The first-day curse

4 April, 2006
We land in Hanoi on the first day of our month-long journey from the top to the bottom of Vietnam. Our hotel has arranged an airport transfer, and, on arriving, we realise this is not the hotel we booked at all. "Sorry, the hotel overbooked so you are now staying here," we were told. Taking Lonely Planet's advice a little too close to heart, we were convinced this was part of a scam (we found out it wasn't) and ended up spending a good hour negotiating our way through the smelly, chaotic streets (meat market included), looking for a new place to stay.

8 September, 2008
We set off on our three-month van tour of Europe. The van is packed, we've stocked up on baked beans and we're raring to go. One hour after driving off the ferry in France, we find ourselves veering off a country road and into a ditch. We then spend five horrific days living in a mechanic's carpark, and pay 950 euros in repairs for the privilege.

8 March, 2009
We land in Cairo, Egypt on the first day of our six-month 'trip of a lifetime'. We wait at the airport carousel for our backpacks to make an appearance. One by one, our fellow passengers pick up their bags and leave. Eventually, the baggage handlers stick their heads through the rubber flaps to inform us that there are no more bags. Yep, trust us to have to go through one of every traveller's worst fears. Air Alitalia, who we flew with, are of little help, and we are sent on our way with no explanation or indication of where on earth our backpacks have ended up. We spend a sleepless night freaking out. Where the f*** are our bags?! We go through a range of emotions: Helplessness (what are we going to do?), anger (this is f***ed!), defeat (that's it, I'm over this. Let's just call it quits and go home) and hope (we can get through this).

The next morning, we go down to breakfast to discover Craig's yellow and black Black Wolf pack sitting there next to the reception desk. While there is still no sign of mine, at least we now have clothes we can share between us, a sleeping bag for our upcoming two-night felucca trip and toiletries like sunscreen and insect repellent. After a day at the pyramids, my bag still has not been found. We board our 13-hour overnight train to Aswan without it. Our trip seems doomed.
I'm stuck in an awful cargo and white-top combo (my 'flying' outfit) and the thought of making an insurance claim for an entire bag of stuff seems hopeless, as does rebuilding an entire travel wardrobe plus all my gear.

After yet another sleepless night (this time due to the drunk Aussie yobbos on our train rather than bag worry) we arrive in Aswan. Our first point of call is to check the Air Alitalia baggage tracker on the net to find out if there have been any developments. It says my bag has been delivered. I quickly call our tour operator in Cairo to find out that, yes, my bag has been found and it will be put on the train for me tonight to arrive tomorrow morning.

When it gets here (which it bloody well better!), I'm gonna give it a big kiss, change my clothes, brush my hair, pluck my eyebrows, and then make sure that from now on, I have a change of clothes in both my carry-on luggage and Craig's bag. And, of course, I will never fly with Air Alitalia again.

Note to curse: Bad things come in threes, you've filled your quota. So bugger off and just let us enjoy our trip!

So, we kinda won a ski trip to France!

WARNING: Post may induce severe jealousy

Dear Lisa,

Congratulations!

You visited us last October at the French Tourist Office stand during the Metro Ski Show in Olympia (22 – 26 October 2008) and you participated in our prize draw.

Many thanks and Bravo!
Your name has been picked out and you are the lucky winner of:

A skiing holiday for 2 to Isola 2000 ski resort
including 6-day ski passes and one week accommodation

Offered by the French ski resorts
-Please see terms and conditions as for the dates of validity-
More info: www.ski-ride-france.com

To claim your prize, all you need to do now is to send us back your complete postal address* by email or by fax (0207 061 6647) - Please note that if you do not reply before Friday, Dec 5th 5pm, we will release the prize by picking out a new winner.

The French Tourist Office and its partners hope you enjoyed the Metro Ski Show and wish you a great skiing season!

Best regards,

Melina Covo on behalf of the French ski resorts

It's not every day you win a ski trip to France, but that's exactly what happened to me last November when I received the above email in my inbox. I had to re-read it about five times and call the contact number before I believed it was real. But it turns out that when I visited a ski and snow exhibition in London in October, I filled out a form to win a French ski holiday, and, as it turns out, I actually won!

Isola 2000 in southern France was our destination, a small ski resort about an hour from Nice, which is famous for its sunny ski conditions. After taking the one euro bus (yes, one euro!) from Nice airport to the resort, we were thrilled to find that our accommodation for the week was a new, one-bedroom apartment about 100m from the slopes.

The day we arrived it was overcast and miserable – so much for sunny ski conditions, we scoffed. So when I threw open the curtains the next day – our first day of skiing/snowboarding – and was greeted with the most amazing blue skies, I couldn't help but squeal with delight!

We both took to the slopes with some trepidation, Craig hadn't been snowboarding for a couple of years, and I hadn't been skiing since a school trip eight years ago (yikes, I'm old). But we both whizzed off straight away, and it was a good half a day before either of us had a stack.

On our second day, it snowed the whole day. The miserable conditions prompted us to spend most of the day chilling in our apartment, watching CNN (the only thing on TV in English, we're now experts on Obama's stimulus package) and eating lots of pasta.

Day three. Glorious. The sun was beaming and there was so much fresh powder it felt like you were skiing on a cloud. Craig went crazy for off-piste, while I managed to master the red runs. Zali Steggall eat your heart out!

The rest of our week was spent going up chairlifts and coming down runs, with a visit to our hotel's spa, a massage and birthday dinner thrown in for good measure. By the end, we were sore and exhausted, but completely elated about the awesome week we'd just had.

Best. Week. Ever.

Random five days

NOTE: Catch-up post

Tuesday, 16 September, 2008

Breakfast: None

Lunch: Peanut butter on a baguette
Dinner: Chicken nuggets, mashed potato and carrots

After four fun, exhausting, pinch-yourself days, it was time to say goodbye to Paris. Next stop, Dijon, France. We punched in the address of the Dijon camping ground mentioned in Lonely Planet, and let our Garmin navigate us out of the crazy puzzle of lanes, tunnels and overpasses that make up the French capital.

After the hell that was Bellebrune, we held our breathe for pretty much the entire four-hour journey, questioning every rattle and bump, waiting for something horrible to happen. While we managed to get there safely (and enjoyed some of the beautiful French scenery along the way), the trip was not without incident – a perplexing rattle on the roof forced us to pull over, and we discovered the windscreen was a bit loose. Craig pushed the glass back in the seal and we soldiered on with visions of the windscreen flying off in our heads.

We arrived in Dijon to a frosty reception from the camping-ground chick – our initial attempts to communicate in English were shut down with a 'I don't speak English'. I'm tempted to write to A Current Affair regarding her miraculous ability to pick up the English language after just a few short minutes of me trying to say 'two people, one van, two nights with electric' in French.

After a day of driving, we decided to spend the rest of the arvo chilling. We headed to the supermarket to pick up some supplies, and ended up spending the evening at the camping ground with a group of four Aussies who were also doing the 'van tour' thing. Our first travel friends!

Wednesday, 17 September, 2008
Breakfast: Peanut butter on toast
Lunch: Vegemite sandwiches
Dinner: Two-minute noodles

After a night downing cans of random French beer with our one-night friends, we treated ourselves to a highly deserved sleep-in. Once we had mustered up the energy to shower and get dressed (no doubt in the same clothes worn the day before), we moseyed on into the Dijon.

Ah, Dijon, the mustard capital of the world. Why we chose this place to stop in anyone's guess, but I suspect that it may have something to do with the whole mustard association, plus it was getting us closer to Oktoberfest.

We decided to get a feel for the town by doing a lap in the free shuttle bus that loops around the main attractions. We immediately fell in love with the little fella (purely for the novelty factor), and shared our ride with silver-haired pensioners who were also getting a kick out of the free ride.

Our day was mainly spent searching the charming streets for a decent Dijon magnet. And let me just put this one out there: Dijon, your magnets suck! Seriously, the variety was appalling. We chose one eventually, but to this day, it's the Tori Spelling of our magnet collection. (Er, in other words, it sucks).


Thursday, 18 September, 2008
Breakfast: Croissant for Lisa, zip for Craig
Lunch: Baguette
Dinner: Spaghetti cabonara

With Oktoberfest looming, it was time make our way into Germany, the land of sausages. Having heard lots of good things about The Black Forest (well, I'd heard of it and Lonely Planet made it sound good) we decided to check it out.

Called The Black Forest because of the hue all the pine trees cast when looking at them from a distance (the Blue Mountains has a similar thing going on, but with blue), this place really was extremely picturesque. We chose Freiburg as our first port of call. And instead of going to the Lonely Planet-recommended campsite, we decided to take a punt and just follow the random tent/caravan signs we spotted as we drove into town.

The tent/caravan signs really know their shit. Not only did the lead us straight to a camping ground, we were also treated to possibly the best campsite showers in the universe. After showering in freezing, smelly, dirty, lukewarm conditions, these babies were a real treat. First, the building was fully enclosed and sealed, the showers were all regularly cleaned and the water was hot, hot, hot.

With the day closing to an end, we decided to make a quick dash into town to check things out. Taking the scenic route, we walked along the river, stopping to watch the ducks play in a mini waterfall like it was a waterslide. The town itself was bustling and very pretty, lots of cobbled streets, trams and traditional German architecture.

With the light quickly diminishing, we decided to call it quits and head back to the van. Confident I knew which direction to walk, I pretty much lead us round and round in circles, and eventually to the complete wrong side of town before I admitted defeat and let the sat nav lead us home.

Craig wasn't too happy with my navigation attempts, but he soon came around when I whipped up a delicious spaghetti cabonara for dinner. Which just happened to totally rock!


Friday, 19 September, 2008
Breakfast: Eggs on toast
Lunch: Spaghetti cabonara sandwiches
Dinner: Toasted sandwiches

After enjoying the longest showers of the trip yet, and scoffing down some surprisingly fabulous spaghetti cabonara sandwiches for lunch, the town of Freiburg once again beckoned.

Truth be told, there isn't a whole lot happening in 'The Burg', so the day was spent walking around the canal-laden streets – there were biggish ones (like in the pic) and some were just a mere 30cm wide.

An indoor food market soon became our favourite destination. Our poor backpacker budget-deprived tastebuds leapt with anticipation as we walked past schnitzels, currys, sausages and crepes and the adjoining wine bars made the whole culinary scenario extra tempting, but, knowing Oktoberfest would be the biggest 'blow-out' of our trip, we resisted and saved our euros for the steins and sausages that were to come.

That evening, Craig scoffed down four toasted ham, cheese, tomato and avocado sandwiches, prepared lovingly by yours truly.


Saturday, September 20, 2008
Breakfast: None
Lunch: German sausage hotdogs
Dinner: Pasta

Shock! Horror! Garmin let us down. Having arrived at the 'been there, done that' point in Freiburg, it was off to nearby Titisee (insert boob joke of choice here). Garmin got us to the town OK, winding us up and down through some pretty spectacular hills, but when we got to the town, it kept trying to take us down a pedestrian strip.

Usually in these situations, we would just drive the wrong way and then Garmin would present us with a suitable alternative route, but not this time, it kept insisting we drove in the legs-only zone. So we did what any lost Australian couple in a beat-up old campervan would do, we drove down it. It was extremely embarrassing making our way through all the people – everyone was staring at us – but it was even more embarrassing arriving at a dead end and having to do the whole head-dropping journey again.

Eventually we found a camping ground right on the lake – can you believe this place charged 50 cents to have a five-minute hot shower! Like the €15 you're charging us just to park our van for the night isn't ridiculous enough!

With only one day to check this place out, we headed straight into town, enjoying the walk around the scenic lake. Magnet hunting was the top of our agenda – since we had failed to find any in Freiburg, we chose a Black Forest one to cover both destinations – then, we discovered the meat. Meat, glorious meat, there were shops full of sausages and deli meat, the smell was divine and the free taste testing was even better! We'd make our way around the shops, sampling a bit of salami (or something salami-like) here, and a bit of wurst there, it was heaven – and free!

Eventually we decided to free ourselves from our usual vegemite-sandwich prison and splurge on some kinda wurst (German sausage) on a roll with mustard. Craig whoofed his down without really tasting it, while I savored every meaty bite. Tasty!

A whole day was probably too much to spend in this sleepy town, so we made like the rest of the tourists and hired a paddle boat on the lake. The sun was shining, the lake was glistening and birds were probably singing somewhere – it was pretty damn spectacular.

The afternoon was spent searching for a supermarket. Seriously, Wally (of Where's Wally fame) has nothing on this place. Luckily Sherlock O'Shannessy was on the case, and we eventually found a small mini mart, where we stocked up on dinner supplies and I found the most awesome chocolate mousse in the history of supermarket-bought chocolate mousses.

That night, with our van parked right on the lake, was seriously the most freezing night of our lives. I was wearing thermals, PJs, two pairs of socks, a beanie, was in a sleeping bag and had a doona over the top and it was still extremely painful.

The comeback post

It was inevitable.

From the moment I started this blog there was always gonna be a time when I went off the rails and metaphorically shaved my head, hired and fired several assistants, forgot to wash my hair for weeks at a time, went to rehab, lost custody of my children and stepped on stage at the MTV awards in a bikini having eaten a few too many In-N-Out burgers.

Keeping a blog is damn hard work — even when you are narcissistically posting about you and only you, it can be hard to maintain the enthusiasm. Combine that with the insanely high cost of internet in Europe (€4 an hour!) and some seriously stressful moments, you get a blog that's as neglected as Sean Preston and Jayden James.

But in true Britney style, the blog is back!

For now, I'll give you a quick rundown of what's been happening in the dramatic world of Lisa and Craig ('cause unlike Brits, our every move isn't splashed all over Us Weekly, OK! and PerezHilton.com), then over the coming weeks I'll get you fully up to speed with some more in-depth posts.

So, here's what's happened since we left you in Paris...

• We made our way to Dijon, France, where we met some other twenty-something Aussie vanners at our camping ground.
• We hotfooted it to the Black Forest in Germany, where we spent our days trying to decipher menus (schlachtplatte or tafelspitz, anyone?).
• We totally rocked Oktoberfest, drinking beer by the stein and eating pork by the knuckle.
• Once the Oktoberfest festivities were over, we made our way to Cesky Krumlov in the Czech Republic — the most picturesque place I have ever been. It was here we made our decision to drive back to the UK and sell Ace VANtura, aka 'the bane of our existence'.
• 1,400 kilometres and two days later, we were back in the UK and sleeping on my friend Jackie's floor.
• We slept on Jackie's loungeroom floor for five weeks, while we got jobs (Craig a three-month contract at an insurance brokerage, me some freelance gigs at You and Your Wedding, Star, Zest, new!, more! and OK!) and found a place to live.

Phew! And here we are, living and working in London about 60 days before schedule.

Stay tuned for further updates. Here's to the comeback of both Britney and the blog.

Parisian prison break (photo edition)

After five brutal days in our own personal prison (Bellebrune's Opal Autos) we celebrated our release by hotfooting it to the City of Lights...

Above: Our new home for the next four nights was Camping Bois de Bologne, the only camping ground in Paris' city limits. Ace (oh, yeah, Ace VANtura won the naming contest BTW), looked very out of place next to the monster motorhomes that filled the park.

Above: The Arc de Trimphe was the first major sight of our trip, and a very impressive one at that!

Above: We covered some serious ground on foot on our first day (we reckon it was about 18 kilometres) first walking from the Arc de Triomphe to the Eiffel Tower...

Above: ...where we treated ourselves to a picnic lunch of baguettes filled with deli meat, cheese and tomatoes (they truly rocked!) and red wine. The mood was somewhat 'dampened' when I spilt red wine all over my new Top Shop skirt — a moment which will forever be referred to as The Red Wine Incident.

Above: Craig 'Gordon Ramsay' O'Shannessy whipped up some chipolatas and salsa back in the van.


Above: We descended into Paris' 'underworld' for a sticky beak at the Catacombes. Filled with human bones from an exhumed cemetery, it's safe to say the experience was kinda freaky... And no, I haven't seen a ghost, after a summer in England, I really am that pale!

Above: We made like true Parisians and spent our Sunday in Jardin du Luxembourg. The French sure know how to make a good park. We ate our budget lunch of Vegemite sandwiches (otherwise known as the Lucy Special), before following the music and stumbling across an orchestra playing for free (which is how we like it).

Above: Of course there was also a stroll past the famous Notre Dame and Louvre, but we didn't end up entering either as I (Lisa) was in Sinus City.

Above: We ended our visit with a trip to the Eiffel at night. As Kylie Minogue would say, 'Wow, wow, wow, wow!'

The first five days and the worst five days!

Ah, here we go. Cynical Lisa's being a drama queen as usual...

Hang on a minute! At least read the next two sentences before you go passing judgment, buddy...

We crashed in France. On the first day of our trip.

And to add insult to injury, we then had to spend five showerless days living in a mechanic's carpark in Bellebrune, aka the middle of friggin' nowhere!

The nightmare began at about 8.45pm on Monday September 8, 2008. We were travelling along a quaint country road on our way to Rouen, our first point of call, when kaplunk! The ball joint on one of our front tyres broke – meaning we lost all control over the steering and veered off the side of the road and into a ditch.

Good times.

The first car to drive past was driven by a farmer who spoke no English (just like everyone in the other 10 cars that passed us), but he knew someone who did, so he drove us five minutes away to a local B&B where the English-speaking owner called a tow truck for us. Eventually the truck came, and thanks to our new personal translator, we organised to sleep in the van in the parking lot of the garage.

The next four days were pure hell. We wiled away the hours by playing Travel Scrabble, reading Lonely Planet's Europe on a Shoestring, reading the Scrabble rules (if you use all your letters in one turn you get 50 bonus points!), doodling in a notebook and watching the mechanics walk back and forth from the office to the shed. Oh, and we may or may have not eaten tongue when one day they took us to a restaurant for lunch and we had no idea what we were ordering.

Communication was also a slight problem, seeing as we only knew about five words in French (but boy did we use those five words a lot!), so we had to get a little creative with our gesturing – at one point I drew a wheel and a window and ticked both of them to say that we wanted to proceed with the repairs, and it seemed to work.

The highlight of our time in Bellebrune was when the receptionist gave us four eggs one evening to cook for dinner (aside from the tongue incident, we had been existing off some bread and tins of baked beans we bought before we left the UK). Yes it was that bad.

Finally, on Friday September 12, 2008, we were given the all clear to leave Bellebrune and the parking lot we called home. So, after five days and $AUD1750 (mega ouch) worth of repairs, we were finally on our way to the City of Love, and very much-needed showers.