duex biere

I am currently sitting in a Geneva Internet Cafe, the counter decorated with 'Vote For McCain' stickers. Considering the guy running the place is a stoner playing MGMT, I suspect theres some irony involved. Its difficult to tell with the Swiss.

I've had a nice couple of days in Geneve. It's lovely and warm. Yesterday I walked to the Red Cross Museum. In typical me fashion I got lost and ended up at the Jardin de Maths 'Chromosone Walk' which was very interesting and involved inflatable chromosones spread around the place. Eventually did find the museum, which is less depressing than I thought it would be, although on of the features is a wall that documents the bad things that happened each year. Turns out the year I was born Asia decided to go nuts, particularly the Phillipines. Still, the Berlin Wall came down aruond that time, so I can't be a total global doomsayer. (I'm not sure how much sense that makes)

Haven't spent hours of bonding time with my father -something that suits as both, as bonding is tedious. We meet for dinner most nights and it's certainly a step up from my usual ham and cheese dinners. (Jeremy, my brother, is going to love backpacking) Last night Dad had Poir Williams and told me he'd be happy if I came home with him on Sunday. Drunk Old Fart, but I have two witnesses (witlesses) to confirm that this statement was uttered.

The other thing I've been doing is keeping an eye on Dad to make sure he doesn't buy anything 'stupid'. Like a Bentley pen. Or a watch. Or an Aston Martin. Geneva is a very very rich place, with watch and jewellery shops everywhere. We nearly stole an AM Roadster today, but every Swiss man has a gun. Instead we went and looked at fountain pens, and I have decided that for mz 21st you should all buy me the Octopus pen made by Sailor. You have about 10 months to raise funds. Get to it.

Today I was supposed to do a walk around the quieter part of Geneva, but I got to 'Parc Bertrand', sat down with my book, my bread and my jar of nutella at about 2pm, and woke up three hours later. So much for that idea. Managed not to get sunburnt, and managed to stave off finishing my book for another day - will have to do something about more books.

(There is a very very very pretty porshe with a very pretty boy in it just outside the window. Swiss boys look like theyàve stepped out of a country road catalogue. Very prep.)

My father and I quit Geneva tomorrow evening - he'll fly back to Sydney. And as for me, it was only this morning that I decided I would go to Vienna. I know, I know, what happened to Italy and Greece? Well, the further south I get, the longer its going to take me to get back to UK. And also, everywhere in Italy is booked up. I am planning on looking at spending a month in Greece and Italy in the future. (Anything to postpone responsibility and adulthood!) So to Vienna for 3 or 4 days, then I shall meander to Berlin. Then I will probably have to get back on the wretched Eurolines Bus back to Victoria. After that, everything will be washed, toiletries will be stocked up and I will put myself on a plane to Iceland. I have been informed that its a good idea to bring as much chocolate and dried food (instant pasta and soup etc) into the country as possible, so I will raid all the supermarkets near Chez Hazel.

I'm enjoying Europe much more this time. Have become very zen about spending money - adopted my fathers attitude 'you can't take it with you'. Have found that this makes me semi human. In terms of Maddie Habits, am listening to a lot of (We Are) Performance, The Killers and reading a biography of Arthur Rimbaud, the enfant terrible of French Literature. He was a wonderful arse, who shared my dislike of the Belgish. (I know, Belgians. But Belgish sounds better)

So, Vienna tomorrow, where I will progress from Chocolate Eclairs to Chocolate Torte for breakfast.

Tres Bien!

apparently so

I write...type...from Lausanne, Switzerland. My impression of Switzerland so far is Hotels & Hills. Lots of hills. And cobblestones. My thighs have never looked better!

Spent seven nights in Paris all up, and am very glad I did so, even though it rained most of the time. One of the best things about Paris is that there's something different to do everyday, even if you don't want to do touristy things. And the hot chocolate was fantastic. My favourite things were probably the gardens of Versaille and the Catacombs. Will go back to Paris, once I have increased my knowledge of the language from 'bonjour!'.

Yesterday I caught the train from Gare d'Lyon to Geneve, where I met breifly with my father, who appears to be in good shape (round is a shape, he claims). I dumped my sack with him, before getting on another train to Lausanne. Once in Lausanne I realised I didn't quite know where the place I was staying was, so I rang them. Directions were given to me in a jaunty Swiss accent 'follow ze road to ze sex cinema, then go right!' I did so, and found the lovely Lausanne Guesthouse, which is run by a woman who looks like my Aunty Debbie (if she was given lots of drugs.) The ubiquitous drunk Australian offered me a beer, and the night went from there. This morning I walked up a hill to a boulangerie, bought breakfast (europe is fantastic. I am living on chocolate eclairs) and a few newspapers as I had finished 'The Favourite Game' by Leonard Cohen and all my other books are in Geneva. Wandered around, got the bus to Ouchy, which is nice and water resort-y. Wandered back, napped. Tottered up another massive hill to Collection d'Art Brut, which is one of the best art galleries I have ever been too. It contains works by prisoners, mentally ill and artistically mad. All the works are incredibly detailed and like nothing I have ever seen before - no rules are followed, no conventions. It's brilliant. Go there before you die.

Tomorrow I totter back to Geneve, in order to annoy my father for few days. After that, I'm not sure. My Icelandic Invasion is a little over two weeks from commencing, but I have to admit I'm getting ready to come home - although that probably means I'll have to do something about university and joining the real world........

go rimbaud

i have six euros to my name!!!!!
this is PARISIENNE LIVING!!!!

for reasons unknown

i need to blog about Pukkelpop and Paris. but.


Brandon Flowers has shaved off his Magic Moustache.


this is a style tragedy.


---

im going to write about Pukkelpop when i'm back in London, so for now i'll just mention that i'm still sick with Martian Death Flu but loving Paris. went to the Lourve tonight and saw Mona - not as busy as i thought it would be. the Venus de Milo isn't very feminine and all the paintings of Frenchmen are very camp. have decided to claim Paris as my city - especially my church, my street, my train station and my cake. everyone finds my name hysterical. i have had nutella and banana crepes, made friends with dogs and small children, been rained on, walked all around the city, been to the Catacombs, the Musee d'Orsay. going to Versaille on Sunday, which i am very much looking forward to. Berlin has been put on hold - my little brain cannot handle it, long story which will bore y'all. going to Luasanne for two nights, most excited. it is grey and tres artistic in Paris, but i am craving sunshine. seeing my Farter in a few days, suspect he's not that enthused.

what a boring blog. i have all these things i want to say, but i am le tired.

i
heart
paris

aftermath

we have survived Pukkelpop.

it was most awesome. i shall write about it properly when i dont have to deal with bizzarre keyboards anymore.
i think i have martian death flu oncoming and i just saw a pair of pink boots for 85 Euro. slightly heartbreaking as there is no way i can buy them. my mind is everywhere and we are in a hotel hiding from the belgish, watching Top Gear, Long Way Round and this peculiar thing called the Olympics. we have BATHED. lots. oy vey.

very very very very very exhausted and sore.
very very very very very sick of Belgium.
very very very very very ready to go to Paris tomorrow.
very very very very very glad that all my favourite bands are amazing live.
(very very very very in love with Dave Monks and Keith Murray.)

i think by the time i get to berlin, i might be able to attempt coherency.

hang the dj hang the dj

everyone thinks we're mad. the man at reception keeps laughing at us because have the same name. the other man keeps laughing at me because my coordination is non existant. i may never be able to go to canada because i keep weirding out canadians with my desperado edge and tendency to fall over their shoes. maddy keeps being eaten by the hostel lift. i nearly had an arguement with one belgian about Tintin and nearly threw myself at the lovely boy in the comicbook musuem. we have seen faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar too many smurfs. we have eaten faaaaaaaaaaaaar too many waffles. we have drunk nowhere nearly enough beer or wine or other alcohol. it has rained. we have't put Beatrice up. i had a nightmare last night about being flooded - a concert version of Noah's Ark ("I need two indie kids, two goths, two emos, two mainstreamers, two scenesters, two hiphoppers and two metalheads NOW!") we have bought tickets to Paris and booked accomadation. i have found somewhere to stay in Berlin that is named "Heart of Gold" after Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy. i am going to spend three days zipping around Switzerland, going to places with lovely names like Gimmelwald. our feet hurt and it is raining.


clearly, i'm a little manic. travelling seems to do that to me. it's also made me slightly slightly aware of my surroundings and also where all my belongings are at any given point. however, i currently have no clue where my soap is. possibly i have eaten it.