Rosie's Travels

1) Finding a fantastic hidden gem known only to art teachers - the Adelaide Recycling Centre, or That's Not Rubbish! as it's known. All kinds of scraps and fabric ideal for collage and projects, and run by a couple of really interesting and friendly women. If you want to go there, take a friend to map read and be prepared to ask passers-by for directions, though. It is a well-hidden gem.

2) Driving along, talking about depression and doom, wondering what I'm doing with my life, when on the radio we suddenly hear Sir Mixalot. That song is guaranteed to have us geeky white girls slapping the air and shaking it like slightly less coordinated versions of Cameron Diaz. "My anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns, hon!" Ah ... good times.

3) My wonderful photographer friend Rene has a website at www.renegrosso.com - everybody should visit here for some surprising moments of restfulness, inspiration and startling beauty. I first met Rene when I made cups of tea for a bunch of random travellers in a Prague hostel. (Note to prospective British backpackers: you can always introduce yourself to people with tea and sympathy! I like the scientific Tetley's drawstring teabags best for making a first impression.) Karen and I travelled with him and Tymen through the Czech Republic, Austria and Hungary, saying a sad goodbye to these energetic guys in Budapest. We were overjoyed to get a call saying they'd come all the way down to Romania to hang out with us!

Former bookshop owner Rene has a broad smile, an infectious laugh, and the most unique Canadian accent I've ever heard. My sister and I stayed with him in Edmonton when we were doing our cross-Canada pilgrimage. Randomness attracts him: one night he took me along to a club night where he was photographing a latex spiderwoman. I saw his cross-processed prints of a previous theme night featuring kitty-cat dancers tangled in balls of wool. He also taught me some of the few photography facts I've remembered: what cross-processing is (well, I can recognise it when I see it, but don't ask me to explain it); and that when having a black and white portrait photo taken, ladies may request a red filter over the lens to even out the skin tone. Talking of which, he owes me either a photo or a bottle of red wine. Murfatlar would be nostalgic...

4) I had a brush with local fame when as I was waiting at a traffic light, behind me I heard a resonant "LAAAH!" It was the sort of Singing Voice that clearly belonged to an Actor warming up his Vocal Instrument. Sure enough, I turned round and recognised the chap. "Weren't you the First Voice in Under Milk Wood?" "Why yes! Yes I am!" he said delightedly, pumping my hand. It was apparent from his delight that he hadn't yet been Spotted very often. When I informed him that I'd reviewed the production and singled out his Welsh accent as notably convincing, he rose several feet into the air and strode across the street beaming. It's good to make someone's day!

5) Pete and I had a near-miss brush with real fame: Tenacious D were in town! We were walking through the CBD when I got a text message from Susie saying "I'm on the bus and could swear I just saw Jack Black standing outside Hotel X!" We had to hunt him down, of course, but by the time we reached the hotel, pens at the ready for autographs, he had gone inside leaving a small gang of hardcore fans clutching signed posters. "Is he coming back out?" I asked. "He didn't say," one responded dogmatically, "but he might. So I'm staying put." He unfurled his poster and permitted me a glance at the great man's scrawl. Somehow I expect celebrities to have more flamboyant handwriting than the rest of us, for their signatures to feature stars and hearts or in this case thunderbolts. But no. (I can't talk though - my "Rosie" has often been misread as "Kevin".)

Hey, ex-boyfriends! Want to really annoy your ex-girlfriends?

How about

a) turning up in their new city with only 8 hours advance notice

b) expecting that they'll drop everything to entertain you, which they do because in theory you both want to be friends, and they want to prove that your initial impression of Adelaide wasn't fair

c) keeping them hanging on waiting for you to phone as if the last 8 months haven't taught them anything

d) inviting yourself over for Sunday morning brunch, even going so far as to request that you be served chai tea

e) politely asking when you should arrive by - your ex-girlfriend will say 11am at the latest - but she doesn't really mean it! No, it's fine to shamble along after 1pm. Just fine.

Yes, it was pretty awkward. I don't know where all the affection and good wishes went, or all the love that we had for three years ... even being able to hold a conversation without judging and irritating each other. Perhaps I was building it up too much, thinking that I'd finally get some closure - but I guess I just ended up thinking, wow - we really have so little in common. How come we didn't argue more? How could this guy's opinion have been so important to me for so long? And how come it took until 10 minutes before he left to actually express any of this irritation, rather than bottling it up?

I guess sometimes you can get on fine over the phone and email, but in person ... all the stress returns. Like I constantly say, and most of the time believe, I want us both to be happy, and clearly we can't make each other happy.

Pffff. Oh, I have new reviews published:

an interview with the creative genius behind Quiet Child

reviews of a cool jazz trio whose music I found challenging to describe - let's face it, I'm no Whitney Balliett; Kiwi dub/roots stars the Black Seeds; and Sugababes' Greatest Hits

and a review of something rich and strange, Highway Rock'N'Roll Disaster.

Plus, I do have good news: Nia, a friend from uni, has taken the big decision to come travelling, and may be doing a working holiday to either Australia or New Zealand! It was just lovely to hear her voice again. Sometimes it's your old mates who know you best and make you laugh the most ...

or perhaps a random hilarious mate from purgatorial times fruit picking in Queensland, who phones up after a year, bringing up times that were pretty funny in retrospect (Maverick had set out into town on payday with the idea of going food shopping and bringing us a loaf of bread. Several hours later, with no sign of him, we set off in the car and were greeting by a drunken lurching yelling Maverick, brandishing shopping bags, who tumbled under the stationary car and couldn't extricate himself. "Rosie! Beautiful Rosie! I have your bread!" he cried, handing out with exaggerated care a squashed and mud-splattered loaf. Several friends gathered round to haul at his limbs and finally removed him. He waved us off, clutching his head - a cheerful soul, and someone I'd definitely look up in Sydney!)

... or sometimes it's tea and sympathy with a housemate who gives the best advice. I started writing this feeling pretty grumpy, but actually I have a lot to be grateful for.

Fingers crossed for the wishing pig!

I recently got a very mature and considered email from a cousin. Part of my response to her contained travel advice; I've copied this below for anyone who is considering taking time out to go on a journey.

Regarding Gap Year plans, I think youve done very wisely in taking a year out. You need time to decompress from the A level stress, to make some money, to broaden your perspective, and when you do come back to study, you'll appreciate it a lot more.

One tip: wherever you decide to go, don't start in Freshers' Week by alienating everyone with how you discovered amazingly cheap Thai fisherman's pants, and how the locals were all so spiritual, and that you alone have been Awakened to Cosmic Truths. There will be a ton of people who say that, and they can get pretty annoying, not to mention boring once you've heard the spiel the first 10 times. Get to know people first, then bring up your exotic experiences if they're actually interested! I'm sure that I don't need to tell you this, as you're such a friendly people person, but Gap Year bores do get ruthlessly mocked.

http://www.teaching-abroad.co.uk/ is the website for the outfit I went to Romania with, Teaching and Projects Abroad. I think the things Karen and I looked for to help us decide on a project were:

a project we felt strongly about doing that would enable us to use our talents to actually affect people's lives, not just being used as spare pairs of hands;

a country with good transport links so that should anything go wrong, we could get home relatively easily;

the opportunity to live in the community, not just stay with other foreigners;

a language we'd be able to pick up the rudiments of so as to make ourselves understood. Romanian is, as the name suggests, one of the Romance family of languages, along with French and Spanish which I'd studied before. (I really, strongly recommend that you get some audio tapes / CDs and do this, even if it's only the basic greetings, finding toilets, and "Does anyone here speak English?" We found the Berlitz tapes make this much easier than the Teach Yourself tapes, which get unnecessarily grammatical too quickly.)

It was also one of the cheapest projects – we saved more money by taking a cheap flight to Prague, and then working our way down by train, allowing us to acclimatise to travelling, rather than flying straight in to the very busy capital. We knew, however, that our host families were getting well recompensed for housing and feeding us, and that the fee included a donation to the orphanage.

As a bonus, we had the option to extend our stay, or transfer from Care (in the orphanage) to Teaching, Archaeology, Journalism or Wildlife Conservation if we weren't happy - it was good to have that option, although we chose to stay where we were.

The director's wife also taught a language course which was a great advantage – when Karen was suddenly taken ill in the remote Danube Delta, where no-one spoke a word of English, I'm so proud that I was able to commandeer the only car in the village from a wedding to get her to the medical centre and answer all the required questions. One thing about travelling is that it certainly gives you initiative!

Take a little photo album to show people your family, and what home life is like for you. You may want a little autograph book where the interesting people you meet can write you messages and give their email addresses.

Phone home once a week if you can. I do this every Sunday, so Mum and Dad don't worry throughout the week, and if I can't call I'll text or email the next day to reassure them.

One final tip: get yourself a money belt that lies flat against your skin, and if you feel unsafe, go into a toilet cubicle where you can organise your money and passport in privacy. Well, that's if there are toilets and not just holes in the ground. I'm sure your parents are having kittens about this, but from someone who's been there, I can tell you that I look back on Romania as being among the best times of my life. There were huge challenges, there were moments when I couldn't help crying, but it was a unique opportunity and I saw a huge amount of a beautiful and hospitable country, on the cusp of major social change, that very few people visit.