London! Finally. Ok, so I started writing a new post as soon as we got back from Versailles a few days ago now, but I got sidetracked when we went to dinner so now it's been a while... Sorry :) Now to remember what I was actually writing about: Versailles. Actually, there's time in between then and when I left off in the one before, so I think I have to start right when we got back to Paris from Belgium. We arrived in plenty of time to find Remy (our friendly connection) and get some keys and the apartment back. Unfortunately he wasn't quite friendly enough as to help us lug the bags up the stairs, but we managed all right just the same. The rest of that day was pretty much squandered away wandering around the area and watching 17 Again, which I must say was pretty awful but worth watching just for Zac Efron. How sad it is that I must say that. But, I admit, he is adorable. And he acts pretty well I think. Anyway, the next day was even less fruitful, as half was spent lazing around watching movies and the other lazing around outside looking at overpriced French clothes meant to look like cheap American clothes. Tragic. So we didn't buy anything there. The next day we finally got something done and visited the Louvre, which was amazing, though we only visited a small section because we were thinking we would go back, which was never to happen. Oh well. That's what the rest of my life is for. So after our museum day we wanted something slightly more upbeat... Some of you may be able to guess where we hit next? ....... Of course, Disneyland. Because once a trip isn't enough :) Actually, my story is that I was conducting and anthropological experiment concerning the differences in fun-having habits of the French versus the rest of the world. Because despite what they might tell you, there are 95% French people there. As it turned out, I prefer our [Americans] habits to theirs, because anymore they don't include excessive smoking, drinking (remember this is Disneyland), and yelling in French. I admit that that is because most of us don't speak French at all, let alone well enough to shout happily in it. Oh, and the other thing they do there :line cutting, or queue-jumping, as the Brits call it. We stood in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean (ours is better) for about 45 minutes, and the whole time we were fighting to keep a group of boys (not all of them were little) behind us, rather than edging around either side, pushing on our backs, and generally misbehaving. Ugh. I wanted to slap them, which I realize would not have been a particularly good idea, but they were touching me and yelling and pushing and farting and and and. But whatever. We had a good time overall, and discovered that while their Space Mountain is much more exciting than ours (they have a a 360 loop), the original Disneyland is just much better, maintenance, cleaning, and crowd control included. And ours is bigger. So there, Paris. 

So after coming down off of our Disney-induced high the Louvre just didn't seem like that much fun for another day, and we set out for the fabled palace of Versailles. For all of you that have see the movie Marie Antoinette and actually care about silly things like movies, they were able to film almost the entire movie in the real rooms, including the Hall of Mirrors, which was in person even better, and, I believe, the bedrooms. For me the best part of our visit was not, however, the actual Chateau, but the grounds surrounding. Absoballylutely gorgeous. Ahem. We took the somewhat lazy route and rented a golf cart programmed with radio-activated commentary that also had the unique ability to stop us from going forward if we somehow managed to get off of their vague and poorly designed (theirs, not the original) trail, so that we managed to trample several nice plants trying to back our way out of a few tricky spots. Hmph. But that was fun anyway, and the weather managed to be wonderful when I took my pictures, so you'll all be treated to some beautiful shots when we get home. I'm not even going to bother trying to post them because of the amount of time it takes to load each one, and then the poor quality when they do show up. If you want to see my pictures, you can watch the slideshow, in about 10 days when we get home. (!!!) Ok, so from Versailles we had another shopping/Notre Dame (amazing) day, and then we boarded our excessively-priced train to London. Of course the really nice weather didn't arrive in Paris until we were leaving, but it made the train ride awfully nice to be able to see the French countryside bathed in sunlight for once. The highlight of the trip, however, was not what we could see, but what we couldn't, when we went through the Chunnel. For approximately 20 minutes the windows were completely dark, which for me was exhilarating but I think might have been a little constraining for mom, of you know what I mean. So now we're in London, and have been for about two and a half days now. The first day we got here, we wandered around until we found the nearest supermarket, which happened to be the Food Hall of Selfridges. Look it up. So we got some heat-at-home chicken and mushroom pies and cereal, ooh, and a delicious red velvet cupcake, and had yet another relaxed evening at 'home'. The next day we went for a more extensive wander, and ended up in Picadilly Circus, which I in my naivety pictured as being a roundabout kind of thing with a park in the middle (no, I didn't think it would be a circus with clowns, etc., I'm not that ignorant) but turned out to be just a big intersection that vaguely resembles Times Square. Anyway, from there we found our way to Leicester Square and the West End theater district, where we got days worths of theater tickets, including most prominently, Jersey Boys, which we went to that evening an were lucky enough to have great seats to. It featured the rise of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and even I knew most of the songs. The music was amazing and the atmosphere was almost even better. We took a taxi home, the first thing I've ridden in featuring suicide doors, after eating Moroccan food, which I had thought would be really exotic but turned out to be things I'd already had, like hummus or falafel. I guess that's exotic, but you know... So today we took a bus again and took a long walk, past the longtime residence of Lawrence of Arabia, to Westminster Abbey, Parliament, and St. James Park, where we lolled in the sun reading for an hour. Then we hit up the Apollo cinemas in Picadilly, where we watched Ghost of Girlfriends Past. Don't watch it. Matthew McConaughey is obnoxious and his teeth are unnaturally white. Ugh. We only went because Young Victoria isn't on until Tuesday, and the other movies they were showing were part of a Sci-Fi fest that they were hosting. So there were a bunch of weird-ish people around getting interviewed playing video games and stuff. Whatever.

from Paris to Amsterdam, Schiedam, Bruges, and back

Since I left off in Paris at the Hotel Invalides (I think it's called), everyone but my mom and I have gone back towards home. Within this timeframe, 16 days, about two weeks, I've been to see the Eiffle Tower (up close), the Musee' d'Orsay, the Louvre Pyramid (not the museum yet though), the Moulin Rouge, and lots of other things I vaguely recognized from various movies and pictures. Very exciting. Also, when everyone was still around we took a river cruise on the Seine, which was great except for the masses of high school age exchange students that were shouting soccer cheers at the top of their lungs the whole time. Or maybe it was better because of them... Anyway, we met a nice Canadian family who sympathized with our exasperated sighs and chatted with us (or maybe just me) about the differences in educational systems throughout North America. Very informative. The whole thing took place at night, probably around nine, so everything was lit up and the darkness made the buildings absolutely gorgeous. Or fabulous, if it's Brit time. Maybe it should be, as we'll be heading over to the great Isle in about a week. Or less, hopefully. I know no one out there actually understands my strange desire to go home, but I must assure you that I do realize how precious a learning experience this is, how I might regret leaving later, blah blah blah. Don't think I don't know how great this is. I just really need too see my cat. Eheh. Actually, it's more than that, but as I said, you don't really understand. So then. After a few days of being flexible, getting some shopping done, and eating lots of Chevre', Debra caught her plane back home, and Duane, my parents, and I all took a speedy train (I don't remember what they're actually called) up to Amsterdam. Upon arrival at the Centraal Station (no typo, there are really supposed to be two a's) we promptly blundered our way to the canal boat on which we were planning on residing. Or, as my mom usually puts it- much to my annoyance-  our house. I can never get her to stop saying it, and for some inane reason her phrasing really annoys me. It's like she doesn't understand that we'll only be there for three days and insists on acting as though we really live there. I know it's harmless and I really have no reason to get upset over this, but I've pretty much given up on trying to forget and accept by this point. I forget how many times I've been reprimanded and accept that I'll just get over it when we get home. Anyhoos, The boat was all that we could have hoped for, decked out like a perfect two bedroom apartment, complete with sun room with removable roof, full size kitchen, and a separate living room. Two bathrooms too! Or I suppose I should say head.. We had a lot of fun in there for a few days while we were in the great city visiting the Van Gogh museum, the Anne Frank House, a great  flea market selling cannibis pops at pretty much every turn, and multiple versions of the same Argentinian restaurant. I swear they're everywhere. I would go into great detail of our many exciting adventures in Holland, but we really didn't have many. Not like Paris, where I very nearly got dragged off the street by some sleazy French guy. Creepy. Next time I'm going straight into defensive maneuvers. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Or girl, whatever. So after a few days we parted ways with both the city and my dad and Duane, after, unfortunately (not really) no interlude with the very legal substances floating around the city. Herbal ecstasy, anyone? No, really, I'm not interested at this point in my life. Oh but I have forgotten to mention the other strangely legal thing in Holland-or, more correctly, the Netherlands- prostitution. If you don't want to see them, don't go there. At least not to Amsterdam. The most amusing thing I saw personally was an esteemed establishment called "The Condomerie". Exact spelling and everything. Luckily for all of you more sensitive types, I was unable to take a picture. I will tell you that the assortment of colors and flavors (remember that I saw this in passing only, display window) was astonishing.  Hilarious. So. Anyway, after Amsterdam, my dad went home, and the mumster and I set off for Schiedam, home to Peet, Anita, Sanner, Robert, and Andras. I apologize to Sanner (there I go with it again) for almost certainly misspelling her name. I couldn't really pronounce it either, so I doubt she would discount me for it. We stayed with them for two nights, with one at a quaint little bed and breakfast, and our time was filled with appeltart (once again, Dutch, not my misspelling), bike rides through the countryside, and lots of trans-lingual catching-up. The van der Meers, which in English I believe would be just 'the Meers, were extremely gracious hosts, and we had a delightful time with them. After three days we were truly sad to leave, but the open road was a'callin'. Heh. So on we went to Bruges, Belgium, home to delicious chocolate, waffles, and a Michelangelo sculpture that hardly anyone knows about. As much of a follower I am of the Great Master, I, too, neglected to see it. We did manage to see some sweet little canals and ducklings while riding bikes through some intensely twisty and bumpy cobblestone streets. That's the thing about Europe, the cobblestones are everywhere, yet people still ride bikes. I think I'd have to get some extra shocks or something if I were to be doing that every day. 

After just one night we had to get a train back to Paris so we could get back our suitcases and the keys to the apartment on time. Darn those French and their lack of normal working hours. 

Ah, Paris! How beautiful. I can say pretty much the same about all of the places we've been since my last post, although from what I've seen this is pretty much the most well taken care of of the four (Dubrovnik, Pula, Venice, Paris). I think I left off the night of our arrival in Croatia, from which at least a week has passed already. How time flies. Anyway, our first day in Dubrovnik we walked through just a small portion of the old city in our efforts to recuperate from some tough travel. It is absolutely gorgeous. The streets are white marble and kept impeccably clean, all of the mainly visible buildings have been "remodeled" (more later) within the last ten years, and basically the whole thing is dedicated to tourism. In the 1990's Dubrovnik was attacked by their neighbors over the mountains, for reasons I don't know, and barely a roof within was spared damage. We found a chart along the walls depicting the exact number of direct hits,  indirect hits and burnt down buildings, and the amount was staggering. Another way of counting was to get up above the area and look at the red roofed buildings, all of which are newly built. The original construction included brown tiles. Almost every single building was capped with a beautiful red terra-cotta roof. A major feature in Grad Dubrovnik is their outlaying wall, which takes around an hour to walk around fully and showcases all of their stunning ocean views. 

From Dubrovnik we boarded a ferry to Reijka, which we stayed on for about 23 hours total, during whihc time we managed to eat two six course meals (prix fixe, not just us being piggy) and play countless hands of Quiddler. After a very short sleep we arrived at the shipping town and immediately bought bus tickets out. Reijka is not exactly charming. However they do feature a very 'interesting' neo-gothic church that managed to fool me for about a minute until I looked at their building materials and lack of buttressing. After about three hours of greyhounding it we arrived in Pula, and were much more pleased with the atmosphere. A nearby travel agent set us up at the Hotel Histria, part of a resort group that occupied a small peninsula. The whole affair was pretty strange as our hotel was the only one open at the time, so there were about five others of the same (large) size that were completely empty and shut down. For the first day it was sort of lonely and depressing until a huge group of Germans arrived for a tennis camp, which was about to take place at the also huge sports complex about a quarter mile away from the hotel. We spent about six hours there total in three days, playing badminton (not too shabbily) and tennis (horrific to watch). Dinners at night were in their dining hall, where you could buy a buffet dinner for 3 euro, or about $4. Very cheap, and mostly good. We had a train to catch in Venice in another two days so we left after three nights, at around five in the morning, on a commuter bus. I can now say that I have been to Slovenia, although we were only off of the bus for about five minutes while we were waiting in line for customs and such. Our arrival in Venice came at about 10:30, and we were quick to disembark the bus and find our hotel, which was extremely close (there was some confusion on which bridge to take, however, as my mom refused to understand that no matter which bridge you take you end up on the other side of the canal, and wanted to take the footbridge all of the way around the water rather than the one right in front of us). The Hotel Principe was absolutely gorgeous, decorated in the Victorian style, and right over the Grand Canal. I was personally the most happy with it because I was priveledged enough to get to sleep on a bed instead of a couch, as I had been for the last few days. The couches are one of the many reasons that this trip is wearing on me. It is amazing how alluring even the worst of beds can be after sleeping on fold out couches for a third of the last few months. Anyway, we only had one night in Venice, so we toured our area for a while then relaxed and enjoyed our view. The next day we did some major wandering and shopping, with our only sightseeing being St. Mark's square, which was fortunately (or maybe not) without the pigeons that used to plague the central area. So. From Venice we took the night train, with a triple sleeper compartment, all of the way to Paris, where we arrived at about 8:30 am. By this time we are well accomplished in Metro traveling, so we took our line directly from the station to a stop about a full block from our new place of residence. The Blue Marble bike tours agency (thanks from everyone to Liz Chilton, who recommended it to us way back in the planning stages) is also host to three magnificently tiny boarder apartments, which are absolutely perfect for our needs. My parents and I were there by ourselves for the first night before I was able to move in to the place Debra and I would soon be sharing, and then another before they could get in to theirs. Our first night and their second were spent in Duane's, who arrived our second morning. He was pretty much ready to go from the start, so he and my dad went out and toured around the area. That night we had some magnificent Indian food that is located about 100 yards away from our front door (so are two Thai, one North African, and a bevy of French restaurants). The next day Debra got in, verrrrry late, after a few subway ticket mishaps, etc. She too was rearing to go, so we took her on another tour of our neighborhood, which plays hosts to at least a dozen different restaurants and lots and lots of different market situations.  We've spent quite a bit of time already window shopping for french food. Our time has been spent in generally the same way, as we (my mom and I at least) haven't managed to accomplish anything too major (such as as entire museum) yet. However, my dad, Duane, and I visited the tomb of Napoleon (amazing) and the veteran's hostel that he had built that accompanies it. Attached is the army museum, which plays host to dozens of uniforms from countries around the world, as well as ancient weapons and a great exhibit on the two world wars. 

Hong Kong to Dubrovnik

So! We’re in Croatia, finally, in Dubrovnik. And now that Sonja, Cindy, and Kasey are all gone, I’ve got some time to write this thing. I think I left off in Singapore, so that puts us at Hong Kong. We flew into China on Cathay-Pacific, our first experience with the airline . Since our fourteen hour flight to Rome would be on a similar plane we were pretty disappointed with the overall shabbiness of the plane and the lack of comfort in the seats, but you know... Had to get over that one real fast (excuse my incorrect phrasing :) ) So anyway, we reached Hong Kong and we hustled through the airport down quite a few ramps and past quite a few strangely placed directional signs. This was made more interesting for me by the trolleys, which were designed perfectly for cruising with my feet up down those ramps. I got going pretty fast but had to stop myself a few times when I got some disapproving looks. Not that I cared... But anyway, we very nearly got hustled on a shuttle ride, but eventually made it to the Peninsula hotel by nine or so. It was a beautiful room, enhanced by the present waiting for us from Steve and Gary, who had helped to set us up there. The next day we explored a little using the metro and eventually took the tram up the mountain, which I think would have been much more fun if there hadn’t been a hugely thick layer of fog, which, of course, was there for our arrival. So we couldn’t really see anything. Afterwards we took a cab all of the way down the mountain (very twisty) to the Stanley Markets, where we found some major deals in the way of silk and pretty much everything else. Next we hopped on a double decker bus to get back into town, which was an adventure in itself. For those of you who know Harry Potter, I was feeling exactly as I imagine they would have in the Knight Bus. Excessive speed, a front row seat, and lots of other buses our size did not help with the nerves. Lots of fun though, eventually! That night we took a harbor cruise on a decommissioned ferry, where we met a pair of Queenslanders, Toni and Krista, who were very friendly and which we ended up having dinner with back at the hotel. The next day wasn’t quite as active, but when we got on the plane at around midnight we still managed to be exhausted. I, at least, slept the full night in Hong Kong time, so by the time I woke up there were about five hours left in the flight, which I filled eating Haagen Daz and watching Forrest Gump. I don’t understand why exactly that one was playing, but I hadn’t seen it in quite a while so it was worth watching. And then, Roma! I believe it was around five in the morning when we got there, but after luggage pickups and customs we ended up at the hotel around seven, before their breakfast service began. On the way there we passed families making their way to school on their scooters, which was extremely entertaining to watch. I think I might have seen one with four kids and their dad. Not too safe, but it looked like loads of fun. That day our sole event was a walk all of the way around the Vatican following the wall, which, I forgot to mention, was where the hotel was, right next to the entrance to the Musei Vaticani. I don’t recommend trying to follow the wall around, because there are quite a few sidewalk-less stretches and blind turns where it would be really easy to get clipped by a speeding scooter. We did it, though, and now we can all say that we’ve walked the full border of a country! The day’s petty exertions and the fact that we’d been up since 2:30 am Rome time caused us to crash at about 5 pm, which meant that I was up again the next day at 4:30. For me this was particularly annoying because Sonja’s plane wasn’t scheduled to arrive until 1 pm, so the wait time was greatly increased.  Later that day, after she’d arrived and we’d gone to St. Peter’s square to look around, we all went to the Vatican Museum to see the Sistine Chapel and everything else that comes with it. I was able to identify quite a few things from that fifty pound thing we’re calling a textbook, which I was very pleased with. It’s amazing how much more entertaining a museum can be when you actually know something about what you’re looking at. Actually, for me it was a little like seeing a minor celebrity. I got a little too excited at seeing the Column of Antonius Pius, and I think I unnerved a few guards when I started jumping up and down at what turned out to be a copy of Michelangelo’s Pieta. Fun for me, maybe not so much for Sonja. Anyway, the next few days we visited all of the typical tourist haunts, and took at least two hundred pictures between the two of us. I would give individual descriptions of each day, but there were too many of them and I have too much catching up to do. So on to the next place, Florence. 

We caught a Eurail train from Rome and went immediately to the apartment that we would call home for the next week. It was right on the Arno, with all but one window looking out over it. Within the first half hour we spotted what was first thought to be an immense sewer rat, but luckily turned out to be a muskrat, a little less scary. Less threatening my foot. It was still a huge dirty rodent. 

Our first days in Florence were spent browsing the markets and making stew, walking around the town. Later in the week we took a few smaller commuter trains to Cinque Terre, a group of five coastal towns that were until recently only linked by a series of goat trails winding through the cliffs. Breathtakingly beautiful, hot, and popular with the tourists in the summer, it was perfect for us now. Still gorgeous, but with balmy temperatures and few visitors. We spent two days in the park (it was made a national park when the country put in a railway system in order to control the number of people on the trails), the first starting in the second town of Manarola. We walked the relatively easy 45 minute trail to Corniglia, where we had a cold drink and took pictures of the 389 stairs we’d taken to get up to the town itself. We thought that they were painful, but the real hell was still to come. That evening we made the 2.5 hour hike to Vernazza, the 4th town, where we were planning to spend the night. The entire trip was spent going up hundreds of crude, extremely steep rock stairs, the being tricked by a short and also steep downhill trek, only to end up going back up again. Over and over again for over two hours. Luckily all of this was taking place on the coast of Italy, in one of the most naturally beautiful places in the world. Sonja and I finally made it into the outskirts of Vernazza almost 40 minutes before my parents, and we spent the waiting time guzzling sparkling water tempered by flat coke in a restaurant on one of the terraces. 

that night we stayed in a rented room with three single beds , two pushed together, and on foldout cot. Guess who got the cot? Actually it was the same size as the beds and got more bedding than theirs so it was all good. The only negative to the room was the lack of windows and the fact that our bathroom could double as a 1940’s bomb shelter. Low, round ceilings, no windows, and a florescent light that wouldn’t turn off. Also, there was a humidifier that, like the light, refused to turn off and shut up. The next day we went to the bar that we’d eaten dinner at for some breakfast, eggs, and then set off on the next leg of our journey, the path to Monterrosa. It was said to be the toughest of them all, and whoever it was saying that was definitely right. More stairs than ever before, cloudy weather, and sections of the path less than a foot wide with no handrail looking down over a gully. It may have been the most hazardous of all, but it also managed to be the most fun. Also, our efforts were rewarded when we saw what the people coming from the opposite direction had had to deal. More stairs than we had even thought possible, all even steeper than any of those we had experienced. Even going downhill it was tough. Needless to say, the elderly’s knees weren’t doing very well the next day. We spent less than an hour there once we finally arrived, as our train managed to show up 45 minutes before we were expecting it. We ran to get onto that one, then spent the next three hours or so dealing with the subsequent trains. The days after in Florence we spent with more street market shopping, a visit to the Uffize Galleries and the Accadamia to visit the David, and the purchasing of my new leather jacket, and both Sonja and my pretty leather boots. I’ve failed to mention so far the other main aspect of our time in Italy: eating as much gelato possible in three weeks. It is awesome there. Actually, awesome isn’t nearly an impressive enough word to describe this stuff. I can’t even think of one. Just know that Italy is worth visiting just for the ice cream.  So eventually we had to return to Rome, which we did in a few hours, then visited the catacombs of Priscilla as a last hurrah for Sonja. A few bones, a panic attack, and lots of creepy underground tunnels later, we were back at the hotel. The next morning at 6 in the morning, Sonja was through security and things were back to what we are forced to call normal in this strange situation.

Luckily for me and my nerves, Kasey and Cindy arrived the next morning, and we’ve spent the last few days re-touring the major sites in Rome with them. Nothing too exciting happened, except that we think that the Prime Minister of Italy was staying in a hotel about a block away from ours for a day or so. There were cops covering every corner and swarming around the Marriot. So that was cool. But the next day they were gone, and so were we, by six in the evening. That was last night, and the rest of it was spent on various small planes eating Croatian airplane food. Very interesting, actually. Lots of feta and nice rolls. Cherry juice too. 

Sorry for not writing, everyone, but as you know, Sonja is here, and I've been pretty distracted. I've been keeping mental tabs on everything we do, and around the 25th I'll be able to do a full posting. This is just a pacifier for my mom, who has been bugging me or about a week about all of the people that are supposedly asking her about where my blog has disappeared to... Anyway, we're having a great time, and despite the foul weather Florence is beautiful!

Singapore, Fremantle, and the creepy guy on the beach

I apologize, once again, for not writing for the past week or so. Actually now that I think of it it has most likely been longer than a week already. Anyhow, I'm sorry for taking so long to write again.

Today is my mom's birthday, and at this exact moment she is downstairs having a massage. Actually, I'm wishing that she would hurry and get up here, because the hotel has just presented me with a complimentary piece of birthday cake. Of course, it's not for me, but because there is no one else here with me I am severely tempted to eat it myself. This morning my dad had a nearly identical piece delivered, that one not so complimentary, but it appears that they've forgotten that. Not that I think it's a bad arrangement. The more cake the better! So, we are now in Singapore, Southeast Asia. For me at least this is the most exotic place we've ever been. Some might disagree and present Australia as exotic, which I agree with, but when you put it up next to Asia there is no comparison. I mean, Australians speak English and eat meat pies. That is not exactly unusual. Although I have to admit there is an awful lot of English being spoken here. I knew that it was prevalent, but I had never known to expect the level of fluency that we're experiencing. Every single sign is in English, often not even containing other characters. A little shocking when I was expecting culture shock instead. So Singapore has been remarkably hospitable to us ignorant Americans. Yesterday we visited Raffles Hotel after much sweaty wanderings, and all sampled the once-famed Singapore Sling. I only got a small taste of the real version, obviously, but I preferred it by far to the overly sweet virgin. Stephanie liked it, if that provides reference to all of you that are hesitant to trust a fifteen-year-old's opinion on alcohol. So anyway, we weren't able to enter the actual hotel, as my dad's attire was 'unsuitable'. He would have been required to wear, at least, long pants, and if to fully satisfy the requirements, a suit jacket. He was resistant to buying a brand new pair of pants solely to be able to go into a hotel that he wasn't even that interested in in the first place. So we moved on. All of this grand adventure occurred before 1:00. From there we found a cab and rode the forty minute drive to the Singapore Zoo, one of the top zoos in the world and most definitely the best in the Southeast Asia. There were too many animals for me to tell about all of them, but our favorites were mostly among the primates. Also, there was a wonderful elephant show demonstrating their strength and the relationship with their mahouts. The defining aspect of the place was the fact that nowhere were there any fences. Every single animal was kept in solely by a moat, and sometimes even less. The orangutans were free to wander inn the trees above, with spikes preventing them from coming down and access removed from some trees to stop them getting away that way. this was true with many of the primates. All was pretty much amazing.

After the main zoo we visited the Night Safari park, which opens only after 7:00 at night and showcases the animals when they are most active, lit in a dim half-light perfect for allowing us to see them while they still can keep calm. Outside of this park there is a particular little massage and foot exfoliating shop, open to all viewers. Their method of salesmanship is to showcase their own clients as they (we) partake in the foot cleansing. The method, however, was rather unorthodox. Nibble Fish. Once these things start on your feet it's impossible to keep a straight face, first because of the fact that you have fish chewing in between your toes, second because no matter how anti-ticklish you are, you can't stop laughing from the feeling. All of the hilarity of course draws in more people, and the cycle continues. If ever you have a chance to experience the nibble fish, do not, I repeat, do not pass it up.

So far I've only told you of Singapore, but the week previous in which I haven't been writing we were in Fremantle, South of Perth, in Western Australia. Fremantle is a beautiful little colonial town, kept alive primarily by college students, large company commercial fishing, and the ever present tourist. It is home to what used to be the most brutal prison in Australia, possibly the eastern hemisphere. My dad and I took a torchlight ghost tour designed to scare tourists out of ever committing a crime. It worked on me. I never like to admit being scared by silly ghost stories, but this place was plain spooky. Gallows, flogging post, chapel (complete with a suspicious acting job showing the only woman ever to hang at Fremantle Prison, Martha Rendel) and cells galore. Even in daylight it would have been too macabre for the typical explorer, but at night in the dark it had me with my first nightmare in years. Although this could have been added to by the fact that I had been reading the grisly account of H.H. Holmes' serial antics during the Chicago World Fair in The Devil in the White City, as well as watching The Changeling and its child killer. Overall I was not having very happy thoughts when it came time to go to sleep and turn off the lights. Anyway, despite its darker aspects, the town was a very pleasant place. On the weekends it hosts an old style market with over one hundred shops and food stalls, with buskers galore. Also, nearby is the suburb (or town?) of Cottlesloe, which has a wonderful beach. At the time of our visit it was flush with sculptures, part of a traveling exhibit to all of the area's major beaches. It was in Cottlesloe that we had our one and only run in with the law, although I suppose we weren't actually the ones committing the crime. We had been sitting on the beach enjoying the sun for at least an hour and a half when a man came up and sat up behind us, against a wall. I didn't even notice him, but my mom did, if only because he was dressed strangely. Another hour passed and we paid him no attention. The parents first, then just my dad and I went out to swim, and while we were gone Stephanie went over to my things to get a drink of water. While she was there she looked over and discovered what the man had really been doing all of that time. Basically, you don't want to know what he was up to, especially because it was such a public setting. Hopefully you get my drift.

So my mom, shocked, goes back over to her bench and decides to try and flush him out by embarrassing him. She stares at him for at least a few minutes and when he finally looks up he does manage to look abashed, but he still doesn't stop. Apparently she was just about to go tell the lifeguard to do something about it, when a man vaults over the wall and tackles the perp. This is about when my dad and I show up, and of course I was very confused. I immediately thought he must have been trying to steal our stuff. The rest just sort of played itself out. There were a few threats of thumb breaking by the off duty cop that had jumped the guy, and he resisted quite a bit, but in the end they got him in to the car without issue. Now, I've already spent too much time describing the event, so if you have any more questions please consult Steph.

Tomorrow we fly to Hong Kong, where we have about the same amount of time as we've had here in Singapore before we board the 14-hour plane ride to Rome, and Sonja.

Darwin

Darwin! I apologize to anyone who's been following for taking so long to write again, but since I've been receiving limited feedback I haven't been sure if anyone has been. Anyway, we are currently in the Darwin airport waiting for our plane to Perth. We arrived here two days ago after taking the Ghan up from Alice, which took us almost exactly 25 hours and consisted of eating, walking down corridors, eating again, sleeping, drinking multiple cups of complimentary instant coffee, eating, and playing cards. Meanwhile we saw hundreds of termite mounds and witnessed two wallabies having a slap-fight. It was intense. Quite a lot of the card-playing was done with Tim, a 26-year-old graphic designer that we latched on to- or possibly the other way around, considering that he was alone- while riding a tour bus up to Uluru and subsequently ran into three more times before ending up in neighboring carriages on the train. Very nice guy. The train was late getting into Darwin by about an hour and a half because we had been forced to sit at the station in Katherine waiting for a freight train, who unfortunately had priority, to do some shipping thing or another. This meant that by the time we got there it was almost dark, and it was impossible to see any of the sites that we had been hoping to glimpse on the way into town. The next day was great; we acted comfortably lazy for the morning, then after lunch we taxied out to Crocadylus Park, a crocodile farm and zoo with many interesting native animals and some beautiful exotic ones. I doubt I will ever have a chance to be that close to either an emu or an ostrich ever again. After a few hours there we were picked up by Geoff Stewart, who fished for Pete one summer about twenty years ago, and is somehow related to Stuart. He brought us to his home outside of the city, where we met his wife Mary, and sons Willem and Arlo. We had a wonderful afternoon and dinner with them and some of their friends, then were driven back in to the hotel. A very nice day overall.