A Travellerspoint blog

A Nip of Port in Portugal, if you don't mind

Lisbon & Porto - Portugal

sunny 15 °C

Day 1

Our Portugal adventure began with our first European budget airline flight of the trip. The term "cattle class" is commonly thrown around when discussing airplane economy seating. Well Easyjet certainly give the term new legs, with their lack of pre assigned seating. Is was quite funny to "run with the herd" down towards the airplane in an attempt to secure a seat next to your loved ones. I was half expecting to be shot with an electric bolt between the eyes when I reached airplane, but instead I received a welcoming smile. My flawless run/luck regarding having no issue with budget airlines continues. The plane left on time and didn't crash. Woohoo!

We arrived 2 hours later Portugal's capital Lisbon. We didn't have too many problems locating our bus to the city centre, we got us to our stop for under 3 euros. We scrabbled off the bus to instantly find ourselves approached by a man offering us "Hashish??? Hashish??? You Smoke???". Not keen to spend 20 years in a Portuguese prison we waved him off and continued on our way. We instantly sensed we weren't in the best area, with many touts and beggars (which we were increasingly getting used to) targeting the airport buses. We continued onto our Hostel. Lisbon suddenly went from being flat to VERY HILLY. Lugging your little existence around in a backpack on flat ground sucks badly enough, so hills/steps are no friend of yours in this situation. Now marry hills and backpacks with Lisbon's super slippery when wet cobbled footpaths = scariness! As we climbed upwards the area improved vastly and we suddenly found ourselves in a high end shopping area, and a quiet side street in which our hostel was located.

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Our hostel was a small scale pleasant place with charming side street views. Once the backpacks were off we enjoyed the view from our hostel counting 5 different coloured buildings in eye shot. We've found since leaving the UK, that the hostels have been pretty fantastic, very clean and roomy and offering much better value for money. It was now pretty late in the day, so we decided to get something easy for dinner. We ended up in a local take away place called 'Portvilla' which offered us basic Portuguese staple meals. Portugal was our first country we noticed their wasn't a lot of English speakers (besides tourist sights and hotels/hostels), so we had fun with our very accommodating server, as we both spoke the universal language of 'Point and Nod' along with the trusty old finger abacus. We ended up with a slice of basic chicken breast (me) and beef (Sam) in some doughy bread, a potato side and a yummy clear soup of some sort. Oh and a beer, all for 4 euros. For some annoying Sam started saying "GRAAAATZZZI" /along with a hand gesture, to every Portuguese person he came across, despite me repeatedly telling him that that was Italian for thank you, and to drop the "TZ" and then you're almost not completely insulting them. So of course he's continued to do it all through Spain also. I'm sure in Italy he'll start saying "Gracias" just to be clever.

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Sam didn't do a film review, but he wrote about his take on the meal -

On our first day in Lisbon it was raining and by dinner time we had both had it, so we tried a local mall for something to eat, not really worrying about what it was. I spied some locals heading in to a small Portuguese chain restaurant, serving basic meals with a local beer. They didn't speak a lick of English but we managed to get simple feeds of soup (which had tasted like leek and a mushroom perhaps) and a Bifana roll (Beef) which was good to dip in your soup. I did had a bit of trouble buying some additional beers, with the weird looks I kept getting from the male server. We later figured out I had been saying 'Beer, Woman'. The locals all stayed for a few beers as did we and the place had a really easy going feel to it. It was a simple feed but certainly wasn't junk food and when we left there we felt great. At first Lisbon was a bit of a culture shock but after that meal we couldn't wait to go out and get lost.

Day 2

We did and packed in a heck of a lot of walking and sight seeing in Paris, we had basically wiped ourselves out by Portugal. In which case and since we only had a day in Lisbon, we decided to give one of those 'Hop on Hop Off' bus tours a go. They're about as much of a organised tour as I can handle. It ended up being ideal, as you could get on and off at all the majour sights, with out having to think about anything. We generally waste half a day just figured out how to get here and there. So it was good in that sense, and it also took us to places we probably wouldn't of gone to otherwise. For example it took you right through the grimy but endearing fishing industry areas, and all through the modern former world fair area of Lisbon. It was amazing to go from the crumbling seafaring influence buildings to the ultra contemporary buildings of Lisbon's former derelict industrial area. Quite an interesting contrast. We completed route one on the hop on hop off bus, and then picked up the second route which took you out to Lisbon's Belem district, to the famous UNESCO protected Belém Tower.

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We're beginning to notice the landmarks we're visiting are never the actual size you imagine them to be. I was certainly surprised at how pint sized the Belem Tower was, but none the less impressive. I marvelled at it's beautiful ornate Manueline Gothic architecture with its incorporation of maritime elements and representations of the discoveries, all which very much reflect Lisbon's style in general. A different sort of unique rustic grandeur which very much distinguishes itself from all the other European cities we've been to so far. After we enjoyed the Belem area we'd decided we'd seen all we could see on the bus tour and decided to burn some calories and walk back up the hill to our hostel. Walking in Lisbon is and attraction in is own right. Beautiful Rococo tiled houses are around every corner and equally as beautiful the non tiled houses are rendered in every colour imaginable, and all in every condition imaginable.

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Day 3 - Lisbon to Porto

Our 3rd day in Portugal began in the early afternoon with a 3 hour train ride north to Porto. We didn't really have any idea what to expect or what Porto would have to offer (other then Port), but it had been recommended (thanks Kristy!) and as it turns out, our favourite destination so far. From the moment we arrived in Porto we could instantly sense it was a lot more crusiey and laid back then Lisbon, as well as much more HILLIER! More steps and hills up to our hostel. Again, another great value for money hostel, which was close to everything but in a quiet side street. We had a tiny little balcony with a view quite typical in Portuguese cities. Beautiful terracotta roof tops, churches, castles and the odd derelict half falling down building, haha.

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Day 4 - Porto

For some reason 'he who usually sleeps like a log' (Sam) didn't sleep very well and subsequently 'he who rarely gets cranky' (Sam), had a huge pair of cranky pants on for the beginning of our first full day of exploring in Porto. Regardless of his mood, the sun was shining and there was no time for mucking around. We headed towards a church/castle looking building we could see from our hostel, in the general direction of the Funicular (cool tram like things which haul you up and down the steep hills of Porto) down to the water front. On the way we got bailed up my a beggar, who attached himself to us as we walked past the train station. Previously we'd concocted an cunning plan of how to get rid of beggars ... just pretend we don't understand a damn thing they're saying. He began his plea in Portuguese, then switched to English, in which we continued to act dumb "Do you speak English? French? German? Spanish? Italian?" we were so stumped by this multi-lingual beggar, we were too afraid to say our pre planned go to language (Polish) in case he could speak that also. Eventually he gave up on us as 'Cranky-pants McFurson' (Sam) marched up a very steep hill at a very brisk pace, leaving the beggar behind gasping for air. He may be multi lingual but he needs to definitely give up the cigarettes if he wants to keep up with his prey.

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Once we reached the church on the hill (Porto Cathedral, a 13th Century Romanesque delight), we were rewarded with stunning views over both sides of Porto. We realised we'd taken a wrong turn in getting to the Funicular, and therefore we decided to head down on foot. How hard could it be right? Well it was a bit of a confusing jungle, down through Porto's roughest areas. It was actually quite a highlight for us to try and navigate our way under archways, over ill repaired cobbled paths and pass by crumbling yet colourful buildings. All the while enjoying million dollar views down towards the river. I think it is a testament to the importance of listing these important heritage areas (which most of Porto old town is) otherwise developers would have raised a boring soulless apartment block in the blink of an eye. We never once felt uncomfortable or afraid. We were a bit weary of the hungry looking cats running wild. Portly well fed Aussies would fed them for a year, and there was definitely enough of them to take one of us down.

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We eventually reached the river Douro, and it is hard to know where to look first. The whole area is visually stunning, with its jumble of styles and colours, as houses begin layered from the bottom of the river bank and head up the hill like a crazy game of domino's. Along both sides of the river locals and tourists mingle in front of village style shop fronts and cafes.

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Sam still had the crankies, and seeing as Coffee is his drug we found a little family run no frills cafe (with a shop dog, aww). Turns out they made an awesome Espresso ...

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With Sam's much cheerier mood we headed across the Douro river towards Porto's famous Port Wine Cellars. the Cellars along the river front seemed to be touting expensive sampling and boring tourist tours, so we decided to be adventurous and follow some signs pointing upwards and off the beaten tourist trail.

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It was a looooooooooong and steep trip up ...

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Which kept going ...

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And going ...

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And goiiiiiiiiiiiing.

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Till finally ... Nirvana! In the form of Taylor's Port Wine Cellars.

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Our first two samplings were free (that's more like it) and additional two samplings were 6 euros. And they weren't little baby samplings either, let me tell you. We enjoyed our Port on their beautiful terrace overlooking all of Porto. We literally sat there for a good couple of hours just enjoying the afternoon sun and view. After we were suitable yet respectively comfortably numb, we began further exploring the cellars stunning gardens, equipped with free roaming Peacocks and Silky Chickens. A PERFECT place for a wedding, shame its not in Melbourne! We hiked back down to the river bank and enjoyed the Port side of the river before heading back up to our hostel (this time on the Funicular), wrapping up our best day so far.

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Day 5

Day 5 way sent trying to figure out how to get to Salamanca in Spain, which was to be our next destination. This was seemingly and impossible task involving many buses and transfers. We decided to spend the rest of the day in Porto, and leave for Madrid on the night train instead. We headed back over the river Douro, this time staying high and crossing the giant steel monster bridge across the Douro from the top. Quite an exhilarating experience to be so high up, but what a view. Sam who has an irrational fear of heights, power walked over the whole thing, unable to look down. Of course I was an understanding girlfriend and capture the whole thing on film ...

Our final hours in Porto were spent enjoying yet another panoramic view from Porto from another great advantage point in Porto.

Porto left us excited and renewed after some Paris burnout, and definitely would love to go back for an extended stay. Portugal and its people were exceptional and authentic, and Portugal has definitely left a lasting impression our souls.

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Posted by redmozzy 11:47 Archived in Portugal Tagged backpacking Comments (0)

Prada, Parisians and ... Poop! It can't always be Glamour.

Paris, France

all seasons in one day 5 °C
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Day 1

Most people travel with preconceived notions of what a new country never before visited will be like, and I think like wise goes for the people of that country. Our preconceived notion about French people had us both with 'Basic In flight French' talking books pre downloaded on our ipods. Silly really as each time we tried to bust out our rusty French most people would politely smile, then offer to speak to us in English. Sam trying to speak French is a sound to behold. With that deep baritone and his scary North Queensland mining accent he picked up from our two years in Mackay. Merci was "Maaaar ceeeee". And Bonjour became "Ban Jawww". Very funny. For our Paris accommodation we'd picked a mid range hotel not far from the Arc de Triomphe. I'd unwittingly stuffed up the booking dates but luckily the lovely young man at reception had room for us, no probs! He gave us a great detail map (take note Belgium!!!) and circled all the sights for us. We love the Parisians so far!

As it was late afternoon and (you guessed it) raining (it has become a bit of a joke, that each time we put on our backpacks it rains) we decided to head to a local bakery and grab some dinner and retreat to our room. We came across a adorable little French bakery and got to practice our bad French on a lady who didn't speak a lick of English. Despite this she smiled and laughed along with us as we pointed out things and tried to pronounce their labels. We ended up with a few yummy things that changed our lives for that brief moment in time and tucked into bed to watch the Olympics.

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Day 2

Sun!!! Always a mood lifter when you travel in the winter months! We headed to the Arc de Triomphe and marvelled at the demolition derby which is the round about (i'm sure there is a fancy french title for it) which flows around the Arc. I can only explain it as a giant free for all, first in the lane is the best dressed. We saw more then one rear ending ... and they just seem to throw their arms up and keep driving! Just another day in the wilds of Paris traffic I guess. We continued down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, marvelling at its prestine Baroque Boulevard architecure. Gucci, Dolce and Dior ... oh my! The window dressings in these stores are "on another level" (how appropriate to quote Rachel Zoe). The giant Afro wearing mannequins in the Louis Vuitton windows were "Bananas" (thanks Rachel, again!). Really pieces of art, worthy of any gallery.

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Because the weather was so great we headed towards the Eiffel Tower. I was practically hyperventilating ... not because I was standing under a significant cultural icon, but because I was standing under a significant cultural icon and it was SUNNY and great photo taking light. Simple things keep me happy ... like good photo light, haha. It was like god was taking a break for 30 minutes then suddenly look down upon Paris and saw Sam and I (with the backpacks on) and decided to send a freak storm our way. Luckily I'd already fired of 5 million photos and we ran for the nearest Cafe. Which in Paris is always a sneeze away.

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Now I'd been avoiding blogging about this since Amsterdam when "they" began. And never did I want this to appear in my Haute Couture Paris blog ... but it must be told, for I worry I will never be able to adequately explain why I paid roughly $40 Australian dollars to get into the Louvre (entry for Sam and myself) for not more then 30 mins, before fleeing back to the hotel. Simply put ... I had a major case of Delhi Belly and my body decided that those few precious afternoon hours we'd scheduled to visit one of the worlds top 5 art institutions, were going to be spent instigating a massive internal revolution against my insides. France hadn't seen bloodshed this majour since the 18th century bourgeois uprising which ousted the last of the monarchs. I began to get a niggling feeling from deep within regarding the ensuing destruction to come, as I happily clicked away out front of the Louvre in all its majesty. A few brief and to the point words were fired in Sam's direction indicating we needed to get to a toilet stat! Now if you've travelled in Europe you would be well aware ... THERE ARE NO PUBLIC TOILETS ANYWHERE ... AAAAAAAAAARGH. The Louvre it was. Sorry Louvre.

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2 x 10 euro entry fee's later, I nervously queued in the big glass pyramid awaiting to go down into the Louvre. A few sleeting thoughts passed through my subconscious ... "oh this was in the Da Vinci Code" ... "oh how amazing is the light coming through the glass panels" only to be trampled by that sheer unexplainable terror ones gets when ... (again not beating around the bush) they're about to CRAP THEMSELVES. Finally we got down into the Louvre's giant underground entry, and I headed for that little glorious universal man/women standing side my side sign. As I turned the corner, disaster ... the ladies was being cleaned. And not only was it being cleaned, there was a que for when the cleaner had finished. If one could of read my mind in those few moments I would of been put in jail, never to be released. Like a women possessed I shot up an elevator heading towards the toilet symbol I could see on the map to the left of the ancient Egyptian wing. 5000 year old Egyptian tombs became instantly insignificant in such emergencies. As I rounded the toilet entry ... disaster ... it was being cleaned. I wonder what would be more embarrassing; an uncontrollable crying hissy fit or me using the cleaning cart as a substitute toilet.

You know that scene from The Bodyguard when Kevin Costner grabs Whitney Houston off stage and proceeds to kick people in the face in order to get her safely through the crowd. Yeah well I nearly reenacting that moment (the face kicking part) trying to get past a pack of old women in order to get to ANOTHER toilet in the Italian Masters wing. Oh how cruel god ... CRUEL. Italian masters, my favourite. I felt so ashamed of myself as I raced past brilliant priceless works of genius. Caravaggio, Titian, Michelangelo ... sigh ... I inadvertently turned left instead of right at one stage and ended up again in a crowd of people. Just as I was ready to but back on my Kevin Costner kickin' boot, I looked up into the eyes of Da Vinci's 'Mona Lisa'. Unfortunately she didn't have a toilet under or behind her, so her existence at that point in time was of no importance to me. This time I turned left and headed to what must of been the quietest corner of the Louvre, and like a glorious beacon of shining light after 10 months out to sea, I saw a ladies loo. And not a evil demonic cleaning lady in sight. No queue, straight in, clean, quiet ... perfection.

Lets just say It was worth every last euro ... and quite a work of art ...

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Posted by redmozzy 06:30 Archived in France Tagged backpacking Comments (2)

Not a Brussels Sprout in Sight

Brussels & Bruges, Belgium

rain 3 °C
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Travelling to Belgium was our first introduction to European bus travel. Ewww and please no more buses ... trains are a billion times more interesting (and you can at least escape the cretons to some extent. So not worth the money you save. The bus driver was an Angry Frenchmen leaving us worried for how the people would be in Paris (we learnt he definitely gave the French a bad rep), but he it was funny to watch him bark orders at unsuspecting passengers in french who didn't put their luggage tickets on correctly. So for our bus ride we got to stare for 3 hours at a freeway which could of been any freeway in Australia. Yawn.

So Eurolines glamorously dumped us out in a back alley behind Brussels North station in the rain, and AFM (Angry Frenchmen) scurried away somewhere, leaving behind some very confused forwarding to Paris passengers. We felt bad, but were glad to get away from AFM. It was late and dark and we couldn't find a map to save ourselves, Lots of crankiness and mini-fights ensued. If I have a map, and know where I am on it, I'm happy, if not ... watch out. Brussels was very confusing, but I think being dark can be disorientating. We walked for ages and finally found our hostel just before check in closed. To my horror I'd realised I'd booked us into a YHA hostel (first clue was perhaps the giant tour bus out the front). I like to refer to them as "Hose them out" Hostels. The floors and walls are lino, so the cleaners can just hose the floors and walls down once the Contiki tour has left and start again! It wasn't so bad though, they had a decent bar with cheap Belgium Beers. And after sampling almost every Belgium Beer we could pronounce we hit the sack.

QoTD:

AFM: "Toilet in the back, only use in emergency. If you need to shit you wait!"

Day 1

Belgium was grey, rainy and cccccold. It was the first time the weather seemed to be getting us down. It was the first place which had been consistently (or relentlessly) drizzly. Despite the weather we headed out early. Our hostel was completely unhelpful with providing us with a free map or any advice, so we just decided to walk around and ask at the nearest hotel for at least a map. Well 10 hotels later, a bus station and two hours of walking around in the rainy commercial area of Brussels, still no free tourist map. What the hell??? As Sam purchased an 8 euro paper map, I imagined what i would write in my strongly worded letter to the Belgium tourist office. So with map in hand we realised we'd taken a wrong turn and headed into a pretty unattractive and boring part of Brussels. Knowledge in hand we headed to the main square (Grand Place). The 'Grand Place' afforded us spiraling gold trimmed Gothic towers and cute wonky narrow buildings, each seemingly held up by the next. Sights which finally started to cheer us up. We decided to head out of the rain in search of some Belgium WAFFLES!

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In which we found ...

Sam's local Cuisine Review

  • Note how Sam turns on me at the end of the video. Video's in which were HIS idea ... *

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What does one do after a belly full of Waffles ... why stumble across more places selling Waffles and yes ... eat more Waffles. Or more so Sam did. I'd be suffering from a case of the (no way to say this nicely) runs since Amsterdam (but more on that in the Paris blog) so i didn't partake in the second round. Sam is unable to read a map, talk and walk at the same time, but funnily enough he managed to do the following three while also eating a Waffle. Priorities!

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We eventually found the little peeing boy statue (Manneken Pis) and little he is! Not more then half a few feet I'd say. Sam witness a couple of American tourists taking strategically positioned photos under the statue (I'll let the below photo elaborate further), and Sam thought this was the funniest thing EVER, and of course copied them. Whoever said Australian's don't think for themselves and are always following the Americans. Pffffft.

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We continued through the cobbled narrow streets wondering what different form chocolate might take in the next shop window. There isn't anything the Belgianities don't make into chocolate! We forced ourselves to avoid getting public transport back to the hostel and hike it up a giant hill we did. Fortunately it was through sculptured gardens and past the royal palaces.

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Day 2

Rain and misery again! Ohwell, this didn't stop us from jumping on the train to Bruges. We spent the next 1.5 hour train journey recovering from the 30 euro's each train ticket shock just to get to Bruges. Rip off! Bruges was a lovely mishmash of medieval architecture (reminded me of 'The Labyrinth') and I imagine you could get lost in its streets for hours. For us the rain really settled in so we barely got to enjoy much of the town. It was a slight disappointment from that perspective, and especially a photo taking one. I also kept wondering how the city would of looked at night all lit up, but before we knew it we were heading back to Brussels.

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The next day we had an early departure for Paris. I'd pre-booked a eurolines bus months ago for something crazy like 9 euros for both of us, so we decided to stick with that despite our reservation about buses. This bus wasn't so bad, but still ... no more buses (hopefully!).

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Posted by redmozzy 12:45 Archived in Belgium Tagged backpacking Comments (1)

Why are you going to Amsterdam??

Why for the Cheese and Clogs of course! (Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

overcast 4 °C
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Day 1

Ummm ummm ... who doesn't love cheese and clogs! For years I've been hearing travel stories about all Amsterdam has to offer its visitors. Tawdry tales of seedy red lit side streets and cloudy lost memories left behind in pokey cushioned cafes. What about the equally exciting world of cheese and clogs I say! We decided to take a different stance on Amsterdam and experience the equally exciting world of dutch cheeses and those carved wooden wonders people wear on their feet of all places! Sam and I began our Dutch adventure in Rotterdam, where the ferry which we had caught from London docked early in the morning. We'd had a wonderful full nights sleep in a very nice cabin aboard the Stenaline ferry, rocked to sleep like babies by the north sea. Nothing beats starting the day in a new country refreshed, and we disembarked in good spirits. That was until I spectacularly ate it while walking down the slippery gangplank from the ferry. You know when you fall over in front of people and you start laughing, because if you don't you'll add to your embarrassment by crying ... yeah well that was me. Laughing like a crazy person, as I attempted to get off the ground with a 15kg pack on my back (picture one of those giant tortoises on its shell, trying to get up). I briefly caught Sam's face as he attempted to hoist me off my shell, a look of part horror, part trying to hold back a laughing fit. It took a few moments to settle down to realise I hadn't dislocated or broken anything, before we headed (or I hobbled) for our train to Amsterdam.

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We arrived in Amsterdam a hour later and proceeded to our accommodation. As you exit out of Amsterdam central station Information people in red approach you offering help. I'm starting to realise the most daunting time when you're traveling are those moments when you arrive in a completely foreign place and you have no idea where to next. It can be the most thrilling and terrifying experience all at once. Our Amsterdam angel in red provided us with full directions, a free map, information about what ticket to buy, which tram to get on and where to alight! Marvelous! The view from the tram afforded us our first glimpses of Amsterdam's building lined canals. Our accommodation was in the Oud Nord (Old North) area, in an apartment which consisted of 3 rooms. We had a lovely big room facing the street. The owner was there to great us but shortly left us alone with a key which was great. We virtually had the place to ourselves, beside a couple of young girls we barely saw or heard from. It was a far cry from the impersonal 18-34 hostel we stayed in in London. It felt comfortable, homey and safe.

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So after settling we decided to head into the city to learn more about ... urrr ... clogs, yes clogs! On consulting our free map we decided to head to the area shaded in red. If one is to learn about clogs, it would be there right? Indeed we learnt a lot about clogs. We learnt "clogs" are displayed in red lit showcases, down sneaky side streets and that they come in all different colours and sizes (and aren't necessarily specified by gender either). Sam can tell you a story of how one certain gender ambiguous "clog" tried to coax him in through his ... sorry her, little doorway. Sam can also tell you a story about how one certain gender ambiguous "clog" then proceeded to heckle him in dutch when Sam, terrified, began to quickly flee the area. We also learnt that "clogs" will "do you for 100 euros" but draw the line at kissing. After spending an hour winding around the clog-light district we decided we'd learnt all we need to know and headed towards the 'Dam' area. We unwittingly ran into an outdoor food market and purchased fresh bread and pastrami (umm carbolicious ... ) before heading back to our accommodation.

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Day 2

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Day two began with a tip from our accommodations owner about where to research our second topic. Cheese! We headed away from the CBD and further into the residential area of Amsterdam. The day was shaping up to be overcast, but it was crisp and most importantly dry. We passed over foggy canals finally coming to a coffee shop called 'Kashmir'. We headed in and were struck by a strong smell of ... "cheese". Like naughty children we headed to a dark cushioned corner before Sam reluctantly headed to the bar. Sam surprisingly reported back saying we couldn't buy "cheese" here, and that we needed to go across the road. Confused, as we clearly smelt "cheese" as we first entered, and convinced we as obvious tourists, were being discriminated against for our "cheese" researching ways, headed across the road. The man in the bar across the road explained to us there is currently some messiness with some new government laws regarding tobacco smoking indoors yadda yadda yadda. Urrr, what that had to do with cheese was beyond us ... Anyway, we were presented with a list and decided to choose a supposedly well aged, smooth Hawaiian "cheese" and headed back across the road to our darken cushioned corner.

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Ummmm ... cheese is good. Sam enjoyed the cheese ... @$####&**###yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaurrrrr$#@$#

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Funnily enough I can't recall what we did for the rest of the morning/afternoon. Fortunately I photographed most of it. I believe we were in Vondelpark, West of the city. I recall, plenty of pooches, frozen lakes and happy tourists and residents alike enjoying the winter wonderland.

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A lovely conclusion to our time in Amsterdam.

PS. For obvious reasons there are no QoTD's or Cuisine reviews for Amsterdam. We forgot.

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Posted by redmozzy 13:47 Archived in Netherlands Tagged backpacking Comments (2)

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