17. Cultural Diversity

This past week we have indulged in many cultural activities.  At the weekend, B whisked me off to Venice for a quick visit for my birthday.  I absolutely adore Italy, especially Italian food, so I was chuffed to bits with this gift.

We flew with Ryanair (from now on will be known as 'fucking Ryanair'), and of course there was some delay.  We knew we wanted to get the last bus at 2230 from the airport, to the city centre, where we could walk to our airbnb apartment, however it was looking increasingly unlikely we would make that connection.  As it turned out, we arrived at just about 2230, but we were sure the bus would be gone.  Luckily though, the bus company seemingly did not give two hoots about their timetable, and were waiting for more punters to come through the gate.  I guess they at least are quite used to fucking Ryanair's special brand of timekeeping.  In the end we sat on the bus for about 20 minutes waiting for lift off, so maybe it is us who needs to be more relaxed about punctuality.

The bus journey took us to the city centre, and from there we headed out on foot to find our flat.  The rain was coming down a bit, but we knew the weather would not be perfect so we had rain jackets with us at least.  We wandered through the streets, we were both peckish so were hoping for some late night restaurant would still be open.  Unfortunately it seemed we were a bit late for a sit down meal, but we were lucky enough to find a chichetti pub and an adjoining pizza takeaway right next to where would be staying.  Result.  We hopped inside the bustling boozer and ordered ourselves a couple of drinks.  Aperol for me, and a prosecco for the missus.  B also ordered a bite in there, after a hilarious conversation with the owner about which of the dishes did not contain any milk products (B's allergic).
"How about this one?" B asked
"It's-a ok, no milk in that one.  Except the cheese" came the reply.  This went on for a couple of minutes before an actual milk free option was found.  I guess in Italy food is just what you add to cheese to make it taste different.

In the morning, we took a look around our neighbourhood in the daylight.  It was such a lovely place.  B had picked an apartment away from the central tourist area so it seemed comparitively quiet.  We walked for a while and stumbled across a local butcher.  We decided to buy some cold cuts of meat, some cheese for me and some bread and have a self catering breakfast.  And boy was it a good decision!  Such delicious varieties!  I think the butcher was a little annoyed by tourists taking forever to decide exactly which version of salami they wanted to purchase 15 grams of, multiple times.

We spent the rest of the day doing what we usually do on vacation, wandering the streets, taking in the sights at our own pace and looking for good places to eat.  As we were looking for a suitable lunch spot, we saw a ten-strong Italian family, all suited up, slowly walking alongside one of the canals.  There were 2 grandmas in the pack, and one of them was particularly slow, being helped, or manhandled, down some steps of one of the many bridges.  I said to B that it will probably take them 2 hours to walk 300 metres to wherever it was they were going for lunch.

After a half hour or so more walking, we found a restaurant overlooking a square and a church.  It seemed like a nice place to sit down and people watch, so we settled down.  We ordered some drinks, and after a little while people started to gather in the square.  Everyone was dressed to the nines, it became clear a wedding was about to happen.  More and more people joined the group, everyone seemed so happy and jovial, it looked like they would have a really nice day ahead.  A little while later, would you believe it, the big Italian family we saw earlier finally joined the party as well!  It really had taken them over an hour to walk there.

Unfortunately the next day was already time to go, so after an early lunch/late breakfast we hopped back on the bus and got to the airport.  Of course, fucking Ryanair delayed us by more than an hour here as well, although I think we were both kind of expecting it at this point.  Here are some more pics of the lovely Venice though.

To continue the cultural theme, on Tuesday evening we went to a painting class.  Now, I am no artist, but thankfully this was a bit more like painting by numbers than create your own masterpiece.  First we had to trace the outline of our chosen picture (everyone painted the same), and then the teacher told us how to create the colours and what techniques to use to complete it.  This was of course in Hungarian so I could just about understand the colours, but everything else was a mystery.  So I went a bit rogue and went by my own pace and techniques, while B followed the teacher's instructions a little more adherently.

You can see the results below.  I will let you guess who's is who's and who's is best ;)

Our final slice of culture, came in the form of the theatre.  We went to the Madach Szinház to see Szerelmes Shakespeare (Shakespeare in Love).  We were advised when we booked that there would be English subtitles for this, but alas (poor Yorick), there were none.  So it turned out to be more of a Hungarian lesson for me than a play, but good practice nonetheless, and B certainly enjoyed it.

I have had a good couple of weeks running wise since the half marathon.  The week after the event, I put in 45 kms at an average pace of 4:39 mins per km, which is my fastest ever weekly average.  And last week, midweek I slowed my speed back down a little.  However, on Saturday I achieved a PB. The lingering disappointment of my half marathon time 2 weeks ago was nagging at me, so in perfect conditions I headed out in the early morning to try again.  And bingo.  9 mins off my best time, I finished in 1:32:03.  Now I am thinking ahead that just maybe, one day I can do this in under 90 minutes.

16. A Swift Half

On Sunday, I took part in the 32nd Wizzair Budapest Half Marathon.

I have been preparing for this since February, when I signed up, but really ramped up my training in the last 2 or 3 months.  I am in the best shape of my life, but anything can happen on any given day.

Up to the day before, I was feeling super confident.  I had done a couple of 15 or 16km practice runs at a steady race pace, and felt sure I could maintain it for 5 more kilometres.  I had also done slower, longer runs so I knew that I would finish.

The night before was a total disaster though.  My plan was to eat late, go to bed around 1130, get up just before 8am and head straight to the startline.  I never eat anything before running, I prefer to go out on a completely empty stomach.

Well, best laid plans and all that. Instead of getting a restful 8 hours, I managed about 3 before being woken up in the night.  Ping.  Wide awake.  So I laid there for more than an hour, thinking how desperately I needed to be asleep.  Managed to doze back off just after 4am, then our delightful cats woke me up at 6am by scratching on the bedroom door.  Ping.  Wide awake again.

Time for Plan B then, so I got up, fed the bottomless monsters, and decided it was so early I should also eat something as well, else come the start time of 9am I am going to be so hungry I won't be able to run at all.

I made myself some cereal with fruit, and ate a half a banana as well.  I didn't want to eat much, just enough that I save myself hunger pains later on.

I mulled around for a little while then headed over to race central with public transport.  The underground was absolutely rammed full of racers and spectators.  The first one that came resembled Tokyo during rush hour, the attendant was helping people to squeeze in to the tiny carriage.  No way I am being manhandled by that dude, so I waited for the next one.  Bit more luck this time, I managed to push in and away we went.

The atmosphere at these events is always fun and lively.  I've only done a few but I really enjoy the camaraderie.  Everyone is happy to talk to each other, discuss race plans, target times, your PBs and
all the other stuff your friends are completely bored of by now.  There seemed to be a lot more people at this event than the last half I did.

The Start Line the day before..

It was 830am now, and I was starting to do my usual warm up routine.  I wasn't the only thing warming up.  Along with thousands of other runners, the sun was also starting to beat down. Forecast said that it could reach up to 30 degrees, running in that kind of temperature is always a challenge.   By 8.58am, I was believing the forecast.

At 9am, the klaxon went, and the first wave went through the gate.  There were 6 groups in all, depending on what you said your pace would be when you signed up determines which group you get put in.  I was in group 3, which would start in the second wave.  This meant another 3 and a half minutes of standing at the start line.

Second klaxon - and we're off.  My group's pace was said to be between 5-5.30 mins per km.  Now my training had gone so well, that I believed I would go faster than this, I was now aiming for 4.30-4.40 per km.  This meant I had to run around a lot of people in the first minutes, to get some space to run my own pace.

My early pace was good, if not a little too fast, but I felt great after 3 kms.  I was averaging around 4.20 per km, but everything felt fine, I wasn't out of breath and it felt right, but a little warm with the sun heating up further every minute.

At kilometre 4, I knew B would be waiting on the sidelines to cheer me on, so I was looking around with anticipation.  I heard her before I saw her, it felt so good to have her there cheering and supporting me, as well as her little sister.

Unfortunately,  not long after I saw B, things started to go awry.  I felt the unfamiliar surge of pain of a stitch in my right side of my stomach.  I put this down to eating beforehand, as my body is not used to having any intake before a run.  I pushed on for a few hundred metres, before the pain turned into a full on cramp, absolutely searing pain in my stomach now.

At this point, I thought I would have to drop out.  I was heading up a slight incline, but the pain meant that I could barely keep up any pace, although I managed to keep a jog going.  I was struggling now to take any kind of meaningful, deep breaths, so it was really difficult to keep moving at all.  I was jogging with my hands on my hips, gasping all the way.  At one point, an older man came running past me and signalled for me to keep it going with a hand gesture.  It gave me a little boost.

I did not want to drop out.  I put so much energy and time into training, to not finish now would be a disaster.  Although my hopes of finishing in a personal best time had already evapourated, my thoughts now turned just to finish the race.

And so I pushed on through the pain.  For about 3 kilometres, the pain was really sharp and quite debilitating.  But once I got through those 3 kms, it got a bit easier, or I just got used to it, and I could pick up the pace a little bit once more.

The heat was also pretty full on by now as well, and running through the pain meant I did not have much energy, so the rest of the race was just a fight for survival.  I was fairly steady in pace from 8km up until the 15 or 16km mark, but after that I had little left, and got slower and slower.  I knew I could at least get to the line though.

After one hour, I was taking every opportunity where water was provided to throw some over myself.  It was now so hot, just a small cup of water poured down the back of the neck gave a really lovely, envigourating feeling.  I began to look forward to the water stations. I churned out kilometre after kilometre, counting each one down as I passed the markers with increasing relief.

Finally, I could see the final markers coming up in the distance.  I did not have the energy to make a sprint finish, even when I saw B and family on the sidelines again, I just made sure I got over that line still upright.

In the end, I stopped my watch on 1:43:09.  Considering the difficulties I had, I was pretty happy with this time.  It was not a PB, but I had overcome an obstacle I had not foreseen and still put in a respectable run.

For sure, I will sign up to the next half in Budapest.  For one thing, I still have a goal to finish under 1:40:00, and I still believe I can do that.  Secondly, I absolutely love the atmosphere of these events.  The whole city comes out to cheer, there are bands and drummers playing on the side of the road the whole time, and the sense of community spirit really shines out.  You see every type of person, and every person has his or her own unique challenge and reasons for running the race.



Thanks for reading.

15. A Travel Retrospective Part 1: Malaysia

In March 2016, we had decided we wanted to see a little of Asia, so booked our flights to Malaysia.  Our MO was obvious, to do it as cheaply as possible and eat as much street food as we can.  We would take backpacks to ensure we could move from town to town as easily as possible, as we only had 2 weeks to pack as much in as we could.

Our flight took us to Kuala Lumpur, we would arrive in the afternoon and we would head on to Georgetown the very next day, so we would not have much opportunity to explore, so we found our Airbnb apartment, and just walked the streets in search of chicken noodles.  We soon found them.

The apartment was only about 40 USD per night, but I have to say it was pretty amazing, just for the view alone.  We could see the whole city, and had a great view of the Petronas Towers.

The next morning, we used the rooftop infinity pool as well.

 Next stop was Georgetown.  We had heard a lot about this place, supposedly a very cool city with a multicultural and modern vibe.  It did not disappoint.

My favourite things about this place were the street art...

 ..and the food of course!

The first two nights, we stayed in a 6 bed dorm room.  I have to say, I am too old for this shit!

The final night in town though I was in charge of accommodation, and booked something far more appropriate.

I could definitely spend a few months in Georgetown.  It is such a vibrant place, exciting and full of life.

From Georgetown, we went to the Cameron Highlands, to see the tea plantations.  This is where we encountered the most stunning scenery of the trip.

Also the food was pretty great too, we tried what they call in English as a 'steamboat', which is basically a soup, on a stove, with loads of meats, seafoods and veggies which you cook yourself in the soup.  B was braver than I in tasting the jellyfish and other exotic types, but I did pretty well for myself.

From there, we next would head to the jungle.  A town called Kuala Tahan, just on the edge.  To get there, we needed to take a rather rickety old boat for a couple of hours.  It was fun, but my arse was happy when we finally arrived.

The second day in Tahan, we took a hike in the jungle.  We weren't exactly sure of the route, the map we had left a lot to be desired.  We were given the map by the rangers on the outskirts of the jungle, but it was just a hand drawn thing with no sense of scale whatsover.  There was also no signposts at all that we found, with the exception of one which had fallen over a long time ago.  It was good fun but we were starting to get a bit anxious towards the end when we ran out of water, as it was swelteringly hot and we were not sure how much further we had to walk.  We felt better when another hiker suddenly came bounding out of the undergrowth, a French woman on her own, looking as equally lost as we felt.  We showed her our 'map', by which time was absolutely soaked from the humidity.  She seemed to get her bearings and bounded off again in the opposite direction we were heading. 

I think there are probably loads of European tourists just wandering around aimlessly for years in that jungle.

We reckon we did about 17km that day.

Rewarded ourselves with more tasty treats after.

 Next stop, Kuala Teranganu.  We just stayed one night there, it was enough.  It wasn't our favourite memory, but it was where I told B about the next travel adventure I had already booked (more later on this).

We had allocated four days at the end of the trip for some relaxation time on the beach.  Friends of ours had been to Malaysia and recommended this island called Pulau Kapas.  We were not in any doubt it would be a good finish to the tour.  Only trouble was booking the accommodation, it could only be done by contacting the owner through a facebook page, not very official and not very quick to respond either!



But it was worth it, a beautiful place.

Finally we would head back to KL for just one night, which gave us the opportunity to visit the Petronas Towers up close and personal, and also the old cricket ground, which we had to visit for my grandad, who used to play professionally.

It was an utterly amazing trip, even more so that we did it on such a tight budget.

Hope you all enjoy the pictures :)