things that go bump in the night

i wasn't going to type this up, but i relayed the story to jason when he rang me this afternoon, and once he'd stopped laughing he demanded i make it public. i don't think anyone related to me is going to be too impressed, so i'll just promise now that i will never ever get myself into this situation again. also, i would like to make the point that i didn't pay for any of the weed i smoked in this story. i think thats pretty impressive.

x

it's my first night in amsterdam. i'm tired grotty and unimpressed. i'm also drunk and stoned. there are five of us in the dorm. an irishman (paddy? i think so. we'll call him paddy) who is in the same state as me. two english girls who have eaten two boxes of mushrooms each and aren't on the planet anymore. and one argentinian who i am ready to kill. it will not be a pretty death. and after he is dead, i will parade his body through the streets. it is 3 a.m.

what happened was this: Paddy and I went for one beer ('just one mind, i have to be in jerusalem tomorrow!') typically this turned into three beers, and before i knew it i had a joint in my hand and wasn't as pissed off with amsterdam as i had been previously. Paddy and i were talking about how Irish politics are deeply linked to Judaism. then this big hairy thing sits infront of us and starts talking in a thick south american accent. Paddy scowls and refuses to relinquish the joint. i can't understand a word either of them is saying, so i meander up to the bar for a refill. there i bump into an icelandic couple who have taken too much LSD and are paranoid about polar bears. they say this with such straight faces that for a moment i too am paranoid about polar bears, before i return to Paddy and Hairyman, when i become paranoid about hairy South Americans. i manage to make out that this guy is a teetotaller who is trying to get to Barcelona but keeps missing his flight as he does not have a watch. Paddy inerjects - he is going to get food, do i want some? i nod and the irishman saunters off. i am stuck with the two icelandic paranoids and Hairyman. he tells me that 'when i was 20 i took california for one year. i try everything. everything except the sex'. i have another beer. Paddy eventually comes back. no food, but he has had a shower and changed his clothes. i persaude him to take me out for pizza. we try to convince the waiter to pay for us. Paddy says he wont kiss him if he pays our bill. we get a discount, i think.

its about 1am before we throw ourselves up the stairs. i have never been this stoned in my life and am convinced that the best thing to do is open a vegan commune in sydney called something pretentious. Paddy promises to visit and bake food for it. neither of us are vegans. when we get into our room, our shins are bruised beyond belief - victims of the cliffs that amsterdam likes to call stairs. we find the two english girls lying on the hostel floor giggling helplessly at the pretty things they are seeing. one of them proclaims over and over that she 'is in such a state' Paddy passes out on the floor too. i manage to make it into bed. the argentinian is already asleep, fully clothed on top of the covers in the bed opposite mine. someone (me? i dont know) hits the light and we all drift off.

until

until this colossal snoring wakes us up!! the walls were shaking and the english girls trips were suddeny not as pretty. i resolved to kill whoever was snoring. it would be a shame if it was Paddy, he seemed like a nice guy. the snores got louder and louder and louder. then, oddly, they were interrupted by a stream of spanish. that was it. i was going to have to kill the argentinian. it would be an international crime, but i was willing to do so in order to get some sleep.

the snores started up again, but five minutes later i was hit in the face by a pair of jeans. i floundered and swore and sat up, throwing the pants on one of the english girls. there was a second thump - the argentinian throwing his shirt onto Paddy's sleeping face. i found myself looking at a naked sleeping argentinian. well. not all of him was sleeping. one part of him was very awake. i curled up in a ball and tried to think happy thoughts of bunnies and other innocent things. the snoring had stopped at least.

but when he started panting and whimpering 'mama, mama' i wanted to ask him if he'd mind snoring again. he got louder and louder and faster and faster and i was lying two metres away shaking with rage and anger. finally he let out one final drawn out 'mamaaaaaa!'

it was at this point Paddy woke up 'aw, for fucks sake! heathen!' i made a run for it, back downstairs to the bar. i sat there laughing for half an hour before noticing the icelandic couple. the girl was asleep but the boy was rolling up. he offered and i told him what had happened. there were tears streaming down our faces when Paddy stormed into the bar 'that's the third fucking time this week! i'm putting that bastard on his fucking plane to barcelona tomorrow whether he has a fucking watch or not!!!'

the icelander placated Paddy with pot and beer. i was already pretty placid, but not going to say no to another pint. we stayed down there for a few hours, talking, smoking, Paddy occasionally shouting abuse in the direction of our room. i went to sleep with my head on the table for an hour, i think. Paddy went to get food but had a shower and changed his shirt instead. when the sun came up, i went back upstairs to get my stuff. the argentinian was still naked but face down, hairy backside greeting the world. i grabbed my things and left. Paddy gave me some philosophical words as i went out the door 'you get some strange fuckers in amsterdam'

i nodded, and went to meet my grandparents.

just because i'm losing doesn't mean i've lost

luxembourg is not a town for long stays. yesterday i went to their art musuem, the casemates and um bock. i also managed to read half my book, book a eurostar ticket, play football with some local kids, watch spain beat russia and offend the irish catholic in my room.

the casemates was pretty awe inspiring- its the ruins of a castle called 'Um Bock' and its crypts. very very very old and very small. i've got some pretty cool photos, will upload them when i get back. everything here is really pretty. the art musuem was interesting, but i'm over looking at things at the moment. after the BA, V&A, NPG, NG, Van Gogh and Rikjsmuseum i think i deserve a break.

in the afternoon i was sitting in the park near the hostel when a small boy came up to me and said something in french. i blinked at him, and he repeated his request in english 'would you play football with me madamioslle?' there was no one else in the park except for this boy and his mum, who was busy with a baby of some sort. so i agreed and we kicked the ball around. that must be some sort of code in Luxembourg, because before i could explain that i have no football skills whatsoever, more kids (from about 7-15) turned up and suddenly we had teams!! we played for ages and i couldnt tell you who won or lost, only that it was fun, and they were very nice to me, and seemed pleased that i had a french name. the boy who initally came up to me was called Jorges, but his mother called him Monsueir Petite. very cute.

it doesn't get dark here until about ten pm, so once i had had dinner and read some of my book, i was a bit bored. then i discovered that the Russia vs Spain match was on. i have become a football convert, i'm terribly sorry. it started the night before last when i watched Germany beat Turkey in the German pub around the corner. it was fantastic, not only because the bartender was terribly drunk with jubilitation and therefore gave me free beer, but also because the Germans are very very friendly and happy to explain the game to me. the final match is Germany vs Spain on Sunday. Germany better win.

and then i offended the irish catholic girl in my dorm. mostly because i dropped my book on my foot and swore 'jesus fuck' but also because i refused her invite to go to church with her on sundaz. she doesn't seem to understand that i am going to be back in the uk on saturday afternoon.

yes, i'm going back to the UK. i think that i'll go up to the lake district, or to the cotswalds. i want to rent a bike and zip around little pubs and read three men in a boat again. i want to see a cricket match, and maybe a football match. i want to go to oxford. i want to find my feet in a country where i don't have a language barrier before i try europe again. the past week has been a very steep learning curve, in that i've discovered how shy i can be but also how desperate for attention and companionship i am.

i've been reading the three musketeers again. for the umpteenth time. its my favourite classic because its an adventure. its friendship. its family. its everything that i don't have nearby at the moment. its an adequate replacement, i guess. the new coldplay album is also surprisingly good. im going to get the new sigur ros album on sunday. expect more ranting then.

(sorry for typos, these keyboards are very different)

um.

amsterdam was like being inside a clock. luxembourg is like being inside a chess game. i have never ever in my life felt this anxoius and this exhausted and this tired. i feel like a big angst ridden failure, and it is verz difficult to enjoy myself at the moment. im thinking of going back to the uk. its ok to be disappointed in me.

im disappointed in me.

first impression

amsterdam is strange, and my first impression of it was "erk." its very flat and full of americans. possibly everywhere except america is full of americans. my hostel room for tonight isn't very nice, but the one i'm going to tomorrow is supposed to be. it's also grotty. it's a different kind of grot to london.

i keep having these horrid reality checks, and i keep thinking that maybe it would be easier and nicer to run home with my tail between my legs right now. good thing i've never really liked making things easy on myself.

x

on the train from the airport to centraal there was a german shephard asleep under the seats.

x

i have to go and sort out my phone.

cold days from the birdhouse

this will probably be the last post for about a week. i promise i'll try and write something at least once a fortnight, even if it means forgoing dinner or something. stupid exchange rates.

x

i'd been trying to write thursday's post for about three days and when it finally got to thursday i had a hangover and wasn't particularly impressed with anything. so. 

adventure with my second cousin freddie

is my paternal grandmother's father's sister's grandson. i think. we're not sure if we're actually related at all, but we met at Embankment and there was something that just made us go "ah, family!" i think really we were just after an excuse to drink. which we did in Covenant Garden which is very quaint and full of italians. we had dinner in a theatre/music place called Joe Allens and i dont remember what i had except more white wine. and then some more. and then some beer. and then we got rained on. and then somehow i was back at Hazels. but it was nice to hang out with someone who understands my ability to forgive Snow Patrol for "Chasing Cars". we're going to try and meet up in Paris to see Bark Cat Bark. actually, i think the thing that made us realise we were related was that we're both quite small. he's about 5ft7 and i'm 5ft. oh, and freddie, emily (his first cousin) and i all played the cello at the salubrious private schools we were sent to. 

adventure with my cousin-once-removed Elaine

so. thursday morning, still in the throes of hangover i tottered off to Baker Street Station (which has tiles with Sherlock Holmes! but i felt too ill to take a photo) where i met up with Elaine, the sister of Lisa (who many of you have heard stories about her wonderdog Jarvis). both are cousins of my dad, so once removed from me? whatever, it was fun. well. kind of. we traipsed up and down Oxford Steet, Elaine thrilled that she had a "daughter for the day" (her words not mine)  and refused to let me pay for anything! I ended up bullying her into letting me pay for lunch, but when i fell in love with grapefruit coloured cotton skirt, i suddenly found myself in possession of it as a birthday present(granted it wasn't stupidly expensive, but still!) but Oxford Street is mad, as is much of London. i found a bag that fitted all my requirements for handbag (zip, big, not plastic) except for its weird caramel colour, which i'm still not completely sold on. but for £10 (discounted from £30) i couldn't really say no to it. then we caught the train back to Elaine's place in Stoke-Mandeville. very picker-esque. picked up Elaine's husband Sean and went to dinner at Chequers, which is old school english pub. food was lovely. it didn't get dark until about 10pm, so we didnt really end up in bed until half past midnightish, i think. i do know that i woke up with a cat on my chest this morning, a big fat thing called Toby. 

caught the train back to Maryleborne, then from Baker St to Finchely then bus to Golders and now i'm knackered. i go to Amsterdam tomorrow, which i'm terrified and excited about. i have to leave here at about 6am, which will be fun, and then i'll have to find the hostel once i do get there. 

i don't really know what to make of London. there are far too many tourists (which is not the same as foreigners, thank you very much mr racist bus driver) and far too many people looking annoyed. it smells like one of my brothers socks if the sock had managed to survive for three billion years. but at the same time i've never been somewhere so alive. something is always happening and i imagine that whatever your taste, you can find it in London. but i don't really know if i could live there. my granny always told me "oh you'll love London the moment you get off the plane" but i'm not so sure. i think i could grow to love it here (i could move into thr BM or the Portrait Gallery or Ken Wood tomorrow) but it just feels too big. a person could disappear here. people probably do. 

having said that, i've only really been here two weeks. i've barely scratched the surface. (athough i did go to Neasden. which was depressing) maybe when i come back at the end of august. maybe when i come back in the middle of november. maybe not. 

xx

i'm not really that homesick. 

that's a lie. 

mum rang me when i was in the V&A on wednesday, and after i spoke to her i had to leave The Supremes Exhibit and go and sit in the Cast Courts Room before i felt i could take on the world again. and there are a bunch of greek tourists who think that australians are insane because they see a plate with three girls drinking on it and get all weepy (for the record it made me think of our nights at the Shakey, alright?) and sometimes i see people sitting in cafes talking and suddenly there's a lump in my throat. i don't know. i'm too sensitive and too defensive for normality. 

but i think i thought i'd leave and that would be it. that would be the end of my time in sydney and i wouldn't miss anyone or anything. but i put down roots there, made ties and bonds and friends and enemies. i grew up there and even if it never felt like home because of teenage angst, it is home. it's where the people i love are (and they fucking well better be missing me and my idiot tendencies) it's where i got drunk for the first time, where i saw my first gig, got stoned. it's where i've lived and i've left scars all over that city in the same way that city has left scars all over me. it's not so much that i miss the buildings or the people who i didn't know. but i miss having my city to bitch at, the same way that sydney probably misses having me to mess about with. there's one less scowling person on the train, one less professional cynical person in the dingy pubs, one less barton in our house (which is apparently falling down.) but at the same time i don't feel australian yet. i don't sound like an australian but i don't sound english or polish or nigerian. i sound like a maddie. a madeleine (i sound like a small cake) and even if i never get comfortable in my own skin i think i'm slowly adjusting to the fact that this is my skin and my body and i have it and i have to reach some sort of compromise, i can't be that wannabe headcase girl anymore. which is liberating really. i don't know what i'm writing really, if any of it makes sense or if its just pretentious and self indulgent, but thats the great thing about being my age. i'm allowed to say all these things and think all these wanky thoughts (because if i don't think them now i'll turn into a vegetable.) because i'm 'finding myself'

i just wish i'd left better directions.

xx

i've managed to get my hands on some songs by The Twilight Sad. i wish i'd known about them before i'd gone to see them, i think i would have enjoyed them even more than i did. they're definitely fantastic.  

'we're no' fuckin' guns 'n' roses, ay?"

i have the first (of many) northern hemisphere hangovers. no real difference to southern hemisphere hangovers. except for lack of waking up with bread bag/emma/miscellaneous objects in my bed. i feel shocking, but i think its mostly because i've been pushing myself quite a bit. normally if i go to a gig (like i did on tuesday) i'll spend the next day recovering. instead i dragged myself to the V&A and then out to meet my second cousin Freddie. and that's where the trouble started, really. i think appreciation of wine is a family trait. 

Tuesday - london gigs are much louder than sydney ones* which lead me to think that perhaps all the smog and pollution makes for ear insulation? or something. anyway. i trotted off to Cargo to see one band that i knew and three that i didn't. breakdown is as follows

1. Everything Everything

a sort of. well. a'capella beach boys? except if that sounds good in your head, you might be a bit disappointed. the main problem with this band is that there's too much going on, but at the same time each song sounded the same - and started in a really jarring way. still the record scouts sniffing round seemed to sense potential and zoomed in on them. if they can tighten their sound up a bit, and maybe introduce some diversity into their songs (gosh, thats a bit contrary) then theres no reason why they couldn't be indie's next big thing. (especially if they continue to wear button up shirts down up to the collar)

2. Orphans And Vandals

the one band i knew! the reason i went tonight! i was a bit worried that this band would take themselves too seriously or something, but they were lovely to watch and even more lovely to listen to. "Strays" was formidable and brooding, "Mysterious Skin" meandering and gentle. OAV remind me of Leonard Cohen when it comes to their subject matter, but their lead singer trips and stumbles over his words with a softness that Cohen doesnt't have. they're a very endearing band to watch. also they get bonus points for having a female drummer. 

3. Broken Records

it's very poor form of me to say this, but when this sextet (i think there were 6 of them. i couldn't really see because the lead singer of everything everything kept standing in front of me.) took to the stage i thought "huh. farmers." and then they played their first song and i thought "huh. this is awesome." i think their music probably sounds better live than on record, but they were pretty great to watch, as every member seemed to play about four instruments each, including ukulele and accordion and cello. the lead singers voice is unabashedly scottish and folksy but the music is like. electric folk punk almost. very very very very good. they deserve to be huge. 

4. The Twilight Sad

intense. very intense and serious, until the lead singer dryly comments "this is the first time we've come on stage to steely dan and we never want to do tha' again". the music is massive in sound and reminded me of coal mines and oil rigs, i have no idea why. it's not indie pop, but Twilight Sad is definitely indie in the true sense of the word indie, that is 'independent" and has its own acidic edge and snarl. it was a little too loud, but that didn't bother me. standout track was "Here It Never Snowed. Afterwards It Did." which has a swirling soundscape and a low growly storyline. other standout moment was the lead singer chiding the drummer for an exhuberant drum roll that followed his "we're the twilight sad" *drum roll* "ach, we're no' fuckin' guns 'n' roses', ay?" 

pretty good night, except that london is like fucking purple sneakers all the time, and my self esteem isn't really strong enough for that. you need tits of steel to handle being looked at like you're a colonial. except my new thing will be to say to them "you, you and you. fuck off, i'm having tiffen." 

*excluding brmc at the metro. there were aliens dancing to spread your love and their neighbours were screaming 'turn it down!' 

this great ghostly garden

meant to put this photo up earlier. this is one of the best things i've seen in london so far - in Queens House, which is part of the Tower Of London and is the Governor's home. i'm not sure how well you  can see it, but its washing. in the Tower of London. it probably says something rather unflattering about me that i took photos of this rather than of the scaffold sculpture. i would have liked a better picture (theres a pair of red knickers just out of the shot) but alas i was too short to get anything better than this. 

i spent the day at the British Museum yesterday. i think i'll need to go back when i come back in london at the end of august. it's massive and busy and fantastic. highlight was hearing a bunch of Greek tourists complaining about the Pantheon. the Rosetta Stone is smaller than you think. Ramses II was clearly a tad self-obsessed. and oh, the clocks! i wanted to take the boat clock home with me! it was so very awesome and intricate and who cares if the actual clock part was only about the size of an orange, this is a gold boat clock! it had cannons! and figurines! i wish it still worked. or maybe not. i might have been arrested trying to smuggle it out (is that a boat clock in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?). Other highlights of the day included nearly knocking some school children off the staircase and i don't know. everything. will have to go back to see the Hadrian exhibit when it opens.

x 

i had a haircut today. i'm fairly sure that I've got a cold - clogged sinuses and head feels like a brick wrapped in cotton wool being bashed on a chalkboard. also my throats all scratchy. feel like i should be out doing something, but considering i'm going out tonight (to see Orphans & Vandals! yes!) and then out again tomorrow night (family!) and then i'm in Stoke-Mandeville thursday night (more family!) and then on a plane at a very early hour on saturday morning (Amsterdam! grandparentals!) i feel quite justified in curling up and reading for a bit. might go for a walk on Hampstead Heath this afternoon. its grey again and i wish the weather would make up its mind.