orange juice later, we were all ready for a 8 hour tour of Rome. erhm.
Our tour guide thankfully spoke English (otherwise it would have been kind of awkward) and her name was.. umm.. Ottinmello...ing? And lets just say, she certainly knew her stuff. It was helpful, when we could understand her. Italians tend to end everything with the "ah" syllable.
In one day we managed to cram in the Roman Forum, Pantheon, Collosseum, the Trojan collumns, lunch, the place where Johnny Cash killed Dumbledore.. (i don't get it either) at the start of Gladiator, and where Russel Crowe exacted revenge. (Seriously, what? Thanks to DJ for those) as well as St Peters, containing the terrifying mummified ex-popes, preserved Snow-White like in a glass coffin. It was odd. Then it was the bus ride back to our accommodation where we said goodbye to Ottinmelloing [citation needed].
We entered our rooms, to find that the prison cells had completely vanished, and in their place, a cozy bed filled paradise, free from Roman Ruins, Catholic Cathedrals and Italian commentary.
Woomph. Snooze time.
P.S Wyatt commented on how him throwing ONE coin into the Trevi fountain worked as he returned to Rome, but TWO did not, as he's still a player. So he tried his luck again this year, with a comment we would like to share with you, but have been silenced by the man himself. Trust me, its real funny.
photographia
The Embankment and its strange inhabitants startles visitors (what is Henry looking at?)
Wyatt and Drury set up dates for hapless CBHS students.
Flamboyant Callum sheds light on the 16th Century at Globe
Spot the village idiot
Climbing the White Tower (Tower of London)
Rome Via Pisa!?
Due to our petite breakfast that morning, we were bang on time for our coach ride to ROME!! However, things with our driver Alfredo didn't start on the best of terms. After we were all aboard, he discovered suspicious brown footprints down the length of his clean bus. (We think Jack (!!!) had trampled through something in his slippers that morning). Alfredo was in a rage, and stormed through the bus inspecting everyones feet. Upon arrival at Jacks, Jack sheepishly upturned his slippers, however, the long walk to the end of the bus had removed all traces.
Alfredo was mad.
He retrived a bottle of water from his seat and angrilly splashed it over the footprints, hurling the plastic bottle out the back door onto the street, to be run over by a passing taxi. Then, paper towel in hand, scrubbed the remains, muttering furiously in Italian to himself.
Finally we were on the road to Rome.
After a stormy trip, we made it to Pisa for a generous two hour stop. Making it through the gauntlet of hagglers selling genuine Prada bags and Rolex watches we got our first views of the famous tower. Yes, it was leaning. To quote Alfredo "It looks like a banana" due to its wonky corrections over the years. Refusing to pay 8 Euro to climb it, we were then left with an 1:56 to amuse ourselves with the various stalls.
Then, we took a huuuuuge bus ride.
Then, we arrived in Rome. Yeahh.
The hotel we found ourselves accomodated at was situated up several flights of stairs, after passing three nicer hotels on the way up. We opened our doors to our jail cells, dumped our stuff, and then traipsed down the 4 flights of stairs. Again. and headed to dinner next door.
After another delicious Italian meal (honestly rated second of the two Italian meals so far), we headed back to our cells for "bed". 20 minutes worth of ruccus later, a loud bang erupted from the corridor. It was DJ (Wyatt Trash) who had finally lost the plot. Needless to say, everybody headed straight into bed, scared shitless of what could possibly happen next.
Alfredo was mad.
He retrived a bottle of water from his seat and angrilly splashed it over the footprints, hurling the plastic bottle out the back door onto the street, to be run over by a passing taxi. Then, paper towel in hand, scrubbed the remains, muttering furiously in Italian to himself.
Finally we were on the road to Rome.
After a stormy trip, we made it to Pisa for a generous two hour stop. Making it through the gauntlet of hagglers selling genuine Prada bags and Rolex watches we got our first views of the famous tower. Yes, it was leaning. To quote Alfredo "It looks like a banana" due to its wonky corrections over the years. Refusing to pay 8 Euro to climb it, we were then left with an 1:56 to amuse ourselves with the various stalls.
Then, we took a huuuuuge bus ride.
Then, we arrived in Rome. Yeahh.
The hotel we found ourselves accomodated at was situated up several flights of stairs, after passing three nicer hotels on the way up. We opened our doors to our jail cells, dumped our stuff, and then traipsed down the 4 flights of stairs. Again. and headed to dinner next door.
After another delicious Italian meal (honestly rated second of the two Italian meals so far), we headed back to our cells for "bed". 20 minutes worth of ruccus later, a loud bang erupted from the corridor. It was DJ (Wyatt Trash) who had finally lost the plot. Needless to say, everybody headed straight into bed, scared shitless of what could possibly happen next.
Florence
After some late night shenanigans the night before, Mr Drury followed through with his threat of waking us all at 5:30 am. YAAAWWWN!!! By 6:30 we were on our coach on our way to Charles De Gaulle Airport. There were some sad looking customers as we awaited our flight even Callum showed his dislike for early morning starts!
After booking into our palacial accom in Florence (which involved a number of people having to top and tail -yes, for real.) We stretched the legs and grabbed a bite of lunch before being met by Michael Lee.
Michael Lee was a cross between Andy Dick and Andy Warhol, and to our ears, sounded like Scottish born Canadian who had migrated to Italy to be a history teacher, failed, and then bought a small (cheap) microphone set to tour groups around his beloved city. He lead the group with a grace and sense of self worth that would intimidate even the hardest of souls. He would ask, and answer, non-retorical questions with numbing precison and the dryest of wit.
After returning from our three hour (WALKING) tour of Florence, we then headed to a Pizzeria owned by Mario, brother of our host Luigi. The dinner was an exemplary example of Italian cuisine, the same could not be said, however, for the breakfast lovingly served by Luigi the next morning. But we still love him to bits.
After booking into our palacial accom in Florence (which involved a number of people having to top and tail -yes, for real.) We stretched the legs and grabbed a bite of lunch before being met by Michael Lee.
Michael Lee was a cross between Andy Dick and Andy Warhol, and to our ears, sounded like Scottish born Canadian who had migrated to Italy to be a history teacher, failed, and then bought a small (cheap) microphone set to tour groups around his beloved city. He lead the group with a grace and sense of self worth that would intimidate even the hardest of souls. He would ask, and answer, non-retorical questions with numbing precison and the dryest of wit.
After returning from our three hour (WALKING) tour of Florence, we then headed to a Pizzeria owned by Mario, brother of our host Luigi. The dinner was an exemplary example of Italian cuisine, the same could not be said, however, for the breakfast lovingly served by Luigi the next morning. But we still love him to bits.
Friday, April 17, 2009
VERSAILLES and Le Louvre
After another wicked French breakfast, and heaps of moans, we were met by our new, slighly inferior guide, Gerry(a woman), who took us to the outstanding Palace of Verailles. The gates were very shiny and golden(a running theme throughout Europe apparently). The Palace, famour for its grand hall of mirrors, was also the place where the treaty of Verailles was ratified in 1919(oooooohhh! makes sense). After the tour, in which we saw many illustriously decorated ceilings, and Images of its three king Louis', we explored the vast gardens and got sore feet.
We then went in town for lunch, and the Arc de Triomphe, we then moved on to the French war Museum which included the Tomb of Napoleon. For such a small dude, he's got one huge coffin. He rests in six of them, one inside the other.
Then on to the magnificent Louvre. We explored its vast halls, oogled at its vast paintings, and revilled in our vast appreciation, before finally, being evicted from the building at 11 pm, only after security staff found Callum and Oli still lingering around. Mrs lanyon would be so proud. Mr Drury and Mr Wyatt were on to the embassy to try to trace the whereabous of the missing twins. Luckily, no security guards were killed.
Were now getting kicked out of the internet cafe, everything will be updated tomorrow evening, Europan time. I'm off to sanitise my fingers, this keyboard is heinous.
We then went in town for lunch, and the Arc de Triomphe, we then moved on to the French war Museum which included the Tomb of Napoleon. For such a small dude, he's got one huge coffin. He rests in six of them, one inside the other.
Then on to the magnificent Louvre. We explored its vast halls, oogled at its vast paintings, and revilled in our vast appreciation, before finally, being evicted from the building at 11 pm, only after security staff found Callum and Oli still lingering around. Mrs lanyon would be so proud. Mr Drury and Mr Wyatt were on to the embassy to try to trace the whereabous of the missing twins. Luckily, no security guards were killed.
Were now getting kicked out of the internet cafe, everything will be updated tomorrow evening, Europan time. I'm off to sanitise my fingers, this keyboard is heinous.
Off to Paris!
Afer finally figuring out how to work a italian keyboard we communicate with you now from ROMA!
Lets go back 4 days...
We farewelled beautiful Ieper, and began what our main man Richie said would be a two and a half hour trip to Paris...
8 hours later we arived to the beautiful Paris! In Paris Richie had to tackle the crazy French drivers and the tiny streets, clearly no designed for coaches. As usual, he came through. There were great tears as we farewelled our Richie, a great trooper, who headed home with a heavy heart to see his mum, back in England.
The hostel rocked. Cenered around a large communal courtyard, all windows facing each other, the 16th century chateau acted as a communal hub, in the center of Paris. We met some lovely French and German girls and kept Mr Drury up to the wee hours as chatau watchdog.
On our first evening, Mr Drury took a small group of us to do our laundry. Now what an experience that turned out to be! ça alors! Two hour later we retrieved the sodden clothes from the disturbingly vibrating machines to discover Quinnys beatiful, prized woolen jumper, had shrunken to kindergardener size. Many giggles were shared at the laundrete, but have a feeling Quinny pined that night for his lost love.
The next day was a big one, tourist time once again. We rendezvoued in the early hours, after a stunning french breakfast-bread. Yes, a piece of bread. After this, we met up with our eccentric guide, Jenny, an English woman who had lived in Paris for countless years. We were taken around the sigts of Paris, before heading up yo the high hill of Montmartre, and the grand, white, Sacre Coeur. We were besieged upon arrival by the terrifying hawkers, pedalling their wares, among which dwelled the bracelet men. An aggressive gang of con-artists who trapped you in their clutches with promises of friendship, tied a bracelet around your wrist, and then turned, and hounded you for money. Luckily most escaped unharmed, mainly due to the fearsomeness of Quinny, the anger still raging in his eyes from the loss of his dear wollen friend.
Later, after crepes (ordered in very convincing french), we headed to the magnificent Pantheon, and then to the Notre Dame cathedral, which were large, and had many tombs. Like Victor Hugo!
Some tired feet then trudged back to the hostel, for a rest, dinner, and then our big outing to the Eiffel Tower itself. MAny mebers of the group had been hanging out for this event, and were soon dazzled by its height, view, and later, luminous sparkly nightime light show! Mr Drury was gearing up for his weekly base jump, but was sadly denied the oppourtunity due to an eagle eyed security man. Ricky was SO EXCITED by the bright lights, he leapfrogged Mason. FOUR TIMES. (as in photo)(not working ...yet!)
Lets go back 4 days...
We farewelled beautiful Ieper, and began what our main man Richie said would be a two and a half hour trip to Paris...
8 hours later we arived to the beautiful Paris! In Paris Richie had to tackle the crazy French drivers and the tiny streets, clearly no designed for coaches. As usual, he came through. There were great tears as we farewelled our Richie, a great trooper, who headed home with a heavy heart to see his mum, back in England.
The hostel rocked. Cenered around a large communal courtyard, all windows facing each other, the 16th century chateau acted as a communal hub, in the center of Paris. We met some lovely French and German girls and kept Mr Drury up to the wee hours as chatau watchdog.
On our first evening, Mr Drury took a small group of us to do our laundry. Now what an experience that turned out to be! ça alors! Two hour later we retrieved the sodden clothes from the disturbingly vibrating machines to discover Quinnys beatiful, prized woolen jumper, had shrunken to kindergardener size. Many giggles were shared at the laundrete, but have a feeling Quinny pined that night for his lost love.
The next day was a big one, tourist time once again. We rendezvoued in the early hours, after a stunning french breakfast-bread. Yes, a piece of bread. After this, we met up with our eccentric guide, Jenny, an English woman who had lived in Paris for countless years. We were taken around the sigts of Paris, before heading up yo the high hill of Montmartre, and the grand, white, Sacre Coeur. We were besieged upon arrival by the terrifying hawkers, pedalling their wares, among which dwelled the bracelet men. An aggressive gang of con-artists who trapped you in their clutches with promises of friendship, tied a bracelet around your wrist, and then turned, and hounded you for money. Luckily most escaped unharmed, mainly due to the fearsomeness of Quinny, the anger still raging in his eyes from the loss of his dear wollen friend.
Later, after crepes (ordered in very convincing french), we headed to the magnificent Pantheon, and then to the Notre Dame cathedral, which were large, and had many tombs. Like Victor Hugo!
Some tired feet then trudged back to the hostel, for a rest, dinner, and then our big outing to the Eiffel Tower itself. MAny mebers of the group had been hanging out for this event, and were soon dazzled by its height, view, and later, luminous sparkly nightime light show! Mr Drury was gearing up for his weekly base jump, but was sadly denied the oppourtunity due to an eagle eyed security man. Ricky was SO EXCITED by the bright lights, he leapfrogged Mason. FOUR TIMES. (as in photo)(not working ...yet!)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The battlefilelds of Ypres
After an early hitch (our guide thought he was showing ozzies around not kiwis!!), we got underway on our Ypres battlefield tour. Led by Flaurent, an outstanding man we covered such notable spots as Messines Ridge, Polygon Wood and Tyne Cot. What a day! It was such a humbling experience to go and see where young men, not a lot older than ourselves perished during the various battles for Ypres. To see names on memorial boards and on gravestones that had either a Christchurch, or even a CBHS connection really blew everyone away.
What was particularly noticeable was the great reverence the Belgians showed to those who had fallen. The immaculate Commonwealth War Graves are a real credit to the most polite, friendly and helpful people you could ever hope to meet.
During the afternoon Ricky's name was drawn out to read the "exhortation" at the last post ceremony, a job that he did with real pride. He was a real credit to the school and widely complimented for his efforts. Then Dom, Callum and Elliott Scott also got to play there part as they laid a wreath on behalf of CBHS. I am sure that this short service, following our battlefield tour is something that will long remain in our thoughts. Mr McIntyre would be very pleased with how the school was represented on this night. The tape of the service is now hopefully on its way to New Zealand and will hopefully be incorporated into the school's ANZAC service this year.
Oh and I nearly forgot....Oli had this huge heap of chips which had an even huger heap of mayonnaise on them...it was insane...he was almost looking like mayonnaise at the end of it.
Anyway another update on way soon.
What was particularly noticeable was the great reverence the Belgians showed to those who had fallen. The immaculate Commonwealth War Graves are a real credit to the most polite, friendly and helpful people you could ever hope to meet.
During the afternoon Ricky's name was drawn out to read the "exhortation" at the last post ceremony, a job that he did with real pride. He was a real credit to the school and widely complimented for his efforts. Then Dom, Callum and Elliott Scott also got to play there part as they laid a wreath on behalf of CBHS. I am sure that this short service, following our battlefield tour is something that will long remain in our thoughts. Mr McIntyre would be very pleased with how the school was represented on this night. The tape of the service is now hopefully on its way to New Zealand and will hopefully be incorporated into the school's ANZAC service this year.
Oh and I nearly forgot....Oli had this huge heap of chips which had an even huger heap of mayonnaise on them...it was insane...he was almost looking like mayonnaise at the end of it.
Anyway another update on way soon.
Ypres
On Saturday morning we set off on our epic journey to the battlefield of Ypres. First, it was to Dover, where we picked up Mr Drury's brother Matt who came with us for a night to Belgium. Then onto the ferry, hot Danish girls and then off the ferry. Before we knew it we were in Belgium. What a place! The Novatel was a big step up on the Arundel horrors......for tea, they even gave us half a chicken each. Even Elliott and Ricky were full.
Upon getting to Ypres we wandred down to the Menin Gate, a memorial to all the dead soldiers who lie somewhere on the Battlefields of Ypres, but without a designated grave. Every night since 1928 (but not durinh 1940-1945) they hold a last post ceremony to honour the brave lads who perished on the battlefields there. It was a really moving ceremony with over 1000 people in attendance...yes over 1000 and they hold this ceremony every night, 365 days a year.
After our big chicken dinner the boys were lets say, "tuckered out" and retired to their rooms quite happily, ready for a big day the next day.
Upon getting to Ypres we wandred down to the Menin Gate, a memorial to all the dead soldiers who lie somewhere on the Battlefields of Ypres, but without a designated grave. Every night since 1928 (but not durinh 1940-1945) they hold a last post ceremony to honour the brave lads who perished on the battlefields there. It was a really moving ceremony with over 1000 people in attendance...yes over 1000 and they hold this ceremony every night, 365 days a year.
After our big chicken dinner the boys were lets say, "tuckered out" and retired to their rooms quite happily, ready for a big day the next day.
The Beast of Arundel
In the best traditions of Fawlty Towers, we arrived in Arundel, only to find out that this was where the "he/she beast" of Arundel hung out. Frightening stuff, I can assure you. Even Tim was in bed by 8pm, so scared by this new foe that we now faced!
In a place that included no internet, a phone that didn't work and Arundel's equivalent of Manuel, it appeared that life was going to be difficult for the next couple of days....that was until the Duke of Edinburgh girls arrived with their tents for the night!!! This was going to test the mettle of Drury and Wyatt to the max. However, after Mr Drury defeated Ricky in an epic arm wrestle the boys clearly knew who was the boss!
The highlight of Arundel would clearly be our trip to Portsmouth. I mean they have got some seriously old ships there - The Victory - that fought in the Battle of Trafalgar....poor Nelson though he didn't quite make it. Then there was Henry VIII's ship the Mary Rose. This ship sunk like 500 years ago, had been hanging around on the ocean floor and then they dredged it up after 500 years!!! Yea 500 years!!
After POrstmouth we went for traditional fish and chips at an English pub...bloody good tucker that. Some dodgey geezer came in off the street and tried to sell Ricky some jewellery. However, the ever alert Wyatt was quickly on the case, stared him out and he hightailed with his tail between his legs. Then it was back to the Arundel fortress, hiding all the while from the beast. Angus was prepared though, he even went into Ninja mode prepared to take out the he/she beast....Anyway that was basically it for Arundel. Off the next day to Belgium!
In a place that included no internet, a phone that didn't work and Arundel's equivalent of Manuel, it appeared that life was going to be difficult for the next couple of days....that was until the Duke of Edinburgh girls arrived with their tents for the night!!! This was going to test the mettle of Drury and Wyatt to the max. However, after Mr Drury defeated Ricky in an epic arm wrestle the boys clearly knew who was the boss!
The highlight of Arundel would clearly be our trip to Portsmouth. I mean they have got some seriously old ships there - The Victory - that fought in the Battle of Trafalgar....poor Nelson though he didn't quite make it. Then there was Henry VIII's ship the Mary Rose. This ship sunk like 500 years ago, had been hanging around on the ocean floor and then they dredged it up after 500 years!!! Yea 500 years!!
After POrstmouth we went for traditional fish and chips at an English pub...bloody good tucker that. Some dodgey geezer came in off the street and tried to sell Ricky some jewellery. However, the ever alert Wyatt was quickly on the case, stared him out and he hightailed with his tail between his legs. Then it was back to the Arundel fortress, hiding all the while from the beast. Angus was prepared though, he even went into Ninja mode prepared to take out the he/she beast....Anyway that was basically it for Arundel. Off the next day to Belgium!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
A day of Underwhelming significance.
Today was an epic coach day.
First up on the list today were the impressive Roman Baths of Bath. They were old. Very old. Older than our great x 100 grandparents. They were pretty much the hanmer springs of 2000 years go, except they healed the sick. We were advised not to touch the water, as it might kill us because they're from very old springs, however we were able to buy a glass of it as we left. It tasted like "liquid sulfur". The whole group waited for over half an hour for Mr Drury to come out afterwards, only doing so when he heard of the free fudge samples at a nearby store. Then, back onto the coach with Richard.
Next up was the completely underwhelming Stonehenge. Erected donkeys years ago by people we dont know about from quarries we can't locate, the stones don't move, nor do they talk. They are not amusing at all. The most amazing part of the trip was the birds that couldn't escape from the dreariness of the place, seemingly magnetised to the stone. It made us laugh a whole lot. We left, still having no idea what they were, no thanks to the mysteriously vague audio commentary, (most of us ending up agreeing with DJ Wyatts "They're goalposts" call) and being bored as bored could be. Apologies to those aliens who built it.
Next up on the intinerary was...you guessed it, ANOTHER Cathedral. Having seen a dozen in London...and Oxford...and Bath, we weren't intrigued by the idea. So in a last moment change of plans, we went instead to Bird Sanctuary. I know what your thinking... birds?? Well no.
Birds of PREY!!
Dangerous, claw wielding, death swooping, rat hunting, talon flaying birds of prey. Owls, eagles, falcons... it was sooo cool. Everyone was so impressed we all bought owl hats. And then to cap everything off, there was a FERRET RACE!!! AMAZING!!! Mr Drury fell off his nut. It was the perfect end to a very gloomy English day. We were all smiles as we got back on the coach. We were even still laughing when we pulled up at our next accom. That all stopped very soon.
We had arrived in Arundel.
Richard.
Okay, so its like, day 4.
We caught up with our new coach driver, Richard, who turns out to be epic, but smokes. But is again epic. We drove to Bath from London, with tears in our eyes cos London is heaps cool.
Via Bath, we visited Oxford for a few hours, taking a tour around the nice small English town, and seeing Christchurch College, our namesake. Turns out it was like in Harry Potter for a scene or two, which makes it extreme. We then visited Oxford Castle 'Unlocked'. Turns out it was a castle back in the seventeenth century, then was turned into a prison til 1994, and is NOW a tourist attraction/hotel, and is the lesser-known jewel in Oxford's crown. We got taken on a tour by some guy in a costume who looked quite miserable. It was good climbing to the top of the castle because it really gave a feel for what it was like back in the times when they castle was used for a means of protection and living.
We then continued on coach to Bath, were we had some awesome Thai foods and Henry ate all the chili. We arrived at our accom, where we discovered some fine looking French speaking Belgian ladies staying in the hostel also. They were so impressed by us, and us by them, that we taught them the haka, and they gave Dom their emails. But all the YHA guys got mad cause we were making such a racket (ie. war chants) so we were sentenced to bed.
A Tale of Two Cities and One County
Here follows the tale of our MASSIVE TOURIST DAY. Unashamedly checking all the boxes on the must-do-in-london box given to every human being at birth.
Let me take you back to the third day of our tour. We started off by heading to the Globe Theatre, on the other side of the "wibbily wobboly" bridge, where we all marveled at its thatched glory. Greeting us was an incredible eccentric thespian with slicked back hair who went by the name of "Callum", ready to take us on a whirlwind tour of the 16th century Globe Theatre. (just kidding, it was actually rebuilt in 1996!). He was the best tour guide ever.
After checking out the Globe Museum, we headed down to the Embankment to catch some lunch from our favourite food franchise, 'EAT.' Ricky, the self named 'ladies man' of the group, managed to attract a gaggle of English girls who "needed" our "directional advice" ;)
We carried on down the Embankment past an incredible amount of living statues, to be smacked in teh face by the international tourist icon that is Big Ben. We took many a photo's and continued onto Westminster Abbey. However, we encountered a vocal group of Sri Lankan rioters who were protesting the "imminent genocide of the Tamil people".
Westminster Abbey has a lot of tombs. like seriously.
We waltzed on down to Downing Street, where unfortunately Gordan Brown (and the dozens of Riot Squads protecting him from the Sri Lankians) could not accommodate us that day.
We then saw Buckingham Palace and its ENORMOUS gates, but we know why the Queen never stays there, if you know what i mean. She only has like 56 rooms to choose from. I know right?
Later that night, the team split into two groups: One group who wanted to go see some musicals on the West End, and others who wanted to go... shopping at Westfield. It looks a lot like the one next to school but with 4 layers and more urban clothing stores. On the subway, the West End group encountered some difficulties, due to our collective in-experience (lack of DJ WYATT). Long story short, we caught three wrong trains and Ricky got left behind.
However, the musicals were extreme. Les Mis was WICKED, Wicked was AWESOME, and Spring Awakening was SPRING AWAKENING. Oops, i mean off tha freakin chain bro.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Greetings From Belgium!
Yes! We have officially arrived in Belgium, as per plan, after escaping the sodden and slightly scary Youth Hostel at Arundel in the South of England. We had been stranded there for the past two nights without internet or a working dryer. Luckily we have arrived today to our wiked new accom to find "intensely awesome" rooms and free internet. (Theres also a gym, a bar, and a swimming pool). Were about to head off to the Menin Gate so we'll fill you in on the past week later, and yes, there will be more photos....
to be continued...
to be continued...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
CBHS versus the Chelsea academy
Firstly, an apology for being so behind on the posts of the whole trip. But here goes:
it started out as a gentle kick-around down at Holland Park. "Who were these lads in the blue uniforms?" we asked. Next thing, approaching us from afar was a Ronaldo look-alike named Kikinho. "Do ye lads fancy a game then?"
Within two minutes, we'd mustered our numbers for the big challenge ahead. Sure on paper, we looked a little light on ability, but with such notables is Jordan, Flood and "DJ WYATT"!!, we were prepared to give it our best shot. The play ebb'd and flo'd, Henry Flood, throwing himself round like a man possessed. 2-2 became 3-3, and eventually 7-7. New talents emerged, Nick McKellow looking like the schools next Jack Pelter.
First 11 coach Phil "DJ" Wyatt was questioning how he'd missed this burgeoning talent!
As the game progressed, the Devlin twins, a forgotten talent on the football radar began to show all array of skills. Chelsea scored, 8-7, Tea time just 10 minutes away. After a mid-field conference, Flood and Jordan conjured up a piece of football mastery. Jordan levels with 5 to play.
With moments remaining, Wyatt has an oppotunity to seal it, however Chelsea break away down the right flank. In a moment, reminiscent of the great Mike Boomer, the Chelsea center forward lunged forward and landed what can only be described as the "header from hell". After a shake of hands, a devastated school headed back to Holland House, asking the question of what could have been. This game will go down in football folk-lore. Mr Boomer can expect a full report from Wyatt in the next 48 hours.
Drury out.
it started out as a gentle kick-around down at Holland Park. "Who were these lads in the blue uniforms?" we asked. Next thing, approaching us from afar was a Ronaldo look-alike named Kikinho. "Do ye lads fancy a game then?"
Within two minutes, we'd mustered our numbers for the big challenge ahead. Sure on paper, we looked a little light on ability, but with such notables is Jordan, Flood and "DJ WYATT"!!, we were prepared to give it our best shot. The play ebb'd and flo'd, Henry Flood, throwing himself round like a man possessed. 2-2 became 3-3, and eventually 7-7. New talents emerged, Nick McKellow looking like the schools next Jack Pelter.
First 11 coach Phil "DJ" Wyatt was questioning how he'd missed this burgeoning talent!
As the game progressed, the Devlin twins, a forgotten talent on the football radar began to show all array of skills. Chelsea scored, 8-7, Tea time just 10 minutes away. After a mid-field conference, Flood and Jordan conjured up a piece of football mastery. Jordan levels with 5 to play.
With moments remaining, Wyatt has an oppotunity to seal it, however Chelsea break away down the right flank. In a moment, reminiscent of the great Mike Boomer, the Chelsea center forward lunged forward and landed what can only be described as the "header from hell". After a shake of hands, a devastated school headed back to Holland House, asking the question of what could have been. This game will go down in football folk-lore. Mr Boomer can expect a full report from Wyatt in the next 48 hours.
Drury out.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
More photos
Kia Ora!
Alright, so its been a wicked couple of days. I'll try very very hard to update you as best I can. Luckily, this time i have the very speedy hands (and sexy) of Nick McKellow. (he's so cool) to guide me.
After the British museum, we made our way by foot through London's magical west end district to the "kick-ass" Leicester Square. Surrounded by movie/normal theatres, Leicester Square is pretty much Dunedin's Octagon, but actually good. (like Nick McKellow good). Then, we head off to Trafalgar Square. The main monument, (Nelson's column) is extremely tall, and rather ominous colomn, topped w/ a statue of Nelson himself and guarded by fericous bronze Lions. (see photo)
After meeting up with DJ Wyatt's mad aunty and co, we were told that Covent gardens were the place to go for a bit of a feed. It was pretty choice eh. This hot fluteist was checking me out, and Dylan got pretty jealous. He was all up thinking that she was flirting with him, but when i pointed out that i was much better looking than him, he bought a giant gobstopper to lessen the pain. (got photo's of the extreme candy).
And thats what happened for the first full day. Pretty nackered, so we headed back to the hostel for a big sleep.
When Dawn appeared, fresh and rosy-fingered, (sorry i've been reading Homer's Odessesy and that gets repeated like every page and a half) we woke up to ANOTHER big breakfast, and made our way to the Tower of London. It was choice bro. We saw some outrageously cool Armour (they had a King Henry VIII exhibit. he was an extremely fat man) and the Crown Jewels. After grabbing some epic photo's, we walked halfway across the Tower Bridge. After grabbing some more epic photo's, we ended up walking to St. Paul's Cathedral. We then found out that Italy had that big earthquake, which we thought somewhat ironic as we're spose to be going there. but i assume many people knew that already as they've read our itinerary. Once we gained entrance to St. Paul's Cathedral, it was unbelievable, the amazing attention to detail over such a large surface (the roof, walls, monuments etc) was wicked. Buttt unfortunately for everyone else people aren't allowed to take photo/video so yeah. Gutted. After reaching the top of St. Paul's for mad views of the city. After that everyone was basically complaining of how they were so tired and ended up travelling back (by Underground, the best way to travel) to Holland Park. (More to come on this day relatively soon!)
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
First Few Days
Dear Everyone.
It is 8:21 pm on Saturday night. I am sitting here typing this in the lovely YHA lobby with a helpful brother and a helpful Nick McKellow. However I am very tired from and epic day, so bear with me if some of this makes no sense at all. Somehow I feel like this is going to be a running theme of these blogs...
Anyway; the last post was sent halfway through the LONGEST DAY OF OUR LIVES EVER! about to embark on a sensible 13 hour flight to London for some serious fun times. However, we would have to sit patiently through a torment of gargantuan proportions to get there. Movies and games could only help so much, some of the braver ones attempting to sleep. Others, like Elliot Harris managed not to sleep at all throughout the entire (30 HOUR!) voyage.
Many moments later we arrived at Heathrow (just like from Love Actually) with tired "Hurray" but our imediate first impression was a little bit disapointing. The Land of The Queen and Big Ben looked remarkably like Christchurch, but as we coached nearer inland the country revealed its charms; rows upon rows of identicle brick houses, complete with chimeny pots (!!!).
We found our way to our lovely hostel, and checked in. Parents please note; somehow the adults were checked in to the lovely brick chateau in the adverts, while the boys were left to enjoy the confourts of our tiny modern addition. 12 to a room.
We then strolled off to check out the ridiculous Albert Memorial and his hall, and then got some tea (COUGH mcdonalds COUGH... woops) and then stumbled back the hostel to fall asleep.
This morning we awoke to hot showers and an English Breakfast (bacon, eggs, beans and cereal sans milk...??) before hopping on the Undergound (THE UNDERGROUND!!!) to go completelty tourist nuts. With matching bags and cameras galore we braved the sunny streets of London in Spring and came to the IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUM. Yes, the capitol letters were needed.
The Museum is a grand building filled to the top with war artefacts and exhibits, including the rather sombre Holocaust exhibit, the Trench and Blitz experience and enormous cannons (see photo soon).
Next was more Undergrounding and then lunch (subway, Wok n a Box and CORNISH PASTIES).
On the list for the afternoon was the BRITISH MUSEUM, a spectacular Greek like building with colomns and friezes and everything. Doms favourite part of the Museum was the pillaged sculpture from the Parthenon and all of the "Greek Stuff." It was really really awesome. Go there.
Meanwhile, Oli and Callum ventured off to Denmark St and bought Oli a guitar. Here is a photo with Kien, the nicest guitar shop guy in the world. Here is a photo:
Friday, April 3, 2009
Singapore Airport
Good Morning!
I only have ten minutes free internet here (YUS! FREE!!) so I'll be quick.
It is 6:30 am and 36 degrees.
We have safely made it to the vastly enormous Changi Airport after completing one 10 hour flight, and soon to be boarding (in two hours time) our 13!! hour flight to London. With some of us achieving no sleep at all over the time, the selection of movies and games on the plane certainly got put to good use. Mr Wyatt achieved a record 0 hours sleep, and plans to continue this all the way to London. We wish him luck.
Mr Drury is currently wandering around dazzled by the rediculously enormous Airport we're in now. He especially likes the travellators and the nice gardens. This being his first time in the Northen Hemisphere, we all share in his excitement at the prospect in anti clockwise flushing.
So far this Airport wins for nices toilets, although our sympathies go out to the man who has to gaurd them. Note: auto flushing toilets will freak you out the first time.
We are now going to go check out the airport forest, as it looks promising. Does Chch have a forest in its airport?? I dont think so. Singapore wins.
We'll be sure to update you on our progress as best we can in the next couple of days, but until then a bientot!
ps. travelators!!!
I only have ten minutes free internet here (YUS! FREE!!) so I'll be quick.
It is 6:30 am and 36 degrees.
We have safely made it to the vastly enormous Changi Airport after completing one 10 hour flight, and soon to be boarding (in two hours time) our 13!! hour flight to London. With some of us achieving no sleep at all over the time, the selection of movies and games on the plane certainly got put to good use. Mr Wyatt achieved a record 0 hours sleep, and plans to continue this all the way to London. We wish him luck.
Mr Drury is currently wandering around dazzled by the rediculously enormous Airport we're in now. He especially likes the travellators and the nice gardens. This being his first time in the Northen Hemisphere, we all share in his excitement at the prospect in anti clockwise flushing.
So far this Airport wins for nices toilets, although our sympathies go out to the man who has to gaurd them. Note: auto flushing toilets will freak you out the first time.
We are now going to go check out the airport forest, as it looks promising. Does Chch have a forest in its airport?? I dont think so. Singapore wins.
We'll be sure to update you on our progress as best we can in the next couple of days, but until then a bientot!
ps. travelators!!!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
No Days to go!(ITINERARY)
Here we are, its leaving day, were all fully packed and everything is going to plan!(hopefully)
We have all got our bags down to exactly 20kgs, and all of our carry on liquids or gels are now in individual little 100ml bottles. Or itinerarys are being read and reread, lists are being written and rewritten, parents are getting excited, then angry, then stressed, than sad to see us go(please don't worry, and we'll miss you too!)
The collective excitement is pretty massive at the moment; Mr Drury did a backflip! Most of us are about to step into the unknown, and 23 hours in a plane. Apparently, if we all do what were told to do, we will have THE GREATEST TIME OF OUR LIVES.
see you all on the other side...
oli
ps. I've attached the itinerary for you all to follow our voyage, that way, if we forget to update the blog, you still know where we are and can imagine our exploits. Just CLICK ON THE MESSAGE TITLE
We have all got our bags down to exactly 20kgs, and all of our carry on liquids or gels are now in individual little 100ml bottles. Or itinerarys are being read and reread, lists are being written and rewritten, parents are getting excited, then angry, then stressed, than sad to see us go(please don't worry, and we'll miss you too!)
The collective excitement is pretty massive at the moment; Mr Drury did a backflip! Most of us are about to step into the unknown, and 23 hours in a plane. Apparently, if we all do what were told to do, we will have THE GREATEST TIME OF OUR LIVES.
see you all on the other side...
oli
ps. I've attached the itinerary for you all to follow our voyage, that way, if we forget to update the blog, you still know where we are and can imagine our exploits. Just CLICK ON THE MESSAGE TITLE
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Comments
Hey team. If you're wanting to send a message to someone on the trip through this blog, here's a quick tutorial on how to post comments or messages on posts.
1. Click on the title of the post you want to leave a comment on. The page should change to the posts main page.
2. Scroll down to the bottom of the page and find the comments box bellow the post text.
3. Enter your comment.
4. Drop down the tab on the "Comment as:" menu by clicking on the arrow. Select "Name/URL"
5. Enter your name in the "name" box! (There is no need to enter a URL, but if you have one, why not!)
6. Click "Post Comment"
7. Feel secure and gratified in knowing that your message has been sent safely across cyberspace.
1. Click on the title of the post you want to leave a comment on. The page should change to the posts main page.
2. Scroll down to the bottom of the page and find the comments box bellow the post text.
3. Enter your comment.
4. Drop down the tab on the "Comment as:" menu by clicking on the arrow. Select "Name/URL"
5. Enter your name in the "name" box! (There is no need to enter a URL, but if you have one, why not!)
6. Click "Post Comment"
7. Feel secure and gratified in knowing that your message has been sent safely across cyberspace.
Friday, March 20, 2009
TWO WEEKS LEFT!!?!
With only two weeks (!!!) left on the clock I thought it was about time I finally got working on setting up this blog.
For those of you who don't know the point of this blog (or the meaning behind its rather controversial title) let me fill you in...
Nearly two years ago in the prestigious setting of Christchurch Boys' High School a rumour quickly spread amongst the pupils that would cause much a ruckus. There was talk amongst the staff and pupils of the school of an epic overseas trip of mammoth proportions.
The rumour was soon identified as fact when the history department announced a tour of Europe, to take place in early 2009. The cry of outrage from the senior students of 2007 who would be missing out on this groundbreaking trip was enormous. However, it was easily drowned by the screams of excitment and enthusiasm uttered by the junior students of the time.
Hence, months and years of laborious planning, preparation and fundraising; over one million emails; an enormous upsurge of interest in the social sciences in CBHS; and one (soon to be) kick ass blog.
This blog is a means of communication with you, the dedicated and worried family and friends of the boys (and teachers and mums) going on this epic trip. We'll be updating you as best we can over the month that we'll be overseas.
Also, please don't be worried if the posts become less frequent. Depending on the cost and availabilty of internet during the trip, it may be hard, or sometimes impossible to update you.
If you wish to leave someone on the trip a message, simply comment on one of the posts. It may need you to create an account to do so, but this shouldn't be too hard and won't cost you anything. I'll look into this and put up a post later on how to do so.
And finally, for those of you who don't know where Europe is, here is a helpful picture. (click click!)
For those of you who don't know the point of this blog (or the meaning behind its rather controversial title) let me fill you in...
Nearly two years ago in the prestigious setting of Christchurch Boys' High School a rumour quickly spread amongst the pupils that would cause much a ruckus. There was talk amongst the staff and pupils of the school of an epic overseas trip of mammoth proportions.
The rumour was soon identified as fact when the history department announced a tour of Europe, to take place in early 2009. The cry of outrage from the senior students of 2007 who would be missing out on this groundbreaking trip was enormous. However, it was easily drowned by the screams of excitment and enthusiasm uttered by the junior students of the time.
Hence, months and years of laborious planning, preparation and fundraising; over one million emails; an enormous upsurge of interest in the social sciences in CBHS; and one (soon to be) kick ass blog.
This blog is a means of communication with you, the dedicated and worried family and friends of the boys (and teachers and mums) going on this epic trip. We'll be updating you as best we can over the month that we'll be overseas.
Also, please don't be worried if the posts become less frequent. Depending on the cost and availabilty of internet during the trip, it may be hard, or sometimes impossible to update you.
If you wish to leave someone on the trip a message, simply comment on one of the posts. It may need you to create an account to do so, but this shouldn't be too hard and won't cost you anything. I'll look into this and put up a post later on how to do so.
And finally, for those of you who don't know where Europe is, here is a helpful picture. (click click!)
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