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The Church
Religion is one of those things that really isn’t something I can discuss without the conversation getting heated or me just having to shut my trap. The mere idea of it makes me cringe. I am tolerant of those who have beliefs, and I think people should be able practise what ever religion they want as long as they keep themselves. Hell, I support Pastarfarianism, but I’ll never push the teachings of the flying spaghetti monster on anyone even if I was touched by his noodly appendage. That said, religion does have some merits. Like its role in the creation of public holidays.
Easter weekend is one of those holidays we have to thank some of the bigger groups of Invisible Cloud People followers for. It is a great weekend. Some people get chocolates, everyone gets a Holiday and as always, there’s an excuse to get rat shit maggot pissed. Which is what I did this Easter Sunday. I met up with Jessica Cullen, a friend from Perth and, with a few of her mates, we hit “The Church“.
The Church is hard to describe. For three and a half hours, every sunday, it hosts a multitude of yobbo aussies, sleazy south africans, goofy americans and smelly brits as well as a sampling from pretty much all corners of the globe for an afternoon of debauchery. This is real hedonistic stuff. Drink can only be purchased three at a time and are handed to you in a plastic bag to be easily attached to a belt. A preacher delivers a rousing speech, taking the piss out of everyone in the room. Strippers, both male and female strip right down for the heaving crowd and drinks flow into gullets faster than they can be dispensed.
While a little crazier than most night clubs I have been to, it was just like being at home. Sweaty dudes with their shirts off, chicks that couldn’t handle their drinks, the same songs you’ve heard in every pub, every weekend. Booze covered chicks and strippers is pretty much the only way you could ever get me into a Church. Pure-fucking-gold.
Attached is a gallery of the usual “Simon’s been out drinking” photos I take, most of which are of me looking pissed. Majority were taken at the Church, some at the Shepard’s Bush Walkabout later in the day. Enjoy.
Prior Park, Bath
It is very handy visiting a place where you have locals willing to show you around. During my visit to Bath, Lucy’s mum took us to one of her favourite places in the town, Prior Park.
Built by Ralph Allen, the local big shot, the gardens were important in defining the concept of the English Garden. Beautifully landscaped and maintained the site is something of a wonder. While Ralph Allen’s mansion is now a private school, the parks are owned by the National Trust. Its most striking feature is the Palladian bridge, which is one of only four left in the world.
I don’t know what else I can say about the Park, it was beautiful beyond words and I am indebted to my hosts for taking time out of their day to show me this little piece of history and paradise. Enjoy the photos I have attached in this gallery and keep an eye out for the 1800′s graffiti. Wild!
Bath Water
On Wednesday I caught the train for about an hour and a half to see Bath. There to greet me was Lucy, one of my friends from the Sydney Railway Square YHA.
Lucy proved to be a very capable tour guide, showing me around the sights of the town. Bath is most famous for, you guessed it: the Roman Baths that were built here over the natural hot springs. Suprisingly the baths were lost for a long time, only being discovered when the basement of a house built over the area kept mysteriously filling with water.
The complex allows tourists to examine the baths but, unfortunately, not to swim in the warm water. Restored to what is believed to be a pretty accurate representation of how the baths would have looked during the Roman times (except there was a roof over the baths) the site does a pretty good job of transporting one back to the heady days of the expanding Roman empire.
On display are artifacts recovered during the excavations and rooms upon rooms of the original Baths. After walking through the site and seeing pretty much all we could, I downed a cup of the water, said to have restorative properties. It tasted like mineral water and eggs, and was served at body temperature supposedly straight from the source. It didn’t make me sick, so the water couldn’t have been all bad. Kinda is fun to say I’ve drunk Bath water from the Roman Baths in Bath.
At 11 quid for a self guided walk around the Baths it was a little expensive for a povo traveller, but worth a look for all those interested in taking a glimpse back in time.
The gallery attached to this post includes some shots from around Bath, most notably of the Abbey, the Royal Cresent and the Circus.
Arthur’s Seat
Yesterday, I climbed Arthur’s Seat. The Seat is a portion of an exinct volcano that rises above Edinburgh. Interestingly, as was pointed out multiple times during the walking, Arthur’s Seat has nothing to do with King Arthur, and the name is believed to be a bastardisation of Archer’s Seat, which seems much more logical. There is a heap of history associated with the Seat both geographically and socially, but I’ll let you find out more yourselves. While normally quite an easy climb especially when done in certain directions, I set myself the challenge of climbing the road less travelled. The climb took me from one side of the Seat, along a gentle slope onto the windward side, where I scaled the steepest part of the hill which didn’t require climbing equipment.
The view from Arthur’s Seat is amazing allowing you to see Edinburgh proper and the surrounding regions. It was quite beautiful. At the top I was able to drop my whole body weight against the wind that howled around me and remain standing. Rain was pelting in sideways, so hard that I felt that my face was being cut with glass with each drop. It was great. I spent about 3 hours casually strolling the Seat, taking in the sights and generally being proud of myself.
Soaking wet I sauntered back into the hostel at about 4pm. I got changed, hung up my gear and retired for a brief nanna’s. The Edinburgh night was calling me and I had to be ready.
New Edinburgh Pub Crawl
I’ve been doing a lot of drinking in Scotland. When in Rome and all that. Last night in an effort to satiate this alcohol fueled demon that seems to inhabit me whenever I stay in a hostel I joined the New Edinburgh pub crawl. The tour, organised by the same company that ran the walking tour I went on earlier in the day, took in about 5 pubs and a night club. Starting the tour at the Bank Bar, 70 people gathered together in the cold and fog and drink tokens in hand trudged the streets.
I made a few new friends, dominated the video pub quiz (scoring a share of the 10 pound payout), and drank, drank, drank. It was a great night, but I lost everyone at the Hive. I hit up another club, and headed home about 2am. For anyone looking for a great tour group to explore Edinburgh with, I don’t think you can really go past the Sandeman’s New Edinburgh group. Fantastic stuff.
In other news I managed to score a room at St. Christopher’s, the hostel I’ve been at the last two nights, even though I left the booking until this morning. Pretty lucky, as the interwebs were telling me the whole of Scotland is booked solid.
Belushi’s
I’ve arrived in Scotland. Nine hours on a bus sure builds a thirst. I quenched said thirst pretty hard at the bar below my backpackers. Belushi’s. For the first night in a new city it proved pretty fun, however the loud Americans in the common room this morning are a bit tiresome. Their voices are piercing. Obnoxious. I want to tear out their tracheas.
Bit harsh? You wouldn’t think so if you were here, nursing a killer hangover.
Prime Meridian
In celebration of the UK entering Daylight Savings today I visited Greenwich to see the Prime Meridian. Adventuring to the southern end of London Daff and I climbed the hill to Royal Observatory and joined the masses standing on the line.
The Prime Meridian is the zero point for longitude. On one side time is GMT+11, on the other GMT+0. On one side you are standing on the western hemisphere, the other: the east. While moving from one side to the other achieves nothing in reality (unlike the international date line) it was still fun to see something that means nothing other than “zero”. Although the signage would have you believe you are at “… the center of all time and space!”
Oh and, this post also marks the return of the Odyssey Video Blog. Watch in awe as I take the Prime Meridian and make it my bitch!
Pebbles
Why haven’t I posted an update for a few days? This is something I can’t really answer. I haven’t been doing that much. I’ve had something to do each day though. Wandering around London, checking out parks, museums, galleries. I’ve caught up with old friends. Went partying with Wayno and drinking with Alicia. I’ve slept in parks, enjoying what little sunshine the UK has offer. I’ve moved house, to Kentish town, staying at Michael’s share house. Sunday was an adventure to Brighton to see the pebble beach. Something so surreal I had trouble comprehending it. People lying on the cold gravel just as they would on the warm soft sand of Australian beaches. It seemed ludicrous.
The weathers turned bad. The sun we saw last week has receeded behind rain clouds. Chill winds are whipping down the street, dragging with them freezing drizzle and driving rain. I can see why people in London get depressed this time of year. I planned to go to Madame Tussauds today, but I can’t brace myself for the weather. That, and the hot water is off here which normally isn’t a problem, but cold water here is COLD water. Stinging points of ice that shred the soul. Ain’t no way I am jumping under that shit today.
Going nowhere, fast
What is this strange attitude that runs through the British population? A twine that binds each citizen with a sense of unfounded urgency. Strangers trotting about town, frowning at their shoes, shoulders broad, pushing through the crowds alone among many. Grimacing faces rushing up and down escalators. Where are you going so fast? I’ll see you at the tube platform when I eventually get there. Your rushing achieved nothing. Do you have somewhere to be? Is it somewhere important? Do you search for a life just out of reach but fail to enjoy the one within your grasp? Why go through existence in this haste, with this frustration? Breathe. Let go. Find solace in now. You’ve missed that tube, but another rumbles but moments behind it. Do you not feel the bitter air that precedes it, blowing at your back. Stop a moment. Why push your way to be first onto the train and then frown like you don’t want to be there? Does the fluorescent flicker of the lighting gnaw at your soul, or is your anger feeding a cancer to do the job? The shine on your shoes shows a smile on your face, but it is merely a fun house mirror of leather and wax. Quick! Jump up to the doors; they will open any moment. Mind the gap. Bump past elbows as you power up the moving stairway only to wait in line at the exit. I stand behind you, patient, and watch. Your Oyster card itches to beep you through the gates. Hands. Thick, purple veins. Your stride pushes you forward. Outside now. The sky is brilliant blue, the sun shines down with glory, but you don’t see it. Your next step is all that is on your mind. Step forward and stride. Stride, stride, stride. Cheap plastic souls beating the pavement. Where are you going to? I stop and watch and gather the sun you’ve forgotten and left sparkling behind you. Do you have somewhere to be? I’ve found where that place is. It lays tossed in the wake of the life that you’re rushing through, going nowhere.
Arsenal
On Saturday Simon and his boss Tim took me to my first english football match. Arsenal versus some other lot. I think it was Blackburn. We had seats right up close to the match, not that it helped me understand what was going on at all. An early goal was the highlight of the first half, but from there the match slowed down. It wasn’t until the second half that things got exciting with Arsenal winning the match with 4 goals.
The intensity of the crowd was pretty astounding and the roar in the stadium with each goal was worth the price of admission. I didn’t have to resort to my football quotes to fit in which was handy, because I probably would have had my head smashed in if I tried any of them on. I mean really: What was Wenger thinking bringing Walcott on so early?