Where art meets crime

I must confess that I borrowed the title for this post from a t-shirt I saw recently on Venice Beach (hey one needs to cite any non-original thinking) and while the title shot is from SoMa (or South of Market) in San Francisco – a place you tend to walk through with firm intent (read tightly holding onto your belongings and praying you won’t have to fend for your life) – I think it’s a reasonable descriptor of what is America. To spare you too much of my philosophising perhaps most importantly it just makes for a great post title :).

That said, mulling over what best captures America you come up with so many things; though terms such as red-neck, ignorant, arrogant, loud-mouthed, SUV driving, fat-arse hick seem to come to mind almost too easily... sorry just had to get that out of my system :). I guess ‘Sheet Negro!’ (insert big Samuel L Jackson voice) also finds itself on the tip of one’s tongue... though given recent controversy surrounding the ‘n-word’ perhaps I shouldn’t be using that one? (If you haven’t heard, it’s ok for a brother to call a brother a nigger as long as the brother’s not a whitie; or Reverend Jessie Jackson; who’d been calling for the ‘n-word’ to be stricken from the American vernacular for years yet thought to apply it in derogatory reference to Barack Obama without realising he wasn’t quite off air – oops :)). Just on that thought maybe ‘excessive political correctness’ should be added to the list of adjectives on America too? You should have seen how much media attention this issue got... whole hour long TV debates on the inappropriateness of the term... and this was somehow still the most riveting stuff on TV :).

Without being too biased however we’d all be surprised to note how integral America has been in shaping language, culture and life generally in the world and for all the US bashing that I’m (we’re?) prone to doing it was great to be able to travel through North America, experience its diversity, beauty and extravagance as well as its humility... nowhere’s perfect... despite what the Americans may think of their country.

Anyway, I won’t rehash Nic’s last blog – we thought we’d give you all a little reprieve from my excessively verbose ramblings for a change (you’re still not exempt from having to read this shit though Garth!) – but I will firstly say that it was great to travel the East Coast with Doug and Flick. It took some getting used to travelling with others for a change but they were sorely missed when they were gone and it was fantastic to catch up with them again at Bill and Ravit’s place in Seattle. Just on that note, I can’t stress enough how good it was to hang out at Hotel Vlandis for a week, join Billy’s Boot Camp everyday, partake in America’s favourite past time of shopping (yes we all bought shit we didn’t need!), barbeque, drink great American beer (they really do have this down pat – no not Bud, I’m thinking all IPAs including Sierra Nevada, Samuel Adams etc), play test pilot for the new Doug and Flick mobile (ugly as it is I’m sure if it survived a test drive from me you should be right :)) and to play with the Kungfu Panda, Nicolas (guys, you’re blessed to have such a great son)... while Uncle Goulasz isn’t the best with newborns it was great to meet Ethan and Mikhalya too :o). Can’t wait to see all of you again soon!


Moving right along, let me say that walking back to your fabulously priced lodging past homeless people camped out over the pavement, smackies perched on every other corner, street workers soliciting their stuff and ever other dude looking at you menacingly is a bit confronting but despite these first impressions we both really liked San Fran and thoroughly enjoyed our stay there. In fact, our only regret is that we only had 3 days there and didn’t just hang out for a little longer. We really loved the Victorian architecture that defines the city, the cable cars, how cosmopolitan it is, that you can find almost every type of cuisine there, that you can get really good French sourdough bread at Boudin (the clam chowder in their sourdough loaf is worth mentioning too) and that you can actually find a decent coffee! That they call it a ‘Gibraltar’ rather than a ‘flat white’ is another matter but the fact that you can get a real coffee and not just perculated garbage is a big thing! – remember all these guys drink is Starbucks, Tim Horton’s (dare I say even worse than Starbucks) and a whole bunch of other rubbish coffee chains.




Now, if you hadn’t noticed (you’d be Garth :)) but there are a number of themes running through this blog and the rental car upgrade theme is one of our absolute favourites. Having been disappointed in Calgary by actually having to take the bottom of the line Ford Focus we actually paid for, it was reassuring to find that our supersizing American/Puerto Rican friends at Alamo decided that the Goulaszes would be better off driving around California in a 3.5L V6 Pontiac G6 GT Coupe rather than whatever piece of junk they actually paid for. So with Nic finally winning that free tank of gas she’d been after since New York – this car wasn’t about to give us decent milage... perhaps not the 3 miles per gallon you’d expect from the everyday Dodge RAM 3500 that most yanks cruise around in but still not good – we were ready to hit the road.

One of the striking things about North America is its tipping culture. Whenever you take an ideology to an extreme you eventually reach absurdity and paying staff wages of 2 dollars an hour is the libertarian doctrine gone horribly wrong! The fact that a beer which costs 5 bucks is actually 5.50 when you add tax and ends up being 7 bucks when you add in the additional dollar a drink tip that you’re expected to give makes my blood boil. And forget about this resulting in any improvement in service either – most of these guys are pretty pissed off that they’re on 2 dollars an hour, irrespective of the fact they’re making 50 bucks an hour in tips. This is just a case of our bourgeoisie brethren being allowed to take the piss – don’t legislate war you muppets try for fair wages, public health, education and social security... hold on wouldn’t equality diminish the power of the ruling class? Anyway, you all know we’re quite fond of the finer things in life, so from the comfort of our swanky Pontiac and hiding the fact that we were staying in a dive just off the freeway outside Vallejo (rather than in either Sonoma or Napa which weren’t quite in the budget), we went off wine tasting.


Noting the above, the offshoot of the tipping culture in America is the fact that those with money are all too eager to flaunt it – should ostentatiousness be added to the list? Perhaps then it should have come as no surprise to us that all wine tastings are paid for. And in fact the more chique the place the more you can expect to pay for a tasting. When I mean tasting too, I don’t mean a nip or even half a nip, I’m talking about 10mls in a glass times 4 glasses coming in at anywhere between 10 and 40 dollars per person – you really have to be business owner to be able to afford this. The whole culture has gone a little awry as given the extravagance of most of the wineries in the Napa and Sonoma Valleys it’s also little wonder that they’re charging on average 50 bucks a bottle for anything worth drinking... the price point comparison I can make to Aussie wine here is around 30 dollars a bottle (I would say less but I’m being chastised by Nic for always spinning too much shit). I guess however they have to recoup the cost of their OTT cellar doors somehow – our personal favourite being the Persian Palace below... for the record we refused to pay the 25 dollar tasting fee here. Despite our lack of budget we managed to share the odd tasting, try some fantastic wines, extract the odd free tasting (it’s amazing how far a little bullshit can get you – trying 100 to 150 dollar a bottle Cabernets at Ledson being one such example), do a great food and wine matching at Mayo and generally have a great time.


As this is after all our world tour of wine regions and ski resorts it was only fitting that we would next move onto Lake Tahoe – the home of Squaw Valley and Heavenly, which according to my mate Matt is one of the best ski resorts in North America (pity we didn’t make it during the winter – perhaps next time). Following a beautiful drive into the Sierra Nevada we arrived at the town of South Lake Tahoe which to our disappointment however can best be described as tack central – it was quite a shock to see big casinos on the Nevada side of the town and dodgy diners spoiling what is otherwise quite a stunning environment. Despite this, we took in a great hike around Emerald Bay and drove along the western side of the lake up to Tahoe City and Squaw Valley, both of which we found quite beautiful.

For all of my continuous US bashing (it’s a bad habit I know) it needs to be said that the US is a world within a country and has some of the most glorious natural scenery imaginable. Purely by chance, with Mike, our Norwegian hotelier from San Francisco to thank, the drive from the Nevada desert back into California along Route 4 is up there as one of the most beautiful roads we’ve ever had the pleasure of driving. And just as you think it couldn’t get much more picture perfect you stumble upon an oasis such as Mosquito Lake which literally makes you leap out of the car with camera in hand and go happy snap mad (maybe that’s just me :)). Similarly, driving through the pine forests of the Sierra Nevada is in itself breathtaking and even more particularly so when you stop to have a look at the giant Sierra Redwoods along the way – the size of these thousand year old trees can only truly be appreciated from the ground up.



Next, we headed to the most visited National Park in North America - Yosemite. With its towering peaks of white/grey granite rock contrasting with the thick green pine of the valley floor it’s easy to see why this park is so popular. Without getting too put off by the hordes of people at some of the most popular vistas – the most telling of which perhaps was when we witnessed maybe as many as 70 people scare away a foraging black bear and her cub near the car park of the Bridal Veil Falls – we were able to appreciate the beauty and space of this great park. Here we did two hikes; one from Yosemite Valley along what’s known as the Mist Trail to the top of Nevada Falls and; the second from Tuollomne Meadows to Lake Elizabeth. Whilst quite different both walks made for some truly awesome scenery and provided some respite from the scores of people everywhere else.




Whilst spinning a yarn with a couple over a wine tasting in Sonoma we were advised that no visit to California would be complete without taking Highway 1 down the coast into Los Angeles. Although this meant some backtracking through the breadbasket parts of California we headed back onto the coast and started our descent south from Monterey – just near Laguna Seca for any die hard Moto GP nuts out there… we were there just days before the GP too. A quick note to anyone thinking of visiting California, there’s plenty of whale watching to be done here and we were quite gutted to find that we’d only missed the last Orca watching trip of the day here by an half an hour or so – there’s another thing to do on a return trip. We were quite fortunate however to drive down the coast as just days prior the road had been closed to traffic on account of bushfires so perhaps we shouldn’t be complaining.


Driving down some very pretty coastal road through Big Sur we next stopped into what looks like the exact place that Keanu learnt how to surf in Point Break – Pismo Beach. And following a quick stop the next morning at the place of Nic’s favourite teenage soap, Santa Barbara, we were about to hit LA.


The first thing that struck me as we dropped off our car at Los Angeles Airport was that this was the only airport I’d ever been to that seemed not to exhibit any public transport directions. You could find virtually any car rental company transfer service imaginable, getting to any of the 50 different airport parking lots was a relative cinch but finding out how best to get to Venice Beach by bus was proving to be no mean feat. Without sending even the most vehement reader to sleep (I’ve likely lost you already) we obviously made it out to our hostel by public transport. I guess the point I’m seeking to make here is that I think LA epitomises our obsession/reliance on cars and is perhaps the least people friendly and maybe the most car friendly city I’ve ever been to. With respect to this, it is perhaps also important to note that on first impressions I thought this was one of the ugliest cities we’d ever been to.

Following an afternoon of hanging out on the beach, just getting to Hollywood by bus the next day reinforced this perception and given the difficulties that this place presents with regard to getting around we soon found ourselves relenting and naively handing over 50 bucks for a tour of Hollywood and Beverly Hills. As is the case usually with these things 50 bucks doesn’t include tax, the advertised stretched limo is of course a Ford F250 van and what they forget to tell you is that they’re not paying the guy driving the truck so your tips are in fact paying his wage. Having said that, we did get a good tour of Sunset Boulevard, walked along Rodeo Drive, sighted many a beautiful gate in Beverly Hills and Belaire and learnt that Aaron Spelling (you know the guy with that really ugly daughter) spends 80k a month just cleaning his 150 room mansion – is that the definition of largesse? All vital stuff however!


With one further day to kill in the US we figured rather than braving the lack of a public transport system in this place we would just hang out in Santa Monica and walk back from Santa Monica pier, past Muscle Beach, ‘Real Riders’ showing off their super cool wheels (wouldn’t you just love one of these low riders – see pic below) and plenty of street artists and vendors back to Venice Beach. This is of course the actual place ‘where art meets crime’ and whether or not you like the aesthetic you need to acknowledge that it’s one cool place to hang out.





We’re now in Huaraz Peru so stay tuned for further adventures from Latin America.

Hasta luega!

A North American Tale

It was a dark and stormy night when the Goulaszes arrived in New York City. Feeling abandoned by our friends who weren't there to meet us as the airport, we wandered the city contemplating the mood and impressions of the Big Apple. Why are all the buildings so tall? Why did Konrad just get kicked out of an electronics store? Why are New Yorkers so abrupt? And where are Doug and Felicity?


Exhausted from their travels, perhaps it was not surprising that we would find them the following day gorging themselves on a pastrami on rye sandwich! Or perhaps that was a Reuben? Whatever it was the trend of eating excessively had just begun!

United at last and with bellies full of pastrami (which incidentally took the rest of our stay in New York to digest) we headed straight downtown to pound the pavement and take in the sights.

The Polish paparazzi geared up for a few days of solid happy snapping. Celebrities all over New York were alerted to stay indoors and the rest of the crew were forced to endure an average of 60 shots per hour – he’s a hard worker, this one.

Not to put our resident photographer down too much, we were nonetheless delighted with the result of all this shuttering activity! As we pounded the pavement, he snapped the sights, hung off balustrades, opted for avante garde under-the-park-bench angles and generally became to our tag along Japanese tourist.

But with all this walking, the crew was starting to whinge! “Why aren’t we eating? Where are we going? I’m hungry!” Given our reputation as being the tighest travellers to ever grace the backpacking circuit, we were of course appalled with having to spend all this money on food, and were forever chastising this inefficient use of calories. But we eventually relented to the request and took them out for pizza :)

The next day feeling guilty about the amount of food consumed, we hit the park and tried to burn some calories. I’m sure we needed to do 16 laps to burn off all that food, somehow we only managed one!


“Holy Fuck Batman!"
“You can’t swear on this blog Robin!”
"Fuck off Batman, I can say whatever I like. And by the way I wasn’t swearing, I was referring to a really cool electonica outfit that our superheroes took in whilst in Brooklyn one night”

“What’s that – you’re hungry again? I’m confused …. Are we filming the next version of Supersize Me? Oh I get it, this is the diner from Seinfeld!!!! My all time favourite TV show! That’s fine, we can eat there. I want the Big Salad like Elaine”

How did Doug manage to steal the keys off Michael Schumacher? Perhaps Michael shouldn’t haven’t been so busy playing paparazzi. Doug will of course argue that he was doing all of New England a favour after Michael nearly cleaned up a few pedestrians in New York. Irrespective, following his first performance Doug was banned from commandeering the wheel again.

Between Doug’s driving and Flick’s navigating how we got to Boston I don’t know :) But when we did get there we found it to be a beautiful city and a welcome change of pace from New York.

Forever calling out for her daily icecream, we were all surprised to learn that Flick had never tasted Ben & Jerry’s. This was possibly just a line of course but given that we only had to make a 4 hour detour to visit their first icecream factory in Vermont and with a resolute (did I mention hungry) girl in the backseat of the Chevy we made a subsequent food stop. (Watch out for next year’s Cheesecake Brownie flavour – it got Flick’s approval!).

Ou est-ce qu’on? Tout le monde parlent en Francais ici. Ils sont confus. Ils ont les ‘ARRET Signs’ au lieu de ‘STOP’, lls dissent ‘faire du maganizage’ .... for those who don’t speak bad French or for those Frenchies who don’t understand our bad French, these confused Francophone Canadians seek to be more French than the French … pity they don’t have any idea about good cheese or wine! And come on guys despite chips with cheese curd drowned in gravy being quite nice no self respecting Frenchie would go anywhere near poutine.

Wow despite what we just said about Quebecans that’s one impressive chateau up there! Possibly more impressive than any we’ve seen in Europe!

Busted! Doug are you thinking of buying something special for Flick? Could there a special announcement sometime soon?





Are you kidding? These two stud muffins aint getting hitched anytime soon!


Sad to have parted company with our travel companions and feeling like we’d packed on the pounds it was time to burn some serious calories in the Rockie Mountains! We spent a week travelling through Banff, Lake Louise and Yoho National Parks – taking in some amazing hikes, spectacular scenery and spotting loads of wildlife along the way! (Try 7 Black Bears plus countless lazy Hoary Marmots).

Our journey ended in the lovely city of Vancouver, where despite staying in possibly the dodgiest part of any city we’ve ever been to, we had a great time enjoying the harbour, beaches, parks and mountains that make this a beautiful city and great place to hang out!

We are now resting at Hostel Vlandis for a few days in Seattle before flying to San Fran on July 7th. We look forward to our 4th of July parade experience and also spending lots of time with this ever expanding family! Thanks guys so much for your hospitality!

Til next time ...

A Toast from Britain

It may come as a surprise to many of you that I tend not to drink whiskey much (if at all) these days. Johnny Black and soda just doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as rhum et ananas, t-punch or le bite dans cu when I’m parler-ing in my best Franglais, so I’ve tended not to bother with it recently (getting that throaty ‘rrrr’ sound out right I find very addictive too). However, having just completed a two week tour of Scotland and England and with only a few days left ‘til we head to the States I thought it appropriate to raise a glass and enter into another gripping monologue. (For the record too, I never really knew why it was that my blue blooded palate has usually preferred blended whiskies rather than single malts but that dram of 18 year old Chivas we had at the Strathisla distillery was definitely worth toasting with).

Following on from our culinary successes (just look out for that reference to The Goulaszes in this next year’s Michelin guide – we’re sure to be in there) we had the sad realisation that we’d never forked out for a Michelin star restaurant – perhaps not that surprising given that the guide’s only started to cover cities outside of Europe in the last few years (and Sydney isn’t on the list yet) but inexcusable nonetheless. So amongst all those taxing powder sessions (hey we worked really hard on Nic’s skiing – it was a full time job in effect... have I mentioned that we skied fresh, dry powder just days before they closed the resort too? I will get over the fact that we’re no longer skiing eventually... though it may just take a little while :(), the crazy parties and planning our tour of North America we thought we’d better look into remedying this.

Anyway, despite London being reputed to be the most Michelin starred city in Europe (though we do reckon the British just perpetuate these sorts of rumours to make themselves appear to know anything about cuisine), we figured there was no better place than Paris, the home of gastronomy, to embark on this experience. So, in consultation with our resident expert on the finer things in life Steven (how is it that a 24 year old can know so much about great food and wine?), we found ourselves booking a night at Alain Senderens. The appeal here was that he had removed the tablecloths, he had returned the 3 Michelin stars that he had held for over 28 years in protest to all the pomp and the average 400 euro per person price tag that often associated with eating in these sorts of establishments, he was attributed with inventing ‘nouvelle cuisine’ in France, his degustation menu looked better than all the others we had looked at but perhaps most importantly he happened to be cheaper than most other 2 Michelin star restaurants in Paris :).

Following a long day of pounding the pavements of Paris in search of that perfect happy snap (it needs to be said that I’ve become totally obsessed with this new sport – hey something had to take over from skiing... hmmm... I will be alright... the season had to come to an end I suppose :(), with tripod in one hand and camera in the other, wearing our finest (or is that only) jeans and only slightly smelly t-shirts we presented ourselves at the restaurant. Greeted with only a hint of bemused disapproval by the Maitres d’ we were soon seated, sipping a 1998 champagne, studying the menu and feeling only mildly disturbed that we were the most casually dressed in the whole restaurant – I know I should have packed a dinner jacket but I think I’ve been through Nic’s underwear obsession and our baggage situation already. Luckily a few fellow antipodeans, looking more dishevelled then ourselves were soon seated right next to us, absolving us of any feeling of unease and we were left to indulge in the ‘menu degustation avec vins’ for the next 3 hours. Without going into too much further detail this consisted of 7 courses with matching wines and it has to be said that the ‘foie gras de canard poche aux morilles, noix et curry’ or poached foie gras with morel mushrooms, nuts and curry has to be the most amazing dish I’ve ever had – and when I think about it I’ve had some pretty amazing dishes.


Quickly passing through London, let me firstly say that it was awesome to catch up with friends, inhabit Alex’s floor in Clapham for a couple of nights and see the place going nuts on account of some unusually good weather – it could have even been as warm as 25 degrees... this is virtually unheard of for the UK :). Given this we practically spent the whole of the weekend catching rays in commons and parks, barbequing and drinking loads of Pimms and lemonade – great stuff that and loads better sounding than Johnny Black and soda when I’m putting on my best geezer accent too.


Come Monday morning, just as the rest of London was recovering in the office from a solid weekend of drinking, we were nursing hangovers from the freezing discomfort of our tiny seats on the Megabus en-route to Edinburgh. Suffice it to say too that Alex’s fears from the weekend, that the whole of the UK would go into anarchy should the good weather persist (quite possible actually), should have largely been allayed with the prompt return of the usual woeful weather (drizzle and cold) as we headed up to Scotland – Alex, one fear you should never have is that the weather should be too good for too long in the UK. Following a painful, though absurdly cheap 9 hour bus trip it had seemed as if we had escaped the pursuing rain as we crossed the boarder into bonnie Scotland.

Staying with our mate John in Edinburgh for a few days we did the usual tourist things here. A visit to Edinburgh Castle resulted in a much needed history lesson; revealing the succession of Kings and Queens of Scotland, giving insight into their nationalistic pride and showcasing the crown jewels and the Stone of Destiny (or perhaps a good copy – it’s hotly debated whether Queen Elizabeth’s thrown still contains the original stone used in Scottish coronations or whether she’s given it back to the people of Scotland as claimed). We also got a real sense of history while chasing ghosts on a tour of Mary King’s Close (one of the many Closes or alleyways from the 16th century which since have been covered over), as we learned of how the people of the day lived and worked in their own excrement, eventually dying of the plague, and making this otherwise beautiful City one of the most haunted in the world. (I’m sure that was just John having fun with me rather than someone regularly tapping me on the shoulder down there :) – having said that, at least we didn’t have some spook hanging out with us for the next few weeks as Nic did the last time she visited the place). Apart from climbing Arthur’s Seat, having a great time hanging out with John, we also managed to get into a few Scottish delicacies such as haggis (or oats and offal cooked in sheep’s stomach for those of you salivating there – quite nice actually) and deep fried Mars bars – I’ve heard these were in fact invented in Bondi but perhaps we’ll have to let the nation that deep fries everything from burgers to pizzas (yes I’m not kidding here) lay claim to these.


Picking up a Holden (I mean Vauxhall) Corsa, that could have been a Vectra but was in fact an Astra – to clarify, the tightarse tip here is to book the cheapest rental car you can online and then upgrade to whatever you actually want when you arrive at the pick-up – we next ventured into the Scottish countryside. Heading over the Firth of Forth (or Forth of Firth if you’re a bit dyslexic like me – trying saying that five times really quickly)... sorry, just had to throw Firth of Firth of Firth into my blog somehow... we headed across Scotland’s oldest national park of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs in search of bens, glens, clans, drams and Jesus, Mary and Joseph... hmmm could be confusing Scotland with Ireland here... at least I didn’t suggest they were British though, that could’ve resulted in a beheading in these parts of the British kingdom – even in this day and age.

Anyway, moving swiftly though Killin and Oban, where we stayed a night at a time, we next landed in Gavin’s (Nic’s brother-in-law’s) home town and popular trekking/outdoor spot of Fort William. Walking through the glen and up the ben (doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?... just like ‘aye’... or maybe ‘shiver me timbers’... hmmm could be confusing the Scottish with the Pirate-ish here – who knows, they’re all similar barbarians really) we managed to bag a Munro by climbing the highest point in Britain, Ben Nevis – only 283 to go. For your information, a ben’s a hill (though there are 7 different types); a glen’s a pass between 2 bens (though it’s often confused with a strath which is a slightly wider type of valley) and; bagging Munros usually involves some Scot donning his kilt and enduring what’s likely significant shrinkage (bloody cold up there) as he climbs any ben that’s higher than 3000ft. Confused? Me too :) Though I will add that we were quite lucky to climb this 1340m hill given that Fort William receives 150 inches of rain a year and that I’m not at all surprised that Tash never made the 6 hour hike when she lived there for 2 years.




Following this grand feat of ours we next went in search of a just reward on the Malt Whiskey trail. Hard as it was to convince Nic that we ought to spend a day drinking whiskey we managed to take in a couple of distillery tours – can’t imagine why really... I mean just because she hates the taste of it doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy myself :). In truth it was my insistence that we visit Balmoral Castle that morning that actually resulted in us only visiting two that day though having said that I suppose there are only so many wash backs (or vats) and stills you can bring yourself to seeing anyway. Still (mind the pun), having done our research we went to two of the oldest and most beautiful distilleries in the Cairngorm region and those reputed to offer the best tours - those of Glenlivet and Strathisla (best known for Chivas Regal). And Nic did manage to gain somewhat of an appreciation for the treasured dram (or drink for those that need a translation). The fact that not only the difference in the mineral content of the water used or even the malting process itself but also the size and shape of each of the copper stills and their chemical reactions with the malt bears a difference on the end product (without even touching on the barrelling) was fascinating to me though for some reason boring as batshit to Nic :)


Let me just declare that if I ever see a castle again it’ll be too soon! I mean I’ve never really given much of a toss about the Royal Family nor had any idea who the Earls of Strathmore were (nor the Bownes-Lyon connection with the Windsors for that matter) but I do have a penchant towards the strappings of wealth so perhaps it was this that drew me to a near obsession with these grand houses complete with fine furniture, art, silverware and glorious grounds and gardens. It seemed like we were always taking a detour to take in another castle and in total, excluding ruins of which there were loads too, I think we managed to see 9 castles in 7 days on the road in Scotland and we’ve now totally had our fix. I reckon we could walk straight past the most fairy-tail of castles and hardly even notice. That said, we did see some absolute gems.






Of course no trip to Scotland, at least not for anyone who’s ever spoilt a lovely walk in the park by chasing a little white ball around, would be complete without paying homage to the home of Golf – St Andrews. I guess the fact that I’m neither a member of a golf course nor do I have a handicap nor did I book a place with the R&A 6 months in advance only to go into a raffle for a round on the Old Course, meant that I couldn’t let hacking around spoil my walking the fairways of this grand old course but pay homage at least I did. For the record even on the lovely day that we had it was windy as hell and would have been a complete nightmare to play – you got to love it.


Next we wrapped up our little road trip with a couple of days visiting the beautiful Lake District. It’s easy to see why this is recognised as the most popular holiday destination in Britain as well as the inspiration for the works of William Wordsworth, Beatrix Potter and John Ruskin.



Lastly, we spent a few of days with Nic’s uncle Antony in Manchester (thanks so much for letting us invade your flat for a little while), before heading down to London.

Having thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this final tour of Britain and having tied up a few remaining loose ends, we look forward to our last catch-ups with friends here in London and heading off to the New York in a few days.

Until next time and slanche-vah!