What are the odds of a white Christmas in London?

This may seem a delightfully vague, almost rhetorical question, but to the English it is an incredibly serious matter, considered with mathematical precision.

Newspapers have been reporting the mathematical probability of a white Christmas for days, and thousands will drop into the bookmaker to place a bet either way. After a cold snap last weekend, it was reported that the odds had narrowed to 9-2, but have widened right out again since the arrival of a puff of mild air off the atlantic, and even the weatherman is saying that a white Christmas is "now unlikely."

Oxford Street Christmas lights

With weather a favourite topic of conversation among Englanders, its no surprise that you overhear discussions on white Christmases everywhere you go, particularly after a few snowflakes fell on London for the first time a few days ago. But even though their hopes of building snowmen on Christmas morning have been dashed, secretly everyone is relieved that this year's leadup to winter has been a little more blizzard-free than last year.

For the past two months, people have been remarking how warm it is (although temperatures were still a good deal cooler than a Sydney winter), compare to large snowfalls they saw early as last October, and a full-on snowstorm just days before Christmas.

The pre-Christmas buildup has been intense here - the shops have been decorated since late October, and groups of carollers have been strolling about in the evenings for weeks. A small choir has even invaded Liverpool Street station, their dulcet tones spreading out over the waves of hurried commuters. Oxford and Regent streets have been rigged up with complex displays of lighting in the shape of giant cobwebs and department stores like Selfridges and Harrods are so illuminated they are difficult to look at.

Selfridges all lit up

Hyde Park has been turned into "Winter Wonderland", a sort of Germanic themed Christmas market, with an ice rink, amusement rides, and big huts selling mulled wine, hot cider, bratwurst and other treats and delights. 

The general level of people's enthusiasm is also in overdrive - most seem to have been counting down the days until the big day for a couple of weeks now. In Australia Christmas coincides with the summer holidays, and most people take a pretty substantial break, so I suspect the excitement is more about getting some time off work, and getting to go to the beach instead of staring out at the nice weather through the office window.

Here, people are getting into it big time. Mince pies are being quaffed by the truckloads, homes are being lavishly decorated and embarrassing-looking Christmas jumpers are being dusted off. Adam even had a "wear your Christmas jumper day" at his work. People are busy decorating their homes, and if you don't have a tree, tinsel and some outdoor lighting scheme you are dismissed as being "bah, humbug."

We visited some family in Belfast a couple of weeks before the big day, and the excitement was palpable. Adam's cousin and her family were big into the event. With two small children, there was a flurry of decoration, stocking-hanging and letter writing.

Outside Belfast City Hall

They had even signed up for a personalised video letter from Santa, where you put in your child's name, what they want for Christmas and say whether they have been naughty or nice. The child then gets a video message, which tells them whether they are going to get their desired gift. You can even look up stats on which awful parents around the world actually had the message say that their kid was naughty and wouldn't be getting anything!

Belfast City Hall was all lit up, with Christmas-themed markets in little gingerbread houses lining the foreground. Crowds braved the chills and sleety rain to munch on Bratwurst, sip mulled wine and shop for candies, fudge and tacky nic-nacs to line Christmas stockings. There was even a "meats of the world" stall, selling burgers made from Ostrich, Kangaroo and Wild Boar among other things.

The historic Crown hotel

Downtown Belfast has some delightful little alleyways leading off one of the main shopping streets. Wander down one of these and you stumble on an amazing variety of little pubs and eateries. We had delicious hearty seafood pies at the Morning Star. There is also a cluster of historic pubs around the Europa Hotel. The interior of The Crown is a sight to behold - it is covered floor to ceiling in intricate stained glass - which was requisitioned from another important construction project taking place at the time it was being built. There are also a row of ornately carved wooden alcoves, offering groups a quiet place to sit around their own private table.

Wallabies in Wales

Seeing your national team play an away match while you are on the road is a big thrill. But to see the Wallabies playing in rugby-mad Wales, where an entire city comes out to party every time there is an international test, is a near-spiritual experience.

Wales rugby merchandise

Cardiff is just a two and a half hour train ride from London. When we boarded the 9am service from Paddington, the carriage was already full of Welsh rugby fans (or England supporters in disguise) lining their stomachs with cans of guinness and bloody marys in plastic cups - they had even remembered to bring along celery sticks!

Wales is somewhat of an underdog amongst the top tier nations of the rugby world, but it definitely wins full marks for having the most heart. The fiercely determined side showed this by nearly toppling France in the semi-final of the 2011 Rugby World Cup, losing by just a point but never once giving up hope - there was even an attempted shot at goal from the halfway line in the dying minutes of the match.

The fiercely proud Welsh, with their never-say-die attitude, are passionate about their history and culture and are fighting to protect their language. They are doing a fantastic job of it, with Wales officially a bilingual nation and one in five people speaking the Welsh language - a mean feat considering its difficult grammer and tongue-twisting pronunciation! 

And they are absolutely nuts about rugby. While it is almost impossible to find a pub in London that will put a rugby match on their tellie - they're permanently glued to football - rugby is the national sport in Wales. Cardiff comes to a standstill every time there is an international match played - its central streets are pedestrianised and the stadium is right in the centre of town, right by the bar and restaurant precinct. The result is mayhem - the city's narrow arteries are clogged with red and green clad rugby afficionados and every pub is packed to the gills.

The Welsh regimental mascot - a goat with silver tipped horns!

The Australia v Wales match wasn't part of any official tournament, and its outcome didn't actually have any bearing, but this didn't bother the Welsh. The pre-match build-up in Cardiff's millenium stadium pulled out all stops.

Nearly a whole quarter of the seating was taken up by choral singers from all over Wales, who performed traditional hymns in Welsh. Wales has a strong tradition of vocal performance, being dubbed the "land of the song" and is the home of the eisteddfod, a gaelic music and culture festival.

As their beloved starting team was announced, the crowd roared, and was nearly drowned out by vertical pillers of flames - presumably something to do with dragons - being lit around the edges of the stadium. The bellowing spectators weren't much interested in the particulars of the opposing team. The announcer even started introducing the players in reverse order, and didn't realise he had started at number 1 even though the pictures went from number 15, until he reached halfback Will Genia's name!

Fire breathers

There is one problem with seeing your team play an away game. It is very difficult to get excited when every time your team does something good, everyone else is silent or you have to contend with a chorus of exasperated sighs. We went to the match with a rugby-mad Welsh family, which are members of the Welsh Rugby Union, so you can imagine how many fellow Wallabies supporters were in the vicinity. It is quite eerie shouting out encouragement to your team when they score, only to be met with silence and the odd death stare.

The home side had a reasonably strong start, and by the end of first half either side could have come away with a victory. The Wallabies initially looked under pressure, and the crowd responded eagerly with constant singing and chanting. But their cries gradually faded as enthusiasm wore off, dawning on the fans that Wales would probably lose. When the Wallabies started a 21-point scoring streak early in the second half, the silence was deafening.

Wallaby pride in a sea of red

The Wallabies won 24-18, but Wales was not denied a fairytale ending when they scored right on the 80th minute - the never-say-die resolve intact. The try scorer was national hero Shane Williams, a winger playing his final match for Wales before retirement. If you didn't know the outcome, you wouldn't have guessed that Wales lost as thousands of rugby fans converged excitedly on central Cardiff, where thousands were already installed in pubs watching the match on TV.

On the obligatory post-match pub crawl, we called in at a number of establishments along Mary Street, the main drag in the entertainment precinct. All were incredibly crowded, stuffy and played terrible 1980s music. We eventually retired to Bridgend where our Welsh hosts live, half an hour from central Cardiff, and plonked ourself down in a bay window seat at the local boozer.

Our Wales weekender would not be complete without a drive around the rugged South Wales coastline. At the seaside town of Porthcawl, where miners would take their families to a company-built holiday resort or caravan park, surfers were dotted in the choppy breaks, even though it was December and the water temperature down to single figures.

The ruins of Ogmore castle on the river Ewenny

The area around nearby Ogmore beach is clustered with rolling sand dunes and is popular with horseriders who gracefully canter through on their steeds on their way to the open expanse of beach. This is the largest sand dune complex in the UK, and was used to film parts of Lawrence of Arabia. Unfortunately we didn't really get too close to the beach, being winter, and fat droplets of rain had started to fall. It was extremely cloudy so visibility was poor, although you could still see a vague strip of land across the Bristol Channel to Somerset county in England.

Other local landmarks we visited on our little adventure included the ruins of Ogmore castle, a Norman construction dating from about the 12th century. Perched on a flood-prone river bank, this sight is somewhat overshadowed by a path of enormous "stepping stones" that allow you to cross from one side of the river to the other. A stone bridge with round sheep-sized holes in it used to function as a sheep dipping station. Farmers would push the sheep through the holes and into the river below, stripping the sheep of lice and other nasties in their wool before they were sheared.

South Wales is incredibly green, thanks to the plentiful supply of rain, and this part of it boasts lush, arable farmland. Narrow country laneways are lined with ancient stone walls, many of them dry stone meaning they are just very strategically placed rocks with no mortar to join them. The village of Merthyr Mawr has a beautifully preserved collection of thatched cottages which once belonged to a large nearby estate and used to house the servants and other staff. The cottages are arranged around a village green, their thatched rooves fitting snugly over their windows.

In Bejing, everything is on the menu!

The quality of the food in Beijing exceeds expectations on all levels, from cheap noodle bars and street food to swanky dining establishments. Most places we went were surprisingly good value, although all hotels and restaurants slap on a 15 per cent service charge. You can get a steaming bowl of wanton noodles or a big basket of dumplings for 10 yuan ($1.50) at a hutong eatery, or a fancy meal out for 100 yuan ($15.00) per person.

Baozi

Finding a nice meal at neighbourhood eateries is a lucky dip, as most menus don't have English translations. The best strategy is to find one with pictures of the dishes displayed on the walls, and point to anything that looks tasty. Trying to learn the names of dishes in Mandarin is basically an exercise in futility, as no one will be able to understand your feeble attempts at pronouncing the language. I just stuck to hello, thank you and used my fingers to indicate the quantity of whatever I wanted.

For breakfast, we indulged in Baozi – a sort of oversized bready dumpling that was almost the texture of a pork bun and filled with spicy beef mince. They are sold in little shops all over Beijing, stored in stacks of metal steamers.

At dusk, Donghuamen, or Snack Street as it is better known, comes alive with a seemingly endless row of food vendors, staffed by an army identically clad in white chef’s coats and red sunvisors. There are skwers of just about anything you can conceive, from westerner friendly chicken and beef to insects including scorpions, grasshoppers and the downright bizarre, snake and sheep’s penis.

Can't believe I ate one of these critters!

Inspired by Karl Pilkington’s “An Idiot Abroad” I was determined to try the scorpion. I was a little discouraged when I saw a tourist eat one of the crunchy insects, much to the horror of her Chinese companions who refused to touch the stuff. Undeterred, I bought a skewer, and to my surprise it actually didn’t taste so bad, probably due to the delicious barbeque marinade and the fact that it was so overcooked it had the texture of a kettle chip.

We had an amazing roast duck feast at Beijing Da Dong, actually two because we liked the place so much we ended up going back a few days later. The famous ducks are strung up and baked in an enormous clay kiln which looks like a woodfired pizza oven. They are tended by dedicated chefs who haul the cooked specimens out with long sticks. The ducks are then hung up on a rack and another chef tips them upside down and pours a rather copious amount of fat out of them. They are then plopped on platters and taken out and sliced at diners’ tables by servers with white coats and surgical masks.

Peking duck is carved with surgical precision

It wasn’t just the outstanding (and surprisingly lean) Peking Duck that had us coming back for more. Da Dong has an extensive and exquisite menu, presented in an enormous volume that numbers over 100 pages. There was an amazing variety of beautifully presented entrees, including mushrooms accompanied by tomato beer in a teacup, Szechuan spiced chicken with a tube of microscopically diced watermelon and passionfruit paste, and a delicate pomegranate seed salad. I spotted a dish made from fairy floss at one table – it was served on long stalks that were placed in an edible garden. Even the ubiquitous complimentary fruit served at the end of the meal was delicately presented on a mystical bed of dry ice.

Another must-taste on the culinary agenda is hot pot, Beijing style. We were ushered into a dining room clad in garish red and gold decorations and sat at an enormous table (way too big for the four of us) equipped with a lazy Susan and individual hotpot burner. These brassy burners were vaguely reminiscent of a fondue set, with the stock bubbling in a ring around a central tower, and a kerosene burner underneath.

Food coma - delicious Beijing hot pot

The concept of hotpot is simple. Your order stacks of raw meat, sliced thinly and rolled up, vegetables including mushrooms, bean sprouts, spinach and lotus root along with other delights like bean curd, dumplings and various meaty balls. The raw materials appear on the lazy Susan within seconds piled high on enormous platters and you cook them yourself in your hotpot and fish the finished products out with your chopsticks.

Some foods, like meat slices and greens, cook in seconds while the dumplings and balls take a few minutes. It’s easy to forget what you have brewing in there. Waitstaff buzz around the table, topping up your hotpot with extra stock and skimming off any gunk that accumulates at the top of the broth.

Arguments over who should pay the bill are common in Beijing. In Chinese culture only one person pays the bill for the group, but this is often not decided on until the end of the meal. We saw a very heated argument between members of a group over who would pay, and the loser (who did not have to pay) ended up storming out of the restaurant.

See! I really ate a scorpion

Finding decent accommodation in Beijing is not that easy – most of the listings on various travel sites have been trashed by unhappy customers. Staying in a courtyard hotel on one of the hutongs is a great way to get in amongst the action, but the problem is most cab drivers will not be able to find them, and your attempts at even saying the name of the street will prove futile.

Nonetheless, we were extremely happy with Sitting on the City Walls. Tucked away in a maze of alleyways behind Jingshan Park, a stone’s throw from the forbidden city, The spotless rooms were set around a beautifully atmospheric covered courtyard, decorated with Buddhas, rock art and even a replica terra cotta warrior and lots of tables and comfy lounges to sit at.

Xi'an's incredible Terra Cotta army

In 1976, a farmer innocently digging a well just outside the former Chinese capital of Xi’an unearthed one history's most amazing archaeological finds. The farmer discovered an army of life-size figurines made from clay, buried just three metres below the surface in an area close to the tomb of Qin dynasty emperor Shihuang Ling who died in the 3rd century BC. 

Over 2000 of these gems, dubbed “Terra Cotta Warriors” have been unearthed in three separate plots, along with life size terra cotta horses,  The warriors are arranged in battle formation, with a vanguard of armourless younger soldiers at the front of the battle lines and flankers to the side. Still more have been identified but not yet excavated.

The warriors, which are over 2000 years old, are amazingly crafted. Each was handmade from coils of clay, then kiln-fired and glazed in bright colours. There are a number of different designs – generals, officers, ordinary soldiers and kneeling archers. The level of detail in the warriors is incredible – you can even see individual strands of hair and intricate carvings on their armour.

The warriors are displayed in situ at the excavation site. You visit them in a series of pits, where they still are arranged in battle formation. Unfortunately their bright colours have faded, and the excavation process has been halted until archaeologists devise a way to preserve the delicate clay oxides. Some of the better preserved warriors are presented in glass display cabinets, giving you a close up look of their fascninating detail.

We visited the warriors on a day tour of Xi’an. Our guide, Jackie – his English professor was a big fan of Jackie Chan – was a Xi’an local, and a wealth of information about the discovery of the warriors and also how they had helped spur an enormous tourism boom in the city.

The warriors were a fascinating sight, but they don't need a whole day to peruse. Luckily there were plenty of other things to see in Xi’an, China’s fourth-largest city with a population of 12 million. As the former ancient capital of the middle kingdom, Xi'an has some beautifully preserved architecture from the Tang dynasty. Our day tour also took in a visit to the stately seven-story Big Goose pagoda. It is surrounded by a complex of temples, all built in traditional Tang dynasty style. 

We couldn't sneak a peek inside the giant pagoda itself, but were allowed in a temple in front of it where people were saying prayers and lighting incense before an enormous gold buddha adorned with what is now more menacingly known as the swastika symbol (why Hitler chose to pilfer a symbol of peace and

At the gate of the city walls

enlightenment I will never know). My parents got in trouble for stepping on the threshold on the way out, which is a bit rough as all the doorways in these traditional buildings have giant wooden planks across them that are hard to get over. There was also an incredible room with jade bas-reliefs covering the walls that told the life story of Buddha in several different stages, from his youth, to when he decided to seek enlightenment and his later life. The carvings were amazingly delicate, and used several different shades of jade as well as a myriad of other stones to depict buddha, his followers and his surroundings.

Later, we ended up at one of the entrance gates to the perfectly intact walls which frame Xi'an's downtown district. Unlike sections of the Great Wall, these city walls are in such good shape that it is possible to rent a bike and ride on top of their 13km circumference, or simply stroll along the top, a beautiful way to see the city skyline without being caught up in a traffic snarl. 

Traditional splendour meets relentless progress in Beijing

Spending a few days in China's booming capital Beijing gives you box seats to the amazing transition taking place in the world's mst populous nation, as millions of people each year move from impoverished rural provinces for a taste of modern capitalism. Many of the physical changes to the cityscape occurred in the lead up to the 2008 Olympic Games, but on a human level the metamorphosis continues.

Amazingly, this sprawling metropolis of 19 million people is only China’s third largest city, behind Chongqing and Shanghai. Like most Chinese urban jungles, it is immaculately well planned, arranged around a set of concentric ring roads spiralling out from the centre.

Beijing is spread out, even at its bustling epicentre. The roads, arranged in a neat grid pattern, are very wide and the blocks are enormous. Looking at a map gives you the impression that the city is quite compact, until you realise it can be up to a kilometre between major thoroughfares! There is also a slick modern and efficient subway, although this hasn’t done much to curb the city’s alarmingly choked arteries. It is possible to get stuck in appalling traffic jams at any hour of the day.

Lantern-lined Ghost Street (Guijie)

Most of the city’s tourist attractions are handily clustered in the centre of town around Beijing’s historical heart, the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. Nestled among the traffic-choked boulevards of the Dongcheng district is a maze of alleyways known as hutongs, which provide a fascinating glimpse into traditional Chinese life. Hutongs are jammed with hole in the wall restaurants, where workers slurp up steaming bowls of noodle soup, small grocery stores stacked with cigarettes, rice wine and vegetables and traditional Chinese courtyard houses hiding behind high brick walls.

Courtyard houses are shared by several families who are often part of the same work unit, which, after the immediate family, is the building block of Chinese social life. Members of work units not only live together, they also holiday together, visiting other parts of China on guided tours, wearing identically coloured hats and following a flag-toting guide.

Many run-down Hutongs are being cleared for developments

Hanging in a hutong and peeking into bicycle-crowded entranceways is the best way to observe ordinary Chinese people go about their business. There is always something happening in the alleys – I walked past three ladies lounging around on a couch outside a house, gossiping away, and several groups of men arguing heatedly over games of Chinese chess.

Houses in many of the city’s hutongs are pretty run-down, and since the construction boom leading up to the Olympics many have been cleared to make way for shiny new developments. Sadly one of Beijing’s last remaining cultural institutions is gradually disappearing.

There is an impossible number of attractions and entertainment options in Beiiing, and like most things in China, everything is done on a grand scale. The Forbidden City, once the heart of imperial China, is no exception. Passing under the Meridian Gate opposite Tiananmen Square, the stately main entrance bearing an enormous portrait of Mao Tse Tung, you are instantly aware of the enormity of the place.

Entrance to Forbidden City

There are another five identical gates to pass through before you reach a dizzying labyrinth clustered with 20 or so palaces, plus other interesting sites housing ancient calligraphy and ceramics collections and other royal treasures. The palaces were predominantly built during the Ming dynasty in the 1600s. Many were destroyed (often repeatedly) by fire and later rebuilt and updated during the later Qing dynasty which ruled until the fuedal system was brought down in 1911. Many buildings had amusingly grandiose names. My favourites were the Hall of Mental Cultivation, The Palace of Gathered Elegance and the Hall of Martial Valor. I also loitered around the Hall of Literary Glory, hoping some to absorb some good vibes.

It seemed the emperors had palaces for all occasions. There was the resting palace, where the emperor would have some downtime before important state visits or war meetings, palaces for the various armies of concubines, and palaces occupied by different emperors at various times throughout history. At the top of the site sits the imperial garden, a tranquil area dotted with dome-shaped pavilions surrounded by cypress trees and rock gardens.

All buildings are of a similar design, with identical roof tiles, colourfully painted beams and upward-sloping eaves adorned with tiny dragon figurines. The network of walls in the city, both inside and out, are all painted red. Aside from the enormity of it all, the most amazing thing about the Forbidden City is how incredibly well-preserved the buildings are, both inside and out. Many of the palaces are still decorated with their original objects – elegant wood-carved furniture, ornaments and beds still made up with mattresses and bolsters.

Beijing’s parks are built on a similarly grand scale, and are another great way to gain an insight into daily life. We visited the Tian Tan, built 600 years ago during the Ming dynasty. The centrepiece is the Temple of Heavenly Peace where people went to pray for bumper harvests. The park, set over more than 100 acres, also contains a tomb and other imperial buildings including a fasting palace, where the emperor would avoid meat, alcohol, women and other vices before a big event.

Smoking men

Curiously, there is an entry fee for the park, and it costs extra to visit the palaces, but we didn’t bother because there was quite enough to entertain us just strolling along the cypress-lined avenues and exploring the various gardens. One area was packed with groups of exuberant cards and chess players, while on benches under the cypress trees people sat, smoked and chatted in groups of twos and threes. There were even small choral groups practicing under the trees surrounding the rose garden. A conductor faced the group, who followed a book of song verses attached to a music stand.

The Chinese seem to make the most of their playtime. Despite the early winter chill, they turn out in droves every morning to practice tai-chi in the park. Others group together for ping-pong tournaments in neighbourhood parks, or play hacky sack with curious bouncing objects shaped like badminton shuttlecocks.

Despite increasing levels of car ownership – which often cost Chinese families more than the value of their homes – bicycles and scooters are the preferred means of getting about. Beijing is an amazingly bike-friendly city. Besides being pancake flat, there are dedicated bicycle lanes on every road. Still, cycling around the city is not without its perils, mainly because bigger vehicles automatically assume right of way, and at every intersection cars turn across bicycle lanes whenever they feel like it.

Cars are allowed to turn right on red lights, and scooters share the bicycle lanes. If that wasn’t enough, cars often sneak in there too, and park right across the lane. There is also the danger of pedestrians stepping out on the street without looking. I saw three traffic accidents – all involving pedestrians – during my time in Beijing.

Sculpture at 798 Art Zone

Being a pedestrian automatically puts you at the bottom of the pile. Even though all of the intersections are marked with green men, they do not make a scrap of difference, as every time you cross a road you are stalked by turning cars, scooters and bicycles, many of which are electric so you can’t hear them coming. Some of the streets are over 10 lanes wide, so crossing them can be quite an experience!

Riding around the city was an exhilarating, if not slightly perilous experience. We rode out to the edgy 798 contemporary art zone, a precinct of galleries, cafes and restaurants in a disused East German factory. The trip took us right out near Beijing airport, somewhere between the fourth and fifth ring roads. There was an amazing variety on exhibition there in the muddle of independent galleries - from Chinese contemporary paintings to kooky sculptures to a Tibetan photo collection to North Korean propaganda art - where we got in trouble with the thought police for taking photos.

Another bloody Aussie in London

It seems like there is never a good time to move to the UK, especially not since the country has been paralysed by stagnant economic growth and rising unemployment since the financial crisis. The usual question we were asked when we told people of our desire to up stumps to London after our big trip to South America was "why?", quickly followed by taunts of "you don't realise how bad things are over there," and "the Australian economy is booming, so why leave?"

Two things: first, Australia is a microcosm, a tiny market that, although it has a healthy economy, doesn't have the breadth of job prospects in journalism and engineering (mine and Adam's respective professions) than the much larger UK, which lets not forget, is on Europe's doorstep. Second, the Australian economy is booming - if you work in the mining sector, an industry which I have absolutely no desire to cover, but which occupies many column inches in the Australian media. And I have no desire to move to Perth, should Adam wish to work for a resources firm.

We touched down at Luton airport (ironic that it is called "London Luton" because it is in the middle of the countryside), our backpacks stuffed with smelly, falling apart clothes and various souvenirs including Amazonian hammocks, Brazilian sarongs, Guatemalan scarves and Oktoberfest beer steins. Fortunately for us, we both have EU citizenship thanks to our Anglo-Irish heritage. Adam is even luckier to have a British passport because he was born in Peterborough before at the age of two his family embarked on a world odyssey, finishing up in Australia when he was 11.

Another thing that has made settling in much easier are the ranks of Adam's relatives dotted around the UK. Our accommodation anxieties were quelled by an offer to stay with a cousin who lives just to the east of Central London. Whitechapel and Spitalfields, former industrial and warehouse precincts, are better known as the former hangout of bloodthirsty serial killer Jack the Ripper. Part of the council borough of Tower Hamlets (being a stone's throw from the Tower or London), are in the process of being refurbished and renewed with slick warehouse conversions and modern apartment blocks popping up in among tired brick blocks of council flats.

East London has a strong history of migration, having been home to successive intakes of new arrivals for hundreds of years. The Huguenots, a band of French and Flemish protestants, made the area their home in the 1700s. London's Jewish community then settled in the 1800s and established textile factories after the sewing machine was invented. Jewish families have since moved westwards as they became more established, but they left behind clues of their existence, including a row of bagel houses.

Bangladeshis are the latest custodians of the area, and as a sign of the times, the former Spitalfields Great Synagogue now operates as the London Great Mosque. It's focal point is Brick Lane, a long narrow alley clustered with curry houses and supermarkets, where the air is heavy with a heady blend of cumin, garam masala and green chili aromas. Gaudy sari and gold jewellery shops line the surrounding streets, and discount clothes merchants run a labyrinth of stalls on nearby Petticoat Lane.

Whitechapel is also home to a large numbers of Pakistani and Somali residents , as well as the more established afro-Caribbean community. This heady mix gives the area a completely different feel to other parts of the inner city, and the large muslim population means that at times I am the only person on the street not wearing a head covering. Many simply wear a hijab along with their usual Western-style clothing, but it seems like more and more women are now dressing more traditionally, and opting for full face and body covering with garments like the burqa.

Our new view

The city's financial district is just a few blocks west, making Brick Lane and the now trendy enclave of Spitalfields a popular drinking and dining destination for hoards of socially conscious bankers and lawyers, many of whom have eschewed establishment areas of North and West London for a pad in the edgy East End. Thanks to an urban renewal project taking place noisily across the road from the flat, a big ugly brick building that used to serve as RBS's data centre has been demolishished, leaving us with a brilliant view that includes London's controversially iconic office tower known as the Gherkin.

Prague road trip

It was a pretty simple equation. Renting a car in Germany works out cheaper than taking a train, you can go as fast as you like on (most sections of) the autobahns, and Prague is just a five-hour hop from Berlin. Solution - road trip!

Caning down the autobahn in our hatchback while being overtaken at 180km/h by enormous Audis and BMWs was exhilirating. But the thrill soon wore off and we discovered it was much more interesting and to cruise the back roads that wound their way through the lush green countryside and through gorgeous little hamlets clustered with immaculately tended gingerbread houses. Fortunately we had a Sat Nav that told us where to go, saving us from getting lost and countless potential arguments!

On the way to Prague we stopped overnight in the town of Gorlitz, which sits on a river that forms part of Germany's eastern border with Poland. From the river bank you can sit in a tranquil courtyard cafe and gaze across at Poland. There is a stark contrast between the beautifully painted, perfectly presented homes of Gorlitz and the run-down grey soviet megastructures in the Polish town of Zgorzelec on the other side.

Landskron, the local Gorlitz brew

Gorlitz is one of the few towns in former East Germany that wasn't heavily bombed in the Second World War. The majority of its beautiful medieval and baroque buildings are intact and wonderfully preserved. It seemed like quite a prosperous town as well, despite only emerging from communism 20 years ago. Several large companies, including Siemens, are based in the surrounding region.

Continuing to Prague, we drove over the border to Poland (I think being Australian you get a thrill out of crossing land borders just for the fun of it), just to see what it was like. The condition of the roads deteriorated immediately, as did the quality of the breakfast and coffee on offer - lukewarm sauerkraut roll and machine-made espresso). I can't really give you an objective report on Poland given that we spent a sum total of a couple of hours there, and then made a beeline for the Czech Republic.

The roads, buildings and countryside all seemed to improve the minute we emerged from the forest separating Poland from northern Czech. Czech farmhouses are all boxy two-storey dwellings, and look remarkably large. We did drive through one unfortunate valley where a big brown haze settled over the area, thanks to a bunch of smog-belching brown coal power stations that are used to power Prague. Life expectancy in this region is well below other parts of the country, and its no surprise that many people have moved away and the remaining residents are plagued with health problems.

Prague's captivating Old Town Square

The first thing that struck me about Prague, other than how similar it looks to Florence, is how medieval it is. So many of its buildings, towers and churches were built in the 1400s or even earlier. The cityscape is lined with ramparts displaying the emblems of family crests, with Prague castle perched on a hill overlooking the river. Prague's oldest bar (or so they claim) is still standing, a dank dimly-lit establishment smelling of straw where you can drink Pilsener out of big ceramic mugs.

It's easy to see why Prague is so often described as an outdoor museum - its historic centre, clustered around Old Town Square, is mesmerising. The buildings are in immaculate condition - their facades beautifully restored and masterfully decorated with intricate period features and lots of gold leaf paint. Many have Russian-style spires on their roof, a gentle reminder that you are in Eastern Europe and not Italy.

Absintherie

Prague has definitely been discovered. Its tourism industry is on steroids, and when we visited in late September it was crowded with big tour groups, but strangely it retains a quirky, old-world charm (although accommodation wasn't that cheap as prices are rapidly rising). It is a hit with middle-aged museum afficionados and obnoxious youths alike - thanks to the arrival of cheap Easy Jet flights it is now a popular stag weekend destination English lads.

Its universal appeal may be because Prague has something for everyone. You can spend your stay gazing at medieval artefacts in Prague Castle, you can have booze-fuelled benders at strip clubs or absinthe bars (the Czech republic being the home of the magic green fairy) or you can simply wander around the city's maze of back alleys and gaze at the magnificent view of the river from one of the many bridges, soaking up the atmosphere.

Stalin shows off his iron fist

As this road trip was a last-minute addition to our stay in Berlin, we only had two days in Prague so we didn't get around to that many sights. As has been the case in other cities, we found the main event - Prague Castle - a little stuffy and a bit of a chore to get through, and enjoyed some of the more kooky sights more. The Museum of Communism was an absolute standout - fascinating, hilarious and downright terrifying all at once. As expected, it had lots of Commie propaganda (including some great anti-US anti-capitalism posters) and lots of info about all the idiotic programs the party ran, including collectivised agriculture, rationing and polluting heavy industry.

More surprising was a collection of relics on display - from military uniforms to pictures of gymnasts and old telephones to my personal favourite, a statue of Stalin with his classic "iron fist" raised. The museum chartered the rise of communism in the post-war period (amazingly the US bailed out Czechoslovakia in WWII but was then quickly turned into an enemy, hence the anti-US propaganda) and gave graphic detail on the hardline regime. Phones were bugged, conversations eavesdropped on, and anyone trying to leave the country was shot on sight.

Czech cuisine is famously hearty, so we weren't exactly gunning for goulash at every meal, but sadly we found the food in Prague a bit hit and miss. It's probably better if you dine in a nice restaurant, although I've heard the quality doesn't vary too much with the price. There are lots of nice-looking neighbourhood joints dotted about the place. The goulash is a lot cheaper than other dishes such as duck, pork knuckle or (Adam's favourite) steak tartare, and the one I had was pretty grisly and served only barely lukewarm. We had more success with the wine - there was only Czech wine at this place, and to our delight it turned out to be a beautifully smooth Pinot Noir - who would have thought?

We managed to strike a fabulous compromise between budget hostel and comfortable guesthouse accommodation with the Czech Inn. A beautifully restored 19th century building with a big downstairs bar, it is technically a hostel but you can rent apartments (which look like they were renovated yesterday) on the top couple of floors. The apartments are self-contained with stainless steel kitchens and a loft-style living space. The only catch is that they have two bedrooms - great for two couples but if it is just the two of you, the living space and bathroom is shared with another couple, which feels a little odd.

Big bad Berlin

Berlin is Germany's capital and its economic, scientific and creative powerhouse - truly a well-oiled German urban machine. An immense effort to rebuild the heavily bombed metropolis after the war has endowed it with a sleek central core of stylish modern buildings nestled among several refurbished or untouched historic stone buildings. Its tree-lined streets link together an incredible number of parks and green spaces - covering nearly a third of the city's overall area.

Bicycle is the way to get around Berlin

Most of Berlin's spacious avenues have bicycle paths and many intersections are equipped with special traffic lights, making this a great way to explore the city, whose sights are relatively spread out. Rather than squashing everything into one crowded centre, Berlin has four or five smaller centres, which reduces traffic congestion and makes life much easier for pedestrians and cyclists.

It's easy to forget that 3.5 million people live here. The atmosphere here is laid-back, almost mellow, with so few traffic snarls, quirkily dressed hipsters pedaling slowly by on vintage bicycles and everyone giving each other a cheery "HALLO" to greet each other. With more galleries and museums that you could possibly hope to see in a single visit, alternative living thrives in Berlin. Grafitti appears to be tolerated, vegeterianism is popular and recycling is king.

By German standards, Berlin seems like quite a tolerant city. It is very multi-cultural now, especially with its large Turkish population, many of whom live in the neighbourhood of Kreuzberg. Besides doner kebab joints on just about every street corner, there are lots of Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese restaurants in the inner city. We were so delighted with this - and intensely craving Asian food - that we had at least three pho noodle soups during our visit.

Berlin has a well-deserved reputation for having the world's best nightlife. Groups of eclectic youngsters prowl the streets, where the party is to be had just about any night of the week. On Saturday nights the streets are packed with revellers with beers in their hands as they warm up before hitting the clubs. Its not uncommon to see devoted partiers wandering around in broad daylight on a weekday after several big nights out.

As any Berliner will tell you, its all about the techno. Its Berghain club, built in a disused power plant, can accommodate up to 1800 party people under its 18-metre high roof. As well as chic bars packed with trendy types hanging out of them, huge grafitti-soaked warehouse complexes draw huge crowds, banging out music from dusk to dawn. There is an entire precinct in the edgy eclectic neighbourhood of Friedrichshain, containing at least five separate warehouses all pumping out different types of music, as well as an open-air bar with lounges and, wait for it, a volleyball net suspended over a surface of imported sand.

The wall and the post-war occupation zones

On first glance, its not obvious how much this freakishly organised, party friendly city has been through in the past 100 years. Berlin hides her scars well. They start to show themselves when you visit the many memorials to the horrors the city's residents endured during the Second World War and the ensuing division during the Cold War.

The infamous Berlin Wall, one of the strongest visual icons of the Cold War, is still intact in parts of the Eastern side of the city. It has been opened up to artists to decorate, and the East Side Gallery as it is known, is now a series of murals, from the cheesy, to the thoughtful to the flamboyant. It stretches along hundreds of metres of concrete breezeblock that used to be topped with razor wire to prevent residents of East Berlin escaping to the West.

Like the bloodthirsty Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia or the bombings during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the thing that most amazes me about the Berlin Wall is that this bizarre, inhumane situation occurred during my lifetime. I was 10 years old when the wall came down in 1989, a bit too young to understand the significance of it all. To me it looked like Berliners were having a giant rock concert on top of some concrete slabs and doing a lot of graffiti for fun.

It has been an incredible experience to get a close up view of the wall and learn more about the events surrounding it. This year is the 50th anniversary since the wall was constructed by East Germany to stop an exodus of its citizens amid falling wages and rising poverty in contrast to the increasing prosperity of the West. The Checkpoint Charlie museum - the border crossing used by Allied personnel since the occupation of West Berlin after the war - has amazing stories of escape, bravery and tragedy as East Berliners hid in cars, swam across the river and in one case even invented a light aircraft - in order to escape the communist regime.

Checkpoint Charlie

The museum was created shortly after the wall's construction by historian Rainer Hildebrandt. It has cars with hollowed out sections, a chair lift, a hot air balloon and a small pedal powered aircraft used to cross the border. Those caught trying to cross into West Germany would be shot on sight. As many as 600 people were killed trying to cross the Berlin Wall in between 1961 and 1989.

A peaceful tree-studded park adjoining the bank of the Spree River plays host to a Russian war memorial, commemorating the estimated 26.6 million Red Army casualties in WWII. At one end of a long pitch are twin marble structures boasting hammer and sickle communist symbols. An imposing black statue of a soldier dominates the other end - he is carrying a sword, which is pointed at his feet which is cutting a swastika symbol in half.

Russian soldier breaking apart a swastika

Even more stirring is a visit to the Jewish memorial and museum. The memorial is quite a strange design - a series of rectangular concrete slabs rising unevenly out of the ground, across a large plaza. I'm not sure what the significance of the slabs are - they could represent graves or how the concentration camps looked perhaps. The museum itself is downstairs, and besides being modern and equipped with all sorts of multimedia exhibits, tells this horrific story of the Jewish Genocide remarkably well. There is a section on various Jewish families from different parts of Europe, with information on what they did before the war, where they were taken to and what happened to them. There was a surprising amount of documentary evidence - letters, photos and videos which made the exhibit much more personal, instead of having to present long passages of text about what occurred.

The main touristy area stretches from the historic Brandenburg gate (where Ronald Reagan made his famous speech imploring Mikhail Gorbachev to tear down the wall) through to an island on the Spree river studded with museums to the funky shopping district Alexanderplatz. Its not always easy to tell on which side of the former wall you are standing on just by looking. Some of the utilitarian soviet-style constructions aligning main drag Karl MarxAllee (formerly named after Stalin) are a dead giveaway. Berlin has great neighbourhoods filled with cafes, restaurants and bars on both sides of the river, particularly Friedrichshain and Kreuzberg. We discovered lots of cool clothes shops and cafes along Oranienstrasse as well as along Kopernickerstrasse in Kreuzberg.

We were fortunate enough to stay with some friends who live in Berlin, who gave us a great lowdown on things to do, lent us bicycles, cooked us delicious vegetarian food and helped us understand many things about the great lifestyle that people in their city enjoy. And we were completely charmed by their beautiful 2 1/2 year old daughter Leyla, who kept us entertained throughout our stay.

A mural on part of the remains of the wall

Oktoberfest

Strap on your lederhosen and hold on to your felt hats for the world's biggest beer-centric celebration. Oktoberfest! And where better to celebrate such a finely crafted beverage than in Germany's southern state of Bavaria, which has been perfecting the fine art of brewing for centuries. It still enforces strict beer purity laws to ensure its lagers, weiß beers and sweet dark dunkels remain the world's finest.

If you thought Oktoberfest was just another silly excuse to order enormous steins of beer, swing them around and spill them everywhere, well, you'd be partly right. But there is so much more to this mega-party than giant beer halls, bratwurst and pretzels. In Munich, Oktoberfest is held in the city's enormous showground, and is like a big carnival (think the Easter show without all the horsies), with rides, entertainment, food and of course beer. I was quite surprised to see little kiddies rocketing about the place, lining up for the rollercoaster and quaffing hotdogs.

Although it only happens once a year, the sheer size and solid construction of some of the beer halls looks like they are there to stay. Some of the big brands like Lowenbrau and Paulaner can seat thousands of people on long wooden bench tables inside as well as in the ubiquitous Bavarian biergartens. Crowds are kept entertained by oom pa pa bands replete with tubas and accordians, and are kept on their toes by tough-as-nails beer wenches armed with up to four one-litre steins per hand, and who think nothing of shoulder-barging revellers who get in the way.

Rockin the dirndls

Keeping your beer wench (which I'm told in this part of the world is a perfectly acceptable term) happy is an absolute must at Oktoberfest, otherwise you will be ignored and unable to get what you need - more beer. You can only be served drinks while sitting at a table, and its best to slightly overpay for each beer, as if you tip well she may even take a shine to you and start coming around more often.

It can be difficult to nab a table, which seat up to 10 people, once the festival swings in to full gear on nights and weekends. This does end up working out well, as it forces you to befriend groups of Germans in order to get a seat and be served. We ended up meeting lots of groups, some from Munich but many from all over the country who flock southwards for beer season. Beer drinking is a national sport all over Germany, but it seems nobody does it quite like the Bavarians.

Oktoberfest is celebrated annually as a commemoration of Bavarian King Ludwig II's wedding 201 years ago. Many of the original traditions are still in force. The most hilarious part of the festival is the lengths that people - both Germans and foreigners - go to to re-create the traditional dress. For the boys, its the suede leather lederhosen shorts, while ladies doll themselves up in floral frocks and fluffy white blouses, an outfit known as the dirndl. A felt hat with rope band and feather sticking out of it tops off the ensemble.

Uber-short lederhosen

We were quite keen to give the traditional dress a go, until we found out that they cost about 100 Euros ($135) an outfit, so we settled for daggy Robin Hood style hats instead. Finding affordable accommodation in overflowing Munich for the festival was also tricky, with spartan dorm beds in crowded hostels fetching up to 70 Euros a pop ($95). We opted to crash in a tent for three nights at a camping ground about 20 minutes from the town centre. It was organised by a bus company who also ferried revellers to and from the Oktoberfest site.

I can't say it was the most luxurious accommodation package we've ever experienced, what with having to pay for hot showers and toilet paper and getting extremely measly ''free'' breakfasts. The camping ground was absolutely packed, with about 10 other companies operating the same thing, and 150 happy campers in our group. Not that we spent a great deal of time at the campground anyway, and I was one of the lucky ones whose air mattresses didn't deflate while we were there.

It was much more fun to be at Oktoberfest as part of a big group, and there was always some good value people on hand to hang around with and fill up a beer table. It was a massive Aussie-fest - probably 90 per cent of those on the tour. After 10 months in South America meeting more Europeans than Aussies, it was quite a shock to meet the guy who lived 3 blocks away from us in Erskineville.

Say what you like about drunk Aussies, but at the end of the day they do know how to party, and are very outgoing and eager to meet new people, which made it easy for us to bond with our German brethren. After spending the first night in the Hofbrauhaus beer hall in central Munich laughing hysterically at Germans dancing on tables in their lederhosen, we spent the whole of the next day at Oktoberfest. We started in a big group at the Lowenbrau hall and moved out with a smaller posse to check out some of the rides. Luckily we did this nice and early in the day before too many steins had been consumed.

We then paused to sip on steins at a bar that was actually a rotating merry-go-round. You could sit on a horse with your beer and just watch the world go by. Later on it was off to the ginormous Paulaner tent, where the beer wenches were getting a little stroppy as it was approaching 5pm, when many of the tables are reserved for corporate groups arriving after work (can you imagine rocking Oktoberfest with your boss and all of your work colleagues? Only in Germany!)

After that it was harder to get a table, but we managed to sweet talk our way onto one at the biergarten at the Hacker tent, where everyone recharged with roast chicken and I retreated to half-steins.

Neuschwanstein castle

Thankfully the following day, the tour operators took our sleepy hungover selves into the stunning Bavarian countryside to check out Neuschwanstein castle, a two-hour drive from Munich. The relief was palpable. It was much more pleasurable to sip in fresh country air and walk around a beautiful regal pile than face another stein. The castle, built in the alpine foothills as a refuge for King Ludwig in the mid 1800s to commemorate his pal and hero, composer Richard Wagner.

Unfortunately Ludwig met a sticky end in suspicious circumstances in 1886, before the castle had been completed, so parts of the interior on the second floor remain unfinished. I know all this trivia because we had a guided tour (something I almost never sign up for, had I not been on a massive guided tour already): But it was totally worth it to hear the hilarious voice of our petite, serious-looking guide, who had obviously been taught to project her speech so everyone could hear. Combined with a heavy German accent, the result was priceless, slowing down to emphasise words in this huge scary tone, ''the...castle...was...NEVAR....FINISHED.''

It's a pity Ludwig wasn't around to enjoy his masterpiece, because it's a pretty elegant crib. The walls are decorated wtih murals that represent various Wagner works, and there are amazing woodcarvings on doors, walls and above the obligatory royal four-poster bed. Even the royal john looked like a stylish throne.

Surrounding the castle is a network of tracks through the forest, including one that takes you to a bridge over a ravine directly opposite, where tourist hoards gather to get the money shot of the castle. We walked a little further uphill, and made it up to a beautiful lookout where we had an amazing aerial view of the castle, the surrounding hills and the town and neatly-tended fields below.

That evening, it was back to Oktoberfest. It was a tamer affair for our group, as we didn't arrive until 7pm. The Germans were in full-flight, whacking steins together and dancing on tables. It was Friday night, and absolutely packed, with tens of thousands of revellers staggering up and down the lanes of the fairground. Luckily we managed to bag half a table in a beergarden, having been refused entry to three others which were too full. We had fun laughing at people on a ride that was like a really fast, slippery travelator - many people stacked it straight after they hopped on.

Buenos Aires - Palermo & Recoleta

Leafy Palermo's avenues are lined with plush modern apartment blocks. This inner city neighbourhood, a few kilometres north of central Buenos Aires, has a much more upmarket demographic than the artsy hipsters crowd in San Telmo. Groups of women in expensive-looking leather boots walk their precious pooches among middle aged ladies pushing designer prams with their well-heeled husbands.

Palermo is criss-crossed by a network of grand tree-lined avenues. The enormous Avenida Liberador has a roundabout with a huge statue of Simon Bolivar, the leader of independence movements across South America. Avenidas Santa Fe and General de Las Heras are the area's commercial centres, and are lined with shops, delis, wine stores and cafes. Many of the quieter streets are home to neighbourhood steak houses, which serve up delicious juicy tenderloins, creamy potatoes and crispy salads.

One side of Avenida Liberador is lined with a series of rolling green parks, from the Buenos Aires racecourse and polo club (another British sport that enjoys unlikely popularity), to the Japanese Garden and jogging mecca Parque de 3 Febrero. This park has a tarmac circuit built around a geese-filled lake and historic houses, and is crammed with exercisers - joggers, walkers, cyclists and the ubiquitous Buenos Aires rollerblader. When we went on a Saturday there were rollerblading workshops, where groups were being taught various tricks and how to roll in and out of a series of cones.

One of Palermo's grand avenues

A couple of Palermo's parks are frequented by another Argentine peculiarity - professional dog walkers. There are so many dogs in the city that this has become a respected profession. Dog walkers must be licensed, can take up to eight charges with them (although in reality many have many more), walk them for two hours twice and day and some even have veterinary training so they can look out for ailments.

We found a park that was like a depot for the dog walkers, with up to 100 pooches running around or tethered to the ground. Seeing dog walkers in action is a hilarious site, as they cruise down the streets with an army of pooches hanging off a messy tangle of leashes.

Dog walker - this one is a beagle specialist

Palermo was our home for a week of our stay in Buenos Aires. We rented an apartment close to the subway station, just off bustling Avenida Santa Fe. Our place was a studio shoebox but had a spacious terrace to enjoy in the springtime sunshine. After months of being on the road and staying in mangy hostels, it was so nice to have our own pad again and cook what we liked in the kitchen.

All of our neighbours in the apartment block were super-friendly, and eager to make small talk when when we bumped into them in the lifts. Very different to the hostile looks I used to get from unfriendly neighbours when I lived in Sydney's inner suburbs!

Neighbouring Recoleta is even more upmarket than Palermo. I felt decidedly under dressed in my well-worn backpacker garb when walking the streets. All of the women here are very well-dressed, and hang out in fancy coffee shops and bakeries, sipping tea and nibbling on Argentine delicacies media lunas (small custard-filled croissants) and alfajors. These are sweet biscuits lathered with gooey caramelly dulce de leche, smushed together like oreos and covered in either meringue or chocolate.

Giant mausoleums at Recoleta cemetery

Recoleta's star attraction is its cemetery, which is like a mini-city of enormous marble and stone mausoleums. It is laid out in a grid radiating from a central statue of Christopher Columbus, with the mausoleums arranged like houses along a series of avenues.

Some of the tombs were so well-constructed, they looked bigger and sturdier than much of the housing we have seen people crowded into throughout Latin America. Many luminaries are buried here, including Evita Peron, several former presidents, doctors and scientists.

Recoleta is also home to a number of art galleries, including its local cultural centre and the Bellas Artes or fine arts museum. Both were free. The cultural centre had an interesting photographic exhibition called the people of Buenos Aires. It had quirky shots of all types of people, including street toughs, homeless people living under freeways, children, corporate types and some of BA's many immigrant groups including Chinese, Japanese and Bolivians.

Sadly, Buenos Aires is our last stop in the Americas, after 10 months learning Spanish and travelling from Baja California in Mexico through Central America to Colombia and through South America. Buenos Aires is amazingly mellow and easy to deal with in spite of being such a large city, and was a definite highlight along with Rio de Janeiro, Mexico City, Havana and Bogota. We are heading to Europe now, on our way to the UK where we hope to find work in our respective professions (journalism and electrical engineering). We will be in Germany for two weeks, just in time for Oktoberfest! Stay tuned for our next adventure as El Mundo hits Europe.

Our apartment block in Palermo