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An eight hour train trip from Zagreb to Split marked my first bout of motion sickness. The track was so windy, and I guess made worse because I had been staring at a laptop for a good five hours.  I was relieved to arrive in Split to stand on ground that wasn't rocking from side to side and Jess and I were both so excited for our sailing trip to begin the next day.  We discovered Split was a cool little seaside town, marked by Roman influence.  We grabbed our gear and exited the  train station. It was only when we began navigating the route to our hostel that I suddenly realised I was short of one thing, my leather jacket.   Now, this leather jacket is very important to me. Stand by for the massive segue:  I bought the jacket during an eight day Turkey tour in 2010, which included Anzac Day in Gallipoli. The tour was with my sister,  her husband, and my mate Ange,  I remember we'd had a massive night in Kusadasi prior to...

It was a slight mission finding the train station in Budapest to head for Croatia. Sometimes....ok often, Jess and I are lazy tourists and this time was no exception. We opted for a cab to get us to our 6am train instead of tackling the public transport system.  We felt a bit bad because the cab driver was trying to exchange pleasantries with us...and we had no idea what he was saying. It took me back to when I was in Poland a few years' back and my sister, her husband and I were trying to get to Krakow's main train station. Sean took to executing his best train impression with a few 'toot toots' and arm gestures. It must have been uncanny as we got to the train station fine.  Arriving to Budapest's international train station, we found a 'hole in the wall' type bakery and I ordered some little puff pastry thing with jam at its centre. It was bound to keep us sustained for a good 3.5 minutes. We were headed for Croatia's capital, Zagreb, so would ...

"Hungary is soooo warm! How delightful!" Jess and I exclaimed after we landed in Budapest, and a speedy taxi dropped us off in the city. The warmth equalled bliss. I had been cold for the duration of the France trip, with Jess and I both throwing on a million thermals, plus beanies and gloves for England and Scotland. We were ready for some sun. This feeling of bliss, however, turned to frustration quite quickly, caused by the lack of branding on our hostel. This led to walking around in circles, using our worst Hungarian to ask for directions to no avail. That was before realising where our taxi driver had dropped us off in the first place, was indeed correct. Oops! Just a bit of an adventure to start our short stay in this magnificent city, although, on a negative, the constant carting around of my suitcase and backpack (with contents including a heavy laptop, iPad, etc.) seemed to have given me chest pains whenever I walk. I should really get that checked out.  Our...

As soon as we passed the English-Scottish border, the scenery dramatically changed. We discovered later the reason was because the two countries used to be separate and then smacked into each other... And that's my geological info for you, for today.... savour it.  It was a six or seven hour drive to Edinburgh from Bath, which included the brief check point at my British parent's house, Sarah and Andy's, in Purton, Wiltshire. Purton is an adorable village where I'd spent my first year overseas by myself when I was 21. We had left Bath after brekky, with lots of people saying, ' a seven hour drive on a Sunday!??' 'We're from Australia, we don't even need to take a cut lunch!' On the way into Scotland, with the first stop, Edinburgh, Sally, Steve and Jess were very mean to me. They gave me the camera with the arduous task of taking snaps of the signs bearing, 'Welcome to Scotland' or 'Welcome to Edinburgh'. It might have...

Dover, Southampton & Bath, England.  The song, 'There'll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover' sums up the magic of the cliffs quite well. "That's unlikely to happen with blue birds being native to America," my cousin once told me. Although, she'd heard the fact on the British TV show QI. I would have just claimed the fact as my own wittiness. My cousin is Caitlin. A pale, bright ginger-haired and seemingly intelligent 24-year-old from my mum's side, who has the same odd sense of humour as me (poor thing), with the same penchant for singing the entire Sound of Music or Lion King score on long car trips, regardless of our passengers' tastes. Living in Dover, Caitlin decided it was rather convenient to come to France and support our cousin, Kerry and I (we had been singing with Voices of Birralee in the Western Front Anzac Day Commemorations - awesome trip, you can read about it via this blog ). It was lovely to be able to sh...