Fish with Whiskey

Do you know what these are called?

I’m choosing to believe they’re super traditional Hungarian food- because they were in all the bakeries in many different incarnations- but frankly they were tasty enough for me not to care too much about authenticity.

One of the best things about being in an international institute is that it’s fairly likely that someone has either come from or recently been to the city you want to visit. We hit the jackpot in Copenhagen- Joram had just frolicked in the city, and being the perfect Hipster, knew all the (soon-to-be) cool places to visit.

This time we had it one better- and actual Hungarian- Szilvia, who spent her uni studies in Budapest. Szilvia spent time telling us which wines to drink, which of the baths to go to (more on that later), and which places were not worth our time.

But her take home message was that Budapest (especially the inner rings of the Pest side) are really nice to just walk around.

Which coincided neatly with our traditional ‘take a free walking tour around the city’.

After a couple of false starts resulting from a desperate need for caffeine and the apparent absence of any non-Starbucks coffee shops in the central square, after getting scolded a couple of times for being late, and after eventually joining an entirely different tour group than planned, we were on our way.

Apparently she (yep, it’s a girl) represents the new Budapest- a bit of a change from the traditional communist symbol of big strong men.

Love locks. Including one from our tour guide, and one from the PM (or president??) on his marriage day. We did the cheesy thing:

St Stephen’s Basilica, named for the first Hungarian King, and also housing his right hand. We didn’t go to see it, because frankly I feel like my visit at 12 years of age to Italy and its multiple variations on ‘Mary Magdalene’s Eyebrows, St Christopher’s Fingernails and the Pinkie Toe of Saint Andrew’ were enough emotional trauma for one lifetime.

Still, the Basilica looks pretty from the outside, and is beautifully lit up at night (see the previous Budapest post…).

You might recognise this guy from the previous day. Apparently, if you rub his belly, it helps you in finding a good meal. If you rub his moustache, it helps with the growing of fabulous facial hair. Andy tried his luck..

Where we came upon a ‘highly traditional’ changing of the guards, which had been introduced the previous year (presumably to garner tourist interest?).

It’s hard to see from my terribly lit photo, but one of these horse-parts is not like the others…

… Perhaps if we go in for a close up?

As with many great statues, luck comes to those who rub (in this case, luck in passing exams). And, as with probably the majority of those great-and-lucky statues, the rubbing place is not the leg, tail, neck or ears.

The tour guide told us that in her grandfather’s time, back when communism was in vogue and all things vaguely sexual where on the ‘What’s Not’ list, the student’s used to stage fights around the corner from the statue, drawing away the guards and allowing the lucky test-takers to get a good testicular rub in while the coast was clear.

Let’s move on to something a little classier:

We headed into a nearby mess hall, where we discovered that Hungarian food may be the only type to truly rival German cuisine for its heaviness.

I had some sort of Bigos/goulash cabbage and meat mixture that tasted like it had 1/2 a L of coconut cream in it. Tasty, but only edible in tiny portions.

Ellen had a pile of ‘noodles’ with egg and cheese that were slightly on the ‘Clagg glue’ side…. I think she got through about 1/8th of them…

(Here she is looking down at them in shear terror)

And Andy managed to eat about 1/6th of his bean stew…

Our next stop was the Invisible Exhibition! Which was a rather awesome experience. You’re taken through a series of rooms, lead by a blind guide (and in our case a translator). The idea is to experience complete blindness in a variety of settings: an apartment, a busy street with stalls, a forest, a bar, and so on.

It’s a pretty unique feeling, because we’re very rarely faced with complete darkness- and I think all three of us waited for several minutes after entering, expecting our eyesight to gradually adjust- but there simply wasn’t any light for it to adjust to.

In the end we all loved it- and personally it made me think more, and feel more positive about the ‘what would I do if…’ question that we all sometimes ask ourselves.

Anyway, the whole experience ended with us trying some Hungarian liquors: Unicum and Palinka, both of which were absolutely potent (and in my taste absolutely horrible).

Obviously I can’t show pictures of the exhibition-so here are a couple of the grounds near the exhibition centre instead.

Winter is Coming and the world is racing through autumn, so I’m assuming that you’re senescing for some pictures of Andy and I frolicking, interspersed with pictures of autumnal leaves (see what I did there- plant humour!)…

Do you know what Kurbis is in English?

Maybe I should give you some guesses…

(photo from Pau).

Last weekend we headed to Klaistow for the pumpkin fest- which rather oddly runs for several weeks (is it just me who thinks that one weekend full of pumpkin is enough for a year). Pau, Andy and I, and Aga and Alicja hopped on the bus and took the 1 hour + ride to the south west with high hopes for pumpkin frivolities.

Apparently, you can also ride from Potsdam. If you take two houseguests who aren’t really regular riders, and get a little lost on the way and accidentally ride 35 instead of 20 km, it only takes about 3.5 hours. So I hear.

I’m going to be honest- I was a bit disappointed by the number of foodstuffs with pumpkin. We all ordered pumpkin soup for lunch- except for Pau, who got some sort of fried pumpkin fritter- but it was generally watery and poorly flavoured.

They had a few biscuits with pumpkin, and some pumpkin seed things, plus pumpkin alcohol (it tasted like rockmelon)- but not much in the range of cakes and scones and so on. Turns out, pumpkin is just not really a thing in German cuisine… but seriously, for a nation who is confused by the concept of a savoury (meat) pie, you would think they could at least embrace pumpkin pie!

Second honesty: my favourite part of the day was finding this little fellow, who- in honour of the festival, we shall call KurbisKitten.

He was chasing bugs through the wilderness, so I grabbed a bit of pussy willow and lured him back to the main area and then spent several of the happiest moments in my life making him run in circles and dart under and over my legs.

Eventually, I had to give KurbisKitten up to the hundreds of toddlers now surrounding me and clutching at her.

We headed towards more pumpkins…

  (from Pau, and below also)

I did manage to find some pumpkin flavoured icecream (it’s hard to see it under all the frooferies that are obligatory in german Eis culture), but again, I didn’t feel like it was particularly pumkiny- and overall I preferred the chocolate.

 (also from Pau)

They wouldn’t let us go on the bouncy thing, so we spent our time posing with pumkins instead…

And the girls managed to find some fairy floss…

Andy pretended to be a spaceman, went head-on with a bull, and danced with a Kraken in the pale moonlight.

Before we left we headed into the Maize Maze, which is… exactly as it sounds.

(these two are from Pau again, above and below)

Plus- I managed to buy some more plants (teheehee)!

We ended up staying in something called ‘Design appartments’ fairly close to all the interesting stuff going down in on the Pest side of the city (I didn’t realize until 1 month ago that ‘Budapest comes from two parts of the city- Buda and (unsurprisingly) Pest, sitting across the Danube from each other).

The place was decked out in the over-the-top kind of brightness that’s nice for a short stay but would look horrible in an actual abode, and seemed to sleep at least 8 people. It was fairly well equipped- complete with mini kitchen and washer- but with a couple of ‘cut corners’ (the wifi was broken while we were there), and a manager who seemed to have better things to do.

The city is this gorgeous mixture or water, bridges, and fantastic buildings that seem to take their inspiration from both Europe and something more eastern (there was Turkish occupation somewhere in the history, so maybe that’s it?)

The wandering started to make our stomachs growl, and after realising very rapidly that the Venn overlap of ‘hungarian’ and ‘vegetarian’ was liekly too small to satisfy Elle’s needs, we settled on the lazy option: burgers.

And look, I know the connoisseurs among you will note that ‘rose shaped icecream’ is clearly a selling gimmick, and likely guarantees poor quality of the actual Eis, but actually, it turned out pretty well.

The icecream was slightly softer than normal, but the chocolate was rich and tasty, and they had some unusual flavours: the one on the outside of this cone is lavender!

(The apartment was just across the road from this museum).

 The next morning we set off bright and not-so-early. The plan was to find some markets- heard in legend by myself, and possibly matching up in reality to something in Ellen’s tourist guide called ‘Ecseri Piac’.

I let the others do the map reading.

We arrived at the underground station, and after 20 minutes of searching still couldn’t find our bus connection.  A kind bus driver with amazingly good English showed us another travel option, and we hopped on, asking all our co-riders if they knew of this ‘Ecseri Piac’.

As we pulled up past a park, an old lady announced: ‘IT’.
We looked.
There was some sort of fete, but this did not look like ‘one of the biggest flea markets in central Europe’.
‘IT’, said the old lady. ‘It, It, It’.
She pointed.
We got off the bus.

It wasn’t our market, but they did have Langos.

And Kürtőskalács or ‘chimney cakes’!
The yeast dough is wound around wooden sticks/cylinders, and coated in sugar, then baked over open coals (you can see the man turning them in the background). The dough cooks, rises a little, gets deliciously caramalised on the outside, and is then removed from the coals and sprinkled in cinnamon sugar or cocoa or other tasty delights before being wacked off the stick (in this case with a little wooden sword!) and given to the delighted customer.

The dough itself is also slightly spiced or flavoured- in this case it seemed a little lemony or orangy, but I’m not entirely sure..

We got back on the bus and finally- with the help of a very kind old man who mimed our direction of travel and pressing the bell for the right stop- made it to the market.

Which was some kind of wonderful. They had an amazing range of old and interesting stuff.
Do you remember in the film American Beauty, how the neighbour’s dad collects ‘the official table service of the Nazi party’ with the swastika on the back.
Stuff like that.
But also stuff for the purchaser who is not an horrible bigot, including a couple of shops with a crazy collection of old dresses, hats and coats.

Our afternoon saw beautiful weather, which necessitated more aimless wandering.

(Yeah I’m not sure- he seemed to want to pose for us)

In the evening we boarded a boat and floated up and down the river drinking gallons of wine. Elle and Andy got the ‘try all the wine you like’ package, while I got the slightly classier ‘we will bring a couple of our finer wines to the table’ package.

The wines I received were Tokaji, which our Hungarian work friend Szilvia had recommended, but I think Elle and Andy are both more into the red, as perhaps you can see fro this picture:

Parliament!

I’ve been dying again, so y’all have to forgive me for not blogging much recently (incidentally, halfway up some mountain in Freiburg, Andy managed to convince me that we’re now going to use ‘y’all’ for the plural of ‘you group of people’ in English, if only because it’s slightly classier than ‘yooouuussee’)

Anyway, back to Freiburg, which is very lovely, but also rather small. So on the third day we decided to escape to the countryside.

We were headed to Titisee, but on the train overheard a fairly loud American woman telling her friends about some style of county fair near Baerental. We sneakily followed them off the train, onto another bus, and down the road:

We peered at all the wares- skins and furs and honey and liquors and smoked pieces of animal, and I took up with the most amazingly invigorating (SOUR!!) plum juice that has ever passed my lips. Because the fair itself was quite small, we also roamed a bit on the moors..

It was quaint- the sort of thing you’d expect to see in one of those English detective show that your mother watches- but nice. Ever since the time of school fetes I’ve been a bit of sucker for anything that’s outside with voices and food and children and music. This one had these:

When we got to Titisee itself, we discovered that there wasn’t a great deal to see. The lake itself is lovely, but unless you rock up when the sun is shining (we did not), there’s not much to the town itself, except hundreds of carbon copy souvenir shops selling black forest cakes, hats, Kirschwasser, and- of course- the world famous black forest Cuckoo Clocks.

Can you guess how much the one in the centre costs?

If you guessed anything less than Four thousand euros, you are clearly a philistine who doesn’t recognise a masterpiece (that’s what’s written on the little orange sign) when you see one.

There were paddleboats, and although there weren’t any shaped like swans (schade), we committed for a red-is-for-speedy little number, and zoomed around the lake, chasing tourist ferries and molesting water buoys.

I insisted on driving: everyone knows that all boats are women and respond better to a like-handed touch right?

It started to get drizzly, which seemed like a good time to take refuge with a book and some cake. This creation was amazing- it paired the tartness of the Johannisberries (I think red currant?) with a fluffy meringue topping, and a nutty base. So very very good.

We hung around until 8pm to check out the crazy water-lights-music show. Pretty, especially the part with the more techno-robot music and the lasers.

But ABSOLUTELY freezing. We bought a blanket because it was already a bit chilly, but then it also started to rain, and we rapidly became wet and miserable, and started to hang out for the whole thing to come to an end.

Of course the next day was beautifully sunny again, so we spent the morning before Andy’s flight just sort of drifting about town.

Several of the houses contain little plaques nestled in the paving out the front- memoirs to the Jewish people who used to live there and were persecuted and murdered in the Nazi times.

Day two in that foresty Jewel that is Freiburg.

This, my friends and enemies, is Martin’s gate- one of the original entrance points into the Old City. Now also known, as a result of a beautiful salute to capitalism, as ‘McDonald’s Gate’ .

Schade, but at least they didn’t put the golden arches on.

Saturdays, like Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Sundays and also Wednesdays, are Market days in the Church square.

I followed my nose to the berries, and Andy followed his to a spicy sausage. This is his guarded ‘get away from my sausage’ look:

They had spices and fresh fruits and dried fruits and baked goods and cured meats and all manner of things that are pretty for the eyes and tasty for my breakfast.

Including some very, very tasty raw bliss balls, made from dates and figs and cashews and a little bit of cocoa, which seemed to come with obligatory ‘eye contact’- the seller was the type who stares into your souls as he serves you his produce.

I wasn’t allowed to buy any flowers or plants, but we did sink our claws into a couple of the local dried wursty things.

I feel I would look dashing in this hat.

We decided that we hadn’t seen enough of the edges of the world from on high, so headed up the 1,284 m Schauinsland (*edited- the first day we went up Schlossberg, not Schauinsland). Being lazy little so-and-sos, we took the cable car up the mountain itself, before doing a bit of roaming around on the peak.

Andy was fascinated by these bright red seedpods:…

… but I was a bit more interested in the colourful groundcovers. It doesn’t look that exciting from here, but let’s zoom in a bit…

…. pretty huh?

.. but eventually decided to skull some sugar to boost his energy instead,

As it got colder, and damper, we took refuge in an eatery near the cable car station, and helped ourselves to some of the finest black forest ham, liverwurst, blood sausage (ummm), and meat jelly (ugh!).

Plus of course, (and I want all of you who know my sister to imagine this in her poshest voice):
One simply does not visit the black forest without trying their cake:

Ella would have respected the cook for their ability to get Kirshwasser (cherry liquor) into the cherries, the sauce and the cream filling. Probably the cake too. Personally, I’m not that into this style of ‘model cake’ (more looks than substance), but it seemed unfair to judge only on the Coles and Woolies incarnations.

The ghosts followed us down the mountainside.

This week I’m attending my very first out-of-town conference. Actually, it’s technically  a ‘Summer School’, but as it includes the exchange of scientific information, and involves the spending of the intitute’s money to send me ‘away’, I’m going to call it a win.

The train from Berlin to Freiburg is only about 7-8 hours, but, as it turns out, no-one in Europe expects to travel for that long, so instead I was given an Easyjet flight to the quaint Swiss-French-German ‘Euroairport’ located on the edge of the three countries.

I bought an extra ticket, grabbed my Andy, and we packed ourselves off to Euroairport (physically Switzerland but somehow either that, France, or Germany, depending on which bus you get into once you exit the airport).

Somehow is somehow a very German word.

Freiburg is an old university town situated in the (most) south-western corner of the country on the edge of the Black forest (Schwartzwald). The city itself is not huge, but it seems to act as a gateway to both the forest- for hiking and skiiing and looking long distances from the top of mountains- and to France and Switzerland.

(You can really feel Autumn creeping into this photo)

We came at this from the right, so first just saw the bottom part of wahrheit and thought it was arbeit, and had a bit of a panic- Arbeit machts frei being the false promise posted on the fences of the concentration camps.
This is, in fact, is more about how ‘truth will set you free’.

Frieburg is also a ‘green city’. They have almost no cars in the central area, and are very proud of this fact. Instead, they have the trams, and, like all cities who have maintained their tramlines in the wake of modernisation, are slightly snobbish about it.

(A sister city I think)

Autumn flowers, with the famous Freiburg Münster in the background.

We were determined to see some of this forest that everyone had been talking about, so took a cable car up to Schlossberg and rolled around in NATURE.*

*I have since been told by a German that much of the Black Forest is not natural- and is merely plantations of Spruce (I think) trees- which makes it much more ‘black’, but really killed my ‘I’m frolicking in a real live forest’ mood.

Of course, after a nice climb up a mountain, there’s really nothing more refreshing than clambering up a few hundred stairs.

It was quite spectacular- you could see all the way to what was apparently France. There was a mild amount of ‘tower swaying in the wind’ happening, but not enough for serious panicking.

If you’ve been reading any of this blog, you’ll know already what came next…

There are two main ‘squares’ in the city- the first centered around the old university- now the Rathaus, that I showed in the earlier city, and the second around Freibug’s famous church (Münster).

First however…
one of these things is not like the others:

Do you see the bottom poking out (top-centre)??

In the square around the church a market, selling mostly flowers and plants, fresh fruit and vegetables, and of course black forest delicacies like smoked ham, runs every day of the week, from the early morning until about midday.

In order to keep the merchants honest, shapes were carved into the church to demonstrate the correct size of- for example- a loaf of bread, or a yard of material.

The entrance to the church is of course amazing- carved with all the biblical figures you can remember or imagine- and some more besides.

(The lady in the middle represents Judaism, and it’s no coincident that she is blind. Way to diss another religion at your place of worship Freiburgians).

The inside is everything a gothic church should be, and more. This to me, looks like something out of a movie or from a painting:

The way the light comes in over the altar, not to mention the details of the stained glass windows…

Very, very showy! Apparently during the war all of the citizens took the glass out of the windows, and hid it away, replacing it with plain glass. Just a short time later, these replacement windows were completely destroyed (I think by fire from bombing)!

One of the rather cute (and kitsch) details, is that each glass contains a symbol from the guilds who donate the money to it’s making. This one, clearly, was funded by the Bakers.

The city is absolutely littered with these tiny streams (Bächle)- no more than 30 cm across- historically installed for fighting fires, and of course used for waste disposal (ick!). The legend states that if you fall in, you have to marry a Freiburger.

So of course I spent a good amount of energy trying to push Andy in.

(Really getting into the ‘ye olde timey’ spirit!)

This street was very pretty by itself, but must be absolutely magnificent at the right time of year: all the greenery you can see is wisteria, which would cover the place in a blue-purple carpet (and ceiling) of flowers.

(The house of the executioner).

You can NOT go to Hamburg without going to the Sunday morning fish market. Or at least so said my mother-in-law, again and again, until the three of us agreed that yes, Mari-Anne, waking up at 5am to get the opportunity to smell fish by 6am was actually what we really, really wanted to do while on holiday.

It turned out to be rather beautiful. Beautiful enough that I’ll tell the next load who come ‘You can’t go to Hamburg without going to the fishmarket’. You all know I love early morning crispness when it’s coupled with the selling of wares. Sure, in a perfect universe they’d be selling frocks and not fish, but not every reality can be one with a fleamarket.

In the centre was the market hall, complete with cover bands and folks clearly still dancing from the night before- including at least one bride and groom set.

 This was my favourite spectacle of the morning. The Flowerking, who would pack boxes with house plants and ‘backwards auction’ them. They were super cheap-a box for 30 euros filled eight or nine plants including a ficus tree and at least one other nice big thing- and I really really wanted one. But it was pointed out to me that we still had a lot of day to do, and it would be very hard to carry the plants around all day.
Plus sometimes he would scream ‘wer hat kein geld?’ (who has no money)- and just lob free plants into the crowd.
Awesome. And what a showman.

The other thing that I would definitely be participating in if I lived in Hamburg- giant baskets of fruit. For 10 euros. All of it looking 1 billion times better quality than what we get at Kaufland, and with apricots and bananas and avocados and….

I made do with some fruit salad.

I did not eat fish. They had it, but the concept of fish- especially pickled but even plain or smoked- that early seemed rather unbearable.

We had met up with Mari-Anne’s cousin at the markets, so then headed back to his house, which is in the ‘Hamburg suburb’ of Ahrensburg, a rather serene, beautiful area.

Wolfgang and his wife had a lovely backyard, complete with lavender, and a pond with little fishes, and we spent a good part of the morning basking in the sun, drinking tea, and struggling through our german.

After lunch, the men and I went for an explore of Ahrensburg, which included the church, as well as the building and grounds of the Ahrensburg castle.

Near the castle they had some sort of ‘bee museum’, complete with hives and honey production and a very lovely talkative bee keeper who told us all about the structures of the colonies and the plight of the bees and so on. Andy and I have been learning German for 8 months now, but we only have lessons for 3 hours/week, and apart from that we don’t really have much interaction with the German language. Everyone at the institute speaks English (it’s the official language there), although of course the Germans speak the language to eachother. Apart from that, we go to the shops, and we sometimes go out. But it’s mostly all English all the time, and we both think that the most marked change in our language skills since arrival in Germany is loss of ‘native-speaker’ English as opposed to gain of German.

So it was really really nice to get to practice some normal conversational German with Mari-Anne’s cousins, and then to try to understand and converse with the bee keeper.

Farewell Hamburg!

Summer in Berlin is very, very beautiful.

I’m sure you’ve heard me natter on already about how Perth has bluer skies, but Berlin has greener grass (possibly in part because you’re not allowed to walk on it)- and how the Deutsch really revel in the sunshine, unlike us wossy Aussies who are busy slip-slop-slap-wrapping* (slip on a T-shirt, slop= sunscreen, slap=hat, wrap=sunnies) and scuttling around in the shadows to really get our frolic on.

*Side note- I just goggled it and realised that they’ve changed it to slide (instead of wrapping the sunnies on) and seek (for the shade).

Anyway, let’s check out the east of Berlin, and this lovely old couple who seem to be basking:

We visited the east side gallery, which has been described by one of my german colleagues as ‘the least impressive tourist destination in Berlin’, but which is so famous that I only realised I hadn’t been in 2009 when I saw the three or four out of the 100 murals which I am not already familiar with from all the postcards in all the tourist shops.

This is one of them.

But this, this I’m sure you recognise.

It’s actually sad that everyone feels the need to tag it. Take a photo doufii (plural of doufuses?).

My aim in life: to pose next to colourful things, hopefully while also wearing colourful things.

We made up for it by finding German sweets.

It’s not kartoffel, but I’m going to be honest with you- it might as well be. I know the Deutsch love their carbs, but you need to get some of them from sugar, and not just starch and cellulose my friends.

It is known.

See what I mean about the (subdued in this picture) reveling? Although this situation with the bbq would freak me out in our much-more-flammable homeland.

We also took a long walk to the apartment that Andy’s grandfather used to live in back when he was a non-doughnuty Berliner.

Let’s get right on that.

Day Two.
Deciding to get a bit of culture, we headed to the art museum.

The building itself was quite artsy, in an almost interpretative way that made it impossible to find the actual entrance.
(This is not it:)

You know what a snap-happy thing I am. I took quite a lot of photos of the art, but I’ll just show you a few.

We were a little silly and posed with the art, which became creepy when I was posing as the girl in the painting above and sticking my bum out, and an old man wanted me to pose again so he could take a photo.

We ran away.

The owl. A.K.A. the only cool piece of art that Picasso ever made.

Ok, I only took a photo of this guy because he looks like he belongs in some sort of BBC period drama. I can totally envision him in uniform staring angstily across the room at his soon-to-be lady love but currently-‘it’s complicated’ relationship. And I can totally envision Ashlee, Ella, Claire and I drooling over him in this role.

And this family just looks bad-ass. Also the father looks a bit like Hugh Laurie, which is always a bonus.

The next floor contained more modern art, one section of which contained rather beautiful maps of, for examples, rivers flowing into the Amazon:

But it also contained art that was just lists of words- from what we understood the artist would go on long walks (the art was usually captioned with 1450 km, 17 days or something), and write down his keyword thoughts on the way.

We went down the stairs with anti-police propaganda flying over our heads, and into the land of modern video art.

Which contained one of the most horrific, grating pieces of art you can see. You went into a closed room, and were surrounded on all walls by the spinning head of a man, which was also seen of the many TVs placed in the room. The man was screaming ‘feed/eat me/Anthropology’ or ‘Help me/hurt me/Sociology’, all overlapping so you couldn’t really make it out.

If you want to experience this for yourself, go here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyiZD4Q3Mdk&hd=1
but don’t forget to turn up your volume to max before you click the link for the full horrific experience.

A lot of the other video art felt kind of unoriginal to me, and seemed to be trying too hard to be deep: a grown woman telling of how she discovered her sexuality too young (and with older men), and then dancing around her living room for 5 minutes to show them that she is beautiful; a woman who test-filmed an alcoholic for a documentary only to have her die, and then to show the 1 minute of test film in slow-mo while the alcoholic’s sister talked of her life.

There was however, one film which showed a whole set of chain reactions- mostly involving fire or soap and liquid and ice- the sort of thing you try to do with dominos as a kid, but so much better and so much more explosive. Andy and I watched it for at least 10 minutes, and I’m pretty sure Andy would have stayed all day if allowed. It also reminded us of one of our pyromaniac friends: we’re pretty sure Owen would have loved it (although maybe more ‘doing it’ than just ‘watching it’).

After some well-deserved food, and a quick check-in with the triathlon that was going on that weekend, we headed to the botanical gardens.

One of these amazing flowers that only comes out every 10 years or something ridiculous.

Andy humoured me by being a dinosaur.