I arrived expecting to find dunes, date palms, camels and an ancient culture – I found me. And I hadn’t even realised I was lost.

It was a combination of things, that ability to express the repressed crazy, emotional and inspirational person I can be and take responsibility and to beat back fears. Not fears of external forces – those I put on myself. Do you know how frightening it can be to decide to be yourself? And worse, what if being myself is so much fun that I can’t go back to the mockery of myself that has a job to do and a responsible life to live? What will that mean? Why am I here? What is life? I am but a tiny speck of stardust that exploded from the cosmos and settled here… only atoms, but then, the sum of the parts versus the whole and all that? No, just a speck of stardust.

I have been teaching local communicators to express themselves, come out of their boxes and take on the challenge of being in the spotlight. To do this I have made myself into the 10 out of 10 outgoing, energetic, crazy (and hyperactive as they describe me) yardstick to show them how far they can aim. I have met amazing young men that have as many and varied personalities as you could possibly expect. There are those that joke about girls and flirt and those that refuse to even touch my hand in greeting because I am a woman and they haven’t the right to impinge my dignity. They have all made me as proud as a mother duck watching her ducklings take flight for the first time. I could not have expected the same level of courage from Aussies or Brits – but then would we ever be willing to import hundreds of people from an alien culture to teach our young people? It seems that we only ever export… I ponder what that means for us, do we have nothing to learn as a group? Is it only the brave few adventurers that travel to far off places that bring back different ideas?

We are not just challenging conceptions about science, presentation, education and femininity – we are being our full selves in view of a whole city of people, and asking them to accept, and enjoy it. I think that few places would request this, let alone allow it to work.

I have made some wonderfully disgusting discoveries; did you know that a slightly dissected cows’ eye smells different to a camels? Or that the camel has no ability to see in the dark and a pigmented sclera, presumably because of the sunlight in their native habitats? I would like to apologise to all that I shared my discoveries with over dinner – but working these hours means I only chat to you over meals!

This is a city that lives by the motto of ‘if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing big and shiny and record breaking`. The buildings frame the never-ending sky, there are no mountains, and hardly a hill but the sand and heat fade into that vast sky in a haze that looks both dirty and appealing for its character. There is a coastline every direction, most fenced in plywood so that the bathers will not be seen by those walking past. A grand palace SEVEN star hotel that dispenses gold in tiny bars the way most of us would buy chocolate from a vending machine, and ambition in construction in every direction.

I spent an amazing night measuring the rotation of the earth through the movement of constellations. We dune bashed, rode camels, sand-boarded, belly-danced, a sampled a BBQ dinner and watched falcons. And I had the theme time to Aladdin playing in my head the whole night.

While I fear that I have no more heart to leave in a city – this one has left me covered in the dust of the desert and fulfilled. Maybe it is not leaving my heart behind here – but filling it up – that I have managed.

As Aussie ex-pats enduring Scotland’s wettest summer on record, the time had come for us to top up our Sun Quota before the UK descends into a cold and dark winter. In search of sweet Vitamin D and a bit of colour back to our pasty skin, we set off, Portugal bound, to the capital city of Lisbon.

After a short direct flight, we found ourselves welcomed to 30 degree heat, a far cry from the cool, damp and grey Edinburgh we had left only three hours ago. Rustic buildings of tile, terracotta and plastered walls in yellows, oranges and whites cut stark against the cloudless blue skies. We strolled towards our hotel on shiny mosaic streets, shaded from the sun by the grand old terraces. Within these cooled streets lay sprawling café tables populated by locals (and tourists) enjoying their morning coffee (or beer).

Lisbon is vast city, juxtaposing a historic old town centre surrounded by shining skyscrapers of the modern business districts. In the windy side lanes of old town, crumbling plastered walls get a new coat of paint in the form of striking and ambitious street art. Castle of Sao Jorge sits proudly upon the hillside overlooking central Lisbon, while Grand café lined public squares, overlook the sea, a fitting vista for this proudly maritime culture.

An unusual (for us) lack of prior research about Lisbon, left us refreshingly liberated to explore the city, and any impulse, on a whim. Free from expectations we were ready to take in and enjoy whatever Lisbon had for us. One highlight included refreshing cocktails in a rustic jazz bar in the teeming and windy back alleys of the night life quarter. We rose from the crowded town centre to spectacular aerial views on board the The Santa Justa Lift; a grand, century old iron elevator platform. We retreated from the midday sun in Europe’s largest Aquarium. Aside from particular attractions, much joy was simply derived from embracing the chilled Mediterranean ambiance Lisbon so effortlessly exudes.

My short holiday in the sun has certainly been an invigorating break, but I’m back in perpetually overcast and rain dampened Scotland now. Despite the cool chill in the air and the shorter daylight hours, I’m actually quite excited for my first Scottish Christmas in many years. The warmth of the pubs and restaurants looks more inviting than ever and the frost blanketed mornings resemble ever more the Christmases of Charles Dickens. There will be more to report on soon.

Fringe festival time has been and gone and what a ride I’ve had. I’ve watched this proud historic city transform into wacky cartoon character. I’ve left the house at 7:30 to watch stand-up comedy and found myself staying past mid-night to take in an avant-garde Shakespeare interpretation. Churches have become Burlesque clubs and my kitchen window became the best seat for nightly firework displays.  More than six months ago now, I left Australia in search of new experiences and last month has certainly delivered.

August marks the annual flood gate opening to a tsunami of comedians, musicians, artists, performers, street poets, thespians, mimes, spoken wordsmiths and interpretative dancers upon the city for the Edinburgh Fringe festival. A miraculous transformation takes grip of Edinburgh as every spare inch of pub, coffee shop and street corner becomes an impromptu venue to support the sheer magnitude of performers. Open air bars, tents and stages spring up overnight, while flyers and posters blanket the streets injecting vivid colour onto the sandstone backdrop. The population bloats while the streets become seemingly narrower. What follows is a month of late nights, frequent drunkenness, wallets light on cash and pockets heavy with promo flyers.

An inescapable part of the Fringe experience is intense and shameless street promotion. Performers and legions of venue staff crowd the streets to ambush the public and plug their wares. This negative aspect can turn positive; with competition so fierce, performers are often happy to reduce their prices or broker a good deal if it means you will come and see them over the vastness of alternatives. In general, however, the sheer breadth of entertainment choice keeps ticket prices low.

Shows are short meaning you can take in a variety of acts on a single night out. I often found myself beginning with an entrée of stand-up comedy (usually a safe bet of entertainment return for my money) and once warmed up, I would move onto a main course of artier/experimental fare (which can be riskier, but often the payoff was worth it).

Footnotes:

1: I apologise for the lower than standard quality images in this post.  I’ve taken all of this post’s photos on my new phone. Naturally the photo taking capabilities of a phone will never quite measure up to the quality of a dedicated camera. However, they do say the best camera you own is the one that’s there when you need it.

2: I also apologise for the long delay between posts. I’ve made the excuse that this hectic transition period is robbing me of much free time to muse and blog, but I think that defence is wearing a little thin now. My mid-year resolution is to be posting with more frequency before the year is through. I’m hesitant to adopt the common blogger philosophy of “I have a soapbox, so I’d better voice my opinion on everything*”, however I’m sure with a  bit of thought and investigation I can find a format/theme that works for me.

3: Alyce and I will be spending a few days in Portugal next week. This should provide some solid blog food to inspire my next post. Expect a return to my classic travel blogging circa 2009, there will be musing, there will be observations, there will be photos (taken from my good camera!). We are not spending too long in Portugal, I don’t think we will be getting quite as far off the beaten track as we did in 2009, but after 6 months in Scotland I’m looking forward to the sweet kiss of sunshine on my skin.

*By the way, I frequently read and enjoy opinion piece blogging, however it’s at its best when it’s either profound in content, or entertaining in delivery – a large portion of the blogosphere doesn’t understand this.

Sometimes, you need to get out of the city for a few days. Months on the boring job/better job hunt cycle had left me feeling drained. I’ve not really had any time to stop and smell the roses, to appreciate where I am and the great opportunities moving to here has to offer. In an attempt to reclaim some of that passion that motivated our move, I decided it was time for a short jaunt to the countryside.

Destination: Lakes District, England.
Participants: Myself, Alyce (my Fiance), Ellie (a school friend, who has been staying on our couch for a few weeks visiting) & Vieve (Ellie’s 3 year old daughter).

With only a few days until I began my new job, timing was perfect to squeeze in a short travel treat. The four of us piled into our rented car (a rather zippy VW Polo) and took off onto England’s north west. The open road provided my first not in Kansas anymore moment. In Australia our country roads are tarmacked scars, carving their rigid straight paths across an endless arid waste. Meanwhile in Britain, the roads take you on winding journeys through hilly pastures on an emerald green canvas. Scenery aside, I found much pleasure from the drive itself, I haven’t been behind a wheel since February mind you.

After only a few hours on the road, we soon arrived on target: Bowness on Lake Wyndamere. The UK tourist draw here is a quiet retreat with vast peaceful lake views, but as a pilgrim of the new colonies, I found myself enamored with the quaint fairy tale quality of this small town. Imagine, narrow winding cobbled streets, lined by flower boxes and union jack bunting. Visualise proud Tudor style Inns spilling out into the streets with their tempting warmth and promise of a hearty meal. It’s like an enchanting illustration from a childhood book of Fables.

While the trip was largely chilling out and embracing the atmosphere we did take some time to cruise the lakes, visit the pubs and enjoy some mini golf under the surprisingly warm British summer sun. As the home of famous children’s writer/illustrator Beatrix Potter, a visit to the Lake’s District would not be complete without visiting the BP Experience. Seeing scenes from much loved children’s stories as life-size dioramas was as enchanting to me as it was for Ellie’s three year old daughter. As a previous blog post on my visit to Disneyland proves, I deny my inner child nothing.

Several days away were just the refresher we required. Travel was the motivation for my move and the chance to hop a border and change the scenery just for a weekend is liberating.

Phase one – Move to Scotland, get a good flat, get a good job within my profession. (Estimated time: first month)

Phase two – Work hard, save money then spend wildly on fine cuisine, culture and globetrotting. (Estimated time: how long is a piece of string?)

Four months later, phase one is coming to a long overdue close, but what took so long and what have I learned?

Work/Money Value
This trip has thoroughly opened my eyes to the value of work and money. In Australia I’ve always been able to move seamlessly from job to job, never unemployed for long, always with a comfortable safety net of savings, possessions, friends and family. Here in Scotland, far away from friends and family, with little-to-no belongings, economic security takes on a much higher value.

Work/Life Balance
I did find some respite in the form of part time retail job, but this was a band-aid solution. I never quite worked enough hours to pay all the bills, yet between the hours I did work, the active job hunt and smatterings of freelance work, I was hectically busy to a degree which I’ve never experienced before. My reasons for coming here where to discover the intricacies of an enchanting new city, to spend weekends and holidays in exciting foreign countries, but at this rate, more and more, these dreams where falling out of reach.

I love Graphic Design
Relief – Next Monday, I begin my new job. After several months on the hunt I’ve finally secured employment (on the marketing department for these chaps: www.easternwestern.co.uk ), that will rescue me from my previously perilous position. After almost five years of being a professional graphic designer, working in the retail sector has been… humbling. The retail experience, however, has reminded me of where my passions lie, and how doing something you are really good at can be so satisfying (yes, even press advertising and annual reports!)

Four months in, phase one of my worldly enlightenment voyage has come to a close. I foresee phase two comprising of several months working hard in my new job while simultaneously reaping the rewards of Edinburgh’s summer festivals. Follow that with some trips overseas? I think so!

Life is good, how’s that for making your own luck.

- Next post preview: We take a road trip to the countryside!

Why am I here..? Last year I was settled into a rewarding job and I had just got engaged. Important life markers were being ticked, green lighting the next phase in my life; Guess it’s time to settle down yeah? Maybe not quite yet, for all the ensured prosperity that comes with sinking your roots in deeper, I feel I would be unable to distance myself from a nagging what if. The future is unclear now, but, what if my chance to start a new job takes my career to new highs or in new unforeseen directions. Who knows what unexpected experiences I am to find 17,000 kms away from the familiar comforts of home. At my most pretentious I’m a pilgrim exploring new frontiers, at my most humble I’m, perhaps, Peter Pan, refusing to grow up.

All that is sure for now is that I’ve touched down safely and I’m living in the centre of the beautiful cosmopolitan city-set-against-cobblestones-and-castles that is Edinburgh. The vistas are beautiful and with all the events that seem to be going on, the metropolis teems with a festive atmosphere. This really is a fantastic place and I hope to make it my home over the coming months.

Now as for those fantastic vistas I mentioned:

First stop on our week in Italy, was the breathtakingly man-made, water bound city of Venice. Classic Italian architecture charmingly worn by time, renaissance sculptures, narrow streets and canals on every corner defined this city. While probably usually a very lovely and romantic city, our stay there was unfortunately marred by a number of poor circumstances. First off, it rained for almost the entirety of our stay, with almost no shelter and extortionately priced food, drinks (and cover from the rain), our day in Venice left us rather damp. Our campsite also left something to be desired, unless you’re loaded, staying directly in town is out of the question, so we had the campsite at the end of an airport runway, where our cabin’s shower flooded, soaking our bags and clothes.

Rome

After our bad luck in Venice, the Italian capital of Rome was just the doctor ordered to get our spirits up again. The sun was shining and after navigating the cities public transport system, we finally arrived in the centre of this historic city. Walking the streets of Rome was spectacular, Wide streets, lined by great columned stone buildings gleaming fantastically in the sun. There is something so surreal about walking through these streets, to see large city blocks excavated away to reveal the remnants of an ancient society. While picturing these old rocks and columns as they may of looked in their glory days was interesting in it’s own right, the real Roman highlight was the fantastically preserved and gargantuan Colosseum.

Florence

Our final stop, before returning to Britain (and then home) was Florence, capitol of the Renaisance. Grand churches, statues and architecture stand with pride on every corner of this marble metropolis. Walking the streets of Florence was like a much smaller but far more chilled out Rome. While staying in Florence was great, our real highlight of this stop was getting out in the beautifull Tuscan countryside. We spent a day on a wine tour in which we sampled some fine Italian Vino accompanied by the beautiful sunflower yellow landscape.

Ah, it’s good to be back in Germany. During my travels earlier in the year, one of my highlight stops was the city of Berlin, a cosmopolitan metropolis risen from the ashes of a dark history to become one of the liveliest, forward thinking and generally most fun stops on my trip. With Berlin leaving such a positive mark on me and the promise of the worlds largest beer festival, I was rather keen on seeing Germany’s other tourist draw: Munich.

Due to the difficulties of finding a room in Munich during the Oktoberfest, the budget backpacker mentality got the better of us and we decided we could only justify one night of extortionate festival prices at the hostel. With only one night to experience the festivities, we quickly dropped our bags in our room, trotted through the cool, grey back streets until we could see and hear the carnival like ambience. If I was to describe the mood of Oktoberfest I’d say it’s a bit like the royal show, only for adults, and way happier. The fair grounds are lit up like a Christmas tree, stalls disguised as mountain chalets try to tempt you with the smell of half metre bratwurst, pretzels, chocolate covered strawberries and of course the amber fluid. The drunk, both young and old link arms, stand on their chairs and belt out Bavarian drinking songs with great smiles and glazed eyes.

After knocking down a few pints, few steins and whatever greasy or sugary impulse food we bought, getting out of bed the next day proved quite a challenge. Finally however, about mid-dayish, we dragged ourselves from bed and decided to take a look at this City. Munich, like Berlin was pretty much levelled, during World War II, however where Berlin saw this an opportunity to re-cast itself as a modern city of the future, the people of Munich opted to keep this Ancient city traditional. Where Berlin makes bold statements about this countries grim past in the form of giant memorials, Munich keeps it’s memorials, subtle, stressing that 12 years of Nazism will not outshine 800 years of glorious history and tradition. It is slightly bewildering walking down these apparently medieval, cobblestone streets when considering this place was re-built in maybe the 50s?

While seeing this beautiful city was a treat by itself I was really keen to come to Munich to learn about it’s history and culture, so each of our days spent in the city was highlighted by taking a fascinating educational tour, if this is how I spend my holidays does this make me a nerd? Tour number one was the Munich walking tour, lead by, you guessed it another Australian chap, who walked though the streets teaching us about the history of this city specifically the Bavarian History. Bavaria is Germany’s largest state and pretty much the home of all traditional German stereotypes; lederhosen, sauerkraut, Bratwurst, Beer halls, German Brass Bands.

Tour Number two took us to Dachau, the first Nazi concentration camp. This was not our first visit to a concentration camp, earlier in the year we had visited the infamous Auschwitz/Birkenau and while I wasn’t sure before hand how keen I would be to see another human abattoir, I’m quite glad I did now as both provided very different experiences. Where Auschwitz shocked you with the severity and brutality of the Nazi regime, Dachau was set up more like a museum that helped teach you about politics and society at the time and how such a place could come to be. Being my second time in a concentration camp, a part of me believed that I would feel somewhat desensitized to it this time around, apparently not, during my trip around Europe I’ve visited many so-called haunted towers, dungeons and castles, but nowhere has felt even nearly as heavy and as tortured as these death camps.

Dachau acted as a somewhat perfect introduction to our final tour in Munich; The Third Reich tour, which sought to explain how Hitler and such a brutal regime could rise to power and commit the simply inhumane atrocities that it did. We once again traversed Munich’s cobbled streets this time stopping by all the sites relevant to Hitler, the rise of the Nazi party and the various resistance movements who tried to stop him. Personally I find World War II to be a fascinating case study in the worst of humanity, I think there is so much we can learn from it.

Well, my time in Munich proved both wild and educational, what a city! Now I’m off to Italy, last country before I go back to the UK for flights home! Counting down the days!

Next stop was the large but much quieter city of Valencia; The historic birthplace of Spain’s national dish: Paella. While our hostel was located quite near a traditional bull fighting ring (currently hosting an Oktoberfest event) and various old forts, city gates and churches, the heart of Valencia is surprisingly contemporary. Valencia once had a large river running through the middle, but generations ago it flooded, so the officials had it drained and in the space where the river ran, they have now inserted a beautiful green park. This huge streak of greenery cuts right through the centre of the city providing an excellent retreat from the everyday busyness. One of Valencia’s most spectacular sites is the museum district, down in the park. Stepping into the museum quarter feels like a step into a future depicted in comic books and science fiction movies: giant crisp white rings and obelisks dance around glass formed buildings as turquoise waters provide a Xen-like calm, seriously it’s like the space ship from Wall-E.

Madrid

Finally we made our way to Spain’s capital city. Madrid, to me felt a bit like a busy version of Canberra, sure it’s an important place but it’s not really the most spectacular place in the country. Madrid has the same maze-like quality of Barcelona, broken up with a few large plazas, but with construction running rampant city wide and a much denser population, I found it very hard to relax in Madrid. Another point that irked me somewhat was everything costed a little more than I really wanted to pay in this city. Between the language barrier and some tricky business practices like surcharges per person, per item ordered, per table used and paying (and seeing prices) after you’ve finished, Madrid is loaded with nasty tourist traps.

However despite minor annoyances, we did have some fun in Madrid. The city is loaded with beautiful and ornate architecture and we eventually discovered the central park, which was thankfully very green and peaceful. While in the park we hired a row boat, paddled across the pond and chilled out in the sun listening to buskers. Eventually, however, Madrid’s lack of excitement drove us into a bout of boredom, so we hit the movies to see the new Tarintino flick, known here in Spain as Malditos Bastardos.

Our first Spanish port of call was the port town of Barcelona. Barcelona feels somewhat like a stone wrought hedge maze, narrow roads lined with four or five storied tenements carve a thin line of sky above us to light our way. When not scurrying though the stone labyrinth, you will either find yourself on La Rambla, the busy open market place or the rather stylish Marina. The recently established Marina stands in contrast to the old city by being lined with fancy modern buildings and ultra-chic, somewhat bizarre modern art.

Barcelona carries a reputation of being one of Europe’s biggest party cities, located deep in the Mediterranean it’s hot and brimming with shops, pubs and clubs, spilling into the streets and staying open way into the wee’ hours of the morning. While such things bring the tourists over by the bucket load, Alyce and I dismissed most of this in favour chasing culture, cuisine and history. Thankfully Barcelona, has enough of these things to keep us occupied for a few days too. One unique piece of Barcelona was a bizarre parkland named Park Guell, designed by visionary (some might argue mad or over-rated) architect Gaudi. Another definite highlight of our stay was taking a Spanish cooking class where we prepared and ate plenty generous servings of Sangria, Tappas and Paella, much decadence occurred that night.