Summer Avdenture so far...

Euro-Trip, in short.

Well now, you must all be hating on me pretty hard right now. This time last year when I started the blog, you must have thought it would be regularly updated and thus worth the time it took you to read my opening posts. 12 months later and I bet you all think you’ve wasted your time. Well, you have. But that’s hardly my fault, I provide ample warnings that my blog would be updated rather sporadically and would often bore even the most enthusiastic of readers (mother…) so I take no responsibility for any regrets you have in regards to the reading and following of my blog. For the one or two of you (who am I kidding, Joe is the only one who reads this anymore, and most of that is out of guilt) who have not yet given up on me and my blog, HUZZAH, for here is a new post: an update of the last month of my six week Summer adventure. My memory is rather hazy from the copious beers I have consumed and general lack of sleep, so it will not be specific in the slightest. I will give it my best shot, and for anyone who knows me at all, my best is frequently (by which I mean always) sub-par.

So it’s August something-or-other, and Madeleine arrives at Heathrow, expecting to see her big brother James there to greet her at the arrivals. But wait, where is he? He is not there. And why was I not there, may you ask? The answer is simple. Frank William Kinsey (it’s easier to blame somebody else than take responsibility for my, well, irresponsibility – I am Australian, after all). The night before Madeleine’s arrival I decided it would be best to have an early night, so I could be up and ready to be at Heathrow by 7 in the morning. As I hop into bed, my phone rings. I hesitate at first, then answer – it is Frank. He wants to know if I’ll stay up and have a drink with him and a friend or 2 if they get home shortly. Now, my commitment to peer pressure has been one of the things in life I am most proud of, so I was not about to betray it by refusing and insisting on sleep. I said “of course,” and Frank returned home for a drink or two. Next thing I know, it’s the next morning and Trish is in my room saying “You were supposed to be at Heathrow by now!!!!” so up I got and (literally, for the first time in a long time) ran to the bus stop. I arrived at Heathrow to hear my name being called over the announcements.

Could James Hickey please report immediately to the Help Desk.

Madeleine had no phone or money on her, and had no idea even where in London she was supposed to be heading. She was panicked. I was hungover. It was a wonderful mix.

Jump forward a few days later (through a trip to Crowthorne to see Uncle Mike, Uncle Pete, Aunty Jax and Aunty Lou – as well as an amazing Billy Vincent gig in Brixton where I may or may not have been serenaded by the freaking talented Benjamin Folke Thomas) and it is the 11th of August, the start of our journey. What a way to start 6 weeks of travelling – with a 9 hour bus to Edinburgh. After we arrived and found our hostel, we went exploring the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The festival is the greatest thing of all time (and I never exaggerate). It was so much fun and you meet the raddest people. Plus we found a bar with exceptionally cheap nachos, Guinness and Cider (sold.) The first act we saw was our favourite comedian, Bo Burnham. He is hilarious and possibly even exceeded our expectations, and I suggest you all YouTube him at once if you know what’s good for you. Nothing particularly humorous or unfortunate happened in Edinburgh, apart from one act we opted to see as we were offered a free ticket. Max and Ivan were in their early 20’s and performing a sketch show. It was quite funny and all was going well until Ivan, a chubby lad, decided to walk out in front of the audience stark naked. Many laughed and clapped. I did not. I had a rough night on the beers a night before and the last thing I needed was something to antagonize my already suffering stomach. This did not go down well, and aside from feeling a little bit sorry for the less-than-endowed Ivan, I was filled with discontent.

On our last day, Brian and Trish arrived for a week at the festival as well. We met up and tried to work out what it was we should do for our only 2 hours in Edinburgh together (along with being our last two hours together for 6 weeks). So naturally, we went to a Wetherspoons. A few Guinness and many laughs later, we were off on our way to the airport – flying back to London for 7 hours before then returning to Gatwick and heading off to Amsterdam.

AMSTERDAMAGE. Now, I am no stranger to this wonderfully fantastic city, as this was my third visit in the past year. However this was a particularly special trip as not only was it Madeleine’s 18th birthday, but my best friend Stefano (who is Dutch but we like him anyway) had taken 10 days off work so that he could join us on part of our journey. We met up with Stefano and his fantastically rad girlfriend Shivon (who I nicknamed ‘Holland’ cause everything about her was Dutch) and we all headed for a birthday picnic for little Madeleine. And by picnic, I mean cheese and beer. But really, what else do you need? Cillian, a friend from Brisbane, arrived next followed by Jess – an Aussie friend who I met in London. Not much else really to say about this night, we played a lot of pool and consumed a ridiculous amount of beer – and then I broke the elevator. However, they never found out it was me – and I believe it was through no fault of my own. I simply fell and got caught in the doors causing the elevator to be out of action for near 24 hours. Nice going, James. Cheers.

Not many stories from the rest of our Amsterdam trip, some rough mornings and rowdy nights, oh and a bit of an incident in a cheese store. Holland and I had found a little cheese store by our hostel which offered samples of over 50 cheeses, and even let you try it with special Dutch mustard. We decided to try 2 of each, before being scared out of the store by the evil lady behind the counter. The next day we went returned, in disguise (by which I mean hats, beanies and sunglasses) and once again began to try all the cheeses. We were doing fantastically, until the evil cheese lady once again noticed us. This prompted me to yell RUN as we grabbed handfuls of whatever cheese we could fit in our hands and sprint out of the store and down the street. But it’s not stealing if it’s FREE samples, so my conscience is doing just fine thank-you everybody.

Amersfoot next – Stefano’s home town. We met up with a few more of Stefano’s mates at his flat, and then decided to ride to the store to pick up supplies for the music festival which began the next day. However we realized we were one bike short, which meant I had to hop on the back of Cillian’s which lead to a rather embarrassing and humorous trip to the supermarket. People stared, kids pointed and bullies yelled insulting things in Dutch which I was not too upset by because the language really does sound like a drunk trying to insist he should be permitted one more beer at the bar before being cut off (sorry Stef and Holland if you read this, I’m just trying to make myself feel better.) We eventually got to the store with only minor injuries, which I thought to be a success.
That night we ate pasta, had some drinks and some of us (MADELEINE) passed out on cold, hard floor - mere metres away from what would have been a far more suitable place to sleep.

The next day it was off to Pukkelpop festival. We were intending on driving down with Herbie, a friend of Stefano’s. However, his car broke down that day so we were all forced to catch the train – a trip made even worse by the six-weeks worth of luggage we were carrying and the night we had all endured. We eventually made to Hasselt (Belgium) where the festival was being held. After setting up our tents (I FINALLY SET A TENT UP ON MY OWN… granted it was one of those “automatic pop-up tents”, but don’t you dare take this victory away from me) we went scouring the premises for cheap beer. Success.

The festival started the following morning, with Bear in Heaven as the first act. They were a very good start to the festival, but were no indication if just how unbelievably rad the festival was going to be. The 3 days of the festival kind of merged into one by the end, so in no particular order, here are some of the amazeball bands I saw.

THE LOW ANTHEM. Although I suffered a leg injury during the set (causing me to lose quite a fair amount of blood, actually) this was one of the highlights of the festival. I may or may not have cried during “Charlie Darwin”… and I never cry (haha anyone who has seen me watch “My Girl” knows this is such a lie. “HE WAS GONNA BE AN ACROBAT. WHERE ARE HIS GLASSES? HE CAN’T SEE WITHOUT HIS GLASSES!!!” oh man started tearing up just remembering that. Oh Macaulay Culkin was in that, can you believe he turned 30 the other day? How old does that make you feel. Oh shit I’m getting mega sidetracked, back to the point…). After the band finished I bumped into the violinist/backup vocalist from the band and made a right twat of myself – but I’m just fine with that.
THE FLAMING LIPS. Whilst I like them, I have never been a particularly huge fan of The Flaming Lips. However, I can honestly say this was one of the best bands I have ever seen live. Not only did they play and sound amazing, but they put on such an incredible show and I genuinely could not stop smiling and laughing (with happiness) the entire time. Maya, a friend of Stefano’s who I was with, was in tears the entire time because she was just so happy.
THE NATIONAL. Amazing, no surprise there. Having said that, they are definitely better suited to a more intimate venue rather than the main stage at a festival, but they sounded great (particularly loved ‘Apartment Story’) and we saw it with some wicked new Dutch friends, Jacco and Mika. I do, however, wish they had played ‘Start a War’ and that Megan Black was there to enjoy it with me.
BAND OF HORSES. Whilst it did not feel right seeing them live without Lauren Cahill by my side (partying 2B style), they were incredible and, well – I lost my shit. If you search ‘Band of Horses Pukkelpop 2010’ on YouTube, at about 50 seconds you see a crazy blonde chick jumping up and down. That crazy blonde chick is actually me. And I am just fine with that. They were unbelievably awesome, and has been worth the 3 year wait to see them.

I’m boring you all now, so I’ll just list the other wicked bands we saw. Foals, Yeasayer, Laura Marling and 2manydjs were all fantastic, as was The Tallest Man on Earth who I had not heard before until an Australian couple played me a couple of songs the previous week in Amsterdam. The Drums were a bit average, which was not a huge surprise – I’m not there biggest fan anyway. We saw plenty more acts but I cannot remember and the internet is currently not co-operating so I cannot check back to see who I saw.

After Pukkelpop, we said some goodbyes and then Stefano, Shivon, Madeleine and I were off to Bruges!! That’s right, we were actually ‘IN BRUGES’.

I don’t like Bruges. If I were retarded and grew up on a farm, then I would. But I’m not, and I didn’t. So I don’t.

Fantastic film, one we saw not long before heading there either. Part of me wanted to hate the city so I could be like Colin Farrell in the film (cause we already look a great deal alike with my muscular physique and ruggedly handsome features…) but I just couldn’t. Shivon had to leave after the first night to get back for school, but we stayed three nights – which many people said would be too much but we thought was quite the opposite. We wanted to stay longer, and would return in a heartbeat if time and money allowed. I will admit that after climbing the famous bell tower and seeing the film, it was near impossible not to warn some, well, large people downstairs about to embark on the hike up that it did, in fact, get increasingly narrow. However I bit my tongue, so not to call anyone ‘fecking elephants’ (seriously, ‘In Bruges’ is one of the greatest films ever.)

Whilst In Bruges, Stefano and I decided that for our final goodbye, we would have to see The Expendables together. For those of you that don’t know, The Expendables is the coolest film of all time. Sylvester Stallone, Jet Li, Jason Stathom, Steve Austin, Eric Roberts and Terry Crews (along with Bruce Willis and Governor Arnie cameos) = most epic thing I have seen on the big screen since DIE HARD 4.0: LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD.

So our last day in Bruges; Madeleine, Stefano and I head to the train station. Madeleine and I are off to Brussels, whilst Stefano has to return home for work. Bit rough saying goodbye knowing we won’t be seeing him again until his Australia visit in December 2011, but we pulled through and off we went. Brussels was pretty rad – the comic strip museum was easily one of the coolest museums I’ve ever been in. I HAD NO IDEA THE SMURFS WERE FROM BELGIUM. Talk about an epic mindfuck!!

Having been instructed by many people (including Cillian and Helen) that Delirium Bar was the highlight of this city, we decided to give it a go. Over 200+ beers on offer… pretty much a wet dream for me. One thing I neglected to notice, however, was that the beer I was drinking was 8.5%. So one minute I am saying “Cheers” with my newly eighteen little sister, and the next I wake up on my bed in the hostel, with little to no memory of the night before. “Oh Crap…” I thought to myself, realizing I could have done any number of humiliating things the night before. I opted to turn on my camera, and see if I took even one picture that would help me piece together my night. I did not take one picture… I took four hundred, mostly of me or Madeleine with 6 or 7 people who I did not remember in the slightest. Madeleine was able to be of some use, as we found out her beer was a great deal weaker (though still strong). After learning the names of my new “friends”, my memory started to come back to me. 3 Flemish people (one of whom was a knob), 2 French guys, stopping at a bar on the way home then forgetting to pay for the drinking forcing the bartender to hunt us down where we then apologized and paid, and getting lost in the rain. Awesome.

Now for night two, the most infamous night so far in our trip: our run in with the Brussels Po-Po. We returned to Delirium the next night, only having a couple this time after such a big night, and then decided to stop off at a Kebab shop (obviously) on the way back to the hostel. I got along quite well with the staff, and was talking to them for a while whilst sitting on table-like bench. After about 10 minutes of this, Madeleine sat up next to me, and part of the table snapped off and Madeleine fell to the ground. The table landed on her and cut her fingers exceptionally deeply, causing her to bleed a ridiculous amount. Some people would have fled, but we didn’t do anything wrong so we stuck around. The staff were nice and said there manager was 5minutes away. We merely wanted to explain the situation to him so it didn’t look like we had been reckless. The manager arrived, and we told him what happened. He told us we needed to pay him 100 Euros. ONE HUNDRED EUROS? Are you high off the intense amount of cologne you are clearly wearing ? We didn’t even do anything stupid!! It was at this time that Madeleine, who was crying hysterically due to the pain (her fingers are still black and the nails have pretty much fallen off) asked for ice or a band-aid. They said she could only have ice if she paid for a drink. PAID FOR A DRINK? FUCK OFF. I still managed to stay calm, surprisingly enough, and said we weren’t going to complain or cause any trouble we just wanted our 10 Euros back (we never got our kebabs) and we would leave. He then started yelling at me to shut up, and got very much in my face. This is when shit started to get real. A huge argument broke out and he said he would call the cops, so I said to go ahead. He then barricaded the door so we couldn’t leave. After waiting for 15 minutes for the cops, I said I’d call them as well cause he wouldn’t let Madeleine leave and she was in no state to run from him, nor in a position to stay sitting on the cold floor of a kebab store at midnight. I went outside to call the police and the manager followed me and started yelling at me and threatening me which lead to another near physical encounter (one I’m aware I would not have won) but he backed off, and shortly the police arrived. I started telling them what happened, then found out NOT ONE OF THEM spoke English. The dickhead manager proceeded to lie about us and say something in Flemish, then the officers (they sent SIX of them) said, “You pay one hundred Euros.” I said no and tried to explain again but they looked perplexed at me repeated “One hundred Euros, now”. They completely ignored Madeleine who had bled all over herself and the floor, and ALL six of them accompanied me to a nearby cash point. Since he already had my 10 Euros for the kebabs we never got, I refused to pay 100 and settled for 90, which I should not have paid but we just needed to get Madeleine home. On the way out, the manager and staff of Sultans of Kebab sarcastically waved and said “BYE FRIEND”, so I decided to have one last go at them and where they were heading in life before taking Madeleine home.

Wow, just writing that has infuriated me again. What a knobjockey!!!! Lucky lunch consisting of wine, cheese, bread, chocolate and other fantastic things, in Venice. I will post again soon about Italy as we are doing 5 cities here so figure it deserves it’s own little post.

SO for now, farwell. I hope you are all reading this with beer or red wine in hand, and hopefully I did not bore you too much. Thank-you to Megan Black who was probably the only person who read this post in it’s entirety.

Stay rad.
James

Ps I am refusing to re-read this so I don’t bore myself, so any errors are down to that and the fact that my brain cells have decreased dramatically in the past month.