The girl who went into the cold

Mongolia: land of the big blue sky, Soviet-et architecture and not of Mongolian beef barbeque (this sentence sounds much better if it's hummed to the tune of Genghis Khan's Moscow, another 'Mongolian' entity which is actually completely unrelated to the country).

Having been here almost 6 weeks, I have accrued quite a few pictures. Here are some of them:


Most Mongolians live in gers, portable felt and wooden houses. They have been springing up throughout the city as nomadic peasants move here to look for work throughout the Winter months. They're quite cold inside, and people heat them with wood, coal or rubbish.

This causes much of the pollution in Ulaanbaatar.
They can be ornately decorated, and quite beautiful inside.





The new and special Beatles statue. Please note the authentic windows, heater, guitar and tiles.












Here's the other side of the Beatles statue. L-R: Paul, George, Ringo and John.
It's kitsch.

Beached whale statue outside Tenghis Cinema.

Where there's a whale, there's a way.











My building! It is over 100 years old, so predating the Soviet presence in Mongolia.
Our office is in the bottom left-hand corner, and Melody's office is directly above.









The view from my bedroom after a recent snowfall. Love the socialist play equipment.
The Ger is where the construction workers (see the brick "fence" below the basketball court) sleep, live and eat.

You got Style 2#

Well, actually you don't.
If European fashion is the barometer of style, then we are definitely out of sync with the rest of the world.
Surfer stuff aside, Australians can be pretty stylish people. We love a bargain, don't shy away from vintage, and generally don't look too boring or skanky. We have good-value, interesting fashion available in a number of different price ranges, which means everyone has the opportunity to dress well.
Not so in europe, where there is very little available between the mass-produced H&M, Zaras and Mangoes of the continent and the super teuer "400 Euro for a jacket" type of fashion.
And boy can you tell.

Another difference is purely a regional one. What is cute, different and retro in Australia is just what normal middle-aged women wear in Europe. Take the high-waisted denim skirt with a tucked-in shirt that i often wear. At home this looks like i'm channeling East German factory workers, taking the prescribed elements of official socialist dress (functionality, not-too-showy, but with a small amount of denim allowed to appease the masses) and placing them within the Australian fashion discourse. The resulting look is a bit retro, different and unusual, a bit 70's and feminine yet assertive at the same time.
(Shit with that sentence I should work for Anna Wintour. Hell, I should BE her: I have a bob, am known to be rude in the morning and have big sunglasses.)
Whereas in Germany, I just look like everyother middle-aged shop worker. Not quite the same look that I was going for. Especially when people tell me I was meant to start at 9 when I go to the supermarket.
P.S. it's nice to be back in the English-speaking world. Not least because the English, unlike some of their EU counterparts, can actually dress (and UK customs quizzed ME on arrival in Terminal 5!).

Ich hab' noch einen Koffer in Berlin 1#

So I've just spent a month in Berlin, where I studied (along with other fabulous people) many moons ago.
When I booked my flight back to Berlin (Malev via Budapest: is it too much to ask for an airbridge? Actually Malev, when JAT do airbridge and you don't, then you know something is wrong with your service), I was excited: "woo! a month of party in Berlin with all these crazy people from before and more randoms, woo!" but as I was sitting Sarajevo Airport checking out the duty-free selection from afar (which I can tell you took all of 1.5 minutes), this changed to "shitt, I forgot to close my bank account and now i owe the Deutsche Bank 300 Euro, I didn't return at least one library book to the Stabi, the Deutsche Bahn were threatening me with legal action (don't ask, it's a ridiculous story of the differences in German thinking: german academics, instead of teaching German Humour, you should teach German Logic, with an optinal second semseter for the mathematical analysis of this phenomenon (did I just tell a maths joke: oh)), but most importantly, will Berlin and I still share the same love and precious moments that we did 3 years ago?"
The answer was, like yeah, totally, or, given that this is in theory a travel blog and occassionally warrents some kind of cheesy travel pun "auf jeden" (Berlin for of course). I even landed at tegel, my favourite Berlin airport (Schoenefeld just hasn't been the asme since Interflug stopped using it as its him), and Lorenzo, maker of the best pasta that doesn't have a chef's hat of Michelin star, was a fabulous porter. we used to live together (with Benni), where we all ate a lot of pasta, drank a bit of red wine and avoided cleaning the floors together. Lorenzo decided that life in the centre was getting a bit too hard, and moved back to surburbia (Siemensstadt (Siemens is company, they make electrical things like telephones and machines and...shit. Not anything bad or crude mind you): near Tegel and far from Potsdam) to write his PhD.
This resulted in us "grilling," using firestarters (those things you used to put on the barbie before everyone went gas) and something which resembles Allfoil. Tasty, nice crispy flavour. We also had some DELICIOUS pasta, am regreting my lack of photo-taking of it. I do not, however regret asking Lorenzo very politely (more than once) to make some pasta for us after we'd been out ("it'll be cheaper than a Doener, and less fattening, but only if there's no cream!"), I would even eat his pasta for breakfast.
I did eat very well in berlin, but... that deserves a post of its own (and a facebook album: Wir lieben lebensmittel if you haven't seen it).
Anyway, I have to go to sleep now and wanted to write more, but this will have to be a teaser for one of the many Berlin posts (i know I have posted on it already, but this time i'll go further into depth) of the future.
I'll leave you with this food for thought: Should airbridges, like toiletry kits, be a right not a reward when travelling by plane?
Discuss.

Leave me alone

People are weird. It's a fact.
My Grandma used to say the following: " All the world's queer except thee and me, and even thee's a little queer."
See? She was old, she knew things.
As a traveller, this saying holds true. Constantly seeing new things, countries and cultures means coming into contact with the foreigners who live there (duh). But also the tourists who, like you, are flocking to, let's say Dubrovnik, to see some church which is 1500 years old. Or to Belgrade, to see the grave of the Marshall Tito (or all his presents, they were massively cool).
Anyway.
As a foreign western woman, travelling mostly by myself, I've copped some strange blicks from some even stranger looking folk throughout my trip.
Many of these, such as the "What on earth are YOU doing?" look (popular on the underground with a middle-aged or older crowd) come down to breaking some kind of unspoken cultural rule. Such as blowing ones nose on the subway in Japan, a bit strange given that it's perfectly acceptable to vomit in the street there. Ditto having a quick wee.
When i visited the golden temple (it's big, it's gold and there's a lake around it. enough said.) in Kyoto, a group of country kids on a class trip ran up to me an asked me to be in their photos. Strange. They'd never met a Gaijin before. Odd.
They were nice, except their teachers kept pointing at me.
Dirty old men.
There are unspoken rules on the underground in Germany too. Everyone pushes past each other as they're trying to get on and off the train, but you're not allowed to ask someone to move over. People in Germany appear to have no shame in looking at someone, I kept meaning to stare them down. Of course it doesn't help that I occasionally wear ridiculous clothes (NOT the jumpsuit yet, but I will!), such as stripes and other patterns.
Many Germans are really nice though, in ways that are often surprising. Offers of help, travel advice and food recommendations have abounded. Sometimes it's ok to be a woman travelling by yourself.
Sometimes it's not.
Last week, as I ventured out East to the Berlin-Museum Karshorst (to the Russian-founded "Museum of Capitulation"), I got stalked. Some strange German guy, (who may or maynot have spent tiem in jail) decided to follow/give me a tour of the museum. It was founded by the Russians, to teach East Germans about the crimes of Nazism. Against the Socialist Motherland, but that's another story. There was a place for the Holocaust and other persecutions, but as usual with Soviet/former Soviet histories of the war, the focus is on the suffering and subsequent victory of Socialism over facism.
This guy pointed out all manner of random shite whilst following me over 16 rooms, 2 floors and three exhibitions. He laughed at my BVG suggestions, aghast that an Australian could know the Berlin train system better than him, and was disappointed that I did not share his fondness for Soviet tanks.
I eventually ditched him at the train station,but not before a strange bus ride and an invitation to "stand outside the Foo Fighters concert to soak up the vibes" followed by a ride home on the train together.
Needless to say, I jumped on my city-bound train, jumped right to track 19 of Disc 2 of the 2008 Eurovision cd and vowed never to visit a military museum without my own Soviet tank again.
Strange people, it seems, are everywhere.

You got Style 1#

Just a heads up chickens that there'll be some fashion posts soon. Critical they may be, but German fashion is too hilarious not to write about.
Ditto Balkan style, which obviously takes it cue from nouveau-Russian riche.
Goodnight.

World in Motion (Euro 2008)

I like football (soccer). I've always been partial to some English Premier League (EPL), ever since my father sat my brother and I down in front of his taped copy of the 1998 FA Cup final and told us with almost religious reverence of the importance of Dennis Bergkamp and Marc Overmars in helping the Gu
Though he neglects to wear his suit jacket most of the time: the first time I saw it on was after the 1-2 loss to Croatia (no mis-counted yellow cards this time, though Bastian Schweinsteiger (yes it is a ridiculous name) was sent off for a dodgy, but-not-that-dodgy challenge), though I think it was just to hide the shame of visible sweatpatches on international telelvision.
I would have covered up.

In fact, most of the coaches are pretty well dressed. All of them wear suits (or at least shirt and pants), except the Spanish, Portugese (who looks like a squashed version of Gene Hackman-that's what someone told me and I find it potentially amusing enough to share it with you) and the German coach of the Greek team Otto Rehhagel, who spends more time on the rug on his head than on picking something nice to wear.

The matches are pretty good too. The Dutch are playing VERY well, and have won their group. The Stimmung in Germany is that the team (their time) can go all the way, and it's really interesting to see how EVERYONE is transfixed. The streets, public transport and shops are all empty, even when Germany isn't playing. You can even buy red-black-gold leis, in addition to all the usual "official" pallaver. The official chef's cookbook is alright, but not as good as that of Matthew Hayden or Glen McGrath.

There is a lot of red-black-gold around the traps at the moment, sport is one of the (very) few means which Germans can express their sense of national pride without evoking the past. Balconies and buildings (residential, not official) are covered in the national flag (though there are lots of Turkish flags as well, and a good assortment of Croatian, Polish and Russian ones too), everyone is talking about it, and all (a bit of an exaggeration) the men are wearing the national kit.
Is anyone excited about it at home: are some of you staying/getting up to watch the matches?

There is even a musical sub-genre used during these large sporting events. Each country has their own national song for the tournament. I think I've heard the German one, by Markus Stanzi. It's not very good. The press don't think so either, as they prefer to play 'Football's coming home,' which is amusing given that 1) it's an English song, written to reflect their claim to 'own' the origins of the game and 2) even if the Germans wanted to send football 'home,' they couldn't, 'cos England didn't even make the final.
They also play New Order's World in Motion (the English song for the 1990 World Cup) and the Austrian song 'Fieber'(not to be confused with the Peggy Lee song of the same name) a bit, though there's lots of chanting. And
I think that EURO2008 is better off without England in it. For one, Cristiano Ronaldo is officially the most preened person in the stadium, an unthinkable feat in the presence of the English WAGS. And David Beckham.
Go Sweden and Germany: let's hope your failures in Belgrade bring success in Wien!
I hope Sweden are listening to Hero, I think it's very motivational.
Tally Ho.

Europe's living a celebration

Yes it really is. And in the interests of doing the second semi-final justice, I'm going to write about it soon.

Yes, very soon. But not today, as I`m tired, in Berlin and the final of Germany`s next top model is on tonight (true, but am actually not that interested in it).

In summary (because that`s what I know you all want) Eurovision was fabulous. It was amazing. It was a bastian of kitsch, nationalism, hope and european integration.

I think I`m still processing everything that happened.

Anyway, I think it`s best to chart the night through photos:

Leaving Rome on the way to Belgrade (site of the bad plane karma) I strayed upon this high-quality airline.

I`ll certainly chose them the next time I need to visit the former soviet Union.

After arriving in Belgrade I took a taxi to the city, whereupon I strayed upon the Embassy (5.5/10 for including remnants of socialism) and my friend Kate.

She showed me the posters for Eurovision (or Eurosong, as it`s called in the Former Yugoslav Republics):

Paint was a big theme of the contest, used in the posters, costumes and in the little 30second bits between countries to show the next one that was coming.

Probably `cos it`s cheap.

Despite this, none of it was used to spruce up the city.

The Beograd Arena, on the other had didn´t need paint.

It is made of concrete.

Here is the stage, which, as I have already written, look quite similar to the Finnish one last year. Perhaps it was part of the 2007/2008 Finnish Aid Budget.

We had a pretty good view, except when the sknaky hostesses (trust me, you`ll want to see THOSE pictures. Especially you Nina, with your bad fashion requests. You shall not be disappointed) stood in our way, waiting to be chatted up by Serb men.

I`d like to say that these women were grumpy because of all the chatting up going on in front of them, but frankly I just think it`s because they expected a socialist singalong.

And maybe some Tito.

Ok so there aren`t any photos of the actual acts, there are some good ones, but they just aren´t clear enough (wow! Worked out where the apostrophe is on the keyboard) so we´ll jump ahead here.

After Russia had been `crowned´ winners (Henny, I´ll leave you to comment on the status of that) there was an explosion of tickertape (and interactive display: at last!) throughout the Arena.

We felt like were in the middle of an American Political convention (though I´m sure no one in that country would be celebrating a Russian victory unless it were for being top of an E! news-esque `From Hero to Zero: How capitalism robbed these countries of their superpower status´), everyone so happy and jolly over the outcome. Would have been very different if say, Albania had won. They received a VERY chilly reception in the hall, as did the Albanian vote-reader when announcing the votes.

When the night officially ended, we begun our new quest along the Holy Grail continuum: the trek to the after party. Located at the Save Centar (basically a flattened version of our dear old Palast der Republik painted blue), it was the place to be. Apparently. So much so that it took nearly an hour and a half for the stars to appear, I´m sure not all of them were at the press conference for that long. Perhaps they were, actually really knows?

First to arrive was the German ban No Angels. Pretty much the German Bardot, these guys won the inaugural German Popstars, and had massive success with their 2001 hit `Daylight In Your Eyes´. Then, as per manufactured pop-schmalz group, 5 became 4. And A-List became C. They split up and people forgot about them. The Blonde one repeated history and spent her years judging future failures on the German popstars, there were Playboy shoots, babies and the Bulgarian one (Lucy), came out, jumped off a big diving board and now judges Bulgarian Idol (not surprising that they gave Germany 12 points then).

No they´re back and hardly anyone at Eurovision cared. If you really wanted to win guys, you would have got a Russian or former Yugoslav team member: they bring MULTIPLE country votes with them.

Here they are, talking to the German media about how surprised they are that they did so badly.

It´s not so much as they did so badly as their current geo-political diasporic position.

I could go into further depth here, but I might save it for an ARC grant application.

Another person who had good reason to be disappointed ( and shows how good a sport he is that he turned up to the after party) was the British entrant Andy Abraham.

He´s so disappointed that he refused to show his face, instead having the strange smiling-guy shadow him.

It wasn´t a bad song. Sounded a bit M People (thanks Kate), and was definitely better than many of the songs that did better than it.

Another example of the diasphoric voting.

One of our goals had been to meet some acts, and after these two near misses (and another one with Dima) we sucked up our nerves, got out the chutzpah and went on the prowl.
We met the Wolves of the Sea, the Latvian entrants. As you can tell, the chick in the ballroom dancing dress is fresh from fighting a losing battle with the solarium. My pale skin weeps for her (but not for her dermatologist, who may retire on her treatment costs), but they were quite nice.

We also met the songwriters who told us to support the song all the way to Australia (which will take a long time if they travel by sea), I´ll handball that task over to the Cultural secretary.

I really how much these people understood us when we were talking, there were a lot of quizzical looks, even when we got out the Australian flag.

Strange.

The man below definitely fits into that group. Maybe all these people learnt Russian at school instead of English or maybe they are just random.

It is fair to say that we swamped Laka (he of the Timb Burton-esque Bosnian entry) when all he wanted to do was smoke his fag in peace. However, he was not receptive of our Australian flag (perhaps he should have been: a Danish man working in Balkan post reconstruction told me that Australia is one of the top-4 destinations for Bosnian post-Laka should listen to OUR diaspora) and we thought he didn´t understand us.

He also may have been the only straight man there.

Then we looked on wikipedia and he lived in New York for two years, so maybe he just didn´t like us?

sob.

I even bought his album.

We also meet hte Lithuanian entry, who was REALLY nice and stuck around and partied with the fans, like all good Eurovision singers should.

I´m going to leave you a picture of a stuffed Zucchini from the`famous´ Writer´s Club in Belgrade. Kate didn`t think this place existed, and after eating this gemütlich image, I bet she wishes it didn´t.
Tally Ho.

What's another year?

So the first semi-final was on Tuesday, and Kate and I sat down in front of RTS we were, I'll have to admit, a bit underwhelmed by the whole thing (Yes I know, it rather goes against the grain, but...).


I've just read that Julia Zemiro will be the commentator in Oz and i'm not sure what to think. She was born in France so has the potential to know more than Des Mangan, who was... well he only lasted one year. SBS should stick to the Wogan commentary as long as he's willing to do it (which might not be much longer if the UK don't do well).


As usual, the Eastern European songs dominated, though there were some doozies which weren't part of Kate's top 10. Our favourites were Ireland, B & H (Bosnia and Herzegovina idiots, it's a country not a brand of cigarettes), Andorra and partially Azerbaijan.


Herewith some songs:


Montenegro: Dean Geyer look-alike with foppish hair singing a very unimpressive (and probably Balkan-friendly) song. It was hard to concentrate because of all the leather on the stage. Surprisingly, didn't qualify.


Israel: Co-written by Dana International (who, according to Wikipedia has just given birth to a baby with the help of 'groundbreaking fertility treatment' (this I find hard to believe, but please, prove me wrong)) loud, dance number sung byu a very happy Israeli singer. Qualified


Estonia: You can tell that they don't want to host it again. Three middle-aged comedians wearing pastel suits dancing incoherently did not bode well for a good result. Nor did it happen.


Moldova: To be honest, I think they should have spent the money on Eurovision tackling the trafficking problem within their country. At least the entry this year wore clothes, unlike last year's Britney Spears meets Vanessa Mae entry. Didn't qualify.


San Marino: Does anyone care about an Italian-language pop/rock band singing for a country that, whilst debuting this year was never really going to make an impression? Try again next year.


Belgium: Kate and I really liked this song: in a bid to country the whole Flemish/Wallonia rift that results in each region sending a singer every other year, this group made up their language. It was a cutesy song, a bit Alice in Wonderland. Pity no one was ever going to vote for Belgium. Didn't qualify.


Azerbaijan: A bit strange, a sort of fire and ice dance troup singing indiscernable (despite claiming to be in english). Kate loved the kitsch factor, I thought that was being a bit nice. Qualified, perhaps on the back of the CIS vote/debut factor.


Slovenia: Note to Rebeka: multiple costume changes are, like, SO 2007! I don't think we need to say much more about that.


NOrway: Surprise packet of the night, the Norwegians must be investing lots of money in Eastern Europe, because we didn't think that the song was... sung live. Unless there was a delay (highly likely apparantly) in the sound, she was lip-synching. It was ok, passable, but not as good as other songs that missed out. Qualified.


Poland: Need you ask if this song qualified? Despite the fact that 1) the woman couldn't sing english, let alone speak it, 2) she was out of tune and 3) looked like a cheap knock-off of Donatella Versace, the Polish diaspora kept her in with a chance. We will unfortunately be seeing her on Saturday night.


Ireland: Now this song, by Dustin the Turkey was a huge pisstake (up there with Stefan Raab's 2000 Wadda Hadde Dudde da), but it didn't pay off. As in 2006, when classic barrel of laughs Silvia Night was booed by anappreciate Greek crowd (who didn't get the joke), Dustin's attempts to verarsch himself, his country and the contest were not taken with the requisite shaker of murray river sea salt. Despite this, Kate was underwhelmed, I was a bit perplexed and neither of us could understand the Irish accent very well. Didn't qualify. Note to Ireland: next time send a 'uman.


Andorra: our favourite song of the night was never going to do well: liek San Marino, who gives a shit about this tiny fleck of Jamon sandwiched between France and Spain? Gisela's had EUrovision experience, singing in the memorable (to some of you) 2002 Spanish entry 'Europe's living a celebration'-perhaps as the blonde who couldn't dance.


The song was good, she could dance last night, the costumes a bit random but not too odd and it was a good Eurosong. A victim of the oft-ridiculousness of the popular vote.


In an interesting aside, many Eurovision fans (mainly from Western Europe) are now increasingly vitriolic at the public vote concept. I say suck it up and deal with it: let the East succeed in what the West really, to be honest, doesn't really give a shit about anymore. That's why the UK sends randoms instead of Take That, the Sugarbabes or any of their successful girl/boy bands. It's why Spain consistantly sends entries who won't sing in english, look nice or even be good.


Anyway.


Bosnia and Herzegovina: Best quote of the night (not that i could understand the Serbian commentary, though Kate offered snippets such as "Greece, a true friend of our country") was the call: "It's Tim Burton does Eurovision." And seriously, it was. Old women knitting in hoop dresses were a bit corpse bride, then Bosnian Helena Bonham-Carter (BHBC) came out singing pretty in a little frock/tutu thing. THEN Johnny Depp came out in a green velevet suit. It was cutesy, and just a wee Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Thankfully they got through: no one wanted to see another Bosnian defeat on Serbian soil.


Armenia: Andrei, please don't be mad at me, but, it really wasn't very good. I think you'd do much better if you didn't sing slow, emotional songs about things which only people in Armenia know about. Like the disputed region of Nagorno-Karabakh, how long your surnames are and how beautiful yerevan is. All things are legitimate comments, ideas and facts, but nto for Eurovision. It should be about dancing, and showing off all the tassels in your three-tone Zaraesque dress. Still, you're CIS and that's why everyone loves you. See you on Saturday.


The Netherlands: Having spent the weekend with a Dutchman (this sounds like the beginning of a bad joke), I had a little fondness for Hind's song. What little remained 48 hours later dissolved in a puff of [something] when she blended in with the stage. WHy would the organisers do something like that (it happened a few times)? Conspiracy? Stranger things have been said about the Eurovision. This brings us to:

Finland: They love heavy metal in Finland, so it would seem logical that they send a heavy metal band to the contest. Alas, I would put it down to the old adage of "We can't be fucked hosting it AGAIN, so let's send something that definitely won't win". Finnish rockers with waist-length hair, tight leather pants and no shirts wouldn't necessarily endear themselves to 'the' Eurovision, but hey, I'm not european so what do I know? They didn't anticipate it either, 'cos they were pretty surprised that the voting preferences of half of Europe branched from Balkan schlager to include bad Finnish rock.

Romania: As ususal, they include some opera person, a duet, all laden with black velvet and some heavy-but-not-actually-that-heavy breathing. It wasn't very interesting. Maybe they will be better live on Saturday. They qualified

Russia: Dima Bilan (nee Bladin, he lost his name in a contractural dispute with his record company) came second in 2006 with a song most notable for the ballet dancer emerging from the grand piano (white) at the end. After this acheivement, his dress sense went the same way as Russian democracy, and he was photographed with his jeans (tight) stuffed into his boots. I'm all for brining the horse course to the party, but Dima just looked confused. Eurovision can bring on existential crises I'm sure.

Anyway, top the dancer-emerging-from-the-piano-thing he did. With both a violinist AND and medal-winning Olympic figure skater on stage with him (and some ice for the skater) Dima sung. Yup, pretty much that's all. I wrote before that he topped 2006. Well, kinda. He topped it the kitsch stakes, but I don't think the song is that good. Well, most of Eastern Europe disagreed with me (but then they voted for Putin, so who's the better judge of character?) and he'll be singing on saturday.
Greece: the last song(finally!) This chick, Kalomira was born in the States, so she sounds like a pachy-keen version of Britney Spears. The best thing about the song are the lyrics: 'i'm not easy but i'm true.' Often the non-english speakers really get the syntax/grammar/etc wrong and that's ok, well understandable, because they don't speak english everyday. But this chick grew up in the States, so at least she'd have to have SOME command of english: at least enough to make singing those lyrics inexcusable.
In the final though. gags.

Ok, there are the songs.
Tonight is the second semi-final! That is exciting, I think it will be better than the first one, and not just 'cos we're going. Kate has a costume now, Roma clothes. Apparently, the Roma take clothing and other things that people put out with the rubbish, and sell it. All of the ones yesterday spoke German (which was slightly disconcerting, given we have this perception that English is the dominant second language), and proudly showed off these German clothes. Actually quite good vintage stuff.
Photos will follow, I guarantee. How excited are you?

ciaoski darlski

Flying the Flag (the airline post)

Given I've been on the receiving end of some pretty bad (well not THAT bad, but it's not over yet so I don't want to jinx it) plane karma, I feel it's only necessary to write about it.

Before I write about interesting stuff, I need to externalise the bad plane-karma that has somehow come my way (why I'll never know: what did I do to deserve this?).

I'm now in Serbia, and have stopped off twice to get there. Only one leg has gone smoothly, and I'd like to put that down to Nordic efficiency. Perhaps.
Anyway, my Jetstar international experience was bollocks.Instead of flying Syd-Osaka, I had to fly via Cairns (never a choice destination for... anyone really) and then to Japan, which meant i missed my connection in Kyoto and was nearly stuck at Kansai International Airport overnight. Jetstar were bollocks. No help. So, as if you needed any further proof not to fly them, well, then, there it is. The staff on the plane were nice, but as with all budget airlines, there's a certain "almost-but-not-quite-as-good-as-the-full-price-version" about them. Ditto the food, colour-scheme, tickets and seats of the plane.

So, after a night in Osaka (thank you Comfort Inn) and the complsary visit to Daimaru, i was off to Kyoto.

The bad karma stayed dormant for my flight to Europe: the Finnair flght was great, ok service by an older Finnair crew who were the air hostess equivalent of hefty middle-aged soldiers. Lots of finnish design though: even the paper cups were Marimekko prints!

The flight to Helsinki was mainly full of Japanese package-deal tourists who were very quiet but couldn't read numbers in the latin script. Helsinki airport is a very modern airport, with lots of great shopping, though I wouldn't recommend that you fly Finnair with that in mind (it is however, a pretty good airline).
Rome is actually 3 hours away from Helsinki: no I didn't think it was that far away either.
Woah, this post has turned into a lot of nothing hasn't it?
Well, the next plane trip i took brought back the bad plane karma, so that's at least a bit more interesting.
JAT airways ("it's not called Yugoslav Airways anymore: our country doesn't exist either") flies out of Terminal C at Rome's Fiumicino airport. This terminal is a bit like if the UN had a political grouping called "Eastern Europe and Others": it's for intercontinental and pov-country (aka those not within the glorious boundaries of the Schengen) flights. So flights to the States, Israel, Japan, South-East Asia(long-haul) were lumped with those going to Tunisia, Egypt, Kiev, Chisinau, Turkey, Serbia and my personal favourite, UZbekistani Air. I'm so grateful that the breakup of the Soviet Union brought these colourful airlines to Western Europes shores.
The JAT plane was old. I think it was probably older than many of the cast of Home and Away, and it was definitely older than Eastern European democracy. The armrests were cracked, the seats an almost late-70's print, and the walls flocked with strange dollops of the national colours, red, white and blue.
What was most hilarious was the staff. They just didn't give a shit. The captain actually stopped talking half-way through the safety demonstration and the steward who told the row of passengers in the emergency exit row bascially said to them " You sit here, listen to me now. If we crash door will open, you will help and that is all." It obviously sounds much better in heavily accented english, but I think you get my drift.
Anyway, I obviously spoke too soon in my critique of the airline (linked inherently with national pride, langauge and the way of life) because on arrival almost half the plane's baggage had been left in Rome (clearly I wasn't the only one who found the plane amusing). I've been trying to call the airline, but I think that they are taking a traditionally long Eastern European lunch (why couldn't they invite us!?) and it doesn't connect.
No,of course I have checked that the number is the right one, etc etc!
But I'll be off to ring them again now.
ciaoski darlski

Es muß nicht immer Eurovision sein

No, it's not always about Eurovision. Nor should it be. But right now, three weeks before finals week, it is.
There we go. A blog about Eurovision. Big deal, you say, or rather, not another Petra tangent about some random shit, but this time it's different. It's like queueing for the final Harry Potter book, getting tickets to the World Cup Final, New Order or an at-their-peak Oasis/Take That/Spice Girls/Monkees/ABBA (ha! not so tangential now!)/Liberace (depending on your taste, age and perspective).
I thought this sounded so good when i wrote it nearly two weeks ago, and it doesn't quite, but right now, I just want to go to sleep, being that I must get up in three and a half hours.
why won't the Eurovision files send?????
Please note that whilst I depart with a sack full of books, electrical cords, gadgets and small change, I also leave with a stash of two (not one!) feathered hats. They will feature throughout this blog (I presume), a constant within the tangential product of the (ever-changing) keyboard.
Japan beckons.
Good night.