I received this letter from the Czech Police. Its all in Czech so I have no idea what it says! Hopefully im not in trouble, guess if I just dont return to the Czech Republic anytime soon I should be ok. But look at all the stamps and stickers on!

a little bit of franglais goes a long way

After spending 2 weeks in countries where sometimes I wasnt even sure what language was being spoken, it was a nice relief to reach France. I know a little French and my confidence and lack of human contact had grown by this time, so i embraced the language as I hit the streets. This resulted in some very interesting, fun, scary and uncomfortable encounters. 

well how about that

I learnt lots of pointless facts whilst wandering around Europe. Just thinking of different ways of displaying them.

this could be rotterdam or anywhere

This was one of the first pieces I made, when thinking about what it is that makes one city different from the next, and if you were just dropped in a city how would you actually know where you are?

This was a piece I made in response to my confusion over the dutch language! I never managed to master any of it unfortunately. The piece is supposed to be difficult to read- like dutch is- and a typographic poster pulls out of the sleeve.

Rue L'epic

postcard

I defiantly favoured  two wheeled transport during this trip.

travelling moleskin

I kept my very own 'travelling moleskin' whilst I was a way. A sort of pictorial diary. Illustrating something which summed up each day for me; something I saw, how I felt, where I was. 

'travelling studio'

This is what I took with as part of my 'travelling studio'  But I didnt use all of it. On reflection the materials taken could have been really stripped back to the absolute essentials, which for me would have been: paper, camera, polaroid printer and a pen/pencil: this would have been plenty to create work, but the more materials you take the more options you have. 

its not interesting unless things go wrong

My trusty stead. Im very grateful it safely carried me the 2500 mile round trip even if it perhaps didnt come back in one piece.

rollerblading police

The police must have much more fun on the continent, I also saw them on Segways, and one policeman was even pretending to shoot his colleague whilst riding his bicycle!

France: This looks like a long post, but it is quite a big country

I had to stop over in a town called Nancy on the way to Paris to break up the journey. Nancy is the capital of the Lorraine province and my trusty guide books tells me it is a nice place with a lovely pedestrianised centre. But my experience of Nancy was a little off the tourist trail. Instead I got of an insight into life of an immigrant in France and life as a Muslim woman in a foreign country. Short version of this tale: basically, due to my over confident French I ended up spending an afternoon sat on a double bed in a little hotel room with an Arab lady who spoke neither French nor English. It was a very strange and uncomfortable afternoon, when she started getting angry because she couldn’t work my phone and was asking me for money; luckily it was time for me to leave. This was perhaps the most ‘real’ experience of any daily culture I would have on the trip, but the next day I was happy to be back on my bike heading to the iconic capital city: Paris.



Entering Paris is like entering a lawless state. In terms of driving that is. It is crazy, people drive where they want, scooters sneak though any gap possible and I, well I sat patiently in the chock-a-block traffic like a good little tourist, quietly cooking inside my helmet and protective clothing. Up until now I hadn’t really had a clue what language was being spoken in the various place I was, which I know is very ignorant but that’s the British way. I have noticed though that the lack of language skills is linked to the English language. Out of the many many different nationalities I have met it is only the Americans, British and Australians who don’t speak and other language. Anyway, I can speak some French; at least I like to pretend that I can, but just being able to speak that little amount really made a difference to my experience in Paris. Being able to actual talk to the locals and the not so local in their language was so much more exciting and you could tell it was appreciated, and defiantly got me some cheeky benefits The receptionist in my hostel, an American living in Paris who painted watercolours, and me insisted in conversing in our franglais as we had a little chat each day, while everyone around us spoke English.


I was staying in the Montmartre district of Paris. The place where all the well known artists used to hang out; Van Gogh, Picasso, Cezanne, etc, just up the road from the Moulin Rouge, where apparently all the dancers are Australian nowadays. With just the red light district separating it from central Paris the change in atmosphere and ‘vie quotidian’ was refreshingly different. A little bubble of traditional/county France in the heart of the capital. I loved it. My favourite street I decided in the whole of Paris, was the street with the cafe from Amelie on. No supermarket instead green grocers, butchers, fishmongers, bakers, cafes, newsagents and chocolatiers lined this street. It had a real buzz about it as people shopped for their daily supplies. The other streets in Montmartre were a lot sleepier, the whole area felt like it had been left behind whilst the rest of Paris had developed into a competitive and cosmopolitan capital city. And as cheesy as it is to say you could really see and feel why it was this particular part of Paris had inspired and become home to so many artists who work I probably appreciate and understand more after living in this area for a few days. My last night in Paris was sat at the Sacra Coeur watching the sunset over the city, an Italian guitarist entertained the hundreds of other spectators and I chatted to a guy from Senegal who invited me to his flat next to the Moulin rouge to have a smoke. The view will be the same for years to come but the people around you are what give you your own, personal experiences.


I wonder if Paris will every change, or how it will ever change. Building in the city is very strictly monitored and you are not allowed to build higher than 6 stories. The whole appearance of the city seems to be solely down to a guy called Haussmann who by the sounds of it pretty much demolished the city to make way for the wide boulevards and large town houses. He must be very proud as the whole look of Paris is down to him, the city which is seen as sexy and fashionable. Obviously when talking about Paris it would be hard not to mention the Eiffel Tower: which seems quite imposing and out of place next to the uniformed boulevards. But you have to love it; it’s probably a national offense not to.


For me it is the cafe culture which defines Paris. In Liverpool we have a pub on every corner, in Paris it’s a cafe on every corner and then some. There is barely space for McDonalds and Starbucks. The classical yet tacky signage or the establishments which decorate the streets haven’t changed in 50years, and all the seat sit facing the street, poised for people watching, very helpful if you are alone though! The cafes reflect the French love of food. The simple strong flavours, a camembert sandwich is literally camembert in bread, and the specialist shops (butcher, baker, etc) which have died out in many other places remain king. A Frenchman won’t eat a baguette if it older than 3 hours, and so he shouldn’t. The French have class and high standards which can sometimes be mistaken for rudeness and ignorance....but chuck in a bit of franglais and everyone is smiling.


The last stop for the trip was Calais and well it may be like a French speaking Skegness, it is fun watching the ferries come and go. It turned out to be a much nicer place than I imagined, the ice cream was a little unusual and the old men in Speedo’s were the local eye candy, but the crazy lady behind the reception defiantly made it a worthwhile stopover.

Since I have been in Europe its been hard to escape the meat. They love it, just a plate of meat please. I think their obbsession is starting to turn me vegetarian!

im not sure what language they speak in Switzerland but it looks like they are a little confused too

Switzerland: Zurich fest

Air acrobatics, ski jumping, diving, Swiss air force, Ferris wheels, music, Cornish pasties, beer, Caphrinis, dragon boat racing, wake boarding, fire eating, poise, djs, dodgems, condoms, noodles, Raclette, contemporary dance, tattoos, candyfloss, fireworks, ice cream, roasted nuts, high wire, camel rides, bouncy castles, singing, tango, salsa, handmade jewellery, daredevils, tombola, musicians, orchestras, bratwursts, helicopter stunts, kebabs, lychee champagne, football, disco balls, piercings, sweet corn. This was not the Switzerland I was expecting.



I turned up in Zurich the one weekend of the year the city was closed. Closed, and in its place they filled the streets with an amazing festival. In the cobbled squares sat dj booths and bars, down the side street lay stages and dance floors, parks filled with fairground attractions and activities, pavements lined with stalls and everywhere in between hundreds of food vendors offering every types of food imaginable. My 24 hours in Zurich was a whirlwind of activity and festivity. I’m not sure why the Swiss people had overthrown this city and made it into a festival, I am not even sure what language they speak in Switzerland, but I am glad they did. It was what you would expect from any festival, a vast array of performers; jazz, dance, acoustic sets, rock groups etc but then so much other stuff too. The Swiss air force was showing off their flying skills throughout the day; people wake boarded stood on chairs and skiers ski jumped into the crystal clear river which runs through the city.


This was perhaps the most authentic experience of the modern culture in any country I had yet...as well as being fun: In and amongst the young and old, the locals and not so local. The Swiss have style, not just in the way they dress, but the posters, signs and logos which I saw mainly when driving out of the city. It’s clear that they love a good grid system here. I would have liked to stay longer in Switzerland as the festival distracted from the reason I had gone to Zurich, to visit an exhibition, but I couldn’t afford to. It is true what they say. Switzerland is expensive. But they can certainly show you a good time, just ask those passed out on the street the next morning whilst I headed off to France.

girl time

When I was in Innsbruk walking down the main street there was a sort of art workshop going on- badgemaking and otherstuff. I went over to see what it was all about. I think it was about feminism by some of the stuff written on the fabric things, but the woman handing out flyers expalined it to me a being about 'girl time'. I think some things just get lost in translation......But I did make a nice little badge.

the jump was a little bigger than he expected

I went up to the olympic ski jump in Innsbruk. They had photographs off all of the winning jumpers there, some of the facial expressions were hilarious.

innsbr-

Austria: the grass is greener on the other side

Unfortunately I was pretty happy to be leaving the Czech Republic; it had been plagued with problems for me: wasting precious time in police stations and garages. Entering Austria was magical. I didn’t think grass could get much greener but it can, and trees can get bushier and roads can get smoother. Arriving from the north you drive through amazing countryside. I didn’t know which way to look, surrounded by luscious hillsides and perfect meadows. It stopped me singing to myself inside my helmet for a while. It was a breathtaking sight after 2 weeks of cityscapes. I feel Austria was a nice little break from the urban travelling; a time to appreciate what the natural world has to captivate us. I also think I understand why I have a motorbike now. Riding the bends of a smooth mountain road and taking in the views: you really feel like you are there, alongside nature. As the wind ties your hair into a thousand knots, you feel every bug that hits you and the fresh smell of the cow shit joins you that bit earlier.



I stayed in two places in Austria. The first: Salzburg, the town where Mozart was born and the ‘Sound of Music’ was set. I wasn’t staying directly in town so I hired a bicycle and headed into town to see what was going on. Two hours later I was still heading into town. I couldn’t find it. The stunning old town centre with its ornate churches and cobbled street was not very well signposted. I had lost my map, which hadn’t been much use but it was something. Eventually nightfall set in and my stomach won. I gave up and went to the only place I could find to get some food. One thing I have noticed is that the Austrians love dessert; the strudels and sundaes feature before the savoury food on the menus. Banana split for dinner, I think the Austrians would approve.


Innsbruck was the next stop as the scenery developed into rugged mountains and snow capped peaks. It was a small city which enjoyed the two sides of Austrian life. In the centre: ornate buildings with endless cafes selling extravagant desserts and as you move up the valley edges towards the Olympic worthy slopes, cosy alpine lodges sit patiently waiting for the snow to arrive. I think the gingham bed linen in my hostel pretty much sums up the Austria I experienced. Except for maybe when I was in the cycling through the less travelled area of Salzburg dodging the crazy hobos.

In Czech Republic they celebrate your name day!

Prague: consumes more beer per capita than any other country in the world

Crossing the border to the Czech Republic was the most definite transition so far. Travelling between the other countries I didn’t have any idea of when I crossed over, entering petrol stations and not knowing what language it would be that I don’t understand this time. But here the boarder was lined with street stalls selling piles and piles of handmade crafts next to general crap like hubcaps. Also I see hills for the first time in a while. Nestled between the beautiful rolling hillsides rise up industrial looking, grey, stark tower blocks. Prague itself has a rich mix of more celebrated architectural styles, a lot of art deco, baroque, roman, gothic and even cubist buildings. It pretty but if you look a little closer it’s a little rough around the edges; particularly my hostel. But it this roughness that actually gives it some character, it is the Eastern Europe I was expecting.



The influence or the British tourist is more evident in Prague than any other place I have visited. Every restaurant in the old square offer and English menu there is even a good old British pub. The attractive buildings of the old town house souvenir shops with the usual array of merchandise, bars where beer is cheaper than water and you can even get a nice refreshing absinthe slush. Tourists defiantly occupy this city and they have been catered for, but that for me is what ruins a place. I don’t feel I have even a hint of the Czech culture, in Prague anyway, it has been masked. Perhaps this is what living for so long under communist rule does to a culture. Perhaps Czech Republic is still yet to define itself after being ruled by others. Perhaps I was just in a bad mood whilst I visiting the city.


Prague is a nice place to visit. I understand why thousands flock here each year. It is a tourist destination. By the way they aren’t in the euro zone yet, so it’s cheap if you happen to have brought any Korova with you. ...

tacheles squat: Berlin

This was an amazing place that I went to. Before the war it was a jewish deparment store, the largest in europe then after the war it has been partically bombed and at some point it became a squat. Now this particular squatting community dont actually live there but they use the space as their studios an art spaces. Every inch of wall is covered by graffitti. Every corner smells like wee. In the open area behind the building they use it as a metal work studio and have a bar also. Places like this exist across Berllin but are gradually being forced out.

wall peckers

Berlin:be naked, wee in the street, have sex in public but never cross the road when the ammpleman is red

So far the places I had been offered picturesque town centres or stylish architecture, they had been generally gentle and calm places. Berlin certainly mixed things up a bit. It is built to last; robust and dynamic. The immediate thing I noticed in Berlin was that there was a lot of sky; public space does not seem an issue here. Large expanses of space sit between the powerful and massive buildings in and around what was the hear t of Nazi Germany. The city reminded me of an architectural model, the little plastic figures look so small against the huge pristine buildings. But on this model as you move away from the centre the buildings have been scribbled on and some trampled over. For me there was two distinct parts to Berlin. Perhaps because I was only there two days and visited two different areas...but no, there is.



The centre of the city, which for me represented the struggle and problems that the people of Germany had been through throughout history, shows the power and command that was once here, under Nazi and then communist rule. As you move out away from this area you see the people’s responses to the history and how they have shaped this city into a very unique and diverse place: unlike any other capital city. It is away from the ‘historic’ buildings, which constantly cloud your vision with recollections of what Berlin once was, where you get a sense of what Berlin is and who the Berliners are. They are creative and endearing. What I liked most was their use of space. If a building becomes out of use and in disrepair they don’t knock it down and build something flashy, they inhabit it, utilise it and make the most out of that building. Techno clubs in power stations and art centres in bombed out department stores. Although this is becoming a struggle as the government are selling off land to large corporate companies. Some communities are fighting against the invasion of commercialism which does not seem to have hit Berlin like other capital cities. They deface billboard over and over till eventually the advertiser gives up. The street art is hard to miss. Graffiti is everywhere on anything. Some of it is brilliant, beautiful and evocative, some of it shit scribble. It seems to be how Berliners express themselves, protesting through an art form which is very public and honest.


Berlin is not the city once was. Through its honesty and openness it has been able to overcome its very negative past. But it is still and will always remain a place which evokes many different emotions. Sadness, anger and compassion as you look to its past but hope, excitement and anticipation as you look towards the future.

my mum wasnt impressed but I thought this was genius

This piece of art appeared one night on the street in the red light district. The council wanted to remove it but the locals got together and protested to keep it. They felt it was a nice tribute to the area. The artist is anonamous, as is the figure and the hand, linking to the discretion of the people who use the area, the working girls and their clients.

I am Amsterdam!

Amsterdam: don’t photograph prostitutes

Amsterdam was then one place I am visiting that I felt I knew the most about, which still doesn’t mean much, but I had my preconceptions. Needless to say they were wrong. Amsterdam is amazing. There is so much diversity in such a small area. The more residential area surrounding the city centre is peaceful and very attractive, filled with parks and mixed pockets of cultures. Everyone seemed so happy and friendly as I wandered through a local market enjoying a refreshing drink. The only problem I had with the place was the language. I don’t speak Dutch, I don’t read Dutch, I don’t understand Dutch. Yet people insisted on talking to me. What were they thinking? In our capital city no one will ever talk to you, but here they do. In my experience the Dutch people are very warm and welcoming, even the burly bouncers at the doors of the sex shows offered me a friendly smile, before giving abuse to the loutish groups of men who refused to frequent their establishment.



The city centre itself is fascinating; you can be quietly ambling down a picturesque street then you turn a corner and get lost in the crowd, dodging the fury of bicycles. I think the Dutch are born with a bicycle attached. They are everywhere. Every piece of railing, lamppost or sign had a bike chained to it. The bicycle lanes had priority over the roads. Businessmen, women in heels, children, tourists, dogs, police, all favoured the bicycle. Here it is a way of life. So I tried it out. Cycling around Amsterdam is more exhilarating and exciting than any mountain biking course you will ever do. It’s mental. I was told to ride aggressively, so I did. The city became a huge obstacle course. By chance I found myself in the red light district. It’s quite a shock to be taking in the canal and leaning buildings on one side and then turn to look the other way to have women in their underwear stood in a shop window, displaying themselves.


Later on in the day the atmosphere in the city did change, it was less subdued, more awake and lively. Netherlands were playing in the world cup which may have had some impact but it was the red light district which became more interesting. Of course it is one of the main draws to the city and they seem to accept it here. But I was told that they are slowly shutting it down: within 15 years only 10% of the sex shops will remain and there will be no more ‘coffee shops’. As a young girl alone I expected I would feel intimidated and anxious in this area of the city, but it was quite the opposite. It was the young men who looked sheepish as they wandered through. It wasn’t a seedy or dirty place, I think because it is so open, lay bare, it doesn’t shy away. It is what it is. At £50 for 15 minutes these women could afford some pretty interesting underwear. However the prostitutes were quite aggressive women, one chased a tourist down the street squirting urine at them because they dared to photograph the shop window she was stood in.


I took a free walking tour which was a great way to hear some interesting stories about the city. Amsterdam is a brilliant place, with or without its infamous red light district. In Bruges the streets smelt like chocolate but in Amsterdam they have a more herbal aroma...

green agenda: Rotterdam

Producing work on the go is harder than I anticipated. With such a short amount of time to get a feel for anywhere and finding the time to sit down and do something isn't so simple. I am doing my best though. One proplem I do have though which I thought would be simpler is trying to find a printer or a photocopier as there as something I want to do with which need printing larger than my polaroid printer will do. I continue to search though. In addition to mini responses along the way I am keeping my own 'travelling moleskin' a sort of pictoral journal which is simpler as it requires no technology. It is possible to produce design with very little, but it isn't alwasy then design you really want to do...

Rotterdam: cubes and circles and rectangles and concrete and boats

A wow, Rotterdam was not what I expected. Some might say it is the complete opposite from Bruges! Immediately driving in it was a lot larger a city than I anticipated. Perhaps I should have researched the places I am visiting little more.... ah but that takes away the element of surprise. I was staying in the architectural wonders that are the cube houses. And in the morning I felt like I was being pap’d by the crowd of Chinese tourist enthusiastically photographing everything.


The tourist guide is the hostel were less helpful and interesting than the ones provided in the Bruges so off I headed to the very stylish tourist information centre to see what Rotterdam prided itself on. The tourist information itself is worth a visit. Very nice displays and exhibits. So, Rotterdam. It has a gritty city feel to it; even thought like the rest on the Netherland is incredibly clean. It is the worn streets and continuous building works which prove it is a city where people live and work unlike the show town of Bruges. Since its devastation after the war, when the city was pretty much flattened, Rotterdam has rebuilt and redirected itself to being a forward thinking adaptable city with focus on its architecture. Each building, public space and bridge is different, fascinating and unique. A patchwork quilt of structures and landscaping. You would imagine it to be ugly, the mismatched buildings, its lack of uniform and smooth steel and glass building that are favoured in many cities, nut it is not. It is beautiful and enthralling. The general design (posters/leaflets/adverts) are more attractive here than at home. Is it just because I can’t understand the cheesy slogans; or does this bike riding and boat enthusiast nation have a thing or two to teach us about design?

Bruges: chocolate streets and climbing up windmills

I knew very little about Bruges before I visited it and now I know about the same. Bruges taught metwo things: what an almshouse is and that some frites are not in fact vegetarian. These are the only two significant facts which remain in my head from the 24 hours I spent there. Did I miss something?? I had a ride on the boat through the canals and wandered the cobbled streets for hours. No I didn’t miss anything. The fact is that that is Bruges. A beautiful, serene, picture perfect town. The streets smell like chocolate and the people are warm and welcoming. Its only downfall for me was that there was nothing behind the picture. It was idyllic but it lacked the certain atmosphere, the buzz that I expect of an urban centre. Is this a Belgian thing though? By driving through and from previous trips to the country I notice that there is a very peaceful feel to the place. Sometimes too peaceful, almost as though the whole country has fallen asleep. I think to better understand the culture you would really need to spend longer here and get amongst local people away from the tourist havens.

Apparently 5000 tourists a day visit Bruges during summer but what is the attraction? Even the very helpful and amazing, locally produced tourism guide I was given at the hostel is unsure. They seem to suggest that throughout history Bruges has been insulted and each time it happens more people visit. Its most recent surge in popularity has been linked to the film ‘In Bruges’ and the quote that the town seems proud of-“ If I'd grown up on a farm and was retarded, Bruges might impress me. But I didn't, so it doesn't.”-Ray, played by Colin Farrell. Bruges is perfect for a short getaway if you want to do very little, enjoy lots of beer and chocolate and get lost in quiet streets but to look at culture and design; it was a bit of a faux pas. Nevertheless I enjoyed climbing up a windmill and driving along the flat picturesque roads. Next stop Rotterdam.

the ferry: Butlins but with waves

I was never in the girl guides so knots aren’t my strong point. After you have driven up the metal ramp on the ferry there is a selection of blue rope to tie you are expected to ‘secure’ your motorbike with in case of rough seas. Well I didn’t want to show myself up in front of the other 50 year old male bikers so a quickly set about tying rope all over the show. A few knots later and I was onboard running around the ferry like an excited child. There is something fascinating about a shop and a cinema and bedrooms on a boat. The excitement soon faded as the 2 hour delay set in. The boat was a small version of what I imagine a cruise to be like. I have realised I never want to go on a cruise. As the three bus loads of school children jumped up and down to the music at the disco, the laziest transvestite ever to my left eagerly awaited the bingo to start while to my right they sang along to every word of the cha cha slide, sneakily pouring alcohol they had brought in plastic bottles into their glasses of coke.



The boat reminded me of a British holiday camp. A lot of entertainment and all sorts of people contained in a small area. On this holiday camp though, you were rocked soundly to sleep by the motion of the sea. The staff were incredibly friendly and helpful though, they even said they looked forward to seeing me on my return journey even though I had explained I wouldn’t be returning.

the tourist designers manifesto

(coming soon)

This year I was fortunate enough to be chosen for on of the 2010 Edna Lumb Artistic Trust travel prizes (a scholarship awarded to students at Leeds Metropolitan University each year to enable them to  carry out travel study and broaden their horizons).I have proposed to spend three weeks travelling in a circular route through central Europe: producing publications, experiencing culture and researching approaches.  

The timing of this scholarship has come at the perfect junction. Finishing second year after cementing where my interests lie within graphic arts and design. Having a year of learning to work more playfully and be more open minded in my approach to the subject. At the end of this year I feel content/comfortable working as a graphic designer within university, so its about time to shake things up. Three weeks on my own driving around Europe producing design off the back of my motorbike should do it. Putting me and the subject to the test. Will I be revealed as a fraud? a designer who can stand on my own two feet? or will the experience be a pivotal point in my career, helping me to ride straight through third year? Follow me. Humour me. Criticise me.