Church of Bones, Kutna Hora - Prague

Schwarzenberg Coat of Arms

When I did the long hike outside of Prague to the Church of Bones I was really excited. Apart from having no signs, handwritten directions that looked like it was written with someone's left foot. No one spoke a word of english, not that I ever I expect anyone to when I am travelling. This just meant I had to sign the whole way there. Try signing "which platform do I change to go to Kutna Hora?", yes very funny. Especially for the Czechs. Obstacles aside, I managed and found my way there on this dinky, rickety, pre-historic train that literally had a poop shoot for a toilet. I didn't get it and nor did I really  towards the end. It was like every moment was a fight up sh*t creek with just a paddle. 

Finally I made it there and arriving there made the epic journey all worthwhile. I paid my admission and made my way inside and suddenly I felt really sick when I was greeted with the Schwazenberg's coat of arms, pictured above. If I could capture the experience in a series of adjectives. I went from feeling excited to sick. Sick to acceptance. Acceptance to morbid.  I was transfixed by thousands of human bones, harmoniously organised in a collective and decorative manner. But then I got just plain over it and started to get snap happy, which meant I felt guilty!

Why?

Long story short as I am not one for the detail. Note: this is a very loose account. Way back when, a man went back to Jerusalem collected some dirt from the Holy Land as a keep sake, brought it back and sprinkled the holy soil over this cemetery. Due to this pious act, this cemetery became a hot spot throughout Central Europe to be buried at. During the plague people would haul themselves at their last waking moment to this cemetery. Then they would die. Relatives would also drag their dying loved ones here so that they could die and be buried here too. This influx of bones resulted in a half blind monk re-stacking these bones into 6 human pyramids to make room for more and later a wealthy family, commissioned a wood carver to re-build what you see today, the eery formation, the Church of Bones. 

These bones made me feel a bit morbid. Like "Is this what I have to look forward to?", "Is that how we all wind up the in the end?".  It was just all a bit too much. But nevertheless, well worth the feelings of sick, morbidness and guilt. 

Fun Facts:

- The giant human pyramids are placed on top of each other without being bound together.

- Despite appearances, this is a deeply religious place.

- The skulls of warriors in the Hussite wars are showcased here.

- The chandelier of bones (centerpiece) contains every bone in the human body. 

Welcome to the Church of Bones.

Human Chandlier

Human Pyramid

Human Pyramid up close 

                  

Party People

For many of us, we often overlook the party scene in Berlin. In fact, some of us are completely oblivious to it.

Berlin has spawned a party scene that is eccentric and hedonistic as it is nocturnal. It is simply unmatched. Clubs are open until the last person leaves, whenever that may be and the night starts the next morning, which means you often catch yourself asking,

"When are we meeting tonight?"

"1 am"

"Really? But that is tomorrow. What time do people normally start heading out?

"1 am".

"Ok then. When does everyone usually start to arrive?"

"2 or 3am. Usually 3am".

"3 it is".

Berlin has every club and bar for every vice, fetish and indulgence, far beyond the reaches of our unimaginative minds.

You have a smorgasbord of clubs for gays, bi-sexual, hetro-sexuals and try-sexuals, where they can go to have a big night or exclusively to have sex. Yes there are actual sex clubs where people can loose themselves behind a secret door or if you're an exhibitionist, you can do it right where you are standing.

You can even find yourself in an underground club, if you can find it, which is usually located somewhere between, 'if you blink you could miss it'. Or you can inadvertently find yourself partying it up in the underground station with your fellow commuters to a DJ pumping out a bunch of dirty house tunes with a random trolley by your side.

There is a scene for every appetite, from reggae Rastafarian lovers to lovers of heavy metal. Megadeth anyone? No? Well, how about Anthrax?

Some of these clubs are visually stunning built with creative layouts and multiple levels that over look the levels below. And then there are other clubs that are just downright seedy. So don't be surprised if you catch yourself with someone's sweat dripping on you from above.

And get this. Dress code is strictly dress down for most venues. So dress up and you might not get let in.

Welcome to Berliners. The party people.

Welcome to Berlin

So far my highlight of my trip has been Kuwait and most definitely Berlin. In fact, Berlin takes the cake hands down.

It's wicked cool, liberal, cutting-edge, it is sexually progressive and unashamedly so. You can be who ever, what ever and no one even gives a rats. It's come a long way from the confines of fascism slash communism and its memories serve as a bold reminder that the past is history and the future is here. That change is, has and continues to be tangible.

Rich in it's history, attractions and night life. I spent every waking moment of the six days that I was there doing everything that I could physically push myself to do. Caffeine? Why, yes...

Apart from the obvious highlights. Things that you must do that are off the beaten track include;

- Having a currywurst (curry sausage) especially when drunk, although not essential. Not drunk? No problems. It can be consumed with champagne, to get you drunk, if you know where to find it.
- Go to Check Point Charlie Museum and see Gandi's diary, sandals and Ronald Regan's cowboy hat. Weird but true.
- Go to East Side Gallery and walk until you find this shop where you can get your passport stamped like a bonafide East Berliner or West Berliner.
- Do the underground bunker tour.
- Check out Hitler's hide out.
- Go to the weird and wonderful bars that Berlin has to offer e.g. upside down bar for some good photo op's, or the ping pong bar (Dr. Pong) to compete your way through to survival by playing death by ping pong.
- There are also some seedy, unadulterated, pulsating clubs that are positively gyrating with try-sexuals, that are out to live out their fantasies, which you may want to see. Filled with lounge beds, dimly lit back rooms that come stocked with toys, tubs and suitable contraptions. (So I've heard) Do whatever you like. That's the Berlin way. Just don't do something stupid, like something I would do and stop and stare.

Welcome to Berlin.

My First Frankfurt in Frankfurt

Well there you have it. My first frankfurt in Frankfurt. Ta darr.

Not the most exciting thing but it was easily the most exciting thing in Frankfurt. Looks dubious I know but that Frankfurt was really rather good. There really isn't much to do here I'm afraid. I spent two days here looking and searching for something to sink my teeth into, for something to do but ended up with nothing. Nada. No sale. Well, not completely nothing to do but the only thing really to do here was to walk around in the city and around the old town (Frankfurt Romer), which I completed in a couple of hours. Honestly I saw all the tourist attractions by this point. Leaving me aimlessly watching German soaps.

It turns out the main reason people come here is for business. It's the corporate capital you see.

So if you're ever in town have a frankfurt, have a walk around and make it a quickie. One day, two days max.

And make sure you don't mix the two Frankfurts in Frankfurt. The station that is. There are two Frankfurt Mains. I found out the hard way of course. And I am convinced it is there, just for kicks. Just to see people like me run like a duck and scream, "F****RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!!!".

Welcome to Frankfurt.

Platform 9 3/4. Hogwarts Express. All Aboard!!

I am a die hard Harry Potter fan this is true. I wasn't  at first, truth be told. I despised the mass following and hysteria it cultivated. I simply didn't want to be apart of it. I wanted to be separated from the hype. Until one day, a girl from high school, had a copy of the Harry Potter book and I decided to ask her,  rather flippantly, " Is it really as good as they say?". What was supposed to be a one worded answer, essentially ensued into a monologue of how I should read it, how addictive it was, how it is one of the best novels ever written, how I was missing out and how she would bring me a copy. She said "Just read the first book and if you don't like it, then you have made a fair assessment and you can be done with it". She made a fair point and was convincing enough that I decided to read it.

I read it and completed it the day she gave it to me. I could not put it down. I was in love. I continued like this with the following books. From memory, I think I polished off the first four books in less than a month, leaving me eagerly and desperately awaiting for the next one.

And I remember the day I saw someone post on their Facebook profile, evidence of themselves standing in front of Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station. I was absolutely guttered. Why couldn't that have been me? I actually felt this surge of jealously. Then I hated them. So much so, it became quickly added to my bucket list Lol.

So when I was in London I didn't waste a moment getting there. I went to King's Cross station and asked while I was purchasing my ticket to Cambridge, eyes filled with excitement, "How do I find Platform 9 3/4?" Wow I felt like I was really going to Hogwarts. The lady behind the counter  cheerfully gave me directions there. Now, I could tell you how and where to find it because it isn't where you think it should be, but that is half the fun! Besides you have to work for it, just like Harry!!

I found my way there, my heart was filled with absolute joy. I unashamedly harassed some random to take my picture again and again, while wishing that I had my battle scar and Gryffindor robes in tow. (Even though I was supposed to be blending in with these Muggles). This, right here, was sincerely one of the happiest moments of my life. So sad but it is true! How can three quarters of a platform, half a trolley and a sign bring me so much joy?  I even walked away from the platform smiling, even at all these random nobody's. I couldn't contain myself, I was so thrilled.

If you're also a die hard fan, make sure you pay an honorary visit to King's Cross Station and break out the camera shots. Just don't forget your Nimbus 2000, elder wand, quill, owl, magical school books, Marauders Map and floo Powder. Oh and your Hogwarts admission letter. You can't forget that!

And if you are feeling particularly sad that it is all over with the final movie release of the Deathly Hallows Part 2, just as I am. Never fear because, "the stories we love best, do live in us forever. Whether you come back by page or by the big screen. Hogwarts will be always there to welcome you home". J.K. Rowling. 

Welcome to Platform 9 3/4.

Me feeling pretty happy with myself 

Food Porn: Take 3

One of the perks of having a sister and one that blogs about food, is most definitely the freebies. How lucky am I to have a sister like her. She is willingly aiding to my stash of food porn. To give you a bit of a background, my sister did a poor review about Apsley's restaurant (one Michelin) in London and boy did they find out about it. And we knew they did because they invited her back. Twice. Making it in total, the Apsley's trifecta.

She took my mother at their first invitation and they were ridiculously spoilt. I remember my sister calling me and listening to her explain to me how the chefs personally cooked for them. How the wait staff lavishly adorned them with truffles, caviar, lobster, champagne etc. Oh god I felt like I had dialled one of those 1300 numbers it was so sexy. The food that is, not my sis.

Now it was my turn. They invited her back for the trifecta and how could I refuse when summoned? And I can honestly say with my hand on my heart, I had the most overwhelming, exquisite, mind blowing, orgasmic, heart stopping meal at Apsley's. It was that incredible.

There were copious amounts of "Oh MY GOD",  "Wow that is good",  moments coming from my sister's mouth. My mouth included. Not to mention, eye rolling, eye squinting, hmmm-ing, gasps for air, finger licking, lip licking and other expressions of blasphemy. It was all very intense.

Out of context, you would think we were not at the dinner table. If you ask me, it was all a bit too funny and if not, really strange to my sister react in this way. I don't think she was even aware of it herself. At one point, I had to laugh and tell her to, "Ssshh", and ask "Do you hear yourself?"

It was a once in a lifetime experience having these Michelin star Chefs cook for us. We received a personalised 14 course menu and amouche bouches, where we were served oodles of champagne, caviar, lobster, foie gras, 40 year old aged balsamic. All ceremoniously served to us all thanks to my sister's blog.

One of the highlights was when my palette experienced for the very first time, quite literally, an explosion of delicate fluid motions of flavour explode in my mouth when I consumed the Carbonara Fagottelli. To do so, you have to place the carbonara pillow on your spoon, place it in your mouth as a whole and push your tongue to the roof of your mouth and allow for the fluid centre to explode and ooze the melt in your mouth liquid carbonara filling. Wow it was like I had devoured a liquid fireworks display. Simply stunning. Having one, only serves to beg for more and to beg the question, how does one encase pasta around a liquid centre filling?

I ate so much that I had to excuse myself to the ladies and sit myself on the toilet with the lid down to adjust myself and to find the most comfortable position possible. Not my most gracious moment however, I will care to share. I leaned back and stretched my legs to allow for my food baby bump to form. I wasn't appropriately attired for the occasion considering I wore a skin tight flaming red dress. And I mean skin tight and flaming. Could I have drawn any more my attention to my engorged stomach? I really ought to have worn my moo cow dress slash fat suit to allow for some girth. But my finest hour was when I could not consume anymore that I went back to the bathroom and decided to throw up in order to make room for more. Don't judge. It is a successful concept inspired by the Nordic Vikings. Ahem, yes really.

So brace yourselves and welcome to some much needed, nasty, filthy, unadulterated, mouth watering, decadent food porn issue. Ever.

18 year old & 40 year old balsamic vinegar
The most efficient foodgasm ever made.

The sound of the perfect bread

Not wanting to be wasteful we ate every last drop
of the Balsamic Vinegar they served to us.
To which they kept right on serving us!

Trio of Aubergine, Blue Fin Tuna and Pomelo

Handmade Buckwheat Spaghetti and Mackerel

Seabass, papaya and cucumber
(Oh god I am getting flashbacks)

Group shot
Amouche Bouches

We gasped for air right at this moment

Langoustine, Fennel and Grapefruit dished w Caviar
(Wow this takes right me back)

Sea Scallops w Crescentine & Sweet Chilli Vinagrette

Foie Gras Terrine w Smoked Apple drizzled with Amaretti Powder
(Sweet, salty & fatty finish over the palette. Just mindblowing)

Lobster w Taglionlini
(Yes size does matter. These lobster pieces were perfect in size that was
 succulent, tender and juicy to the taste.
The Tagliolini had the most silky smooth textural tendrils I have ever tasted.)

Wild Garlic Risotto served w Albacore White Tuna.

Lobster Salad w White Asparagus, Artichokes and Strawberries

Carbonara Fagotelli - Signature dish, as described earlier.

Rumoured to be Michelle Obama's favourite dish when she visited
La Pergola in Rome.

Pigeon wrapped in Puff pastry drizzled w Mustard Seed Sauce
& Balsamic and Apple Juice reduction

Rum Baba served w Pistachio di Bronte ice cream 

White Chocolate Ball encased over a frozen Meringue centre
served w Lime & Passionfruit

Coffee surprise of Marscapone Fondant, Vanilla Ice Cream &
Amaretti Mikado

Petit fours that came out as petit tens!

Relationships & the London Underground

The London Underground is kind of like having a bad relationship. When you meet it for the first time, you're excited by the novelty of it all. You want to go for a ride, you think it is taking you places you've never been before and you kind of like it. In fact, you like it a lot. Things are off to a good start.

Then you get to know it a bit better. It never arrives on time, you can never count on it to be there when you need it to be. You expect it to work but then suddenly, it doesn't. You realise it gives you mixed messages, it tells you to "Stand to the Right" on the escalator and then to "Keep Left" when you exit through the stairs. So you never know where you stand with it. It has signs that lead you astray, that get you lost telling you Trafalgar Square is here, when actually it's really over there.  Or worse yet, it doesn't give you anything at all, leaving you alone, lost and confused. If anything, it's a nuisance and it drives you mad. You can't live with it and you can't live without it. So you keep coming back for more, time and time again because things go back to being good. But really you go back simply and purely because you have to.

It also doesn't know where it is going sometimes. Which really drives me nuts. Take the Northern Line for example, it splits into four directions. One line, four directions. Could you be anymore absurd? You are deliberately doing this to wind me up aren't you? And if you are looking to go off into one direction (out of the four), it says something ridiculous like "via Charing Cross" or if you are going another way "via Bank". God you are not making any sense at all. Wouldn't it have been easier if you had of just said wherever it is you are actually going, being the "final destination", similar to every other transport system in the world? Why can't you just get to the point? Or better yet, safe the confusion and call it something completely different as opposed to having four different versions of the one line.

And sometimes people throw themselves in front of the tube rather than go on it. Really they do. Not because they hate it that much. Well, I couldn't say for sure. But it happens often enough, that when there is an announcement that the, "The District line to Wimbledon is experiencing delays due to someone going under", everyone's first thought is "Again? what a nuisance?" Sounds cruel I know, but that is how people think here. There was even one of those group emails circling around titled, "You know you have lived in London for too long when..." and one of the dot points read "You think it is a nuisance when someone kills themselves on the tube". Wow, that is bleak.

I even googled suicide rates in the London Underground and I found that it was 1 pound 50 plus VAT. Ouch, A bit steep hey? And the reason they announce someone has gone under is because they want to inform passengers that the Transport for London is not at fault for the delay. And here's a fun fact. If a tube driver witnesses three people who kill themselves on the job, policy states they are entitled to retire and access their pension immediately.

At the heart of any relationship, you kind of can't help but have a soft spot for it, maybe even love it. Despite its flaws, it is so London and one small part of what makes it so.

Welcome to the London Underground and my relationship with it, till death do us part.

Material Girl

Me and a friend Charlie, were on our way home from a Friday night out in London. We were standing waiting for our tube chatting away when this guy approached me and said "Excuse me. Do you mind feeling my jacket and telling me what fabric this is made out of?"

Confused by it all I said, "What?"

Despite the look on my face he continues and rephrases the question, "Do you mind feeling the fabric of my jacket and letting me know what it is made out of?" He leans in and gestures for me to follow his lead.

I respond to his request and I obediently take the fabric and rub it in between my fingers. Confused by his request and even more so by what his jacket is made out of. I think long and hard about what the fabric is actually made out of.

I finally conclude, "Ummm... a cotton polyester blend?".

I think to myself, I have the right answer and at this point I am feeling pretty proud of it too. He smirks, he grins and cheekily says, "Don't you mean... boyfriend material?"

Boom tish.

Welcome to bad pick up lines. And to girls that fall for them.