The new travel acessory

One of my biggest regrets in life is not learning a language. With such a passion for travelling, having another language under my belt would be such an advantage at times. Being raised in Australia by two British parents there simply was no ‘need’ to learn another language nor was there a desire from my parents to continue with the basic learning of Italian and Japanese throughout my schooling. As a child and now a teacher I have witnessed a lot of bullying occur simply because they 'stick out' from the norm. Yet for anyone who has ever bullied an ESL student you will or may one day live to be envious of them as they have what I consider to be one of the greatest skills of the 21^st Century-they are bilingual.

I am super lucky to be travelling with one of my good friends Natalie Herbut who is bilingual. She was born in Australia, has Croatian Parents and she has become a MASSIVE advantage to our experiences in Eastern Europe. She can speak Croatian and this is had a huge impact on the things we have done, the foods we have tried/eaten, the places we have visited, the people we have met and even the services we have been offered.

However, whilst she can speak Croatian this is not limited solely to Croatia. For those who don’t know, Croatia was once part of Yugoslavia and all the countries within this area speak relatively the same language (with variations of words yet similar enough to understand each other). Our journey through Serbia meant that Nat had to take her Croatian pendent off and ‘pretend’ to be Serbian by changing a few words and altering her accent (only a few people picked up she wasn’t Serbian). Why does she need to take her pendent off? The fall of Yugoslavia is still relatively young, occurring only about 10 years ago causing a very brutal and violent war throughout the nineties (1991-1995) and many people still hold a lot of resentment towards other countries within the Yugoslav.

Once we hit Croatia the pendent was back on with welcoming arms and remained on for the time we were in Slovenia.
As fresh history and as we travel throughout the various countries we have heard multiple stories to the fall and rise of each country so if I was to begin explaining any of it I would be here for days, possibly misinforming you and maybe even offending some people. Also, this blog entry is not about the history but more so an understanding of languages.

Nat’s ability to speak Croatian has enhanced our experiences like none we have had before. She has made us all envious of the fact that she is the only bilingual member of the group and has influenced many of us to possibly select a language and begin learning it. For those in Australia it seems to be a rather hard thing to do as whilst we may have a large population of bilingual students we as a country purely speak English meaning that we are vary rarely exposed to another language unless it is through our families. Some can say that we are as arrogant as the French in this manner, expecting everyone to speak English when in this country but due to our multiculturalism it would be interesting to see which language would follow closely behind English as Australia’s second most spoken language, maybe then we could incorporate into the school system or even our lifestyles in some way or another.

So forget your typical travel checklist of toothbrushes, clothes, adaptors and latest novels your number one item should be a Natalie Herbut, a bilingual friend who will enhance your experience. I dedicate this entry to her as she has created some ever lasting memories for me and taken me to places I would never have dreamed of going and made me try so many traditional foods that aren’t on the menus at restaurants, kind of like the vegemite of toasts of Europe, things that they see as everyday meals/snacks but we see as new creations (such as chicken, ajvar, potatoes and a homemade tomato ‘special’ sauce mashed together).

Finally, she wouldn’t let me capture her on video talking what we branded as ‘jibberish’ for a few days so I had to sneak a few clips here and there…

Ibiza

Blur. That is exactly what Ibiza is. A complete blur to me however I will try, for my own benefit, as well as yours to remember the ‘unforgettable’ moments. For anyone going to Ibiza, know that you will spend money here and be prepared to go out EVERY night as there is always something on and there definitely is no time for hang overs, not that you really get them in Europe as we have learnt and been told (it really is true).

We touched down in the arvo with a crew of 12 girls (like schoolies all over again), which even included my two cousins from London. Split between two hotels on the beach in the Play den Bossa area we soon settled in and worked out which club to go to. With no ‘big name’ DJ’s playing we settled for a well known club such as Pacha and boy did it go off. The resident DJ’s were so good and the crowd was like nothing we had seen. There are no clubs like this at home. It is massive! There are dancers on the podiums and the floor even opens up at a certain time of the night to a stage with...more dancers.  The vibe is so good that we don’t want to leave your spot, not even for a 15 euro vodka mix, or a 10 euro bottle of water. Yes they put salt water in the taps for all those druggies out there, forcing you to buy their expensive and small bottles of water! We danced the night away and came home just as the sun was rising.

My cousins, determined to go ‘pink’ as they say (knowing very well they can’t compete with us Aussies) hit the pool that day whilst we did what we are becoming so good at doing….creating our den for the day. Luckily half way though they pulled us out and made us explore the beaches of Ibiza, walking to Bora Bora club and taking in the surroundings. As we walked along the promenade we were bombared with those whole stay for the Summer and work as promoters handing out flyers and trying to convince you to come to their club.

However, tonight was Amensia because Laidback Luke and Fakeblood were playing and this had to be the second best night here. We got right up the front and were surrounded by the best atmosphere. A few of the girls left early or once Laidback Luke finished but Becky and I stayed until the club closed and as we weren’t ready for home yet we ventured off to the beach to catch up with everyone else who wasn’t ready for bed. We had an eventful morning swim and even ‘swam with the dolphins’. The time had finally come fro bed and it just so happened to be as all the girls woke up so this meant another den day for us but with the sun shining we still managed to sneak in a cruisy  afternoon by the pool.

Not feeling the healthiest we decided to have a ‘quite night’ and ventured to the otherside of the island where Maddie and Jess (the cousins) stay everytime they come. You see, Ibiza is just like the Bali for Australians. They have been here more times than you can count on one hand and where they stay, over in San Antonio, it is like another world. We went out for a nice dinner, one of the few decent meals we had here and each ordered a meat feast. ½ rack of ribs, corn on the cob and wedges for me (only 12 euro for all) but unfortunately I could hardly stomach half of it and felt defeated. Danielle Pusztay on the other hand managed to gobble a whole rack as well as her sides but Danielle Banks got rather annoyed at how much meat she left on the bones and dried them all up for her. Together, the pack of hyenas managed to do the unthinkable and finish the lot, gathering praise by all for their efforts.

Out to ‘the strip’ and we bar hopped for a while until we settled on an R’n’B club were we busted a few moves and took advantage of their free drink offers (2 cocktails jugs for one, leaving Becky and I for a full one each).  It wasn’t long until we started longing for the night clubs once again and moved on to the next bar. Becky and I this time opting for sitting on the chairs outside and begun people watching. As I said before this side of the island was a different world. Full of British people dressed in god-knows-what, all very entertaining though for our liking and some people making us feel that bit better for making bad fashion choices in the past. It wasn’t long before we got tired and our beds were calling for some much needed sleep.

Makayla’s boyfriend, Ben and his brother Luke joined us the next day and this called for drinks by the pool and then what was meant to be a night with drinks on the beach soon turned into a night at Pacha for bob Sinclar. This has to be my favourite night. We all went out and upon arrival discovered that Bob wasn’t playing until 4am so as expected almost everyone bailed before hand, leaving us with a small crew; Nat, Marnie and myself but we soon met up with some friends we had made on previous nights and stuck it out for Bob. Now, I expected him to be nothing special as he only really has 3 good songs but boy was I wrong. The two hours he was on we again didn’t move because he is actually a really good DJ, mixing so many good songs with other fresh ones we hadn’t heard before. So unexpected so this soon became a favourite moment. We stayed until the end and partied on until morning reliving every moment again and again. We quickly ‘swam with the dolphins’ before bed and once again created our den for the final time in Ibiza.

Last day/night and we decided to spend it as Ushuaia, Ibiza’s version of the Rehab pool party. This was crazy! Nothing I say will explain what this was like. It was so entertaining to see so many crazy people trying to swim in the knee-deep pool as well as the roid-munching guys that walk around in their crap get ups or girls in heels and bikinis, some which really did need a top/dress, others where your mouth drops wishing you could look like that. It isn’t necessarily chauvinistic as there is a great mix between casual and dressed up/over the top people, creating a friendly and happy atmosphere. We positioned ourselves far back from the stage enough to still see it and next to the pool to watch all the action. Avicii and Martin Sloveig played which topped off the day such great beats except it dried out for me by the end as Avicii doesn’t really mix in many songs with words, more of a beat kind of guy and that wasn’t my cup of tea at the time. Still, a great atmosphere and we stayed until the end.  The girls bailed leaving a small group again and we couldn’t make our minds up on where to go. Still hurting from the night before it wasn’t long until we opted for the scenic route home and took in the semi early night, ready for our early flight (that we oh so wanted to miss).

Sad to leave as this meant we parted from the girls for a few weeks but excited because this meant that we were going to Eastern Europe and we have the best accessory for it…Natalie Herbut the girl who can speak Croatian (also used in Serbia, Bosnia and Montenegro) so we are about to get more than the tourist or backpacker experience, moving into the personal tour guide and family experiences as we stay on her Aunties farm and meet her never ending family.

Ibiza… we will meet again!

San Fermin

I’ve drafted and deleted this entry way too many times, firstly going into detail, then not enough detail for my liking and now lets hope I’ve found the balance. This (and Ibiza) may be the hardest blog entries I am going to remember or even try to put down in words but here goes….

We only stayed in Pamplona for 4 nights but by the end that was clearly enough for my body and liver. We stayed at Ezcaba campsite, which is the same place Fanatics base themselves. Everybody asked us who we were doing the bull run with but when we said no one many were questioning us about how we were going to do it. In terms of events like this when you go with a tour company you really are paying for an experience and whilst we never paid the $280 that Fanatics was asking we still felt as though we had the same, if not a better experience than them.  The only difference was that our tents were bigger, we got the local bus in and we wore the T-shirts that the campsite sold…oh and the fact that we paid a third of the price. However, well done to Fanatics for providing the whole campsite with a DJ every night and a hell of a lot of people to create a good atmosphere.

Our first day consisted of getting there, setting up and settling in. Once off the bus I pulled out the map and judging by the look of it convinced everyone it was only a 15-20 min walk away. Almost an hour later, walking on a highway and up a hill I was regrettably taking back that comment and felt even worse when Nat started complaining because I completely forgot that she has to get an operation on her foot so can’t walk for long periods and the fact that she had what was possibly a stomach ulcer…but she was a trooper and made it all the way…or until we hitchhiked a ride (turned out we were only a few hundred metres from the campsite). Once we finally got there we had a tent issue. We had previously read on the website tent (and a price) and misinterpreted this as tent hire so once we got there paid for everything and were directed to our allocated area we quickly realised that there was no tent hire and we now needed a tent. 9pm at night and with the shops shut we begun weighing our options and it wasn’t until roughly an hour later when we overcame our communication errors at front desk and spoke to the lady whom could speak clearer English that she explained whilst they didn’t offer tent hire they did sell tents. One word, one bloody word and we would have solved the problem in minutes but they say that’s the ‘fun’ of travelling right. 

By the Opening Ceremony 1500 people arrived at the campsite for Fanatics as well as my brother, Pete, Semo, Macca, Danielle and a few friends from home in a campervan (the non-fanatics).  This day was crazy! We all dressed in white with the splash of red, some of us running to the shops to buy/complete the outfit at the last minute. Pete refused to get up as he was too hung over and James tried his hardest to explain how much fun it would be spitting sangria in people faces but Pete wouldn’t have a bar of it and told us he didn’t see the point in such a day….his lose! James was already a mess by the time we got to the bus stop and became the entertainment of the line. All starving, we stopped off at a café for breakfast and whilst waiting outside managed to bump into, you guessed it…people from the Eastern Suburbs! What a surprise that we would see people from home. Nevertheless our team grew larger and we headed for the square in a rush to witness the rocket going off which officially starts the festival off and tells everyone that its time to put those red scarves on and start drinking...or spitting sangria. For those girls who like to look their best at all times, maybe stay away from this day because whatever is white soon turns red and any clean hair is soon covered in sangria, eggs, flour, water and probably someone else’s saliva. There is nothing like this so you just embrace the dirty feeling and try get as many people as you can. Those in the apartments above soon start throwing buckets of water down below and it isn’t much longer before the sangria has ran dry, the eggs are cracked and the flour has crept into your hair and ears so we make a move to restock the sangria and find somewhere new to drink. Yet we all know that once on the move we soon lose a few casualties. The first to go is James, Rhi, Toma and Nat and not long after Semo is lost and solo in the crowd.

Within a few hours we had all re-gathered in the park and even joined a few locals, everyone bringing more drinks and snacks with them (including KFC). We took in the surrounding and shared eachothers stories and soon realised that Semo was still missing. It was here that we started discussing what highlights we would rub into Pete for missing and decided to try and convince Pete we saw Semo get kidnapped. It was a big call but ended up being a rather funny joke and one that pretty much everyone got in with. Pete’s face was gold and somehow without much pre-planning of answers and questions we all managed to go along with the same storyline- that we saw him get pulled into a van and James run after him. Pete took in the information and gave the assumed responses. Later that night he brang the subject back up and upon us jokingly say ‘fuck him’ he proceed to pull us into line and explain the seriousness of the situation:

“What do you mean fuck him he could be in a rape dungeon! We need to call the police or tell someone about this”

Unfortunately our cruelness got the better of us and Pete had gone to bed before we decided to tell him we were joking. Semo came back, wearing a new outfit about 6 hours later and we informed him of his whereabouts. He crawled into the tent later that night telling Pete he made it out alive and the good friend Pete is rolled over told him he was glad and gave him a big hug! Pete, the only kind and caring friend of the whole group. Everyone else laughed and thought it was funny (which helped us tremendously with the situation). The next day Pete discovered the joke and explained that he had a good idea as no one was getting frantic but didn’t want to joke because he thought we were all too pissed and didn’t realise how bad it was if it was true.  We got you good Pete and you handled it well.  But the joke was to be played on us…

The next day was the first run and of course there is always those too hungover to get up….this being Semo today but now we couldn’t find Pete. Somehow at 5am he was missing from the tent. James swore that Pete was there when he went to bed. However we didn’t have time to send a search party as we had to make the bus. We met up with everyone at deadman’s corner and had a pretty solid crew but it soon started to get a tad crowded so we moved up along the run, only to be kicked out just before 7:30am. Absolutely gutted we raced back to two entrances and failed as the police had blocked them and it was only by the third that we managed to sneak in whilst the police officer dealt with another person. We were back in and relived, for a moment, until we realised that we were right near the start and in possibly the WORST spot. Deadman’s corner looked good right now. I started to panic as in crowds I’m rather short and the air was getting stale. However this was to be the least of my worries as next minute I was literally lifted two inches up off the floor and starting to be dragged. James hugged me from behind and just let us move with the crowd. A few of the boys then gave us directions to go with it and try make it to dead man’s corner and they were spot on. Once we hit there the police had opened up the blocked areas and everyone had much more space to move around freely and with fresh air. With 5 minutes to go until the bulls were released we all started discussing our plan of attack, knowing very well that when the bell went anything plan we had would be out of the door. Run, try no to get hit, make it into the arena and meet on the left. BANG the rocket went off and I swear I pissed my pants the tiniest bit but there was no time to worry because within seconds the largest crowd of men were running in my direction so follow we did and once we heard those hooves and nostrils blaring we scaled the shutters of a shop (no free doorways) and watched as the bulls ran under our feet narrowly missing us. Back down and on the run again. By this point we knew we had to make it to the arena so no time to waste until just to the left of me someone falls and kicks my leg partially taking me down with him but lucky for me, being the only girl in our group one of the boys ripped at my shirt pulling me back up, This is bloody hectic! “Don’t do that again” were my instructions and I was sure to stick with them. We almost got to the arena before we heard the hooves and felt the pushes again so we climbed on the fence, let them go through and a kind local yells “get in before they shut!!” I’ve never pushed and ran so fast in my life. We had lost James and all of a sudden he is by my side and Jake was pulling us through the bottleneck of the arena. WE MADE IT, WE DID IT! and what a rush it was.

The baby bulls were released soon after I contemplated running at them but a few metres in and I turned away and decided that I had enough of an adrenalin rush and standing on the edge was where I belonged. We watched as so many people got hammered, trampled and stomped on. Walking back to the station we discovered that a few people got injured but all round it was a good run today. Back at the campsite we shared our stories over a picnic and drinks, basked in the sun and got absolutely blind to the DJ. Day turned into night and another bunch of hopefuls decided to run the next day but for me I was spewing that I had not taken a single photo whilst here so to the arena it would be for me. Pete was still missing by the afternoon and now we begun to wonder if he was the one who had been kidnapped but when he finally returned he explained how he got up for the 5am bus yet somehow managed to miss the run. Poor Pete.

Watching it from the by standers perspective the next day was a whole different experience in itself. The crowds go crazy when someone is hit and the atmosphere is exhilarating, helping you to absorb every single moment and feel a part of Spanish tradition (although most runners are now tourists, majority being Australian, American and British and on this day in particular a lot more girls than yesterday). Watching it again also made me think it was a lot easier and that I could/would run again but this was our last day and I gave it up for the arena and photography, fortunately getting a few good shots. I would love to come back here though and stay for the whole festival switching between a participator and bystander throughout, trying to absorb the festival through the eye of my lens as well as my own eyes. I’d go to part of the run one day, in a balcony, in the arena, be part of the opening ceremony and the run again as well as stay for the closing ceremony but by now my liver was probably in need of a rest, I had hardly slept and only had half a voice left so off the Barcelona to rest up for Ibiza where I was about to destroy myself all over again.

Would I recommend anyone to run, of course! It is definitely something that any adrenalin junkie should do in their lives and one thing I can cross off my never-ending bucket list. So far this has been my favourite part of the trip as I loved the campsite, people, atmosphere, drinking and all round experience.  I wish to provide you with more photos but unfortunately, with an DSLR you are only limited to certain conditions so hopefully in the near future when I plan to go back I can provide more (and possibly better) photos…but enjoy for now!