Pros and cons and things.

Please don't ask me why I want to come home. So many 'pros and cons' lists, and I still can't articulate it clearly enough. Except maybe to say this;

I left Sydney because I needed something to change. I needed to know if I could do it, if I could cross the world by myself, travel by myself, sleep by myself, make decisions by myself, just generally, BE by myself.

I left Sydney so focussed on leaving. I never considered that I would have to stop somewhere, I would have to live somewhere, start again, house hunt, job hunt, make new friends. I just wanted to leave, to travel, to go.

I can be alone. I have done it.
There is nothing wrong with not enjoying being alone. I don't want to start again, I don't want to travel alone. I don't want to make new friends and find a house and make my way in this city alone. I can, but I don't want to.

I miss my home. I miss my friends. I miss Grant. I miss Ringo.

And I think I just want to go home.

Fairy floss in the sky

This morning I flew from Barcelona to Paris. Looking out the window, the clouds looked like mountains of white fairy floss rolling for miles across the sky. It made me think of my grandparents. My grandpa ‘Paba’ was the first person who ever taught me about clouds, one afternoon in the garden.

I was probably about nine years old. An age when I was very involved in gymnastics and circus classes. I loved flipping my body around on trampolines and twirling on the trapeze, and I often wore a t-shirt that said acrobat me across the front. I had a doll with crimped blonde hair and rollerblades, kneepads and a pink helmet. I listened to music by Frente, Girlfriend, The Clouds and Club Hoy on my white battery-powered boom box, which I carried with me everywhere.

I went to a school in the street next to my grandparents. I went to their house before and after school most days. I loved spending time with my grandparents. In the mornings Grandmere and Paba would read the newspaper in bed with a cup of tea and white bread with butter. I would squeeze in between them and read the comics, laughing even when I didn’t understand the jokes.

I spent many hours hiding in the tiny cupboard underneath the stairs, where Grandmere kept her knitting. I asked once if I could eat my dinner in there, and she replied that I could have a biscuit, but that was all.

I saw Grandmere and Paba as the wisest people of all, safe in the knowledge that being old meant knowing everything. Being old meant having all the answers to the many questions that plagued me (the outcomes of this theory were mixed - for example, one time I boldly sat upon my grandmother’s lap and asked “Grandmere, what’s a fuck?”). I was at an age where I took everything my grandparents said as true and noble, as most of us do with all of our family until we reach puberty, realize that even our parents are humans, who make mistakes, and we suddenly begin to doubt.

One afternoon I was in the garden, swinging on the loveseat and drinking lime cordial. I was watching Paba pull dead leaves off a tree and throw them into the neighbour’s yard. I asked Paba if he had ever touched the clouds when he flew planes. He stopped pulling at the tree for a moment and looked at the sky, the clouds were thick and fluffy that day, they looked like cotton wool, fairy floss, snow.

Paba explained to me that you couldn’t really touch clouds, because they are made of gasses and if you touched them they would feel like air, not like fairy floss. He then told me that he had flown through the clouds though, and that it was lovely. He said that when you fly through the clouds the aeroplane shakes a little bit because the air changes, and that it is harder to see for a moment.

I remember being so amazed by the idea that my grandpa could fly a plane, and sitting on that swing imagining him flying something resembling the Wright brothers’ wooden bi-plane, wearing a brown leather flight cap and goggles, flying loop-de-loop through holes in the clouds.

Paba went back to his leaves, and I went back to my cordial.

A day in Barcelona

When is the next blog post coming? We miss your hilarious and wise words! We keep pressing refresh but all we can see is Isaac Hanson, and to be honest that post wasn't even very good! Tell us about Barcelona!!!

I get it, You love reading about my exciting and depressing and wonderful travels, which seem to keep being attempted-ruined by Isaac fucking Hanson and his conspiracies with pickpockets and banks and cardigan thieves. Okay, okay, you can all calm down, I get it. I heave heard your cries and here I am.

Look see? here I am.

Today was a very, very, good day (I can hear you all breathing a sigh of relief, thank you). I won't even bother to tell you about yesterday because it was another dumb day. I had the flu (Isaac's fault), and the only benefit was that I discovered that in Spain the smallest dosage of paracetamol you can buy is one gram, and the book 'The Descendants' is way better than the movie, even though I can't help but still be attracted to George Clooney.

Today I woke up early, took all the paracetamol that Spain had to offer (the Spaniards don't believe in liver damage) and ate a very healthy breakfast. You see, I am trying to healthify my body, because I am beginning to think there must be some correlation between my week in France (which we could also call "croissant and wine week") and my feeling like crap. After my fruity grainy wholemeal-y breakfast, I embarked on Barcelona.

Yes, that's right. I finally left the house before 11am. 

Barcelona has such incredible architecture. Every street is beautiful, and I spent hours just wandering through the streets. There are areas that are modern and built up like any city, though unique and so different to any city I have been to- mainly because of the wide streets and massive pedestrian strips and bike lanes. Barcelona has approximately 100 miles of bicycle lanes!

Beside the modern/business district style areas, there are amazing winding alleyways that literally go on for hours.  I wandered into the Barri Gotic - the Gothic Quarter, and couldn't find my way out for about two hours, but I was so happy in there. The Barri Gotic is where the 'old town' was situated. Many buildings in this area date back to medieval times, and some even as far back as when the Romans first came to do their conquering (uh, sorry, re-arranging) thing. There is still a part of the wall that used to surround the city, as well as an amazing church called Santa Maria Del Pi, which translates as 'St Mary of the Pine Tree', and yes, that's a name for the Virgin Mary, and no, I don't know why.

In the pine tree cathedral 

In the Gothic 

Now, here's a thing; I don't know if this is a commonly known fact, but it wasn't known to me. So I am going to pretend that you are all as shocked as me while I tell you this. Santa Maria Del Pi is guarded by geese. GEESE. As in... big, white, duck-like things that go "honk honk".... It makes sense if you think about it, really. If one of them was chasing me and honking, and trying to bite and flapping its big ugly wings at me... I would most definitely be getting the hell outta there.

Yeah you better run.

As well as old, old stuff, and a church with geese, the Barri Gotic also has shops. Many, many shops. I bought clothes, souvenirs, postcards, food and coffee, and... more clothes.. I even bought jeans. I haven't bought a pair of jeans in at least five years.

See, even though they make my legs look like a leg of ham, I bought them. WINNING! 

On the other side of town, are two of the most beautiful pieces of architecture I have ever seen in my entire life. No, scrap that, THE two most amazing. And they are both designed by the same man, Antoni Gaudi, a man who I have in the last two days, become incredibly inspired by and in awe of. Park Guell, and Sagrada Familia.

Park Guell was commissioned by some English Count (named Count Guell), who liked the idea of the Garden City Movement which was beginning to take off in England. He wanted a town of luxury homes, surrounded by beautiful gardens, and he wanted Gaudi to design it all.

However, the housing project didn't really take off, and Park Guell is not a Garden City at all. Gaudi's designs began but his houses were never built, because nobody wanted to buy them. Idiots.
Park Guell is a huge, beautiful labyrinth of sculpture and nature, twisting and curving together like a wonderland. I walked through Park Guell for around four hours.

Entrance to Park Guell

Lizard dude

So beautiful

 Tiling in Gaudi's Garden- where Gaudi lived

Beautiful long curved bench

Near the top of the park there was a long strip of path lined with street merchants. Each merchant had either a piece cloth with I <3 Barcelona magnets or little statues of various landmarks, or an umbrella with jewellery cleverly hung from it.  At about two o'clock today, there were about forty of these street merchants in the area where I was standing. I was beside an American woman and we were looking at some jewellery on one of these umbrellas (she thought all the earrings were 'real neat'). Suddenly our merchant started yelling at us...
"Quick quick! you must be quick!"
Real neat girl and I exchanged a look, and put down the jewellery we were holding. Before we could say anything more, there was a loud yell from about 50 metres away that sounded something like "whoop whoop whoop!!" then I heard someone say 'policia!' and then everything went batshit crazy.

In a matter of about 10 seconds, every single merchant was up and out of there. By the time I registered what was going on, all I could see was the backs of forty little merchants, scurrying up the hill one after another with sacks of souvenirs on their backs and umbrellas down their pants.
It was incredible.  Real neat girl and I looked at each other and just started laughing hysterically.

Barcelona from Park Guell

Sagrada Familia is a huge and amazing cathedral, when I saw it, I literally gasped. Construction began in 1882, and is still underway 110 years later. The photos I took do not do it justice, nor do any that I have been able to find. This is truly a building that you need to see in person. I sort of regret not going inside, though there were literally thousands of other tourists there, and it was a bit overwhelming.  That said, I might go back tomorrow.

See the difference between the new construction and the old construction 

Gaudi's Casa Batllo 

A sign I liked. 

By the way, can you eat too many mandarins? Cause I've had like six today...

xxx

there's definitely more to come

Isaac Hanson and me.

Being in a country where barely anyone speaks English is scary. France was one thing, because I know enough discombobulated French to at least get through the day. Spain... Well, I know how to say "hola" and "hombre"... oh, and "paella". Beyond that, I know zero Spanish. To add to the scariness of the last two days, I have been on a bit of a down. I have felt vulnerable and alone here, and that is hard.

Recently, a lot of irritating things have been happening. Things that are trying to ruin my life changing and wonderful travel experience, things that are trying to bring me down, make me cry, make me homesick, make me forget why I am here. Don't get me wrong, I am still loving it. I am just struggling to love it all the time.

Because I spend so much time alone, with myself, I have been having a lot of strange thought-trains. There is one that made me actually laugh out loud of the street today, so I am going to share it with you.

....from now on, I will call everything irritating that happens to fuck up my day, "Isaac".... why Isaac? well obviously because Isaac was the name of the eldest and least pretty Hanson brother, and he was irritating... 

It made sense while I was thinking it. 

My Isaacs in the last week have been plentiful. The theft of my beloved iPhone, the loss of my favourite Zara cardigan, falling over and hurting both of my knees (which not only hurts, but is also incredibly unfashionable), becoming completely lost in Barcelona, not being able to withdraw any cash because of a bank error, not being able to speak a word of Spanish, crying on the side of the road at 9am and having a Hanson song in my head for at least four hours today after randomly thinking about Isaac Hanson. 

After all the Isaacs in my last week or so, I suppose it's ok for me have those moments of feeling completely defeated, alone and small. I do know that this is all a part of the experience, and I did expect this. It is part of learning to be by myself, learning to be ok when things don't go to plan. 

My first instinct is still to call my mum when I feel like things are falling apart. I don't know whether this is necessarily something I want to change, because I love being close to my mum, and I don't think there is anything wrong with asking for help when you need it. But I do want to have more confidence in myself when things are hard. I want to be able to know that I can handle things on my own as well. 

It's all about balance (and I'm sure Isaac would agree). Growing up, learning to be a confident and happy adult. Travelling the world is hard and it is scary, but I am learning so much, and that is why I came, and that is why I will keep on crying and falling over, and calling mum, until I figure out how to be all balanced and zen (like the rest of you grown ups).

ahhhh so zen right now. 

Tomorrow I am going to try to buy a cheap camera. Then I am going on a bus tour, and seeing some beautiful Barcelona. Today I ate amazing Paella with seafood that tasted like it jumped straight out of the sea and into my rice. Slow going but lovely, that's the Spanish way I believe. 

xxxoxxx

Paris in pictures

Front entrance to Notre Dame De Paris (Our Lady of Paris) otherwise known as Notre Dame Cathedral. 

The home of Quasimodo - Beautiful Notre Dame

Quasimodo- "a courageous heart beneath a grotesque exterior."

Incredible from every angle

The west rose stained glass. This is mainly purple on the inside and is still mainly intact in it's original state. 

La Siene.
The Siene is the resting place of Joan of Arc's ashes. There are countless Parisian histories surrounding this beautiful river. Crossed by 37 bridges in paris alone, the Siene's banks have been heritage listed by UNESCO.  

La Metro. 

There she is 

Condom machine next to the ticket machine at the metro station.

Even the drains are beautiful in Paris.

Eiffel Tower

Eiffel Tower

View from the first level of the Eiffel Tower.
The Gold dome is L'Hotel national des Invalides, a complex of museums and monuments relating to military history.

The 669th step of the Eiffel Tower. Yeah, I climbed that.

Lady on the Tower.

View from the top

C'est Manifique

Cherry Blossoms for Grandmere 

La Metro at La Louvre

Louvre

Ceiling in the Louvre. Many ceilings are now difficult to see because they have netting covering them for protection. 

The Winged Victory of Samothrace - a 2nd century BC marble sculpture of the Greek goddess Nike (Victory).

I forget what this is called, but the snake is chewing on her nipple, so I thought it best I took a picture.

There's Mona Lisa, and her millions of fans, lining up like little sheep.
They push to the front, snap some photos and push out again. 

The Louvre at dusk <3