[aleyes]

Aleyes Advices: Getting a Tattoo on a School Trip (when you’re 15)

People always seem to ask you about the significance of your tattoos. I suppose this originates from people getting tattoos of things such as feathers and telling every man and his dog about how their great aunt Frances once owned a pigeon farm in Alaska which lay claim to the only half pigeon half swan in the world which they got to go visit and they plucked a feather from the hybrid bird and it shed a tear and squawked or clucked or peeped or whatever half pigeon half swans do, which was a miracle because the bird was, up until this moment, a mute and it was a magical and special moment that changed and defined their lives so much that getting a symbol of it permanently etched into their skin was the only way to express that joy. You know the drill. You’ve probably drilled it yourself. SO, for the last ten years, since I got my first tattoo as a 15 year old and people ask "what’s the significance of the 12?" I reply: I was on a school trip to the UK (note: I went to a really fancy school in Melbourne, Australia where school trips to England were completely the norm - so for the sake of the story let that being completely bat-shit insane slide) with 40 girls and 4 teachers. We were playing netball and touring the charming geography that is the United Kingdom. Our final stop was London town and we were granted 1-hour free time to roam the streets trying to make Beefeaters smile etc etc. Naturally, we all flocked to TopShop. At a final moment my best friend and I slipped from the pack and ran, hearts racing, to the first tattoo parlour we could find. We found it "Self Sacrifice" (plug!) We spent the hour umming and ahhhing until the boys in the tattoo shop were so keen for us to get inked and get out that ID's were forgotten. 7 minutes of pain and I was officially a rebel without a cause, scared for life and bound to my best friend. Why the 12? I'm born on the 12th of the 12th and I was I a rush to decide annnd I though my star sign was too cliche. What more do you want? Although I love my teenage tatt for the memories, I cannot lie.. I wish I’d opted for the bow and arrow of the Sagittarius sign and not the number 12.. at least in a better font that Curlz MT.

[aleyes]

For Eyes: London 2011

[aleyes]

Tall Tales: Vampires

Düsseldorf 2011:

It was a sunday morning, and I was leaving my friend Ben’s house to go to the local Flee Market. I was planning on getting myself a hungover sunday bratwurst and having a rummage through some junk, buying some of it, you know how it goes. My sunday took a turn for the wurst as I rounded the corner. A lady, mid 40s and sane looking approached me, in clear distress. She started talking to me very fast in German and I slowed her down explaining my German was ‘nicht zo gut.’ She then nodded and said ‘Are you going to the flee market?’ At least a 30 minute walk away and in a tiny nothing of interest street, i thought this comment a little odd. How did she know I was headed there? None the less, she was determined to accompany me to the market, holding onto my forearm all the way. As we walked, she talked and I tried my best to listen and make sense of her ramblings. Words such as ‘danger,’ ‘help,’ ‘scared,’ seemed to be jumping out. Then also words, bite, night, garlic and yes, you guessed it Vampire. Vampir in German. Here I stopped her. Vampire? surely I’m Bill Murray getting lost in translation here. No, apparently not. Next came a vampire impersonation with the bared teeth, using her fingers to represent fangs. Her story, what I’d gathered, was that a young vampire had moved to Dusseldorf and bitten her friend. Her friend had now gone crazy, as you do, and was after her. He friend could now run very fast and she was frightened he was going to catch her, she said at the same time as removing a well-sized wooden stake out of her handbag. She encouraged me to make one stat and avoid being alone at night. This tale as you imagine went for sometime and we found ourselves at the market. She took hold of two silver crosses that hung around my neck and inquired ’Silber?’ No, they were not silver, i got them from the Spotlight buttons section. Well, I should look in the market for silver crosses, and two, very good for warding off vampires. At a last moment she grasped both my hands and asked my name. ‘Ali, good luck.’ were her last words before running off into the hustle and bussle of the sunday flee-market.

So what did I make of all this. Well, as crazy and and batshit most of you would’ve presumed this woman to be. Well for me, clocks started ticking and a few unexplained mysteries of my own started falling into place. A few weeks prior, myself and a group of students from around the globe had moved to Dusseldorf for a exchange program. There was one boy, lets call him Vladimir, for purposes suited to this tale. He was tall and pale and always wore a black zip-up jumper with the collar turned up. So you might say he looked a little on the vampire-ish side. I won’t go as far to say that he had fangs.. but they were somewhat sharp. Curious, very curious, but not enough to warrant vampire ousting. A few months into my exchange program I realised I had never seen Vladamir at school, or in the daytime at all. He always met us for social things in the evenings. On one of these evenings we all caught the last tram home together after a night of drinking. Vladamir alighted at his stop, two stops before the majority of us got off. The tram rolled on down the tracks for 10 minutes or so until finally coming to a stop. We all piled out and made our way home to our student housing. Coincidentally, I took a look over my shoulder and caught something in my peripheral vision. It was Vladamir, skulking, collar up down a dark side street. HEY! I shouted, VLADAMIR WHAT THE HELL! and he looked around startled. Then he threw his head back and laughed. He jogged over to us. I was at a loss. How could he have gotten on foot to where we were now? It was impossible, there were no busses or trams running and why was he here, stalking down this dark street alone, far from his home. I of course demanded an explanation to which he just shrugged and laughed, avoiding my questions. I asked if he was a vampire or had some sort of extra speed power to which he laughed, and answered “Just make sure you keep your garlic on you at all times,” before throwing his head back once more and laughing while bearing those sharp little teeth…

[aleyes]

Notes On: Seeing a Sex Show in Amsterdam

To me, sex is a lovely, joyous act that takes place between individuals as an expression of love. Things like 'I love you,' 'you are the most beautiful person i have ever laid eyes on.' etc etc, are phrases said before/during/after. Light switches are always on and 'doggy style' is the much anticipated new single from the 'Baha Men.'

So, by formulating this above information it could be said that I am the least likely person to go and see a sex show. However, I was fragile state at the time (drunk/hungover) and I was probably peer pressured by the cool man who wears a tux and has a monocle inside my head that tells me YES ALI! YES. (more on him another time) for the moment. Sex. Show.

The lineup announced Lesbians, couples, threesomes, strippers and a banana show. Whats not to love? I didn't love being squirted by a novelty sex elephant as I entered thats for sure.

10 minutes in, I found myself clapping like a toy monkey with symbols. A smile beamed across the whole of my face. I was entranced. The show was amazing, the performers were similar to acrobats, the strength required for some moves! The sexers (?) were tanned and fit and toned and attractive. Desensitisation kicked in and it was just like watching any other show. Anal-beads were a particular feature of the performance. The world of SEX was opening up before my eyes. Mental image there, apologies.

My pornographic wonder abruptly ceased to a holt by the last act. A man and woman pair came out on a revolving bed. They adorned S&M attire, with the man in a full black, leather mask with silver spikes. The woman lay, her head hanging over the bed - drugged to her eyeballs, while the man penetrated her violently. I cut the show short and headed to the entrance.

Someone get me a drink.

[aleyes]

Aleyes Advices: Spontaneity ain't always the King

Although I am a 100% fly by the seat of your pants kinda gal this way of livin' has bit me in the seat of my pants a few times too. On a weekend trip to Amsterdam we decided to book when we get there my common phrase 'Lets suss it out first, suss the vibes' was probably dropped to reassure those around. Good.

So we found a nice enough hostel and booked for one night only. Maybe there was a better option? maybe something cheaper? with a kitchen? Who knows? We booked one night.

After a few rounds of 10 Jäger shots for 10 euros, making out with Gina a hot chiccy babe from Sydney it was morning and I was being rudely awoken by clapping of rubbish bin lids in my ears. The rubbish bin lids were not lids at all but merely hands of a stout and brussely lady ordering me to 'GET UP!' One more night, one more night I yelled. Nope, get up, get out. Beds were booked, people are here. Oh jesus, I thought, where the fuck are you? and I put on my bag and headed into the streets.

Fragile, like a dream we stumbled around 'A-Dam' in search of somewhere to rest our weary heads. With everywhere booked we slapped down the cash. 100 euro each for the night for a tiny apartment with bong-stained walls. What an error. Oh my head.

Sometimes fellas, it pays to be one of those organised folk you have heard about in books and on the news. Most of the time though, the seat of my pants does just fine ;)

[aleyes]

For Eyes: Amsterdam 2011

[aleyes]

Food Rave: Czech out these Dumplings

Prague was mighty chilly for this black duck! However, after a few more meals such as a dinner of traditional potato dumplings with gravy and whipped cream, I think layers of fat will take place of layers of clothes. Not quite sold on this one ...  

[aleyes]

Aleyes Advices: How to Look Geeewd in Layers

For the regular Joe, wearing multiple layers and looking like a baben' babe is not a great challenge. For a child of the sun, growing up in a country where its lowest temperature hits a chilly 10 degrees in the + celsius, keeping warm and looking cool is a disaster that didn't wait, it happened.

My first experience with the MINUS was in Prague. A city so beautiful, I wish I could have seen it if it wasn't so cold I was forced indoors for majority of the daylight hours. Headed out on a city tour I wrapped up in literally all of the clothes I had with me. In a word, fuck. Seemingly, Australian jackets are made of paper and did you know wind can pierce into your skin and actually freeze your blood? I found out that fateful day in Prague. At one point I excused myself to the bathroom and put my sisters woollen mittens on my feet. It didn't improve the stakes much.  Headed out on the town I had Vodka as my blanket, but such a dishevelled sight was I with vanity out the door and in with SURVIVAL.  SO, how does one get snapped up for street style and maintain blood in liquid form.

1. Focus on heat retention - you loose 40% body heat out of your head. Wear a beanie, maybe even two? + a good pair of woollen socks! 2. Materials - Make sure you're packin' wool. Alpaca, lama, sheep, angora (check animal cruelty rights with that one) The better the cloth the less you need.  3. Hair - for men, stop shaving, you have a free blanket on your face!  - for lassies, grow your hair and use it as a scarf, i was able to this winter and it was a blessing and I also felt like a wizard.  - for both, legs and whatever else, use your nat-u-ralle fibres to heat your soul (I didn't mention anything about looking good naked)  4. Oh ya lined boots baby! - get yourself GOOD shoes with a lining. Vintage markets sell them by the boot load and they are tres chic

Insulation my friends. Use good products (not necessarily expensive) and you won't have to spend the winter looking like the Michellen man!

[aleyes]

Notes On: Being in Dresden for a Neo-Nazi Demonstration

Coincidently, as coincidences often seem to be, my sister and I passed through the delightful German town, Dresden on the 13th of February, the day on which fall the inaugural Neo-Nazi march.

Lured to Dresden by its stunning post WWII architectural recovery and quaint charms of cobblestone streets we were brimming with excitement as we checked into our hostel. Drezzy was indeed a delight to the eyes, but moments after putting our bags down we were told to leave and informed of the specifics of the day.

On the 13th February around 6,000 Neo-Nazis invaded the town to disturb the peace and wave their flags high. Shutters are locked, residents of the town remain indoors, while the protesters cause havoc throughout the streets. Come morning, windows need replacing, houses need repainting, graffiti needed scrubbing and of course injuries needed tending. This significant number of Neo-Nazis in modern society seems startling to the common tourist or expatriate and it was shocking to realise the presence and force of such a group.

However, it must be known that on top of the 6,000 pro Nazi, over 25,000 anti-nazi (normal human beings) congregate to the town as a reaction to the radicals. And although this brings with it a sigh of relief for my faith in humanity it also has a detrimental effect on things, notably the town of Dresden.

The damage done to the towns infer structure and community is significant. When there I posed the question of the significance of the date and Dresden. The 13/2nd marks the anniversary of when Dresden was bombed by Allied Forces at the end of WWII in 1945. Also, compared to other places where similar demonstrations have sprouted, Dresden's resistance to such forces is quite weak. It is only in the last 3 years that protesters against have been able to prevent the march from taking place.

When I was there in 2011 - I missed the riots by a whisker. Boarding the train outbound we found the station littered with Police + riot shields ready for the action. We were happy to sit this one out.

Neo-Nazi riot = Nein Danke!

[aleyes]

Notes On: Richard

                                      You meet many an interesting folk when you travel. Streets, hostels, parks, nooks and crannies are all full of creeps. You can't escape them and I don't often want to. Certain people who make you rally think about the types of people out there living, breathing and sharing this world.

It was in Prague 2011 - that I met Richard.  Richard who is from Maryland USA.  He has a long face and long blonde ponytail.  He wears a old leather jacket and is about 30 years old. The first thing Richard did upon meeting me was show me his ID..? and proceed to tell me 'I'm not racist…but.' As with anytime, ever, anyone has, ever said the above sentence, what comes next is in a word, racist.  Richard didn't believe that "cultures should mix." Later we found out that Richard, who was nocturnal, lived in this hostel for 3 months of every year.  Now to most living in a hostel seems like the last place a person who doesn't believe in the mixing of any cultures, ever, should choose to live.  I probed for more, why do you live here? What do you do? Are you an alien? Richards routine consists of sleeping through out the day and then waking up at 6pm, announcing "good morning!" to anyone at all and hitting the local strip clubs. Richard says "its all very tasteful, there's no pussies in your face." One morning he open our hostel dorm at 8am and fell directly on his face on the floor - he didn't move for 5 hours.  For Richard the allure of the strip clubs of Prauge was enough to overthrow his distain for interracial interaction. I did not mention that the girls with their breasts etc, were in fact not from Maryland USA. Oh Richard.  He did lend me some Head & Shoulders shampoo and hair elastics which is nice.

I was recommended to stay in this hostel by some friends who stayed there 2 years earlier. They told me of a man named Richard. 3 years have now past. I can guarantee he is still there

[aleyes]

PEEK: Prague Portrait

[aleyes]

[aleyes]

Notes On: Trespassing in Berlin

Back in 2011 when I hit up Teufelsburg (devils mountain) for some chills and sunday thrills it was a cool thing to do.

 - After long journey out into the suburbs and a eerie walk through the woods we came across thick linked fences surrounding the fabeled building "Teufelsburg." After scaling the perimeter several times we located our part of the fence to rip up and creep into this madness. Another fence surrounds another fence, a fence within a fence! A fence labyrinth we are in! But IN we are and there is no going back!  Climbing to the top was the next challenge and to do so without being seen.. At the top we climbed a derelict stairwell with scattered needles on the floor. Once at the top the tattered and ripped curtains that cloaked the building flapped and banged a menacing sound in the air. The freezing wind whipped at your cheeks and the fear you are able to instil inside yourself is a wonderful thing. -

Alas, Teufelsburg is now run as a tourist attraction and is open to the public. So like all things great and wonderful you must be on it like hotcakes my friends. Trespassing in Berlin is still a tre cool thing to do. If you are hip, like I know you are, you will too want to get your Bonnie & Clyde on and wreak some havoc! The secret is in the secret I'm afraid. Ask around, talk to some hip kids on the street and find yourself the next adventure.

Word on the grapevine is there is a Mental Hospital - abandoned and ready for the creepin'

[aleyes]

Tall Tales: The Night I got Punched in Shoreditch

Ahhh dear, such a sad tale to tell. My first night in London began with a warehouse party and a bottle of vodka. It ended what seemed like moments later with me sitting, alone, on a bus stop.

Being my first time back to London since the ripe age of 16, I had no idea where I was, what Shoreditch was, where it was, who I was or what the hell I was doing. Inebriation was an understatement of the condition I was in, so as one does when one is in such a state, I went to the kebab shop. Soaking up alcohol is a kebabs number one role in this life. I purchased a kebab and something else delicious totalling pounds - equivalent to $20 Australian dollars and I resumed my post on my bus stop to plan my next move. Torn between fixing my situation or eating my tasty treat, I open the polystyrene box of wonder and put my phone to my ear and began calling someone, anyone at all.

A lady - resembling Gollum from Lord of the Rings came into my blurred vision, asking for money I am assuming. She proceeded to sink her hands into my kebab. Instinct kicked in and I pulled my snack pack back and when i wouldn't let go she punched me in the face. i had a bleeding lip and i was one kebab down, drunk as fuck and lost in Shoreditch. She got away with my kebab and maybe my phone too but details are small and small things are lost in the night. I spent the next several hours trying to make my way home with a Chav who resembled Viccy Pollard from Little Brittan. She had some nice tales to share of her 6 childbirths and whatnot, and i finally got home at 9am. Maybe Viccy stole my iPhone, or maybe it was Gollum or maybe I lost it somewhere else down the track. London is a cruel mistress indeed. Take me to the country.

[aleyes]

PEEK: A Look at London

[aleyes]

Food Rave: Berlinburger International

Berlin is know for its Burgers. There is a war in town for best burger. Can recommend Berlinburger International   in Neukölln for a really good time. 

[aleyes]

Tall Tale: Berlin Bender #1

                                                     I arrived in Berlin to the arms of my sister after the 3 billion hour flight from Australia – aka the island all the way on the other side of the world. I was exhausted  but the excitement of being in mainland Europe for the first time and the -10 degree chill in the air perked me up!

Next thing you know, I am greeted with a Club Mate to my lips and am told to perk up. Club Mate, pronounced Club Mar-tay for those Australians out there, is a ice-tea drink with a natural boost of N-R-G that after 2 makes you feel like ahhmen don’t mind if I do! if you get my drift – not to mention a little tip out tip in some vodka concoction and the night is young and you are the night.

Leaving for the clubs at the ripe time of midnight we hit up an abandoned toilet block that had been refurbed into a club, a swing and jazz club where I made out with the gayest man alive because ‘he just wanted to try it’ and then to the Bergain – the biggest and the best club in Berlin. Returning to the confines of my sisters bed at 12 the next day my body shook and my eyes finally closed after 48hrs. Berlin – you got me, you got me good.