Something as simple as renting a scooter and riding down the Miami Beach seems to be a mission for us. As always I was a little nervous trying something new especially when I have to ride a scooter (I am not even a fan of riding bicycles) and drive on the other side of the road, but with a little persuasion from my carefree wife, I agreed to do it. Thinking it can’t be that hard when you see so many others doing it all around Miami, we ventured out to rent our new mode of transport.

The deal was I would drive and as long as I didn’t go too fast Phillipa would be happy. Phillipa did offer to drive but my ego would never allow it. Not only are we riding a scooter (a real man’s bike) but we wore dorky helmets and the thought of me holding onto Phillipa would break any sense of manhood I had left.

It seems the theme of our 6 month trip was to rent from very dodgy companies and renting a scooter was no exception. After filling out a few forms we were then asked “Have you rode a scooter before?”  I smiled and gave a little girlie giggle and said “No”. I am not sure if it was the animal instinct in him sensing fear or my answer had that little croak in it like a boy who is just going through puberty but when he answered “It’s not that hard” he showed signs of regret and seemed very worried all of a sudden.

We walked to our bike and with some instructions on how to ride the scooter he made it clear a few times that there was petrol in the tank. “How you get it is how you return it” and continued to tell me that it would only cost me $2 to fill the tank and a 2 hour bike ride should only cost 50cents. Opening up the petrol tank he showed us there was petrol in there and off we went. It seems a little odd that he would open the tank and show us but assuming that’s what you do when renting a scooter we just went on our way.

The first few kilometers were a little shaky. With my balance a bit all over the place and stressing about driving on the wrong side of the road, things eventually seemed to get a bit easier. We weren’t wobbling all over the place like a worm but cruising along like we knew what we were doing. Phillipa is taking pictures over my shoulder and everything is looking great. With this new confidence we see a really cool bridge and decide to ride over it.

Just before we ride over the bridge I look down and see that the petrol indicator is showing low. I think to myself how that can be when it only cost 50cents to refill what we have used in 2 hours. I don’t see any petrol station on this side of the bridge maybe on the other side. Going up the bridge we feel the engine struggling a bit. The thought of running out of petrol came to mind but the little voice inside, the voice of hope, was trying to tell me that it’s all ok and it’s just the angle of the bike on the bridge. Stupid voice it was wrong. Really wrong. Mid way up the 4 lane bridge we find ourselves stuck without a single drop of petrol. Do you think there was any service lane that we could pull into? Of course not, otherwise where is the adventure in that, right? Here we are, stuck on a very busy bridge in Miami pushing along a scooter without petrol. It’s funny right?  Of course it is, because it wasn’t you pushing that hunk of junk over the bridge.

Over the bridge we go and still not a service lane in sight. There was a foot path next to the road so we pushed the scooter over the concrete barrier and onto the footpath. I did worry about scratching the whole bottom of the bike but getting hit by a car made that worry obsolete. First thing we did was get on the phone and call the rental place to find the nearest petrol station. Calling from our international mobiles we call the number we were given and what happens? A fax machine picks up. 6 calls later (8 English pounds later) someone finally picks up but with our adventures there is always a catch. We ran out of credit before we could even get the message across. As I looked at Phillipa trying to get connected I could see steam being released from her body. Yes that’s right Phillipa’s blood was boiling! Especially when they finally answered again and told her that we needed to find a gas station! I kept trying the scooter in “hope” that it would miraculously start and what do you know it did. I quickly made the waving motion (like people stuck on an island) screaming at Phillipa to get off the phone and go. She jumps on and we are off YAY for a total of 500m.

Running out of petrol wouldn’t be such a big issue except true to form Phillipa had booked in another tour just over 1 hour from then. Time was ticking and we had no idea how far the next petrol station is.

We saw a council gardener doing his rounds and thought he might the just the kind of person we could ask for the nearest petrol station. Phillipa rushes over and asks but the gardener instructed Phillipa to bring the bike over. We thought that we could just leave the bike with him and he would show us the nearest petrol station. But the guy continued to walk to the back of his truck and gets out the one single thing everyone who runs out of petrol wants to see. RACV cover… no, it’s better than that. It was a jerry can full of petrol. It was like the clouds parted and a ray of sunshine (the ones you see in the movies) shone on the red can. He filled us up enough for us to locate the petrol station and get back. We didn’t have much to offer him but we figured we could give him a few dollars for his trouble.

The guy said that wasn’t necessary and he would get in a lot of trouble if he accepted money but if we insist we should leave it on the ground. Finding the request a little odd, we slowly put the money on the ground. The same way a robber would put down his gun and walk away slowly. As soon as we walked away the gardener made a remark “Oh look I found some money on the ground”. I guess he didn’t want to get seen taking our money but I am not sure what difference it makes if we put it on the ground, but he was fantastic and very helpful.

We hopped back on the scooter made a quick stop at the petrol station and back to the rental place with 2 minutes to spare. With our new adventure under our belt we can happily laugh about it now but next time I am going straight to a petrol station and filling it up!

Sphering – To roll down a hill in a hamster blow up ball for fun.
Sphering (Kim’s defintion) – To try and prevent oneself from vomiting in the ball and rolling in it.

The drive to sphering seemed to take forever. With butterflies in my stomach it was a very uncomfortable ride. To make things more interesting Phillipa and I bought the same present to give to our Antipodian friends but for them they think it will be fun.

We arrived early and all I could think about was where the toilet was as I think I need a change of jocks. This didn’t look like fun at all. We filled out the standard forms that basically remove all responsibility to the company. You tend to find these forms at other crazy presents my in-laws/friends have found for me ie go ape, sky diving.

To get into these balls isn’t an easy task. One must take run up and dive into an entrance hole only big enough to slide in. The diving action is like pretending to be superman and flying into a world unknown…ok maybe I just have a really weird imagination. Once inside your four limbs are strapped to the inside of the ball. Just picture two people strapped inside to look like star fish facing each other. The guys tell you to push your back against the wall and keep your head forward. As we sat there waiting for the push I wondered if keeping our head forward was to stop us from chooking on our vomit as it projects across the ball. The OK signal was given and two guys start to push our ball down the hill. A very high pitch scream echos in the ball as the ball picks up speed. What sounded like a cat being strangled was Phillipa screaming whenever her side of the ball was off the ground. As soon as her side of the ball hit the ground it sounded more like a cat being strangled under water. This worked as a perfect distraction to my motion sickness except my stomach kept getting pushed into my skull then ripped out and pushed into my legs. Around mid way through the ball started to bounce which was really not nice. Round and round up and down your body is not made to go through this kind of motion. Partially deaf and with some organs in the wrong place we finally hit the bottom.

Feeling a bit sick I was glad it was only 40 seconds but it was the longest 40 secs of organ bashing I have experienced. Thanks again to my lovely inlaws for being so thoughtful and picking yet again an experience I will never want to put my body through again.

This trip we had our good friends Jonathan and Nicci join us. Nicci was already in Italy visiting family and poor Jonathan had to experience our “traveling style” all on his own. The stress for Jonathan started with Phillipa running slightly late for the train to the airport. I am used to Phillipa cutting it very fine to catch any transport but I don’t think Jonathan was ready. Once we finally got on the train on time Jonathan started to relax but not after having a few heart attacks in between.

Phillipa hasn’t driven a car for a while now, let alone driving on the other side of the road, so lets just say if Jonathan wasn’t in the car we would have had a few more flavorsome arguments. After a few scares here and there we got lost even though we had a TomTom to guide us. Driving around Treviso trying to find our hotel (wrong address provided by the web booking) we found ourselves driving through the business district. The red light business district that is, which later on provided us with a sound show just before we called it a night in our bad Vegas style decorated room.

Driving through Italy we saw some very beautiful landscape with cute little towns and green country side. After driving all morning we finally reached Nicci’s Grandparents place near Morsano. Walking around the cute little town we noticed that every town had a clock tower. From Nicci’s Grandparents town we could see mountain tops filled with snow. After eating a lovely 3 course lunch provided by Nicci’s family (traditional Italian style) we decided to start the drive to the mountains for our skiing adventure.

As we were driving higher and higher more and more snow started to appear everywhere. Like kids in a lolly shop we got very excited. Snow was such a rare thing for all of us as we weren’t really skiers and living in the southern hemisphere we don’t have snow on our door steps every year. After checking in to a cosy little hotel we decided to go and play in the snow. All rugged up with all our new snow gear we went for a quick drive to find a small area were we started play (snow ball fights and snow angels). Heading back into town looking for food, we found a ski rental place and got ourselves all kitted out. With our ski gear all rented ready to go we headed back had some dinner and rested for our big day ahead.

Four newbies to skiing we looked up at each intermediate slope and started to freak out. Hoping there was a beginners slope near by we asked some English speaking skiers if they could show us on the map where the beginner slopes where. He kindly pointed out that there was a sign in the distance that pointed to it. The sign read Baby, perfect. We thought we could start with all the kiddies till we got our confidence up with this in mind we quickly made our way there. We have had lessons, how hard could it be, right?

As we got to the baby slope we found ourselves surrounded by many beginners of different ages so we felt a bit better. However, it seemed the younger the beginner, the better they were and the more it made the four of us look like fish out of water. We spent a good few hours skiing down the baby slopes and as our confidence grew we started to want more. We were “flying” down the slopes by then and even beating some kids so Phillipa looked at the map and picked our next mountain.

We made our way to the blue run which from our map said Beginner/Intermediate. It looked pretty scary but we figure it was the natural progression to leave the baby slopes and head over to the beginner slopes. Not listening to any of the clues that this was a bad idea, all 3 of us fell off the ski lift (Nicci was smart enough to opt this one out). As we watched the advance skiers fly down the hill we started to worry when the lift just kept going up and up. Getting to the top we could no longer see anywhere near the bottom where Nicci sat waiting for us. Phillipa asked to go first with Jonathan following. After falling over 3 times within 10 meters of the top, Jonathan got some confidence and disappeared down the slope. The slope being steeper than we had ever imagined, we started to panic and the screaming inside was getting louder and louder. Getting about mid way, I could no longer see Phillipa or Jonathan weaving down the mountain.

By this point, many of my limbs were crossed – not for good luck, but the lack of control coming down. Skiing down the hill with only hope for no injuries or broken bones, I finally see the end in sight. With other skiers racing down the hill it only made me feel more and more like an idiot. Only to be described as a learner driving in a car with hazard lights and hand break on. With much joy and relief I found myself in one piece at the bottom of the slope only to find both Jonathan and Phillipa a bit pale from fear.

Jonathan putting snow around his sore knee he later described his display of bambi on ice mixed with penguins trying to fly. He was also shattered to learn that none of us saw his final (unintentional) spectacular jump over the last slope. Spooked out we decided to get some confidence back on the baby slope before trying any other slopes for the time being. After a few more runs down the baby slopes Phillipa and I decided that the only way to conquer the hills in the short time we were here would be to get some professional lessons.

The next day eager but scared, we took the slopes with a fantastic teacher. With the professional know-how and the correct techniques skiing wasn’t as hard as we thought. Within 1 hr we were skiing down blue grade slopes (the ones we were MEANT to progress to) with a new confidence.

The next few days flew by and new slope after new slope we just pushed the limits as far as we could. With forward rolls, cart wheels and star fish leaps it would seem we were trying to do gymnastics on snow but in reality we were just trying to stay alive after a crash. There were a few times where each of us had a face full of snow and legs and arms in angles that we didn’t think possible. We finished up and drove back to the airport where we had a long trip home where sleep was on the agenda. A fantastic time with battle scares in forms of dark blue and purple bruises we left Italy with very tired but happy with did it.

Last year I missed out seeing the RedBull Air Race so this time I made sure that I booked in some tickets to see the fast flying air acrobatics over the Thames.

Catching up with good friends Rachael and Dan we ventured out to see the crazy pilots risking their lives for our entertainment. Of course the faster and crazier they are the more we, the crowd, roared. With pin point accuracy pilots are made to fly through an obstacle course with very tough criteria. When racing the clock, every second is critical so any penalties for not flying at the right angle, height or worse yet hitting a pylon is race-breaking. Each pilot has 2 chances to fly through the course and with only one test run its amazing how fast and precise they fly.

Highly recommended for those who like a bit of need for speed and a good day out

My lovely in-laws are loving in every way, but when they were choosing our Christmas present I am not sure they had my best interests at heart. Opening the present, I felt that same feeling I had 6 years ago. The warm feeling of blood rushing away from my skull. The cold sweat beading off the top of my forehead. Feeling faint and needing to spew were the signs of love my in-laws showed me.

An obstacle course in the tree tops can’t be too bad, I kept telling myself, so off to Leeds Castle in Kent we go. The weather was cold with a few rain showers here and there, but nothing to stop us climbing the tree tops. After a few hours of waiting, we finally got a taste of what was to come. With only 2 safety cables and a LOOOONNNGG drop, I started to feel like I needed to piss every 5 minutes. After a few practice climbs the instructor said we were ready.
Ready is a word that can be misunderstood. I wasn’t ready to do any high tree tops – I was only ready to spoil one of the 2 pairs of jocks I brought with me.

Lucky for me there were a group of older women ahead of us that were taking their time, so it gave me some time to re-group. After waiting around we figured out why it was taking so long and it ended up that some of those women got up to the top and found themselves stricken with fear. They couldn’t go ahead with the Tarzan jump and had to turn back. Being a young male with lots of testosterone, I wasn’t going be put in the same category as old women. With a new goal in mind, I was ready. I will not and cannot be beaten by “senior citizens”. When it came to my turn, I climbed up the tree as fast as I could and when i got to the top, I did the one thing everyone who is scared of heights knows not to do. Looking down all proud and seeing how far everyone was down there, I realised that the only thing keeping me on this tree was 2 safety cables. First thought OH CRAP, second thought I will never call anyone a WUSS bag for not going ahead again. The next few thoughts… I can’t really say on this due to some readers being a bit young, but you can only imagine the creative words that came to my head.

At the end of each site is a zip line, which is basically a flying fox. You attach yourself on and whizz down the line and have to stop yourself when you reach the end. During our training the instructors tell us to start running before you hit the ground. This avoids falling flat on your butt in mud and bark. Phillipa seemed to always find herself facing the other direction whenever going down the zip line. Instead of using her feet to slow down, she was left to use her backside to slide through the mud.
One part of the course is called the Tarzan swing. This is a what some of the others called the leap of faith. You attach a cable to your harness and jump off the edge. On the other side there is an army net that you bounce off and once you stop bouncing off it, you have to climb to the top to get back up to the tree tops. Sounds easy until your standing on the edge looking down at how far up you are and realising that this is a stupid STUPID idea. After getting some courage and jumping off, the exciting rushing feeling stopped suddenly with a huge wedgie. The cries of pain as each male jumps off echos in my ears. Each guy checking his crown jewels and making sure he didn’t loose one of them while the belt strapped to keep you safe cuts off circulations to a vital organ. Watching each guy climb up the army net and finally feeling safe, they hold their crutch and the sympathy ohhh is heard from guys all around. I remember clearly screaming out to Phillipa: “if I can’t have children later I am blaming your sister and Mum”.

I would like to finish this post by thanking the wonderful in-laws. I know they are reading this and I know some bits of this they think are really funny but I am sure many parts of my body still a bit sore from my leap of faith and aren’t finding it funny at all.

As a student I never really understood the importance of history, but after visiting war affected cities like Berlin it has never been clearer. History is taught to prevent future generations committing the same mistakes that our ancestors did.

For Easter we chose to go to Berlin and did we have a great time! The history-filled city has lots to provide but with only 4 days it just wasn’t enough. If you would like learn more about WWII, Berlin is a must. The war being such a political and sensitive issue, the city has done a fabulous job at providing the stories of both sides of the coin.

WARNING: Berlin was a big weekend for us so this post maybe a bit long but I will try to keep it to the point.

We stayed in a hostel in Charlottenburg (2 doors down from a strip joint… wasn’t intentional i promise )

Day 1:

First stop Hauptbahnhof (the main train station). Just think Flinders Station on the top and bottom level, with a shopping center in the middle – HUGE!! A quick stroll and we found ourselves looking at a very long line to get into the Reischtag (Parliament house). It seems the lonely planet was right (as always) advising us to get there early – but obviously we didn’t get there early enough. We decided to keep walking, so then we walked through Brandenburg Gate into Pariser Platz. Following the Unter den Linden we stood in Bebelplatz where there is a very powerful reminder of what happened there. The empty underground library (white book shelves without a single book in sight) is a reminder of where the books were burnt under the Nazi regime. To loose so much of the nations history, art and literature is hard to imagine.

Opposite Bebelplatz is Humboldt University, where Albert Einstein lectured. A few blocks down from Humboldt University we found the new guard house which was a powerful and very artistic tribute to all the people that lost their lives or were persecuted in the war. With a single statue of a mother holding her son the middle of the room with a single light source from an opening in the roof.

All this walking and the smell of sausages made us a bit peckish so we stopped for a Currywurst. Currywurst: Sausage cut up into bit size pieces covered with tomatoe sauce, curry powder served with a crispy dinner roll.

As we were walking the expensive cars exhibition caught my eye so I could not resist going in. In there we could only imagine how much these cars cost but we soon found out that just below was a photography exhibition. Here we spent a good hour looking at the amazing animal portraits taken by a very dedicated photographer.

With museums located all around the city its hard not to immerse yourself so here is where our museum marathon started. Altes museum – just lots of old stuff… Greece, Roman and Egyptian artifacts. Highlights: portrait of Caesar and Cleopatra, Bust of Nefertiti (long necked statue of Nefertiti portrait). Not bad looking for a 3300 year old (give or take a few centuries).

After a few hours in the Altes museum, all the artifacts were starting to look the same so we ventured off to the Berlina Dom. Unfortunately it was closed so we couldn’t get in but in some ways it was a blessing because we were getting very sleepy from all the warm heating inside the buildings.

Catching the train to Gendarmenmarkt which is supposedly Berlin’s most beautiful square. I am not sure if it was only due to the big day were were having, but the only thing that caught our eye was that the only difference between the French Cathedral and the German Cathedral was the German one was built with a dome (it would seem the German architects love domes).

Living in the UK for nearly a year now we are very aware of the rain. And if you keep letting the rain stop you from doing things you wouldn’t do anything! So we put on our water proofs and kept going. What we didn’t realise was that the rain were were experiencing was only the beginning. By the time we got to Check Point Charlie and started to read the long walls of the history of the importance of Check Point Charlie and the Berlin wall we found ourselves standing in a hail storm. It seemed that everyone else disappeared and the only two nutters who kept going were 2 Aussies drenched from head to toe. With an umbrella and waterproofs we survived 30 minutes of heavy rain and hail. By the time we finished the rain had stopped and there was a thick layer of ice on the cars and the roads. We spent the next 3.5 hours inside Check Point Charlie Museum reading different points of views of the Berlin people and the creative ideas and of crossing the wall (smuggling people in speakers, suitcases, car trunks and jumping off buildings).

At this point we were delirious but still had two stops left. Potsdamer Platz to see what was left of the wall, and the Holocaust Memorial. Both were very cold and eery at night but both a very important symbol of Berlin’s past. The Berlin Wall: 1km piece of wall that is left is a reminder of what the Berlin people went through to bring peace to their nation as a whole. The Holocaust Memorial – An artistic tribute to the Jewish lives lost during the war which took approximately 17 years for the government to agree on and build. Both making us speechless.

Day 2:

After our huge first day we figured we take the second day a bit slower. The Reischtag (Parliament house) line up was just as long, even in rain and very chilly conditions. It seems that the never ending line of tourists never stopped day, night, rain or freezing winds. It took us 3 hrs of waiting to see the dome and it was well worth it. The dome was very well thought out with visitors walking up in one direction and leaving in the opposite direction. This means people could stop and take their time both up and down and not cause any delays. Since I have not seen this anywhere else I would stay it’s just German genius where things just work.

After spending 4 hours at the Reischtag the day seemed to disappear. We made our way to Alexanderplatz where we found ourselves in a German all singing, drinking and eating market place. As we enjoyed our lunch (of course sausages and meat patties) we listened to some local music. As the rain started to get heavy again we decided to get some cover and go shopping. After walking around aimlessly in a shopping center our tired feet got the better of us so we decided to find a place to eat and have an early night.

Day 3:

With so much history it was hard to not visit a museum but we took it to another level. Both keen to learn as much as we can while on our visit to Berlin we decided to tackle 2 more museums. Little did we know that we would spend the whole day/night in 2 museums.

Schloss Charlottenburg is the only palace in Berlin. With some rooms still in tact it was amazing to see such old furniture, paintings and room designs. As you walked from room to room, the designs showed the changes in taste as the years went on. After walking through rooms with designs dating back to the late 17th century its amazing to see that even rich, famous royalty can have bad taste.

From here we went to a more modern museum. The Jewish Museum is a museum with so much information about Jewish culture in Germany. The building is not like any other building I have ever seen before. Built with so much meaning and clever design.

Each detail was done with a purpose in mind. From changing in height of each room to window locations or the lack of windows in some parts of the building. Every detail was thought through and thought through again. As you walk through each room it tells a unique story in the most artistic and powerful manor. It explains the culture and the life of a Jew and the constant fight for acceptance. Absolutely fascinated, I wanted to read every article and learn every detail and message that was being expressed. After loosing myself in the first 2 floors of the museum I realised that I was only half way through!

We both really don’t know the exact number of hours we spent in that museum but all I know is when we walked into the museum it was day light and coming out, it was night. With our minds exhausted, legs sore and tired we went to home for a late dinner and a good nights rest.

Day 4:

Being a bit tired of museums at this stage we decided to do some sight seeing. We saw a church that survived the bombing raids of WWII. The replacement church was a very modern church. Built to look like a concrete box it was filled with blue windows which when the light shown through it lit the church bright blue. A truly amazing display of artistic flair in a church.

To finish off our trip of Berlin we walked through Tiergarten to the Sony Center where we found another dome roof. Filled with restaurants and shops the Sony Center was a good final stop for our jam-packed trip to Berlin!

Being male, classically known as being lazy, I am proud to say that my laziness and ability to search Google efficiently has proven to be very successful in not only saving a lot of sore arms, but my new lime scale “destroyer” is much much cheaper than any cleaning product. So Google here I come – no more elbow grease.

After a quick Google search I found the solution to my tennis elbow. But to my surprise it wasn’t some super strong chemical but an everyday kitchen product. This product is great with fish and chips. Yes, you guessed it, tomato sauce. It’s great with fish and chips. But to remove lime scale it’s not so great. Vinegar is the lime scale “destroyer” and even after reading the scientific reasons why it works so well I was still a sceptic.

One night while making Vietnamese nuoc mam (dipping fish sauce) I used one of the key ingredients, vinegar, in a bathroom experiment. After giving the chrome fittings a splash of vinegar and letting it sit for a few minutes, the nightmare of removing lime scale was a thing of the past. You would never believe that not one leading name bathroom cleaner could remove lime scale as effortlessly as ordinary vinegar.
The once-little bottle of vinegar has now been replaced with a much larger bottle and the lime scale has not had a chance since.

Our first reaction to the train system here was that we have no idea what the Poms are complaining about. The trains come every few minutes and the longest you ever really wait is 5 minutes (unless there are delays for one reason or another). We would happily wait for the next train because, unlike Melbourne, the next train is not due in 15 minutes. Once a patient man I have now become a Tube Nazi.

Waiting for the next train in 3 minutes is just not good enough. I want to be on that train and I will do everything I can to get on it. I swear the more Tube dust I breath in the more firey anger fills my eyes.

“Breath in people there is plenty of room for me to squeeze in” – if there is room for you to fart thats enough room for me.

Everyone fights for their god given right to be on that train and they don’t let anything get in their way. I have seen limbs and bags left hanging outside the door as people charge onto the train before those doors slam shut.

Delayed trains make my blood boil – especially if it was a fellow Tube Nazi who caused it. Once the unspoken now falls off my tongue loud and fast…

“Idiot why did you choose my tube line to faint on”.

“Didn’t you hear the mind the gap warning. Stupid fool why the hell did you choose to fall in the gap at my station”.

“Ok there is not enough space for me to fart. Why do you choose to hold up my train by leaving a limb hanging outside the train”.

I am not proud of who I have become. My family and friends would be disgusted by my actions and comments. All I can say is “Wait for my next post – Tube Nazi 101″.

But of course, because people can’t annoy you by talking loudly on the phone, they still have their methods. This can be in the form of playing their music out loud (headphones are just overkill accessories) assuming that the 200 other people sharing a carriage in peak hour love the exact same tunes they do.

Just think when airlines allow mobiles usuage on planes once a peaceful place where only loud babies, sick people sniffing and coughing were heard will soon be a den of teenagers announcing “oh my God” over and over again.

Irish potatoes are much nicer. I can’t explain exactly what makes them nicer but the closest thing I can pin point it to is that they are sweeter and a different texture. I did, however, fall in love with boiled potatoes with garlic butter and mashed potato salad. The Irish have made an art out of including potatoes in every single meal in every single way.  Boiled potatoes is not the same as mashed potatoes so in one meal you could be eating 2 serves of potatoes.
The best example of this was in Galway. We went to a nice restaurant serving traditional Irish meals. Phillipa ordered a sheperds pie so we knew there was definately going to be some form of potato. When it came out I could not believe my eyes. There was a side of mash potatoes, boiled potatoes and a cake of mash potatoes to be placed on top of the pie mince.

For the first few weeks back in London I wanted everything and anything that didn’t have potatoes in it. If you ever need a fix for potatoes ask an Irishmen to cook you for 3 weeks and i am sure you will be cured for life.