Birthday in the Baltics

Well I never thought I could ever say that I had been to Lithuania, let alone say I spent my birthday there, but this is exactly what we did with a ripper of a five day weekend - two nights in Vilnuis, Lithuania and two nights in Riga, Latvia.



We left at the crack of dawn, meaning I spent my birthday shattered thanks to the 4.30am start, but its worth the pain entirely - three hours later thanks to Wizz Air, we landed safely in Lithuania and were greeted with a huge expanse of white - snow from hilltop to highway well and truly. Prior to booking the trip in January, we became a little apprehensive about our impending trip to the Baltics thanks to news of a Siberian ice front which swept across the regions. With temperatures of -27 we were hearing of all sorts of cold-related deaths, but thankfully when we arrived it settled down to a balmy -2 degrees. Tropical.

Brad had sussed out the public transport and we made our way to the centre by bus for some microscopic amount. We waited in the snow for half an hour for the bus, which is when we realised that Vilnuis wasn't quite as metropolitan as what we were used to. Urban city looks very poor and has such a miserable feel - that said, we had heard that Lithuanians were friendlier than their Latvian counterparts (who all need to take a serious dose of Vitamin B - glum, glum, glum). You couldn't get a smile out of an older person if you begged for it, but the youth seem somewhat more cheerful. Things are still very sensitive in these regions we learned, with the USSR only collapsing 20 years ago, the older generations have had much to be glum about.



We battled through the blizzard to our homely hostel which was lovely, made all the more better by a friendly man who spoke no English, but nattered away to us in Lithuanian despite the fact none of us had any idea what the other was on about. Miming and hand actions go a very long way though!

Eager beavers we dropped our bags, chucked a few more layers on (hard to believe it was possible) and set off to soak it all up. Vilnuis, although so poor, is also very pretty - particularly the Old Town, which is the largest Old Town in Europe and a Unesco World Heritage Sight. Napoleon was a huge fan of Vilnuis and raved senseless about it apparently. We can see his point! We wandered for hours, soaking up the sights, playing games in the snow and dodging the drug peddlers. We loved it, although you did get the feeling that if you so much as turned your back for two seconds we'd be sex trafficked out of there before you could say 'Taken'.



Food was a pretty prominent theme for us this week and we have quite literally, eaten ourselves sick each and every meal, resolving to start the diet when we're back in London. Our first meal was artery-clogging and if I go into too many details I might just be sick again. Deep fried bread to start covered in cheese (this was our first mistake), followed by a platter for three of creepy various regional dishes such as dumplings the size of a sparrow and fried mashed potato stuffed into an intestine casing. I know I'm prone to a touch of embellishment from time to time (motto being, never let the truth get in the way of a good story), but I swear on my 27 years we actually ate this crap!



We rolled out of the restaurant and kicked back into explorer mode, with me going as far as to suggest we walk across the frozen river (and we're talking the size of the Waikato River). It was all fun and games until I slipped on my arse and slid down the river bank, getting snow in places I would never wish upon my worst enemy. Time to go home we think! After the early start our only option was bed for an early night, but not before we turned on CNN for a news fix - a touch of home as memorial commemorations for the Christchurch Earthquake were covered.

We started our next day with breakfast in bed, as our brekkie was delivered to our room. Having not faced food since the potato disaster the day prior, we were a little apprehensive, but other than everything being incredibly, overly sweet it went off without a hitch. So with full bellies of bright pink yoghurt, we set off into the snow and sleet to explore some more, wandering through cobbled streets, slipping over occasionally due to the ice and just when we couldn't stay in the cold a second later, popping into a beautiful church to take refuge. Lithuania has two main religions - Lutheran and Orthodox and while all churches in Europe are beautiful, the Orthodox put on such an extravagant, colourful display it's hard not to be flabbergasted. A tad controversial perhaps when you consider the huge homeless problem in this region and contrast this with the gold-plated roof. As our tour guide in Latvia pointed out - God doesn't care whether your church is covered in diamonds, he just cares whether you're a good person.

After wandering over to the art district and stopping to have a good gawk at a farmers market, we decided we were in dire need of some good old hearty stodge. This time I went for my beloved borscht, which is a hot beetroot soup we fell in love with in Poland. Of course, the Lithuanians managed to make it slightly more unappetizing than the polish by chucking in chunks of fatty meat, but it still came as welcome relief given the previous day's potato fest, so we decided to tempt fate by ordering another two courses.



With sopping, frozen feet and being officially chilled to the bones, we ventured back to our hotel to take refuge with a nap and a good book, before heading out for a couple of hours exploring that evening, foregoing dinner for a Lithuanian chocolate bar or two from the local supermarket.

The next morning, after our neon pink yoghurt again, we set off for the bus station where we were Latvia-bound. The four and a half hour journey passed very quickly as we gazed out over the Lithuanian countryside spotting foxes, deer and the occasional bird of prey. Not to mention a few Snickers bars brought the night prior (this time sticking to the tried and trusted - we couldn't face another creepy Lithuanian dish and even the chocolate bars are that little bit odd).



As we crossed the border into Latvia, our first thoughts were that there seemed to be less snow as patches of grass were visible through the expanse of white and after navigating our way to the hostel and speaking with the owner, they confirmed this was the case. We had booked to go dog-sledding the next day, but because the ice was melting we decided to forgo the idea as rather than snowy, it was more muddy.



We had heard great things about Riga and it didn't disappoint. Our first stop was the Lido - a place we would visit every day we were there - and essentially is a large, Latvian, buffet-style restaurant where you can get more food you can cope with for about NZ$10. We had heard great things, but these were completely blown out of the water when we entered the restaurant. We split up, each one running around like a headless chook, unsure of what to do with ourselves. I dropped the ball the first time and was so overcome by choice I loaded up my plate with the first things I saw. Brad opted for an entire plate of meat - sausages, black pudding the size of an intestine, deep fried schnitzel etc. We ate ourselves sick again in 15 minutes, but not so sick that we couldn't head back to the dessert buffet for more. This place was amazing - you got to try absolutely everything and because each dish was only $1, what was the harm in trying it all!? Sufficiently full, we popped our explorer hats on and headed out to check out Riga, getting lost for hours, then finally finding our way to an amazing leather jacket shop, where we both picked up his and hers leather jackets!



That night we just relaxed at our amazing hostel, spread out on the couch watching the only English channels we could find, before getting a few much-needed loads of washing done.

The next day we were up like a shot and off to the very large Central Market, which was like something straight out of the 1980s and oh so Eastern-European! It was full of local produce, tacky boots and toys that looked like they were from the 1970s. The worst part was an entire meat hall, which stank of dead carcass and was chocka block full of various body parts! Ugh! After this we weren't in the mood for food whatsoever, but not ones to fly in the face of tradition, we set off back to the Lido for round two of the food binge and this time I opted for healthier options, sneaking the sly forkful of fried potatoes from Brad's plate!





Always keen for a walking tour, we joined one which focused on leaving the Old Town behind, heading out into the suburbs of Riga so you could really see how the locals live. Aside from the snow and cold, it was awesome and really gave us a great taste of what life would be like as a Latvian. Riga is famous for its art nouveau architecture and the buildings didn't disappoint, with each one prettier than the last. Like Lithuania, Latvia is also very poor, while the churches are grand and venturing out of the picturesque old town was one of the best things we could have done. The Jewish population was decimated during WWII and a mass murder took place in 1941, but rather than send the Jews to a concentration camp (too far away and too expensive to transport them) they packed 300 into the synagogue and burnt it to the ground, taking the thousands of others to big pits and shooting them all. It's just so hard to believe people are capable of such things.



The really interesting thing about Riga is the relationship with Russia. While 50 per cent of the people living in Latvia are Russians, the two cultures are not at all integrated and even have separate schools with each race not integrating with the other. Russia occupied Latvia for a number of years before 1941, and after the war. There was a brief period of three years during WWII in which Germany 'rescued' Latvia from Russia, paving the way for the Nazis to go about their brutal reign of terror. In fact, here's an interesting wee fact, the Latvians view the Nazis somewhat differently to the rest of the world and while they accept the genocide as horrific, they still celebrate the very controversial legion day every March 16th, which essentially celebrates the SS. It's quite controversial and they've received a lot of backlash about it - have a wee Google if you're bored.

The tour took us through the Moscow district, where people speak nothing but Russian, via what is known as the 'Black Market' - the creepiest market you've ever seen, where you can pick up a new phone, stolen from some poor sod the night before, for just 1 Lat! We also saw the former KGB headquarters where thousands were murdered.

After the tour we headed back to our hostel for a nap, restoring the body for a big night out in the Baltics. We joined a pub crawl which was leaving from another local hostel and immediately we formed a great crew - each one of us from a corner of the globe: Germans, Italians (including a Sicilian who gave us a thorough lesson in all things Mafia), English, Scottish, Canadian, Australian, American and a few Latvians for good measure. It was such a great night, bar-hopping and trying not to get stabbed by the creepy locals and we made some great new friends. Brad even managed to successfully start a round of 'Pole Dancing Olympics' in which all the guys took to a pole in one bar to represent their nationality. Brad did NZ proud!



The next morning, a little worse for wear, we set off for our beloved Lido once more and were blasted with blizzard like conditions which made Riga all the more beautiful. After another disgustingly large breakfast, we battled our way through the snow towards the Black Market, which we were keen to see up, close and personal. This was a surreal experience in itself and we've never felt so far away from home on account of this side of Riga belonging to an absolutely different side of the world entirely.





The remainder of the afternoon was spent battling the snow and soaking up the last of the Baltics, before calling it quits due to cold and instead opting to spend our last few hours cosied up at the hostel!

xx

A weekend of play with some birds of prey

This weekend saw the first of our Christmas road trips, as we headed into the Forest of Dean, the UK’s first national park, for Brad’s Christmas gift from yours truly. Rather than buy each other gifts, we thought we’d surprise each other with a weekend away and as Brad is an avid Harry Potter fan, I decided to take him to the place where many of the scenes had been filmed, as well as the place that is said to have inspired the Lord of the Rings series.

A three hour journey from London, we left Friday night, heading towards the luxury Chase Hotel which is right in the heart of the forest. The package I had booked, saw us stuffing our face all weekend as a three course meal was provided each night, as well as a buffet breakfast – delicious food at that. We arrived at around 8pm and after a delicious dinner, we retired for the night, before jumping up, packing up our stuff again and changing rooms thanks to a really loud snorer in the room beside us! Never mind – round two!

The next morning, we hit the road after a delicious breakfast, heading to the beautiful town of Gloucester to visit the famous Gloucester cathedral. This cathedral is huge and so beautiful – it’s up there with Westminster Abbey. We had booked a personal guided tour, which saw us trot along all the filming hotspots where the cast had filmed a lot of the scenes – HP fans can touch base with us one-on-one to get the lowdown here. I fear if we go into the details we’ll lose the few readers our blog attracts! Our guide was sweeter than sweet and allowed us to stop for countless photos. Afterwards we stayed on to retrace our steps, take more photos, and soak up every nook and cranny of this pretty building.





After an hour or so, we hit the road, heading towards Symonds Yat Rock – a massive outlook point for the forest, with a dozen or so walking tracks. After stumbling right into a man proposing to his girlfriend right at the crucial moment, we sheepishly mumbled our congratulations, took a few photos for the happy couple and got on our merry way. Classic timing! Given it was chucking it down, we opted for the one hour track, but both loved it so much that we’ve already made plans to return in summer to take on a track that is a little more challenging. There’s only so much bush you can battle through in sub-zero temperatures, with umbrellas and mud-soaked sneakers!





Our last stop for the day was the International Centre for Birds of Prey and despite the name, this was beyond interesting. We saw every type of scary bird imaginable – vultures, eagles, falcons, hawks, owls – the works. Each bird bigger than the last! After a very late lunch in the tearoom, surrounded by the owner’s gorgeous dogs, we braced the freezing temperatures to sit outside and prepare ourselves for the flying demonstration. It was wet, cold and generally miserable conditions, but this was all forgotten as soon as the first guide came out with a bird. I didn’t even know such birds existed and to see them flying, swooping and genuinely doing what the guides wanted was amazing! So much so that I even yelled out ‘WOW’ like an excited kid – twice. Who knew birds of prey could be so cool?! I might just get myself a falcon one day!







The day was topped off with a delicious three course meal once again.

The next day was a gem itself – just when we thought the Forest couldn’t get any better, we found a massive car boot sale, which most of you will know is a Hollard’s dream come true. Once again, the cold was forgotten, as we made our way from boot to boot buying everything from books and DVDs to vintage Queen Elizabeth Coronation mugs which I’m going to use to make candles. A few hours later we managed to drag ourselves away from the second-hand bargains, and town-hopped our way through the forest, winding our way back to London. We stopped at all sorts of picturesque towns such as Coleford, Cinderford and Cirencester – the best of which was Painswick, where we had lunch at a cosy 14th century pub, which featured Puppy Dog Pie on the menu (and no – we didn’t indulge).







All in all, a delightful wee English country weekend and one we plan on repeating again and again.

Berlin Again

It is with much shock, I realize that an entire month has passed since our last trip to Berlin and I’ve not yet updated our blog. In fact, since my last entry I’ve actually been to Berlin twice – once with Gemma Kay and co, and once for work. Given there’s not much to say about the latter, other than a 3.30am rise, followed by a flight, taxi, meeting, taxi, flight, I’ll stick to providing an update about our long weekend to Berlin in January.



They say the early bird gets the worm and this is certainly true when it comes to nabbing those cheap flights, hence why we were up at 3.30am for a 6.30am flight out of London Luton (the equivalent of Auckland airport in distance away from Hamilton!). Unfortunately I seemed to be racing at a mile a minute and as a result, I didn’t get to sleep at all the night before, but managed to snooze for the 90 minute flight duration. Mouth open and all – luckily my beloved Gemma Kay was sitting beside me And wasn’t going to judge. Brad, on the other hand, had distanced himself entirely by sitting next to Kalem on the other side of the plane.

After a successful flight and navigation from the airport to our hostel, we thought we’d tempt fate by heading out into the freezing cold temperatures to explore. Brad and I had already been to Berlin and as a result we were pleased with how easily we were able to navigate our way around – in no time at all we came to Brandenburg Gate just in time to start a free walking tour. The last day we did this tour we absolutely loved it and this time was no exception – once again it blew our minds, cementing Berlin as one of the most interesting places of historical significance ever. There’s so much to see and do that it would be impossible to get bored!





After a freezing three hours we made our way to a local German restaurant for a much needed sausage and beer, followed by a planned quick lie down at the hostel. Nek minute, three hours later, we woke up with a jolt at 9pm. None of us were hungry but we decided to head out anyway for a bite to eat, making our way to a delicious little café we remembered from last time for a spot of cake, before calling it a night. We slept solidly waking the next day at 9am to find two more people added to our weekend party – two of Kalem’s friends had arrived overnight and we were all so exhausted that we slept right through their arrival.

The next morning we had decided to join the alternative city tour, which gives an inside eye into Berlin’s street art scene. Brad and Cara had done it last time, while I opted to visit Sachenhausen Concentration camp, and it came highly recommended. We all slowly meandered our way to the tour start point, getting lost in all Berlin has to offer on the way. The tour was really interesting and showed a completely different side to Berlin. I didn’t enjoy it as much as the regular tour, but it was interesting all the same. The best part for me came at the end, when we ended up at the Eastside Gallery – a remaining section of the Berlin wall which is completely covered in amazing artwork.







Cold, hungry and tired, we made our way back to our hostel to pow-wow about our plans for the evening. Berlin is famous worldwide for its party scene and everyone was keen to check out what was on offer. Kalem’s friends has heard about this weird experiential style bar called Labyrinth, which came highly recommended. It sounded a little odd so naturally the only thing for a control freak like me to do was give it a wee Google. As soon as I read the description I wished I hadn’t: ‘fall down a rabbit hole into a journey of self-discovery…. Not for the frigid etc’. With no idea what the hell was going to happen, but with all sorts of creepy visions going on inside my head, we made our way out into the dark beyond of East-Berlin until we came to a wee sh*t-hole of a place and were ushered inside. We were met with a crew who looked like they were straight out of the Hills Have Eyes, but not to be called a party pooper we each parted with 10 euros and waited for god knows what to happen. As we stressed each other out coming up with all sorts of ungodly scenarios (or to be more accurate, as everyone stressed me out), I was just about ready to throw in the towel when they called for the first volunteer. Brad threw himself forward first and was blind-folded then lead away from us all, followed bit by bit by us all. I was fourth and had no idea what to expect. I must have looked like I was going to cry as one of the creepos started patting my head, soothing me that all would be okay. I was lead into a small room the size of a coffin where, after an inordinate amount of time, I realised I was supposed to push open and climb out. Without going into too much detail (because I don’t want to ruin it for anyone planning on heading there, as much as you wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway) the entire experience was like something out of Alice and Wonderland with claustrophobic spaces, maze like dead ends, giant rubber female anatomy parts you have to climb through etc… I made it out alive, only just – I almost had a heart attack as someone at the very end reached their hand out through a tiny hole and grabbed my ankle. Once I was out I scampered my way back to the room, where we all de-briefed each other on what happened, without going into too much detail as a pale-faced Gemma had yet to enter. It was only when Brad eventually made it out that we realised that he was the creep hiding in wait, reaching out and grabbing us all – sicko!

After having experienced such weirdness, we made our way back to the hostel unsure of whether we had dreamt the last three hours or not. Our hostel had an awesome rooftop bar so we all had a few drinks(which Brad managed to turn into quite a few freebies by utilising his basketball skills to throw coins into a bucket), before the crew decided to head out to further experience the clubs. Gems and I opted to stay at home – a good decision we realised as everyone was back half an hour later and a few euros down, after an expensive taxi ride shuffling them between clubs as everyone turned them away on account of not being able to speak German! A tad racist we all thought, particularly as any German would have been welcomed into a bar in NZ with welcome arms. No love lost though as we all had a great night regardless.

The next morning we were up and off to a massive vintage, second-hand market in Berlin’s suburbs, where we spent an amazing three hours exploring stalls as far as the eye could see. We picked up some great buys, including a whole bunch of vintage slides for Gemma to use for arts and crafts, as well as some vintage sunnies for Brad.



With much regret we then made our way to the airport to catch a plane back to London. Once again, the time in Berlin simply flew – a lifetime would not be enough in this super city!