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The ideal espresso (according to the Instituto Nazionale Espresso Italiano) is a 25ml beverage extracted from around 7g of finely ground coffee, using water at a temperature of 88C, passing through the grains at a pressure of 9 bar. See, dead easy.
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My hope is that, on the road to Pennsylvania and his next big showdown with Clinton on 22 April, he’ll articulate that temper more plainly than he’s done so far. He does it with small audiences. He does it brilliantly in his memoir. But many voters st
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You all know Gulliver would never criticise an official. Tonight he didn’t have to. Referee Chris Boyle achieved the almost impossible by uniting fans of both sides in their displeasure at his decisions. Three penalties; four yellow cards; a straight red
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When I got back from my four-month trip across Eastern Europe, my jeans were shot, I’d lost a sweater, and I left my towel behind. That’s when I realized I should have bought my travel gear used. Now when I’m shopping for an upcoming trip, I head to
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Smile, Compliment, Diffuse Tension, Let them to the Talking, Eye Contact…
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Like biofuels and micro wind turbines, carbon capture and storage turns out to be another great green scam. It will come too late to prevent runaway climate change, the government has no intention of enforcing it and even if it had the technique is likely
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I rely on you like a Skoda needs suspension like the aged need a pension like a trampoline needs tension like a bungee jump needs apprehension I rely on you
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At ButterflyBus we believe in the power of travel. To broaden the mind, to stimulate the senses; the perfect antidote to the stresses of the modern world. A slower pace of travel that allows an appreciation of landscape, of people and of culture, and one
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The Parisian initiative grew in secret on the web and through community networks such as Facebook over the past few weeks, with the location only revealed one day before the event. It worked so well that there were actually more frozen statues than astoni
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You can create a form from any spreadsheet. Just follow these instructions:
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Adverts for the new “Ladies” vodka show the elegant, violet-tinted bottle wearing a pleated white skirt which is blown upwards to reveal the label. The images confront commuters on Moscow’s metro, grab the eye on the street and leap from the pages of wome
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Malmo, Freiburg and Bedzed are good indicators of how green living will look in the future, a world designed around community rather than cars. So, are we are ready to trade the freedom of the open road for the constant contact of the eco-village?
Breakfast, pack up and hit the road. My pencil, a gift from the fabulous people at Reeling & Writhing (Sorry Tim), is definitely missing. I hate writing in pen in my journal, I’m sure Rimbaud and Hemingway didn’t have to put up with this in their moleskins.
Although Jeff is back, we’re missing Simone. This turns out to be a bitch of a long day, made bearable by sitting at the front with Maz and watching the videos Jeff’s brought back from Ireland. Hooray!
We watch episodes of ‘Friends’ and ‘Braveheart’ Go on yerself Sandy Nelson!
Play backgammon, but mostly listen to music (lots of Glasgow bands on this nostalgic day) and write up journal in blue pen. Yuk. The real highlight is our stop for lunch…
Kahramanaras
Maz & I jump out and aim straight for the bazaar. The bustle, hustle and rustle (there’s little left to rhyme with) of Turkish markets are special and this one feels authentic with it’s stalls of food and things. Maz’s shorts attract a few stares – but mostly it feels comfortable, we buy loads of dried fruit and nuts.
Although the city is quite Islamist not all the women are wearing headscarves – some of those that are more westernized are really hot. Everyone’s got a real kick out of the hour in the town and it’s a real antidote to grand tourist central of the past few days. Looking back now it was our first experience, however light of what we’ll experience later in Iran & Pakistan. In Europe no longer are we, young Skywalker.
Camp Euphrates is a dump. The beer is expensive, the room upgrades a bit pricey – but after a long bus day it’s worth it.
Scary Driving
The long drive today meant there was a lot done in the dark. JP & Marcus are really putting the hours in, especial JP. By the end of today those who are more tired than pissed off are in rooms – there’s no diva tantrums tonight.
People seem to be in good spirits – we’ve stopped slagging off the first bus as much and their stupid, arrogant notes they leave for us. Privately I think we’re all realising we’re having more fun than they are on theirs.
New roads can quickly turn into half made dirt tracks without warning; winding roads narrow dangerously over steep, sometimes sheer drops, whilst signs keeping you in the right lane or right direction are non-existent. I’m glad I’m not driving, but from the front seat truly appreciate the hard work our two guys are putting in.
We’re driving up the wrong side of the dual carriageway. WE’RE DRIVING UP THE WRONG SIDE OF THE DUAL CARRIAGEWAY!!!! Those advancing trucks are right to be flashing their lights at us.
It had been only about 30 seconds, little fuss was made at the time – most people were watching Mel Gibson. It was still a shock though. The long and winding road upto the camp is as horrible and upsetting as the solo career of McCartney – and sitting right at the front meant it was a real white-knuckle ride at times. I now understand how Stella must feel about her Dad.
Note to self – don’t sit at the front of the bus again on this trip.
F**k – I’ve slept in! I Had set my alarm for 5am – but that was only done a few hours earlier. I’m woken up in a hurry – I have a couple of minutes to get onto the minibus, already full with fellow ozbussers.
We arrive in town before heading out to the valley where we’ll take off. It’s early, there’s loads of other people around – although there’s hot tea and cake, I feel like shit. Go to toilet to be sick. At least I’m here, if only in body. Last night was lots of fun, butit ended only a few moments ago.
Words and pictures usually work so well in describing, inspiring or explaining life and our experiences. However, I feel nothing can really do justice to the experience of our sunrise balloon trip – the control of rising and falling, drifting silently along in those few, hazy and hungover hours of that morning.
I am sure this will be a memory I shall cherish right upto my last day alive.
This may be sooner than I think as it really does feel like an exceptionally vindictive swine has defecated in my brain. The dreamlike journey around the valley and those strange towering dwellings end not with a bump, but with a graceful landing right onto the trailer. We clamber out, dazed and enthralled – greeted by champagne and more cake, a group photo and lots of smiles.
Wow!
I go back to bed…
Later. head to the pool for what turns out to be the first of my many poor attempts at sunbathing, which only end in burns, patches and more freckles.
I blow up the globe and relax away listening to my favourite sunburnt soundtrack – The Orb (Remember- Newquay, Philosophy Society Surf Trip). Go into town, have lunch, buy a black collarless shirt and head back to the campsite. Can’t get into WordPress and pretty much give up then to keep blog any further uptodat, check Scotland fixtures and head off to an authentic turkish tourist meal extravaganza.
The entertainment, although cheesey is fab – belly dancers, a band and whirling dervishes. The belly dancer is gorgeous and gets a few of the guys up to dance with her – some are transfixed, for another it’s only part of his birthday present. A cake is produced for Mac, Jeff is back from Ireland after losing the replay, Nat left us in Istanbul so Dave gets cheered up and Simone’s boyfriend and her announce she’s leaving the trip. Whilst it’s a wonderful and romantic gesture, we feel mugged and it’s an emotional farewell.
The group is a little less mature, easy going and good-looking with Simone’s departure. Maz & I raise a glass of whiskey and wish her well. We’ll never hear from her again.
It’s been a full and fun day – one that the ozbus family will never forget – the bonds between us are growing with each spectacular sight, with each personal journey and with every new conversation.
Although we don’t stop here, the frustrated urban planner in me has to mention this large modern city slap, bang in the centre of Turkey.
Placed in the central deserts of Turkey, this city of skyscrapers and constant construction has more the feel of the mid-west of USA than the Middle East. We travel past a linear park which runs alongside the main dual carriageway through the conurbation, within it there are trees, a pathway and a tramline all pointing like an arrow straight to the city centre. Beside the park on the opposite side to the road our bus is travelling down are blocks and blocks of low rise flats all set out in a grid next to this transport artery. What makes it such a sight to behold is the length and scale of this townscape, as it takes one half-hour to pass by.
Maybe it’s being brought up in New Town, or having gone out with a girl from Milton Keynes – but Konya caught my eye and interest just as much as the strange dwellings of Goreme will later in the day.
Note to Tyler Brule and Monocle magazine – go to Konya, Turkey
Wow, 2 weeks completed – our reward is the most beautiful views so far – some of the early birds saw the sunrise (I wasn’t one of those and hearing about it alone is enough to ensure I return to this almost magical place).
Another long drive day ahead, before a week of camping which includes a balloon ride tomorrow at sunrise! Eeek.
I have already lost my head torch (arse), but two nights in the one place will allow for some clothes washing and bag repacking.
This indeed turns into a very long day – but it is worth it. Goreme is an amazing place, a weird geological accident of strange star wars-like towers of soft rock with houses carved out of them. Although very touristy, an incredible, unique sight. Look there’s a camel! Cool.
We set up camp and head off to a backpacker bar to watch Scotland get beat by Argentina, but it’s OK it’s only Rugby. I wear my kilt and Argentina 78 football top to get into the mood. The bar is full of mainly us, there is dancing, yelling at the TV screen and lots of drinking. Hooray!
The young lads are hilarious, strutting around like birds of paradise, all peacocking and cawing for attention. I find I can’t really do the Groovin’ for Mr G! moves in a kilt (Note to self with regard to future Wedding attendance), however there are a couple of girls over by the bar. We dance, it would appear my skirt wearing, hairy white legs and knobbly knees are irresistible to Goreme girls. Wahey!
“Here, just take my camera – I’ll catch you guys up later…”
It’s time to go, I for one am happy to hang out here with my new found dancing companions. However, it seems that these particular girls will be more interested in the contents of my sporran than anything found underneath it!
The OzBus family look out for each other and I am rescued from a fate which befell one of our party in Romania. My finances remain intact, my ego has been massaged (as photos available on Facebook will testify) and we return home together nad very much in one piece.
Sweet dreams.
Slept in, missed breakfast – I was supposed to help make it (oops). Have shower, camera returned to me (again – oops). Get on bus.
Boy it’s hot today, we travel along the coast and after an hour arrive at Ephesus. There are lots of ruins at the site making it feel a bit like the disappointing Troy. When we get to the smaller amphitheatre it really starts to impress, although typically there are few complete buildings left standing what foundations remain are a rich source of columns, doorways and ornamentation.
Understandably it’s the 22,000 seater theatre which takes your breath away. Japanese tourists are singing a litling, solemn folk song as I make my way up the stairs in the centre, about halfway. The acoustics from there are awesome – I drift off on thoughts of the history of theatre, it’s incredible pivotal role in Greek society and European civic life – hey maybe this is something I still want to work in…
A bead of sweat or possibly a tear are wiped away as I’m joined by some fellow oz-bussers, who want to talk and gossip about last night; chit-chat about our fellow travellers and not the revelatory experience I have just had or the huge historical importance of the place we are sitting in. I guess it’s OK, we’re all here for different reasons and each will have our own small moments like this along the way.
Feeling only a little cheated that I can’t do my open university lecture on theatre’s civic importance in Ancient Greek Civilization we head back to the bus. Today is a big tourist day – we have another spectacle to see – Heiropolis.
This place is amazing – not just another UNESCO World Heritage site with more sun-bleached white ruins, but also a series of pools of calcified spring water on the chalk cliffside. I go for a paddle, take loads of photos and go off to explore the ruins.
TOP TIP Go for the walk first in the baking heat, then have a cool, refreshing paddle.
We attempt a guerilla lunch in the car park, ignoring the fact that it’s ramadan for everyone else here – we pack up our food and carry on to Egirdir. Unfortunately it’s dark by the time we arrive, and we’ll have to wait till morning to see just how beautiful the lake and countryside around here is – all hills and rugged mountain outcrops.
It’s hard to motivate oneself once you come off the bus after a long day, especially one as thrilling as today. Some people wait about, hoping for someone to lead them towards entertainment, activity or sustenance. Some are more pro-active and disappear as soon as JP cuts the engine. Today, exhaustion takes me by the hand and I go for a beer, a chat and a game of cards (We must agree a set universal oz-bus rules for shit-head, the variations are becoming less enigmatic and more irritating).
On the way to bed bump into someone, who is not enjoying herself on the trip very much at all – she seems unwilling or unable to engage with people different from her own secluded upbringing. It’s a shame, for every one person not enjoying themselves on this trip of a lifetime for me, will I fear devalue a little my own experience. It doesn’t hurt my enjoyment to at least try in some way to ensure all enjoy themselves a little more. “Fuck’em, they’re bees!”
Before leaving the bar I’d stopped by on Emmett and Lauren watching the genius that is Karl Pilkington on the computer, maybe his approach to life, taking pleasure in it’s baffling diversity will guide us along our journey. Shall we take inspiration from this modern day ‘Tiresias the Blind‘ to lead our merry band onto enlightenment and wisdom?
Buzz, buzz, buzz… zzzzzz
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Pixar is famously rigorous when it comes to storytelling. After assembling a rough version of a movie in production, it invariably has second thoughts about plot and character development, and shuts the film down to overhaul its script and story reels. “W
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A service bus, central Stuttgart. A completely normal bus stop. A man steps on. No free seats – he stands in the middle, holds on and looks confused. Why are they all chanting? Something is not quite right here. Next stop – The bus passengers are still
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