The Fringe was a hit-and-miss affair. I mostly went to free shows, which meant a wide variety in quality. Most acts were mediocre, but there were also a few free ones that I quite enjoyed. Of the few shows I paid for, Tom Wrigglesworth and Jimmy Carr were my favourites.

A few weeks ago Kate and I made a day-trip to visit our Glaswegian friend Lori. Glasgow has a totally different atmosphere and a lot more Scots than Edinburgh. Despite the city’s reputation for violence, we had a thoroughly pleasant time, wandering between restaurants, cafes and our other favourite, cemeteries.

The Glasgow set is here.

For the last few days I’ve been working in the kitchen at the Sizzling Scot Steakhouse, a nice restaurant in the city’s inner west. It’s a few miles walk from home, but it’s nice to have the opportunity for the exercise. I’d gotten used to walking up and down mountains with my pack, and the more sedentary existence led by those with a permanent residence wasn’t sitting comfortably with me. Anyway, for now I’m just cleaning up after the chefs, but starting next week I’ll be cooking, as well. It’s fascinating to finally get the chance to see what goes on in a professional kitchen. This job will probably kill my sometimes-dream to become a chef (I think cooking is much more enjoyable as a leisure activity than as a trade), but I think it will be a fun way to save up enough for an interesting trip home.

The first shift nearly killed me (six hours on a Saturday night) and I had a few aches the next day, but I should get used to it quickly. It’s a lot quieter during the week, which makes for relaxing work but fewer tips, so it evens out. Tomorrow they’re giving me three new chef’s jackets, which is exciting in itself, but I’m mostly just looking forward to the chance to cook – and payday, of course.

I think I’ve discovered the friendliest people in Europe, if not the world. I’ve spent three nights in Azkoitia, the heartland of Euskadi, the Basque country. I came to visit Dafne, a friend I made in Chiang Mai, and her family and friends have taken me in. She works in a bar so filled with smoke that you could probably get high by smoking the ceiling joists (and she’s the only Basque person I’ve met who doesn’t smoke). Her boss, the barman, fed me, gave me a bottle of wine, and entertained me while Dafne was working.

The countryside is very different from the rest of Spain – green, steep hills clad in pines, rich valleys filled with maize, tomatoes, cattle and sheep, and rocky mountains surrounding us in every direction. The people, too, are most definitely not Spanish. Although almost everybody is able to speak castillano, the language of the region is Euskara, a language isolate that is unrelated to any other known language. Azkoitia and the other nearby towns have the highest concentraion of Euskara speakers. I’ve leaned a little. Although it sounds pleasant, it’s hard to read – lots of k’s and x’s. Along with please and thank you (mesedez and eskerrikasko) I can count to ten, and know useful words like ‘parranda’ for party and ‘kafe utsa’ for espresso.

Basque political statements are everywhere throughout the region. Almost every building sports an “Euskal presoak, Euskal herria” poster – a campaign to have imprisoned members of ETA jailed in Basque prisons instead of French and Spanish ones. Nationalist graffiti is also common. It’s strange to be in a place that seems so remote and innocent, and yet has the writings of a group that most of the world considers a terrorist organization scrawled proudly on city walls. It’s a tough issue. Obviously, violence does not improve the situation. ETA was formed partially in response to Franco’s attempt to eradicate Basque identity, and while Spain’s current government is obviously more liberal than Franco’s fascist dictatorship, many still feel the threat of being overwhelmed by Spanish culture and language.

I arrived at the start of a two-day party which seems to use the feast day of St. Ignatius of Loiola (the nearest town) as an excuse to drink an awful lot of kalimotxo (the only Basque word I actually knew before I left Australia). I went out to party in Ezpeitia with about ten of Dafne’s friends, who are all female, beautiful, and can drink a lot more than me. I switched to water about two hours before anyone else, although in my defence, I bet I felt a lot better than anyone else this morning. Most of them wouldn’t speak any English until they had a few drinks under the belt.

I’ve never felt quite as embarrased to be monolingual. One of the most common comments (in Euskara) was “It’s a shame he doesn’t even speak castillano“. I think I’m going to make sure I have at least basic Spanish before I return to this country.

Yesterday, we drove up to the Gurrutxaga family house in the nearby mountains, where Dafne’s grandmother prepared a Basque feast of seafood and traditional nibbles. It felt a lot like Christmas at home – the combination of seafood, champagne and hot weather. Afterwards, we watched a concert on the steps of the Basilica of St. Ignatius of Loiola.

The last few days have been simply fantastic. Good food, beautiful people, a dramatic landscape and pleasant weather. Dafne’s parents, Mailu and Jexux, and her grandmother, Maritxu, treated me like family. On my last day in the country, Maritxu gave me a tour of San Sabastian, and took me to her brother’s restaurant where I enjoyed a three course meal (on the house).

Tomorrow, London.

I didn’t get to say goodbye to anybody in Trondheim (too busy running for the train, as always). It’s a strange feeling, not sharing a tent with anybody.

Slovenia is one of those countries where I had no idea what to expect, and was delighted nonetheless. Ljubljana seems to be the most bicycle friendly city I’ve ever seen, so tomorrow I’ll be riding. It’s a tiny capital city, with about 260,000 people. It really is amazingly cute.

The train from Vienna was beautiful, too. Saw some Serious Mountains With Snow On Them, and lots of pine forests. Pretty sure there was a lake or two in there, as well.

Ate dinner out – carbonara. It frustrates me paying €10 for a meal I know I could have cooked for less than €3, but this hostel has no kitchen, and it being a Sunday evening, I couldn’t find anywhere to buy ingredients.

I’ll spend tomorrow exploring the city, and then I think I’ll catch a super-early-morning train to Zagreb.

In the few hours of daylight that were left, Kate and I milked a goat and learned how to make cheese. We cooked a simple but satisfying pumpkin risotto for dinner. Dessert consisted of a variety of goat cheeses, from fresh cottage cheese to a slightly more mature hard cheese, followed by kilograms of cherries from the orchard.

Success.

I’m hoping I can come back here to work in October. The weather won’t be quite as good, and there isn’t all that much farm work to do at that time of year, but the residence is undergoing constant renovation so I’m hoping there will be something to do.

The farmstay is run by Allan and Eva, an English/Hungarian couple. They have some friends staying at the moment – Todd and Ira, and their five-year-old (and photogenic) son, Quill.

Yesterday we were too tired for the opera, but after dinner (a Kate and Sam lentil stew special) we hit a karaoke bar with Haley and Bridget instead. Good clean fun.

The Budapest photoset (so far) is here.

Today Kate, Ben and I slowly wandered through the Buda side of the Danube, and after a Thai dinner, went to a local jazz club for a hour or two. Getting an early night, for a change.

Some more Transylvanian photos, because I have so many:

I finally found a roll of high-speed black and white film! Huzzah!

Eight of us (the aforementioned party of six, with newly acquired Canadian, Rich, and sometimes-companion Lori of Scotland) took two cars to the site of the tomb of Vlad Tepes (a.k.a. Vlad III the Impaler, a.k.a. Vladislav Dracula, a.k.a. Count Dracula). Getting to the church required forty minutes of hard rowing across a Romanian lake – hard because of my ineptitude, not because the conditions were particularly bad. In fact, one couldn’t really ask any more from a spring day; warmth, sunshine and a complete absence of rain. T-shirt weather.

After we got back to Bucharest, we hit a vegetable market and made dinner. I cooked stuffed aubergines and a lemon risotto. Kate put together a shopska-ish salad and some garlic bread. Between us we fed eight people rather impressively for about 10 lei ($5AUD) per serving. Not standard backpacker fare. Dessert consisted of a bar of chocolate and a cigar. Bliss.

I seem to have a talent for alphabets. I can read Greek and Cyrillic pretty well after only a short period of immersion. This has inspired me to resume my study of Japanese when I’m done travelling, after my six-year hiatus. The JET program would be absolutely awesome, after I’ve got a degree.

Romania is pleasant enough, but occasionally Paul pops out a “Why can’t we go back to Bulgaria?”. Heading to Braşov tomorrow. Can’t wait to get into a slightly smaller town.

People at the top seemed to take as many photos of us as they did of the scenery, as we sat sipping Greek wine from plastic tumblers and constructing elaborate olive-oil-drenched sandwiches. Afterwards, we walked home for a final few beers on the roof of the hostel. This morning finds us flung across Greece – most people to the islands and the sun, and me to the north, Thessaloniki.

Athens photoset is here.

I took an early morning train, and it was a pleasant change from my usual nocturnal travels. It was also my first high-speed rail travel in Europe, and I was very impressed: smooth, quiet, and really, really fast. I arrived at midday and found accommodation – the penthouse of an amazingly cheap and run-down budget hotel, which is not nearly as nice as it sounds, but has some bizarre, taped-up-window and crumbling walls kind of charm.

My next stop was the photography museum, hosting the Photography Biennale. I particularly enjoyed the Duane Michaels exhibition.

Currently seeking a ticket to Sofia. Train leaves at 0630ish.

The first day was mostly uneventful, but still interesting – riding in the back of a ute for a few hours, first to visit a Hmong community atop a hill, and a few hours walking through dry-tropical scrub. We spent the evening around a campfire in the Karen village of Maeto. The villagers produced a rather battered guitar, which Chris tuned with some pliers because the pegs had snapped off, and we spent the evening drinking local moonshine and singing along to The Pixies, Radiohead, and Oasis. Yuka played us a few of her compositions, which we couldn’t understand, but were very cute.

The next day, Chris, Sebastien and Yuka set off early because they had to be in Chiang Mai to catch a bus, and the rest of us carried on. After a few hours of slightly challenging uphill trek (and a lazy hour where we let a pair of elephants do the walking for us), we lunched in another Karen village. While Dafne and Jo napped, Anja and I tried some Karen cuisine. Had a rather spicy (but good!) fish curry, and a very interesting soup. Anja had a few mouthfuls, while I stared at the spoon and after a moment, tentatively asked “What kind of insect is this?”. Anja nearly died of shock. The soup consists of red ants and their grubs, and tastes delicious. Strong lemon flavour, which makes sense as the ants appear very much like Australian green ants, which have a definite citrus tang. Maybe not a dish I’ll cook for my housemates, but a good experience nonetheless. Also saw a traditional still where a Karen woman was distilling rice wine to make whisky.

We spent the night in a camp at the base of a waterfall with a few friendly dogs, our guide Den, and one of his fellow employees who mans the camp. Had a great night (rice moonshine again) playing cards and talking around the fire. Everyone sang a few songs from their culture (which for me, meant I was singing English and Irish folk tunes, and a bit of jazz).

Today, some more walking and then an hour floating down a river on a bamboo raft. Eventually, back into a minivan and an hour’s drive back to Chiang Mai.

Had a good few days. Got to know some Thais, which was nice. Interesting humour. Saw an amazing variety of vegetation in three days of walking – rainforest in gullies, pine forests on ridges, a bamboo forest around the waterfall, and finally cultivated fields of rice and maize.

Back in my favourite coffee house today. After doing it rough for three days, my 200B guesthouse seems more luxurious than a Hilton ever could.

Tomorrow, some more Chiang Mai exploration by bicycle, I think. I’d like to head up the hill to Doi Sothep, to see the temple and the stalls where you can buy deep-friend grubs.

Ciao!

Last night we added Reece (England) to our party and hit the Chiang Mai night Bazaar and markets. I bought some Thai paper lanterns (my first purchase in this country!) which I’ll post home today. Afterwards, Reece’s friend Toby arrived from Phuket, where he’d been nursing an injured friend for the last few days. Jo, Toby, Reece and I sat in an Irish pub for a few hours, drinking cheap Thai beer because not even the Irish like Guinness.

Starting a three day trek into the hills tomorrow morning. Looks like Anja, Dafne and Jo are coming, too. Some time next week, Jo and I are going to head across the border into Laos and then take the slow boat down the Mekong.