jubeedoo
where are you? : : tales from abroad Joined: August 26th 2006
Logged in: April 7th 2009
Logged in: April 7th 2009
In March 2006 my best friend and I took off on a road trip across the United States. We drove in a large zig zag across the continent, had an amazing time and kept everyone in touch by writing about our adventures on our travelblog - Jenny and Ju.
At the end of our trip we arrived in the UK, based ourselves in London, and split up to seek our fortunes. Since our first blog had been such a success, I started this one to record my new adventures, and promptly got sidetracked with life in London. I updated only haphazardly until setting off on a solo trip around the UK, Ireland and Europe.
Using my diary, ramblings written during train trips and the (several thousand!) photographs I took, I'm sitting at home in New Zealand some months later, writing up my travels. Since I bounce in my seat every time I see a location I have visited featured in a movie, I think it's safe to say I will be travelling again in the future!
Travel Blog Posts
Coniston Water
Bleary-eyed, I gazed blankly through the dusty windows, trying to imprint the Scottish scenery on my retinas as I travelled south once more. It seemed the early morning dash to get myself on the bus had used up my quota of energy for the time being, and I lost the struggle to prop my eyes open - although a dazzling play of light on the insides of my eyelids alerted me to take a peek when passing tourist hotspot Loch Lomond, alight in a blaze of sunshine as the bus strobed through the trees along the lakeside. I swapped bus for train after an hour's wait in Glasgow, where a commuting Scotsman admired my journal, with all the "wee headin's and that." I continued writing on the train, but was absently watching the countryside slip away ... read more
Battlements
Arriving back off the ferry in Oban on the evening of October 31st, I quickly found my hostel, only a short trudge away and complete with a group of hostellers dressing up, determined to wreak Halloween havoc (or at least go out and rouse the locals at the pub on the corner.) I had a lively evening just sitting in the lounge, where I chatted, gave costume opinions, scoffed candy and even managed to Skype my sister - hello free wireless internet, how I had missed you! The next day, I was struck by a similar problem to the one I’d faced in Inverness. Once more I was at the end of the road, with decisions to make about the next leg of my trip. This time there would be no serendipitous tour bus to help ... read more
On the high seas
The weather was so foul during my stay in Fort William that I didn’t stray far from the hostel. Arriving in the depressing drizzle on Sunday afternoon, I’d asked if there was anywhere in town to rent a movie - and the lovely Czech hostel manager responded by lending me her entire DVD collection. Weather forgotten, I was settling in when invited to partake of the delicious dinner the afro’d South African assistant manager was cooking up for a group of friends. In the midst of such generous hospitality I was in no hurry to leave. Being at the base of Scotland’s premier mountain range, the hostel was equipped with gear cupboard and a drying room, and served as base for a number of day walkers, cyclists and hard-out trampers. I toyed with the idea of ... read more
Travellin' through
“Have you ever had a goatee?” “No, but I had a goat once.” Sitting in Inverness a month on from the start of my trip, I still loved the lively buzz of mixed-up conversations and the crazy characters to be encountered in hostel lounges. The night of the above quotation, I gave up on my guide books and bus timetables, unable to resist the semi-surreal exchange of carefully pronounced English, fuelled by an equal parts mixture of goodwill, vodka and Irn-Bru. As it turned out, my input was unnecessary and my onward travel pre-ordained. Having landed on my feet in randomly picking one of Scotland’s Top Hostels (the name of the chain, but coincidentally true) what should be more natural than that it turn out to be a part of the MacBackpackers group, with their ... read more
On the road
Traumatised by the words up and hill and long walk, (things you don't want to hear mixed in amongst directions to your hostel, especially when you've been awake since 5am and have already had one long hike and a never-ending bus ride,) I was relieved to discover the predicted twenty minute slog up a ridge was actually nothing more than a slightly inclining five minute trot through the Inverness town centre. Thank goodness, because otherwise I may just have lain down in the centre of the road and called it home! It was the 21st of October and the end of the road for the National Express Pass, but I was far from feeling adrift. Rather than making plans, I was ready to relax, and I soon knew I'd landed in exactly the right place. The ... read more
Royal Mile, from the Castle
Song in my head: I Am Over It by the Dandy Warhols. On repeat. Arriving in a strange place at night isn't the best thing for morale. It had been a tough day, and although I was excited to be in the Scottish capital, after traipsing from the bus station to the hostel I wasn't at my sunniest. Getting in so late meant I had no chance for a bed in a small room, and had to settle for the largest mixed dorm - not the ideal when you just want to sleep, but at least there was WiFi! The next morning I scrambled out the door to join the free walking tour. For over three hours our hyperactive guide led us around Edinburgh, pointing out important landmarks, describing historic events and not forgetting to bring ... read more
Berwick upon Tweed
Staying in the historic city of Berwick Upon Tweed was a tactical decision, because it’s within easy reach of Holy Island, (and because I found some really good books in the hostel lounge.) It struck me as a curious place, so I took a brisk walk around before leaving for Scotland. The quintessential border town, Berwick (pronounced Berrick) was claimed by both Scotland and England, and changed hands numerous times during various scuffles. In the Middle Ages the Scots finally ceded it to the English, who promptly fortified it as a border defence. The township is still encircled by the same city walls, strengthened by enormous grassy ramparts on the eastern side during the reign of Elizabeth I. The views from the ramparts were marvellous, the air was fresh, and the accent strange. Berwick is further ... read more
Cross on St Cuthbert's Isle
A tiny, isolated island off England’s northeastern coast, Holy Island was an attractive prospect to the early Christian monks. Its remoteness allowed them to cut themselves off from ordinary life, in order to devote themselves more fully to prayer - yet in this location they were still within reach of the towns and protective castles of the mainland. The religious community of Lindisfarne was founded by Aidan, a missionary from Iona, and flourished on the Island for more than two hundred years. It had its very own patron saint - its most famous resident, Cuthbert. Fellow Old Girls should remember the story, but it's interesting enough to repeat, anyway: Cuthbert was a shepherd who had a vision, and entered the monastery in Melrose. A devout monk who preferred the life of a hermit, his piety and ... read more
The power of steel
On the approach to Newcastle Upon Tyne, some thirty minutes before our due time, the road suddenly dropped down a steep bank to an absolutely astounding collection of bridges strung across a river. I frantically tried to capture the scene through the grimy bus widows as we crossed, the strong afternoon light fighting me all the way. I craned my neck for one last view to commit to memory as we rose up the other side, not even knowing where we were, and certain I would never see the place again. Fuming in my seat, I regretted that I hadn’t had the courage to ask the driver to stop - but I could imagine his answer to a passenger wanting a large white coach on a narrow highway crammed with rush hour traffic to make a ... read more
Whitby Abbey
Catching the early morning bus quite literally by the skin of my teeth, I found an empty seat amidst the press of people and sat back to regain my breath. By the time we got to the edge of the National Park, I'd calmed down, breakfasted from the hastily assembled sandwiches thrust into my bag on my whirlwind dash out the door, and was pressed against the foggy window to enjoy the view across the famous scenery of the North York Moors. Unfortunately the drizzly rain which had been persisting down all morning showed no sign of lifting, and the moors were covered with mist, making the journey an atmospheric ride through an invisible up-and-down landscape - an adventure, but not so handy for viewing landscapes. We reached the tiny port of Whitby, the end of ... read more
