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August 8th, 2007

Und keine eier!

After delicious barbeque, much snappes and me being that annoying guy who doesn't realise he should p.o.q. so his mate can get his end away (sorry mate), we all headed back to Christoph's folks' house for a final lesson in hospitality and saw the pre-Swiss national holiday fireworks in Basel.

The next day James and I left the others in German, the former making his way to Munich and the later, i.e. me, heading for Geneva for some nerdy physics action. Geneva is in the French section of Switzerland, and thus I went from Italian to German to French in just a few days, and somehow those highschool classes still clung to my memory to some extent. “Oh Paul, you've had a change of character” I hear Mrs. Puckridge ringing in my ears. Anyways, Geneva has handled the recent influx of African immigration far better than much of Italia, the new arrivals opening businesses rather than peddling drugs or themselves on the street, and I am pleased to say Ethiopian cuisine is very good. I met up with the EPP kids, walked around CERN saw the actual Swiss national holiday fireworks in Geneva (the 564th example this trip of how Australians somehow fell asleep and let snivelling legislators make ours one of the most regulated societies on Earth, all the while bullshitting ourselves how relaxed we are), checked out the under-construction ATLAS detector and the CERN museum (I choose not to be embarassed that a computer display aimed at children taught me lots of physics) and then visited the famed EPP flat just over the French border.

A night train took me back to Italia, on which I met an interesting tattooed, vegan, Californian couple and a lone deaf traveller, Fadi, also from California. The snooty French couple who rounded out the cabin probably thought we were the savages for passing notes but nuts to them. I have nothing but admiration for Fadi, who seemed to be thriving and getting more out of his trip that many other travellers.

Two final days in Belluno with Luciano and his family to do some work, in which he did successfully in 2 hours what I have not yet finished in 6 weeks and succeeded in shooting a major hole in my mathematics. He did compensate me by showing me an awesome castle secreted away behind Belluno.

So, farewell, fair Italia! I will shelve your language in the archives of my mind, probably to decay horrendously, but I shall plot my return!

Leaving on a jet plane

I hate airports. They are like bee stings; after enough exposure you build up a violent reaction. I hate getting to them, I hate guarding my stuff at them, I hate going through security at them, I really hate waiting at them. Jo’burg airport is the first airport I have seen where you check your firearms before passing through security.

It is winter again for me. It’s nice to be back in just sub-t-shirt weather. I haven’t seen much of my current base, Grahamstown, yet. My hotel is in one of these famed razor-wired compounds but the streets just out of the centre are more relaxed. In fact, the centre seems rather like a hilly Shepparton (except for obvious demographic differences). This is aided by the eucalypt trees everywhere, a residual reminder of the Boer War. Apparently as one heads towards the ‘township’, a euphemism for a black shanty town from the apartheid era, things become rather rough.

Due to download limits (400Mb per 2 weeks) uploaded photos will be few and far between, and web comics will go unchecked.

This lunar cycle

April 2015
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