Farewell Europa

Colourful Copenhagen

There is general overwhelming feeling that overcomes me when I think back on the last four momentous months of my life. It was a journey that challenged me to the core and left my mind expanded, my spirit inspired and naturally my body quite tired and somewhat neglected. And while my journey takes me East, very Far East, I cant help but look over my shoulder westwards in fond memory of a time which has taught me so much about Life.

Inside The Reichstag in Berlin

In my relatively lengthy, highly ambitious adventures in Europe I have been to the Coast of the Mediterranean in Spain, France and Italy, traveled as far East as Hungary and the Czech Republic and as far North as Sweden and Norway. With so many mixed impressions left in my heart and mind there are only superficial insights which I can offer any inexperienced readers; for if there is anything I have learned on my journey it is that our notions of the world are almost never accurate. Only experience can lend truth and even then there is an extraordinary gap between whistle stop post-card collecting tourism and meaningful observant traveling.

Hanging out at the Cannes Film Festival

My post card perceptions of Europe, which I remind you are entirely subjective, are that the north of a country is usually more conservative that the south, the Mediterranean is more traditional place while the North seems more progressive, The most Beautiful cities to visit are Venice, Prague and Stockholm ( and form what I have heard Lisbon), the most historically fascinating are Rome, Vienna and Paris, most fun and raucous are Barcelona, Nice and Budapest. But my favourite cities, and by that I mean cities I would consider living in are Copenhagen, Berlin and Amsterdam. Copenhagen because it is homely and expressive, Berlin because it is modern and progressive and Amsterdam because it combines the characteristics of the previous two in a way that is unique and charming.Of the locals I have to say that stereotypes are largely true on the surface, the Italians are hedonistic, the French idiosyncratic,the Spanish abrasive in their expressiveness, Austrians are quiet, Scandinavians drink alot, the Dutch are tirelessly punctual and the Germans are pragmatic without exception. But luckily human beings are not caricatures and my adventures have been filled with colourful characters who both support and contradict the superficial notions of the world we have.

A slice of Heaven in the South of France

Of other travelers and tourists I have met I have to say that The Americans are easier to tolerate when within their own boarders, British are more tolerable abroad, Australians are generally friendly and curious and South Africans are rare to find. My favorite people and by that I mean like minded, were South Americans who are warm and coming from the developing world have the same level head world view as South Africans that is neither imperialistic or overly skeptical.

Things I did not expect to discover being a girl traveling on my own are that passport control is more likely to be flirtatious with and ask what your name means than check your itenary.And in fact while most people hold great reservation to the issue of safety for solo female travelers, my experience is that locals are usually equally concerned and therefore generous and helpful.

Segrada Familla, Barcelona

My notions of Europe before I arrived, were in retrospect, largely superficial. To me it was the birthplace of Civilisation and indeed the only place in the world where society still made sense. But in the wake of my experiences I find Europe a place filled with contradictions. Sweden is a perfect example, renowned as one of the places on the planet with the best standard of living, 60% of Swedish women will suffer from depression during the course of their lives and i assure you it is not purely because of the weather. Indeed no one stops to think that a Utopian Society would encourage perfectionism in its citizens and provoke a mindset which is intolerant of failure and hence encourages self deprecation.

Muse live, at the Roskilde Festival

My adventures in Scandinavia gave me the opportunity to see some incredible bands at the Roskilde Fest, despite the unprecedented heavy rainfall. I also got to touch base with home by visiting fellow South Africans in Norway and with family I haven't seen in eleven years in London, to celebrate my 21st with in the safety and presence of loved ones. I am only nearing a halfway point in my journey and already I can say that my person will never be the same, touched by impressions beyond my imagining, my outlook is radically transformed and yet my Being ever more the same.

Distinctly London

There world out there is an overwhelming place with diversity beyond all human comprehension. And as my year as a Back packer will take me extensively between the East and West, my next conquest being India, Nepal, Tibet and China, I am aware that there are countless places I have not even touched, but this is both a humbling and an exciting notion.

Berlin Calling

The overnight train from over and across the Austrian border pulls in to a still sleeping Berlin. The sun rises early in the summer and through the window I can make out the cold glass and metal structures as far as my eye can see which whispers of Jozi as there is a strange familialarity and its ultra urban Industrial Appeal. Berlin is for me a place where Modern thinking is embraced to the point where there are no rules or atleast testing the rules is almost encouraged. I met up with my Australian friends for what I feared would be the last time as life would not doubt take us on spearate paths. Guided by nothing other than serendipty we gathered at the official meeting point of the famous Berlin walking tour without any prior arrangement.

A charasmatic young guide did his best to earn a complimentary buck with a wildly entertaining walk through review of the town. Berlin is a place where contrasts don't struggle against each other and on the contrary meet and fuse. The city was ruthlessly divided into East and West after the end of the Second World War when both the Russians and Allied forces claimed a stake in the devestated German territory as Berlin had symbolic Importance. East Germany and East Berlin took orders from the GDR which found its voice from Communist Mother Russia. The west was supposed to serve as a victorious tribute to Democracy. And so it was that the unusual and extroadinary cultural landscape of Berlin as formed.

My stay brought me to Plenzlauerberg, the down to earth yet currently trendy student district of East Berlin. Germans posess a strange anonymity even when they walk the streets of their own country, in that there nature appears to be reserved. But when you penetrate that hard German exterior I was utterly pleased to find some of the most fascinating and open minded people I have ever met. On that list I am pleased to name Toby, an avid student of environmental studies. He had backpacked throughout Europe and interrupted his studies with a cycling tour from Indonesia to Pakistan. Now that is what i call flying Solo. Him and his girlfriend, are planning to cycle through North and Western Africa in two months time.

The brief moment moment of like mindedness I found in conversations with Toby, like our anger at the ABSENT-minded capitalism that has thrown the world out of balance or our fascination with culture, was a moment where you truly understand the value of travel. That like mindedness in a world as diverse as our own, creates an unusual confirmation of who we are or that we truly matter. Toby had also already accomplished one of my life long imaginings which is to backpack through Mongolia while travelling with the Nomads.

With those invigorating thoughts i felt something stir in me. A genuwine desire, relentless passion for purpose. Which in my case means a desire to work, ruthlessly in film. It is mildly frustrating to be so worldly stimulated but yet without any means of self expression. But do not fear, I feel confident, that baking inside me is a vividly inspired film maker with much to say, and if anything i know that within my travels i have not been looking for a voice but for something i really wanted to say through my work. And yet just before you venture out into the world there are always those irrational insecutirities of discovering how small you are within in. Fortunately grace has blessed me with experiences which remind constanly how unique I am and that South African of Indian extraction who is lucky enough to travel extensively has an abundant wealth of culture to draw on. So watch this space, and if you have the chance.. Go to Berlin.

Franz Kafka was Born in Prague

Amidst the usual hostel chit-chat there is always that one re-occuring question which ambushes almost every conversation- `What would you say is your favorite place you have been to so far?` Admittedly I have proposed this cliche on several occasions and yet the most frequent answer I have heard has not been any of the usual suspects like Paris or Rome, but Prague.

And within moments of arriving in the Capital city of the Czech Republic, I instantly understood why. Undamaged by the second world war, Prague retains its original flavour and is possibly the most beautiful city in Europe. As a result, it also become one of its most touristic cities particularly in the summer months. No longer a well kept secret, there is a strnge disheartening feeling which is aroused by the sight of endless supplies of post-card stands amidst a crowd of thick Southern American accents. But it was in this fine city, the birth place of Kafka, that I would meet my first group of real travelling companions an eclectic group of English speakers fro Melbourne, San Diego, Winipeg Canada and Texas. Although each of us were independent travellers our quirky sense of humour created a binding force that would take us all the way to Berlin. There were mild rumours going around about a mini Prague in Southern Bohemia with one tenth the touristic load and we all decided to take a chance and head south.

Unintentionally off the beaten track, the hopelessly inefficient railway system took 10 hours to travel a distance which might have taken two hours on German steam. We arrived in Cesky Krumlov at ten in the evening to find the streets virtually empty and the sun on the verge of slipping passed the horion. Our hostel was a warm cosy Log Cabin filled with friendly Brazilian staff and a cheap family restaurant. We walked the city streets as it got darker with an overwhelming sense of awe at the untouched 18th Century buildings and Castle built alongside a winding river on the Mountainside with golden Barely fields and Forest paths in the surrounds.

This place was truly something unique and added to its enigmatic beauty was the favourable Czech exchange rate which meant warm home cooked meals at a reasonable price for the first time on my travels. Our lil crew was serious about its adventure sports and the days were spent planning horse back riding and river rafting outings. I was also thrilled to find a quaint bookshop with an impressive multi-lingual collection and the extensive works of Milan Kundera for a reasonable price. I had to limit my choice to one book on account of space in my back pack but also picked up some work by lesser known Czech writers which I have found to more equally moving. Czesky Krumlov is one of those places I felt a deep affinity with coupled with a knowing I willl be back someday, at with that my answer to that all age old question is the `Czech Republic.´

Munchen loves you...

So from Switzerland I found myself heading further east and a little north as I made my way to the picturesque Austrian town of Salzburg. I arrived in the early hours of the morning as the sun gleamed through the trees and I found myself in a quiet town of ice cream coloured Pastelle Buildings. Salzburg attracts surprisingly large crowds of tourists most of who are here to see t Mozart's birth house and later living quarters. What i found particularly charming about Salzburg are the craft markets along the riverside and the Fresh food markets in the city squares. There is also a beautiful castle on the mountainside as well as several Austrian Baroque churches, which have a unique appeal.

SO looking at the map of where I was I noticed that Munich really wasnt that far away and would even provide an easy detour to get to Vienna. Munich is the capital of the Bavarian region of Germany, and it was with unexpected delight that I would come to know the Bavarian people. The jolly Bavarians are rather friendly which is no surprise as they clock in an average of 1.5l of beer a day each, and i found myself personally escourted to my hostel by a kind Bavarian Oupa who was utterly chuffed that I was from South Africa and pointed out his house far across the distance should i require any help. That night I slept twelve hours straight and woke up to find Munich come alive on its 849th Birthday with mini concerts and Oktober fest-like Beergardens everywhere.

Ofcourse, while I paint you a rosy coloured post card, there also bad experiences in between like being harrased by the big-as-a-brickhouse Bavarian police for not having a metro ticket. Naturally the only way to ease out of such a tight situation is to play to dumb naive tourist, smile alot and pretend to have no money at all. After all none of the information is in English and it took and German lady ten minutes to explain the strange way the Munich metro system works to myself and some French tourists. DEspite all the festivities and the wealth of history that Munich ahs to offer, I managed to fit in time to travel to Nuremburg for the day to look at the anitquated city centre and walk through the oriniginal Nazi rally grounds. Nuremburg was the propaganda mill of the thid reich and has some of the only remaining Nazi Architecture as well as a somewhat disturbing, yet truly fascinating Museum.

With such a rich taste of Germany it was hard to believe that Munich was actually a convenient transit point on my itenary as my original destination was Vienna. In its hay day Vienna was the musical Capital of the western world and houses the graves of Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert just to prove its impressive case. The city centre has a wealth of old architecture, scultptures and impressive geomtrically aligned parks. And yet here it the cultural heart of a foreign land was where I found my closest encounter with home. While at the Cannes film festival i received an email from a guy who said he had studied through AFDA and was curently living in Vienna and encouraged me to come through at some point on my travels. We continued to mail back and forth and as it happens, the week the I was arriving co-incided with a Richard Linklater Retropsective at the local film museum where Linklater himself would be giving talks after each screening. I was lucky that Manjo had booked us both a seat, and we spent an evening listening to one of my favourite directors of all time, talk with added skepticism about his career. Linklater is a surprisingly down to earth man from the unique artistic environment of Austin Texas which he spent much over the talk reminiscing about.

Vienna was a strange addition to my travel experiences in that it has a wealth of cultural experiences to offer and yet it lacks atmospheric presence of its own. It is possibly the most self contained city I have come across in Europe and as a result I have to say it left an impression that had much to be desired, and yet I hope to give it another chance again some day.

Switzerland. The Seat of Serenity.

So my time spent on the Mediterranean draws to a close as i bid farewell to my adventures in Spain, France and Italy. It has been six weeks now, the longest I can recall being away from home in one stretch, let alone on my own.There are inevidably certain things to you awaken to on such a quest across the globe. Many things which you do not expect to find. Like how much of your personality is only accesible to you through people, and while isolation can be liberating at times it is for me, incomplete. We need to see ourselves relfected back at us through those around us. It is a very human need.

And it so it was that i unexpectedly fell in love with Switzerland, a place where the flying solo does not bother me so much because the vistas are breathtaking beyond any measure of conversation. It is a refreshing change from the tourist frenzy of the Italian coast in June as even in the tourist regions have a calm serenity. It is a place that mirrors the image of utopia oulined by Thomas Moore, where the cumulus formations echo the snow covered peaks and the crystaline waters reflect perfectly, the robust green mountainsides and valleys. Where even the rivers in major Metropolitan areas like Zurich run clear and give home to swans.

My travels in Lucerne which is neatly situated between lakes and moutain peaks. I walked the city for a few hours visiting the Chapel bridge, and ofcourse I smelt it in the Air, the ontemporary art musem, with a surprisingly impressive collection of Picasso, Pisarro, Paul Klee, Kandinsky, Miro and others. Included in the ticket was the Picasso museum which houses primarily photographs of his personal life and provided a unique insight in the life of the eccentric artist in his latter years. It seems to me that my trip has been shadowing the life of picasso whose furios career has left landmarks throughout Europe. I have traced his development from his birthplace in Malaga, to Paris, Barcelona and Rome and did you know that he spent a good portion of his time at his `villa La Californie` in Cannes. I must admit that at first I only identified with some of his works, but now my mind is so conditioned that i have discovered that the secret to my own appreciation of Picasso is to picture his subjects as animate objects. My peculiar friends.

My next stop was the nation's business capital, Zurich, situated on lake Zurich. For the first time on my trip I feel a rivaling affection for a country other than South Africa. When made this remark to an Italian friend he sugested that it was because my mindset was so obviously anglosaxon therefore it appeals to my taste.Err...i thought it was just the cheap low fat fortified flavoured buttermilk. But i think he is absolutely right, and that northern and central european countries do feed into Anglo Saxn mindsets. An d switzerland has the added bonus of unique diversity, a curious melange of french finesse, german efficiency and italian good taste.

Today i found myself in Basel which is unique in that it is a striking combination of the old and the new, the traditional swiss houses juxtaposed with metal and glass buildings. It is a cultural hub and the reasonably priced basel pass can get you into 30 musuems for free as well as the Basel Zoo. Although realistically I`ll leave the game viewing for when i Get back to sunny SA.
Basel is really quite a unique place in that the energy is young and fast paced by Swiss standards. There is no natural or sceneic beauty but there is a wealth of cultural museums to take advantage of. I can`t say that I have had any fondue yet, but i will be sure to pick up some tomorrow before I head out to the Swiss Alps to do a bit of hiking.

Vive Italia!

I think that everyone at some point in there life dreams fo going to Italy, that Holy and Mystical boot, home to both the Roman Empire and the Catholic Church - Two of the most influential forces in the Western world. And yet i do not think that any amount of preparation or imagaining can prepare you for the realities of the Italian culture and lifestyle. Italians are unmistakebly, people of passion . There is a sense of drama and chaos in daily Italian livig which is both Jovial and frustrating. I kickstarted my Italian adventure with a train from Milan to Venice. Venice is an intricate and utterly unique labrynth of 117 Islands interconnected through canals and pedestrian bridges. At first I decided to walk across the city to the exclusive touristc suburb of San Marco which has an impressive square and golden mosaic Basilica, or Cathedral. But far from the madding touristc crowds, as you get lost in the winding streets of Venice, that is when the magice overcomes you. That is when you truly awaken to the uniqueness of this city. And so it was as if in a trance that i wandered into the halls of the Peggy Guggenheim musem, where the famous heiress and art patron is buried amongst her many poodles. She was the lover and companion of Jackson Pollock for much of his life so naturally the musem houses an extensive collection of his work, as well as the work of Francis Bacon.

From Venice I found myself in the very different yet equally magical and antiquated Town of verona. The town has an ancient Roman arena at its centre as well as several other well preserved ancient buildings. I was lucky that at the time of my visit the operatic version of Rome and Juliette was on its last night in the Arena. The story of Romeo and Juliette is actually based on a factual story about two young lovers who lived in Verona. It was later turned into a short story which eventually became the basis for one of Shakespeare´s most famsous plays. It was a magical experience and a unique way to experience itlalian culture by watching families, friends and young lovers on this extroadinary outing.

Napoli and Pompeii are considered a road less travelled on the touristic route of Italy, but to be honest, in June, July and August I do not think that any part of Italy is left untouched by the summer time frenzy. On the train to Napoli, which is in the very South of Italy, I was more likely to overhear people speaking English than Italian. (especially in loud boisterous American accents which made it difficult to sleep.) Italy is a truly diverse country and indeed epople seem to identify mroe with the region or city than with the notion of being Italian. It is also easy to understand when you learn that it was not always a unified state and fairly blatant to see when you travel to different parts of the country. Napoli is noticeably poorer thant the cities further up north and even an first time traveller like myself can notice the different intonations in language, the more relaxed dress sense and the dirtier streets. But amongst many other things, it is the birthplace of one of Italy's most famous exports - the Pizza . Pizza made in Napoli however has a signature thick soft crust in comparison with the roman pizza which is paper thin and crispy. My stay in Napoli was highlighted with an excursion to the ruins of Pompeii, the once prosperous Roman town which was destroyed by the erruption of Mt. Versuvius. It was a fascinating trip because the story behind the ruins was something which echoed throughout my childhoos, and the view of Versuvius is stil as impressive as I am sure it was back then.

The unexpected highlight of my trip to Itlay was its current cultural hub and capital - Roma. I have my own reservations against much of Roman history and particularly the Catholic Church therefore the idea of Rome was not something which enthralled me. The reality however, was captivating beyond my wildest expectations. Roma is a city with historical wealth that is incomparable. There is the lesser known pre-Roman Etruscan Period, Thge Early Roman Empire, Holy Roman Empire, Mediaval and Gothic Art and Churches, the Baroque Period, the Renaissance and The Vatican to behold and compare.Apart from all that weighty history the cities is just filled with beautiful architecture ( more churches than any where else int he world i am sure), great food and a pleasant, helpful people.

Equally impressive, but a little too touristy is the legendary Florence, home of the Renaissance. Florence undoubtedly has some of the most impressive art collections in the world the most famous highlights being - Michelangelos David and Botticcelli's birth of Venus ( which I waited three hours in a line to see at the Uffizi musem. ANd just a quick train ride away is the exquisite town of Pisa with its eually famous leaning tower. Unfortunately at this point my cameras battery had run out and the only images of that real hot hunk David I manages to caputre on virtual celluloid is a replica.. *sigh*

Quelle suprise from the Cote d'Azur to Milan.

The Railway to Ancient Eze.

So for a fresh change from the hustle and bustle of Cannes i decided to move onward to Nice, with the the intention of staying for only a day or two. Nice is a beautiful yet down to earth town on the Cote d'azur which was once home to Picasso and Matisse and also boasts an impressive collection of Marc Chagall.

The city itself has a dirty down to earth appeal with equally down to earth prices in comparison to the exorbitant excess of Cannes during the festival. I found myself in a cosy youth hostel run by a charming old French woman who spoke very little English and provided the perfect opportunity to practice some French; which she remarked I spoke impressively well. The hostel itself was filled with long term residents which was a refreshing change as it meant that you came home to the same faces each day. Amongst them I met my first South African (not part of of the Cannes clan), New Zealanders and Australians, Israelis, a Honduran and some jolly Scandinavians. It was the first truly jovial hostel experience I have had as everyone expressed an easy and genuine interest in each other.

I spent my days in the local museums, swimming in the icy Mediterranean and a day trip to the Ancient Medieval town of Eze. Eze sur la mer is a small settlement on the coast while Eze Ville is a one and a half hour walk up the mountainside. The panoramic view from the top of the mountain is absolutely beautiful, and unlike the more touristy Carcasonne up north, Eze Ville retains its ancient Medieval atmoshpere.

Le Cote d'Azur. The place where the Ocean makes the Sky Jealous.

It was with a strange sadness that I left Nice, a place I was not even expecting to like. But Milan invited new adventures as I would regroup with a German born Australian lady called Eva, I met in Cannes during the Festival. We seemed to form and instant bond and had dinner together almost every night during the festival as we forged an unexpected bond of likemindedness . Truth be told we were both kicked out of our hostel for outrageous nitpicky reasons such as wanting to take a shower while the maid was cleaning or complaining that there was someone else in my bed when I came home.

Eva headed of to a horror film festival in the South of Italy while I spent time in Nice and so it was that we decided to meet up again in Milan. Eva had a model friend from Sydney, Gideon, who was staying in Milan for a month for a fashion show and then heading to Paris for the Paris Fashion Week. Eva and Gideon had met during an one year Acting course while studying togethr in Sydney and told me fantastic stories about protesting outside the Sydney Opera house while it was being used for a G8 summit as they felt it was an invasion of public space.

Gideon a tall lithe haute couture model with celtic appeal, lived in a studio with two other male models from the Sweden and the US. With Zoolander as my only point of reference into the world of male modelling, i was surprised to find that Gideon was one of the most Sophisticated and interesting people I have ever met. He took us on a walking tour of Milan from the ancient monuments to some of the most exclusive shopping strips in the world.

The italians have a 3 hour long happy hour called aperitivi from 6.oopm till 9.00pm during which time any beverage comes free with a moderate all you can eat buffet. We certainly got our moneys worth coupled with scintillating conversation and so it was that what is termed one of the most boring cities in Italy was an unexpected adventure for me.

Bienvenue au Festival de Cannes. Fasten your seatbelts

Finally, Southern Sun.

I am sitting at the Martinez, one of th most exclusive hotels during the Festival in Cannes, with my South African friends from the acclaimed local film 'Bunny Chow' and Nadia from 702 who is covering each day of the festival through radio broadcasts. There is boisterous laughter in the a corner as several scantily clad young women stand around someone who just has to be famous. Di Caprio maybe? Jake Gyllenhaal? George Clooney? No. Think real Hollywood. Think of the men who shape the industry, not just grace the tabloids. It is Tarantino. Quentin Tarantino. Writer and director of cult classics such Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and the Kill Bill Duo. So we are all somewhat starstuck and Nadia has to remind me not to stare, and though I feel somewhat embarassed nothing would compare with the embarrassment local comedian Kagiso Ledige would feel the following morning.

John Barker and the Bunny Chow Boys

With his wits a bit beyond his grasp, and champagne in its place, he walks over to Tarantino's table in a manner that is inapproprately non-chalant. He stands there for a while chatting away, wokring his charm no doubt. Reminding myself not to stare I glance in the other direction. IT is Roasario Dawson and though she is enchantingly beautiful in person my gaze is broken by Tarantino's thunderous overhear him scolding Kagiso - ' Thats really inappropriate. You are bringing us down." Director John Barker intervenes and soon a night of hollywood glamour looks like it has turned into lunchbreak o the playground with Quentin in one corner, Kagiso on the other and John trying to keep the peace interbetween. Tarantino is not impatient and walks off only he walks straight into my chair and I find myself in an unthinkable position - receiving a sincere eye to eye apology from one of the most influential men in Hollywood. At which point I can only utter that ' It's ok. I love your films.' and as he walks off' ' you can bump into me anytime.' His manner is surprisingly down to earth and approachable.

Joey, Dave and Basement Jaxx.

The night is only beginning for these big boys as Tarantino heads over to another table and sits down with his good friend and Hollywood heavyweight, Robert Rodrigues. The rest of our South African crew arrive outraged about the event and Anne Roberts of Terraplane entertainment takes i on herslf to iniate damage control. The story goes that Kagiso walked over to Elli Roth and proceeded to insult them both, after which he asked Tarantino if he is he was a racist due to the the portrayal of violent black characters in his previous films. everyone is outraged and embarassed. Anne decides to smooth things over with a feminine touch by ordering a bottle of thousand rand champagne and taking it ove to their table to apologize. She does this with more charm and finesse than we could imagine as Tarantino stands up to give her a hug. By the time we leave the Martinez the incident has turned into an occasion we will remember for the rest of our lives as it gave us a point of reference to engage the stars.

In retrospect Cannes will always be a magical time in my life. A fusion of glamour and hype, good friends and laughter, dancing all night and watching films all day. But most of all, demystifying the idea of Cannes, which is more a business iniative with endelss oppurtunity, so that I know what to expect when I return ;)


The festival pretty much dies down by the last weekend so it was at that time that we decided to hit Monaco and possibly fish for tickets for the Grand Prix. Ah, sweet success. Cheap last minute tickets and the oppurtunities of a lifetime in close sucession. The Cannes Film Festival and the Monaco Grand Prix in the space of two weeks, both of which are equally prestigious events in their own right. I managed to squeeze my way close to the track and while it was a terrific sight my ears were not so grateful afterwards. Wow, C'est vraiement la vie.

I love Paris in the Spring Time...

View of Paris from the Centre Pompidou

When one thinks of Paris there are immediate associations which have become an international symbol of this Cosmoplitan Ville - The Eiffel Tower, The Champs au Lycee , the Louvre. I have been to Paris before and so I did not feel drawn to its touristic features and felt hungry to demistify what the real Paris might be. My method for doing this was simple - shack up with the locals as I found myself lucky enough to spend a week with my Parisian girlfriends.

My stay in Paris would be intiated with the intentionally surreal David Lynch Art exhibition. It included short animations, photography, paintings and music that he has composed. It felt, quite simply like descending into his subconcious mind and unravelling the intentions behind his art; which I must admit is something I have struggled to do when watching his films. I read an article on him in a local magazine and found it surprising and inspiring that he feels that his work has spiritual rewards. He feels that the world is becoming progressively more and more concious which unveiled an unexpected optimism that we have in common.

The Thinker in the 'flesh' at the Rodin Museum

The next few days would be spent discovering as much as Paris had to offer, albeit often off the beaten track - from the Musee du Louvre to musems of Fashion and advertising. My favourite museums continue to be the modern art museum - Centre Pompidou and the Musee d'Orsay and the recently opened Musee de L'orangerie which houses Monet's WaterLillies. But as I walked them halls, often shadowing my former sixteen year old self, I found that my scope of fascination surprised me as it expanded with new intrigue. While my artistic loyalties have always remained with the impressionists and surrealists, this time I found myself curiously overwhlemed by the works of the Realists, Post Impressionists and Abstract Expressionists. I had one of those intense moments of disbelief when staring at a canvass only to realise that it resembled... no.. it was a Jackson Pollock painting. And so it was that I entered the world of Marc Rofka, Vasilly Kandinsky and the late Picasso and began to probe that which I previously struggled to understand.

The contemporary artist through various excercises which release psycho-automatic creative impulse, aims to understand his subconcious and hence himself. His canvass is not an observation of the external world or a tribute to moral or aesthetic codes, but rather it is a reflection of his own state of mind. We have become our own subject and source of greatest interest, and we search for truth and understanding within ourselves. And in much of the same manner as the great men who inspired my thoughts I reflected that I too have changed and evolved and these recents insights implied growth.

but apart from the intellectual we certainly did alot of socialising in Paris, and while the French appear to be cold and self centered, I discovered that they simply need time to let their guard done to strangers and that once they did, I discovered some of the most charming and faschinating people I had ever come to meet. But from Paris there was an entirely different adventure looming in the background, the Festival de Cannes. Deep breaths ladies and gentleman. Deep breaths.

Transit in Toulouse

Aaah France. The home of Omlette du fromage, The Little Prince, Amelie Poulain and in my opinion the birthplace of Idio-syncrasy. I cross the boarder via the University town of Toulouse also known as 'La Ville Rose' because of the pink terracotta complexion of locally made clay bricks. In retrospect, travelling through Spain on my lonesome was probably one of the most challenging things I have ever done in my life and their is a mild sense of relief to be in a country where I can ask for directions and undersstand the response.

I walked the streets of Toulouse early in the morning waiting for places to open up and found myself a comfy spot on a bench in pretty park. But I was not alone, there were several people talking jovially and walking tehir dogs at this unsuspecting hour. At a second glance I notice that none of these people are well dressed and appear to be armed with beers for breakfast. It was then that I remeber a peculiar French Law I had discovered on my previous trip to France in 2003. Basically, the French governement stipulates that if a Hobo/Bum/Street person has a dog they cannot be put into jail or detained because the governement doesn't want to be responsible for putting down the dogs. The Result - scores of homeless people with fierce german shepherds who do their dirty business on the streets of its quaint town and give the air of a touch of Mumbai.

The intention of my stay in Toulouse was actually to head to the nearby town of Alby in which is the birthplace of one of my all time favourite French Impressionist painters - Henri de Toulouse Lautrec. Lautrec was the sickly dwarf son of a French aristocrat who found comfort and sympathy in the arms and Beds of Parisian brothels such as the famed Moulin Rouge. As a result, unlike his contemporaries, the subject of his work for most of his life would be prostitutes and the working class. But as things things go there would be no time to head to Alby to the grand Lautrec musuem because of the bus delay and my prebooked flight that leaves for Paris that afternoon. So instead my visit would consist of lunch with a friend and things left undone for later trips.

It was an interesting time to be in France, two days after the presedential elections, with the Right Wing Politician Sarkozy as President Elect and hundreds of Frenchman up in arms, burning six hundred cars in protest. And so it was that Steff and myself found ourselves in a political discussion about the past, present and future of the European reality. Steff is a Civil Engineer who's sense of history is equipped with chronological precision. She explained to me that the origin of French words in English began in the English Court through the inclusion of French royalty in the Aristocratic circles through marriage. It was a brief yet enlightening time and so I found myself a little sad to leave, but yet still eager and excited for the week in Paris that awaited ahead.

I leave Spain at a Spanish Pace...

So my intention was to head straight to Madrid in order to catch an interconnecting bus to Toulouse and spend the weekend there. Once in Toulouse i would be staying with french friends whom i met up with in Barcelona. Ofcourse I did not factor in that the French would be consumed in their upcoming Presedential elections all weekend. This translates into my friend Steff being unable to take me in for the weekend as she intended to visit her parents when casting her vote. Instead I found myself referred to another Frenchie for boarding and lodging in Madrid for the next few days.

I spent that time mostly recuperating and eating home cooked meals which proved to be an incredibly diverse distraction at times, when the dinner guests included a Dutch girl, Frenchman, Spaniard and myself. The quiet routine was broken again when I felt the urge to rush around Madrid to see some sights on my last day. There was one Spanish delicacy I had seen everywhere and had every intention of trying before I left - Chocolate con churros. You can get churros at your local Vida E, though not entirely authentic, but you would have an extremely difficult time tracking down the thick dark chocolate with which to dip.

The event was made even more delightful when a elderly french canadian man introduced himself and started a stimulating discussion about french, local and South African politics. Undoubtedly a keen intelectual, he seemed to have an informed perception of the conditions in South Africa and was very curious about its uncertain future as an emerging democracy. I remarked that South Africans seem more likely to have forgotten their past than come to terms with it and he drew a comparison with the forced amnesia in Ancient Athens after years of warefare with Sparta. Any mention of the previous conditions was punishable by death. Ofcourse nothing neqrly as extreme exists back home but it seems to me that while South Africa is progressive, at times it is diseased with a momentous optimism despite its obvious socio-economic problems, and that only the future would reveal whether this is a strength or weakness.

I then made my way to secure my bus ticket booking for later that evening only to be informed that there would be no Sunday bus this Sunday. I have been travelling for two weeks now and even in that short period of time one quickly becomes adjusted to the realities of travelling. Some things won't go your way but don't waste your time feeling disheartened because even blunders present oppurtunity and other things may exceed your expectations. With that I spent the evening walking through a Park with a friend I met on my previous stay in Madrid as the sun only sets at around 10pm. He was a civil engineer aiming to specialise in Sustaniable development in order to pursue his interest in the environment.

We struck an unusual point of mutual interest when he informed me that his mother was a Sai Baba devotee and as a result they had made many trips to his Asharam in Putthapahti in India. My family has at times followed the teachings of Sai Baba who is a renowned miracle man in India with a masive global following. In fact as it turns outh our families were there at the same time for Baba's 70th birthday celebrations. His most recent trip to India was in 2002 at which time his family was granted a much coveted interview with the holy man. He described the sensations, materialisations and Baba's ability to read your mind. So it was that we spent the evening discussing our mutual spiritual experiences and ideas about the world and its future. Later I wold ponder on the conversation and realise it had left me feeling more positive and energised and effectively confirmed my theory that mishaps can often turn into miracles if you are open to them.