I’ve been spending a lot of time with my good mate (and fellow Sri Lankan) Geoff Jansz lately, and me and ‘Colombo’s Coolest Cook’ have been pushing boundaries and changing the world together. Alright, we mainly we just chase each other around the kitchen and gossip about boys, but we’ve also been whipping up some mouth-wateringly unusual meals.
While our urine-infused ice cream and devilled penguin weren’t successful and led to an outbreak of food poisoning amongst our friends, tonight we struck gold. I want to introduce you to the new national meal of Australia – THE MEAT PIE-ZZA.
It combines the meaty deliciousness of a hearty meat pie with the cheesy-yet-healthy beautness of a pizza – and it’s absolutely delectable. Because you probably don’t have a world-class Sri Lankan chef on hand to help you experiment, here’s all the info you need to cook your own meat pie-zza!
Stuff you’ll need
1 family meat pie
Pepperoni The tears of a child
Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro, doesn’t make it onto many lists of must-see cities, and for very good reason. While it’s not an unpleasant place, and you won’t get stabbed or raped if you go there, I can’t think of a single reason to visit it rather than any other medium-sized city anywhere on the planet. Well, apart from Huddersfield.
I had to spend a eight hours in Podgorica before catching a bus to the Macedonian capital of Skopje, which was about seven hours too long. There’s just not much to look at – the river that runs through town is wet, but not particularly pretty. The Turkish Old Town is covered in graffiti. The most prominent landmark, the Millennium Bridge, is celebrated by locals but looks like any little bridge in any town you’ve ever seen. Alright, the women are all pretty, which is a bonus if you’re a sex tourist or something.
The city centre is pretty flat and boring, with a bunch of three story buildings clustered together and not much else. It feels more like a country town than a national capital. I became confused for a while and thought I was in Wyong, and wondered why dickheads with tattoos weren’t trying to punch me while homeless dudes urinated on my leg.
That’s one thing you don’t see much of in Europe – tattoos. Every dumbarse in Australia is loaded up with stough stickers, and most of the women have shit ink all over their bodies, but not over here. They might eat weird food, smell funny, and talk like they’ve got dog shit in their mouths, but at least they don’t think it’s good to have a tattoo of Spider-Man above their buttholes.
The most exciting thing I saw in Podgorica was a pervert – who also might be the mayor of the city, according to some locals I was magging to – started flashing children as they walked past him, enjoying the sunshine. Apart from that, he seemed like a nice enough bloke.
Oh, and speaking of thin, slimy things, I saw a fucking SNAKE slithering around like he owned the fucking joint.
After oohing and ahhing over the small number of statues in the centre of the square, and remarking at all the unfinished buildings strewn around the joint, I’d exhausted my list of sighyseeing options and spent the afternoon eating pizza and drinking beer. The Petra Cetinjskog boulevard is actually quite lovely, with plenty of trees and nice little bars and restaurants to get pissed at.
After drinking my bodyweight in Tuborg and eating enough pizza to have Rebel Wilson tapping out (who am I kidding, that fat slug would eat pizza till her sides split), I staggered back to the river, stripped off and flaunted my wares as the sun went down. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in the city, and small children danced around me with sparklers in their hands.
Alright, so my travel advice for Podgorica is
Don’t fucking bother going there
Watch out for snakes
If you have to spend time there, get really drunk or take up a heavy heroin habit, AND
If you’re going to masturbate in public, the local cops can be easily outrun
After a big day of exploring Slovenia’s lovely Lake Bled, I decided to have a quiet one today. Nah, that’s a load of shit, I walked over 30km and checked out two of the most incredible places a fella could ever hope to visit. Unfortunately, Scarlett Johansson’s vagina wasn’t one of them.
Vintgar Gorge is about four kilometres north of Bled township, and there is apparently is a bus that goes to it, but I wasn’t able to find it. So, like a drunk who spent his last five bucks on another schooner, I decided to walk it, and the journey wasn’t too bad. It took me through fields and traditional Slovenian villages, before finally spitting me out at the gorge.
Vintgar is stunning. A series of rickety-looking wooden walkways take visitors through deep canyons, while incredibly clear water rushes underneath. Lush vegetation thrives on the edges of cliffs in a world of almost unbelievable beauty. It feels rustic and wild, and it wasn’t hard to imagine myself as some sort of long-haired Indiana Jones, exploring some incredible land for the first time.
Well, except for the fact that there were pensioners everywhere. Seriously, hundreds of the old bastards infest the Vintgar Gorge, complaining about haemorrhoids, asking what time dinner is, and pushing their little walkers along the walkways. I was stopped six times to help fogies change the ringtones on their phones and was asked three times what an internet is. Dad, if you’re reading this, and want to head to Vintgar, you’ll find plenty of people to talk to about listening to the wireless, and how good Errol Flynn was as an actor.
Crowds aside, Vintgar is an awesome place and comes highly recommended. If you don’t reckon it’s grouse you need your head read, because it’s bloody tops. In fact, Vitgar is considered the second-most-beautiful gorge in the world, after ‘Gorgeous’ Gorge Rose.
A trip to Vintgar fills up about half a day, and I thought about spending the rest getting drunk and trying to impress Slovenian chickie babes with my kangaroo impressions, but a lazy arvo wasn’t on the cards. Instead, I walked back to Bled (we’re up to 11km already, in case you’re not keeping count) and then hopped on a bus out to Lake Bohinj, which takes about 45 minutes. Like Lake Bled, Bohinj is as pretty as memories of a lost love, but it’s also almost completely undeveloped and really quiet. I didn’t see even one Chinese bloke with a camera while I was there.
The lake is absolutely stunning, with a sheer mountains rising out of the water on both sides. It’s a lot bigger than Bled, and the track around it probably runs for 18km or so. A trot around the water is a real adventure, but totally worth it due to the kick-arse views. Don’t try to walk around it all if you’re a salad dodger, though, or you’ll probably have a bastard heartie.
At the western end of the lake is the Vogel ski resort, where all sorts of people in funny-coloured outfits slide down snow on little bits of wood. It’s not winter at the moment, though, so nobody’s doing that, but the cable car to the top of the mountain (1500m) runs all year round, so I wasn’t going to miss out on the chance to take a ride on it.
It’s a tranquil and awe-inspiring ride that provides a few minutes for careful reflection on life. Actually, that’s not quite true, because the little bloke who runs the cable car was blasting songs by Eminem and other angry rappers as we climbed to the top. He was furiously shouting about ‘fucking up yo bitch’ and stuff like that, which went some way towards destroying the ambience of the ride. When I stepped out at the top, I was relieved that he didn’t headbutt me.
The cable car rises 1000m in less than five minutes, and it’s like a different planet at the top. There’s still plenty of snow up there and it’s bloody cold, but at this time of year it’s basically deserted. It’s eerie seeing restaurants sitting empty and frozen, while chairlifts swing silently, waiting for the next ski season.
The weather wasn’t great, so the view from the top of Vogel wasn’t as spectacular as it could’ve been, and it wasn’t long before I was back on the Rap Express, dodging “fucks” and “niggaz.” Not actual niggaz – there aren’t a whole lot of them in Slovenia – I mean angry words spat by Slovenia’s answer to Slim Shady. From there, it was another 10km back to the bus stop, by which point my feet were aching more than a hooker’s smoo when the Harlem Globetrotters are in town.
All up, I walked 32km, but if you’re worried about me getting all skinny and gay-looking, don’t. I recharged my batteries by smashing a large kebab pizza (yes, that exists!), a massive bowl of hot chips, and three pints of beer when I finally made it back to Bled. If I’d been there with a pretty lady, she would’ve called me a fat cunt and gone to bed with her back turned to me. I wasn’t that lucky, though, so I just had a wank and called it a night.
It’s time to get out of Tallinn, so today I headed to the world famous city of Parnu! PARNU! PARNUUUUUUU! What, you haven’t heard of it? It’s a little place on the western coast of Estonia, and the country’s summer capital. It’s where all the rich folk from Tallinn head when the weather stops being so damn cold, and is a bit of a resort town. However, I decided to visit out of season and in the middle of the week, so it’s been deader than a married woman’s libido.
There’s not a lot to Parnu, but what there is of it is pleasant enough. There’s a touristic main street with cute little wooden buildings and plenty of souvenir shops, a few parks that are, well, there, and lots of restaurants and bars scattered around the place. There’s also a shop for the city’s alkos.
Parnu’s most famous landmarks are its twin breakwalls, which each extend more than two kilometres into the ocean. They’re not overly impressive, but dickhead here obviously had to walk all the way out to the end of one of them, and scrambling over all those rocks wasn’t an easy (or fast task). Tradition states that if a person makes it to the end while holding the love of their life the whole way, they’ll stay together forever. So, of course, I held my dick – I know you’ll always be there for me, baby.
There’s a wide, white-sand beach a few hundred metres south of the centre of Parnu, and I’m sure it would be lovely under the right conditions (say, 25 degrees, with heaps of cute Estonian sheilas frolicking around in tiny bikinis, maybe getting a bit lezzy with each other, and heaps of cold beer), but it’s a little bit creepy when the temperature is in single digits and even that’s outnumbering the people on the sand. Still, I was treated to a delightful sunset and one of the more unsual beach walks I’ve ever had.
It’s easy to see that Parnu would be a great place to stay when the weather’s warm and the whole town is humming with happy people, but it’s a little bit sleepy and lacking in interesting things to do at any other time. The main reason I’m here is to visit the nearby Soomaa National Park, which I’ll be doing tomorrow. It’s probably for the best – there’s only so many times you can walk along the bloody breakwall!
Beer of the day:
I smashed three pints of Saku at Steffani’s, but I didn’t smash Steffani, because it’s a pizza shop, not a lady. I’ve gotta say, Saku is a fantastic beer – really clean and clear, and so bloody easy to drink. Puts most Aussie beers to shame, so it’s no wonder it’s the pride of Estonia!
Kebab of the day:
Today’s kebab was a pizza, which I also enjoyed at Steffani’s. Estonian pizzas are weird, because they coat everything in a thick layer of blue cheese, but it was a top meal after not having eaten anything of substance in two days.