Well it has been some time since I, the blogger, have connected with you, the blogees. In that time I have visited far away lands such as Vancouver, witnessed strangers having sex on a car in New York, flown home to surprise my dear brother Daren for his 40th birthday and settled slowly but surely back into mundane everyday London life.
Many had said it would be a culture shock to be home. It wasnt.
Many had said I would be happy for a week and then crash days later. I havent.
Many had said I would be longing to travel again. I aint.
But then, I have only been home for 3 weeks. It stuck me today, as I left sainsburys at 5pm, rain pouring down, the biting cold, darkness all around, bumper to bumper traffic on my way back to Kilburn that reality does indeed bite. It has however been so extra-ordinary to see family and friends and whilst they may not have changed considerably, I certainly have so I see them all in a contrasting light.
The questions you are asked on return are homogenous. Where was your favourite place? What was the highlight? Did you get any? But the one question I rarely receive was the ultimate objective I set before leaving. Did you find yourself?
I had a number of objectives before I left on this journey. Here are a smattering;
Learn to dive. Walk up a vulcano. See a variety of different species. Skydive. Emerse myself in different cultures. Develop a sense of perspective. Learn the value of money. See friends from around the world. Get an understanding of who I am, what I want and why I am the way I am.
A lot of people travel to 'find themselves' but what does that actually mean? Well I guess its about becoming more self aware. Understanding yourself, your place in this world. Re-establishing a connection with your moral centre. Becoming more comfortable in your own skin.
Unquestionably in the past I have been a flawed individual, and I will be in the future. I have made mistakes, and I shall make many more. I have succeeded and given myself no credit for doing so. I have struggled to maintain relationships with the opposite sex. I have criticised myself on a daily basis and expected perfection. My self esteem has been low, yet my expectations high.
This is a model which does not work and is in fact set up to fail. Anyone with similar philosophies need resolve them now. You see, perfection does not exist. All those you look at with envy, look at others in the same way. You can not expect anything of anyone else, until you have a realistic perspective of what you expect from yourself. You cannot be loved by anyone else, unless you deem yourself loveable.
What I learnt from travelling, is that I am a nice person, a good person, a decent person. I have idealistic views, a sensitive nature, but one that reaches out for love and support. I need an arm around my shoulder and a word of encouragement at times, this serves as my fuel. My frustrations can get the better of me, and sometimes I am prone to self sabotage. Its almost as if anything good in my life will not and can not last.
I have returned from this journey a better man than when I began, a major success. I have a sense of perspective, of focus. I intend to keep improving, congratulating myself when I do, and not commiserating too hard when I dont. I have decided to be a better friend to myself. To not overwhelm myself with the burden of expectation and to not be so expectant of others. I have decided to harness the skills I have, and work on the inadequacies. I have also decided to try and help others, the way I have learnt to help myself.
It was a long journey that I embarked upon, a necessary one, and whilst I visited many beautiful places, and emersed myself in the cultures of other countries, the best place I visited was right here all along. Me.
OCTOBER 8 - 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU
Lordy, it feels like forever since I have blogged. This is due to
(a) limited internet opportunities
(b) computers that are more like an abacus
(c) a lack of inspiration
(d) ten broken fingers
(e) daily sex marathons
(the last three are lies).
Since we have spoken, I have survived 3 weeks in Brazil, the plastic glove treatment in Miami airport, and a 10 day sojourn in Los Angeles. It's always nice to visit LA and remind yourself of what depth and character you have. I may not be as good looking on the outside, but whats inside overcomes my physical inadequacies in this town. LA is not an easy town to visit or live so if you intend to do any of those, here is my guide to getting the most out of it;
1. You are funnier than them. Maintain your dry sense of humour as they will believe anything you tell them. I once told someone at a party that I was Gary Coleman from Different Strokes and they responded "that's so cool"
2. Do not take it personally when in the flow of conversation, someone starts looking at their blackberry. Its because you have used too many long words.
3. When engaging in conversation, read between the lines. Practically always, it will mean something like "blah blah blah...my willy is bigger than yours...blah, blah, blah...i am a desperate loser and hope that one day my luck will change, maybe if i continue being a dull, vapid, self obsessed asshole, someone will notice?"
4. If someone in starbucks asks for your name, it is not flirting. They need it to write on the cup so you have a personalised coffee, in case you forget your name.
5. Valet means strangers are allowed in your car. Do not push them away or insult their clothing.
6. It is possible to park by a car meter, but do not do this between 3:30 and 4 every other monday or your car will be towed by a paranoid hispanic man
7. Ask for the small portion. Chances are it will be bigger than anything you have ever eaten before and laced with fat.
8. Water comes with a slice of lemon in it. It is perfectly acceptable to throw said lemon at the waiter and say "if i wanted lemon water i would have asked for it"
9. All shop prices are exclusive of tax. Please remember, this ruins every transaction
10. Arrive at the airport at least 4 hours prior to any flight. 2 hours is not enough, you will miss your flight, and be placed on standby for the rest of the day, leaving you nothing to do but update your blog
SEPTEMBER 19 - THE NEXT GENERATION
A young lady asked me, at the beginning of this adventure, do you have any advice you can hand down? Hands down, she was the most attractive girl I had met at that point so I thought of going with;
"indeed, should you encounter any 31 year old slightly rotund receeding anal retentive obsessive compulsive jews, sleep with them immediately"
But then I realised, it was unlikely I would make it out of my pants, so I just shrugged. It was the shrug of a man who was unable to think on his feet. The shrug of a man who has never been asked that question before. So, having thought about it, here goes;
1. Dress your age so that pervs like me dont stare.
2. Sandals. Socks. No.
3. Never judge lest ye be judged yourself.
4. Be proud of who you are. Accept your limitations and others will. Admit vulnerability. It is not a sign of weakness.
5. Be patient, positive and punctual.
6. You do not need someone else to feel whole. If you enter a relationship to cement over your cracks (steady), the foundation will not hold.
7. Accept that men and women are fundamentally different. If you have a substitute reality, it is that which lets you down.
8. Try not to have unrealistic expectations of others. You are not responisble for their victories, failures of shortcomings.
9. Do not judge others by your own standards, or you will feel let down continuously.
10. One hand giveth and the other hand cleaneth up.
11. In the valley of the blind, the one eyed man is staring at your cleavage.
12. Beauty is just a light switch away
SEPTEMBER 10 - FLIRTING WITH DISASTER
Its been a week of firsts;
FIRST TIME raped by a dog. It was a huge alsatian who on tip toes almost reaches my height. Perhaps it was excitement, perhaps it was my rather attractive right leg, but the dog just jumped me and started humping. Thankfully the dog orgasmed before me (another first) and went off to smoke a biscuit. I felt used and violated especially when the bitch didnt call.
FIRST TIME at a Boca Juniors football match. A dream come true to see the famous Argentinian side who once proudly secured the services of Maradona. Unfortunately, when we got back to the car, it had been broken into. Fortunately they had not taken my ruck sack which had to be my lord (Kojak, rest his soul) intervening. It did however lead to...
FIRST TIME I have missed a bus. Had already payed for a 20 hour bus journey north to the spectacular Iguazu falls as well as a hotel in Puerto Iguazu. I may have well used that money as toilet paper when I most needed it in Peru. Then, 2 days later, when I did eventually make that journey, and the bus stopped 2km from Puerto Iguazu, I was fortunate enough to witness...
FIRST TIME at a border dispute. I was on a very tight schedule to get to Sao Paulo to celebrate my birthday and the gods were conspiring against me. A border dispute had started the day before, and there was no information on when it would end. When I got to the border, a man politely told me in spanish, if i were you i would scarper as i might get feisty (or something along those lines). The bus had left and the only hotel within 100km was the Sheraton. Somehow I managed to find 3 of the fattest women in the world, 2 american, and 1 dutch and we attempted to fit into the only taxi there. You know those record breaking folks who all cram into a mini? I think the record is something like 120. We were 4 and my arse cheeks were spread against the window. Finally made it to the Sheraton, saw the falls from the Argentinian side, and spent that day, something like $450 all in. The next day, one day prior to my birthday, I was about to board a 20 hour bus ride BACK to Buenos Aires when the strike finally ended. A policeman took me back to the border, where I met two lovely german ladies. They promised to give me an incredible birthday but my plan was still to get to Sao Paulo. Unfortunately when I got to the bus station...
FIRST TIME Immigration had neglected to give me a visa to enter their country. I was illegal. So, missed my bus and had no choice but to re-aquaint myself with the german ladies. That afternoon was the...
FIRST TIME I have played football in Brazil with Brazillians. Thankfully, my performance was every bit as Brazillian as theirs and I scored 4 times. At one time I screamed advice like `keep it simple` and `pass` and then remembered who I was talking to. That night, we partied together along with brits, swiss, germans, argentinians. At one stage, a guy at the bar pulled me over and that was the...
FIRST TIME I had ever received a note from a girl´s mate at a bar saying `you are very cute`. I felt 15 again, not that I ever had notes at that age other than Cliff (notes). The next day, my birthday, was the...
FIRST TIME I have ever been trekking in the jungle on my special day. Me, the two german ladies and a swiss guy called Fabien walked, biked and boated. Saw the falls from the Brazillian side. At one point, we stepped into a tourist lift which held around 20 silent travellers. The swiss guy whispered
SWISS GUY - This lift is from my town Schindler
I retorted
AD - I think I have seen the movie. Schindlers Lift.
There was a german woman in the lift who responded
GERMAN WOMAN - This is not very funny
(I thought neither was invading Poland but that didnt stop you).
AUGUST 29 - SPANGLISH
The french mumble to themselves. The italians use their hands. The americans speak loud enough for the hearing impaired. The spanish talk at you incessently even if you dont understand a word. It is very clear that i cannot communicate in spanish. From the moment they open their mouth, a shrug makes it evident that i no speako their lingo. Yet they continue to chat away. Every now and then i catch a word that has english origin and an o at the end. That gives me the opportunity to engage them with something like 'si'. For all i know they are saying ET phone home, but telefono homo means something different where i come from.
Still, its always an adventure, highlighted by an Arequipa hostel or so I thought. I had booked online, a small hostel called San Isidro. I had arrived in Arequipa, Peru at 4:30am and a taxi outside the bus station took me to my lodgings. Now the web site had said this place was intimate and homely, but the place he had taken me to did not look like a hostel of any sort. I rang the bell and woke up the owners. Of course, they did not speak a word of english so I tried to engage them with some slow talking spanglish and pointing. I insisted that I had pre-paid a deposit on a single room with private bathroom but they in turn insisted there were no rooms with private bathrooms. Unfortunately, at this stage, i was still suffering from food poisoning though thankfully bottom corked with immodium. Still, a private bathroom was a necessity as i felt the cork slowly unplugging.
They showed me a nice room, no bathroom. I raised my voice, enough to let them know I wasn´t kidding around and they came up with a solution. The owners room. I looked, I liked, and they vacated the room, the one they had been sleeping in when i woke them up, and re-made the bed so i could get some quality morning sleep before discovering what the town had to offer. Later that day, after enjoying a pleasant afternoon walk in town, I got a taxi back to my hostel and they dropped me off at Hostel San Isidro, a completely different place to where I was staying, and clearly the hostel i had booked online. The area looked familiar so I wandered down the road and found my place which evidently turned out to be someones house. I had somehow talked my way into their home, kicking them out of their room, desecrating their toilet, and asking them to do my laundry.
The moral I guess, is to learn the language, or at least learn to get by. Right now, I am living at my friend Annaliese´s place in Buenos Airies. She has a wonderful cook, who holds me close to her boosom whenever she can (I am not complaining). I may not be able to speak spanish, but i am fluent in the international language of breast.
AUGUST 24 - FIELD OF DREAMS
If football is the sport of kings, then I am but its humble subject. My team Queens Park Rangers may be the court jester, sometimes we laugh with them, sometimes at them, but they entertain consistently like Jimmy Tarbuck. I have dedicated the last 28 years of my life to them, warming to them the moment I stopped dribbling, and my dedication will die, the moment I resume.
It is practically impossible to explain to women what sport does to a man. Likewise Brokeback Mountain. But I shall attempt to summise. From birth, men are object focussed, playing with the biggest and best toys. Women are relationship focussed, playing with genitaless dolls. Men compete. Women relate. Sport is the basic evolution of this theory.
In ancient times, wars were faught over territory, family and colour. You chose sides, dictated by these variables. Again, sport is an extenstion of this. My love for QPR was based on territory (location), family (a brothers influence) and colour (the mighty blue and white hoops).
At age 6 I ran on to the hallowed plastic of Loftus Road and represented my team as a ball boy. I met my heroes (Simon Stainrod, Gary Waddock, Clive Allen) and scored a daisy cutter past goalkeeping legend Peter Hucker. Years later, at age 23, I repeated this honour and became the oldest ball boy ever to grace the stadium, thanks to my brother. Running on to the pitch, it felt like I was actually going to play. Once again, I scored a peach this time against David Seaman and ran into the crowd with my shirt over my head, Ravinelli style. The crowd lapped it up, and beat me up, but all in jest. They even sang ´does your mother know you´re here?´ Since then, thanks to my job, I have also scored twice more at Loftus Road, at Stamford Bridge and Craven Cottage. I share that honour with Les Ferdinand, Clive Allen and Rodney Marsh.
You see football is about acceptance. Its about cameraderie. Its about routine. Its an obsession. Its the male form of relationship. Its about sharing loss, and celebrating victory however small that may be. I love my football team as much as I love chocolate penguins, because it reminds me of home. It reminds me of my brothers. It reminds me of my very good friends Stormin, Deano (who is always late due to knocking one off the wrist) and Alex, some of the funniest people I know. We have travelled the country, following our passions, losing our dignity and witnessing defeat. The word devotion was never intended for husbands and wives. Look at the divorce rate. It was intended for QPR fans. No matter what, no matter how hard times get, we will support them evermore. Now you tell me, is there anything else in life that carries that kind of commitment? Women often dislike this level of affection for something so purile, but to rid a man of his passions, is to rid him of his testicles. If you want to play with a genitaless doll, go back to nursery.
AUGUST 22 - RUN LOLA RUN
Food poisoning is par for the course, that´s what I keep telling myself. I should have known, it didn´t look or taste like fish. The venue, a buffet lunch to break up a day tour to the magical Sacred Valley in Peru. Pretty much everything you would expect from a buffet;
Stale hard bread
Something from the coleslaw family
An empty plate of salad
Soup that looks like bile
Pasta, no sauce
Meat, too much sauce
And fish. Deep friend on one side, cold on the other.
Have you ever eaten something and thought, that is going to come back to haunt me?
The next day, I awoke at 5:20am. I knew that today would be a memorable day. A trip to the majestic and trip defining Machu Pichu, the lost city of the Inca´s. It all began in that spirit. A flawless 4 hour train journey. A flawless bus journey through the mountains. A flawless entrance into Machu Pichu, and some flawless photographs of this awe inspiring site. Then it began. A rumble in the jungle.
I can´t quite articulate what it´s like to focus so hard on not soiling yourself except to say its a battle of wills. Your innards are taking you under seige, a revolt against the revolting food you have ingested. What makes matters worse, is that there are few toilets in the arse end of the world that are equipped with toilet paper. Now I refuse to carry toilet paper around with me. That´s one step off having a colostomy bag.
For lunch, I took one bite of a cheese sandwhich, and then ran to their toilet faster than speedy gonzalez. Undoubtedly, there is a sense of pride in destroying an establishments toilet. It kind of feels like you are sticking it to the man, but when the man goes in and runs out again making the catholic symbol against his chest, you know its time to get the bill. From there it got worse. A quick check of emails, followed by the need to find a toilet quickly. I ran to 3 different toilets, 2 with no toilet paper, one with a smattering of pubic hair on the toilet seat. I calmly decided that the train station must have a decent lavatory. So i ran. Now I have been told that I am deceptively slow in the past, but I would have won olympic gold, no question (the special olympics but all the same). Then, I saw it, all that stood between me and deliverance was a bridge. Up the stairs, across the bridge, but wait. A line of slow walking germans. This felt personal. When a jew needs a poo, the only thing that can stop him are germans. Haven´t you seen Dambusters?
I remembered Schindlers List and screamed ´schnell schnell´ but I think it was the smell smell that eventually moved them. I now retract my belief that my shit smells better than yours.
AUGUST 16 - THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST
Snobbery. It exists in many different forms. For instance;
Music snobbery - check
Film snobbery - check
All round my shit stinks better than yours snobbery - check.
But on this trip. On this journey of self descovery and enlightenment, I have been exposed to a new kind. A kind so sad, it makes you want to rent Wolf Creek. Yes, travel snobbery.
Can you believe that there are people on this planet who turn their nose up when you tell them where you have been, what you have experienced, and how much you spent on a poncho. They scoff. They give you the Roger Moore eyebrow, and then they attempt to impart travel wisdom;
"I hate tours. I prefer to be on my own" - WELL WHY ARE YOU ON MY TOUR THEN?
"The food in outer Mongolia was so much better" - WELL PISS OFF TO THERE THEN
"Last week I climbed a mountain with no guide" - NEXT WEEK I HOPE YOU FALL OFF ONE.
"My sleeping bag is plus 10" - YOUR PENIS IS MINUS 5
The amount of times I have mumbled under my breath ´Get a life´or ´Get a job´is in equal proportion to the numbers of Milky bars I consumed in New Zealand (i.e loads). Who are these people and why do they complain about each and every destination being "too touristic". THAT´S NOT EVEN A WORD! If you don´t like tourists, why oh why have you chosen to become one?
I pity you. It´s exactly that kind of negative energy that drove my hair to run away to my back.
AUGUST 12 - COLD MOUNTAIN
Ah South America. The land of samba, Ricky Martin, the Macarena, the mighty Brazilian football team, Shakira, General Pinochet and llama's. Undoubtedly, a culture shock was expected after the western comforts of Australia and New Zealand. But nobody could have prepared me for this, a world so different to anywhere I have ever been. Now my spanish is rather limited. If i told you that when booking a bus ticket for the next day, I screamed 'manuela manuela' at the sales agent instead of 'manana', you get the picture. As such, I have grabbed the coat tails of other incommunicable brits, as we make our way north up the west coast. One of them is the spitting image of Geoffrey from Rainbow which leads to daily Zippy impressions. Another is straight out of Mcfly.
So far, we have taken in Santiago, Valparaiso, La Serena and San Pedro in Chile. San Pedro being the most authentic south american city in Chile. The food has been putrid at best, and everything has bacon in it, which I am positive is a racist slur against all jews. 3 days in the Bolivian desert was an experience to say the least. Reached altitudes of up to 5000 meters which for all you statisticians is over half the size of everest. That meant that at night, the temperature dropped to around -15 degrees, and we were staying at refugios (refuge accomodation) with no heating! Why anyone would want to do that to themselves i dont know. Terry practically went into hiding. At one stage I was wearing so many layers, I was more cloth than human. However, when you consider some of the things we saw, it was definitely worthwhile. Beautiful lakes with flamingo's, geysers, volcanos, a cactus island and the creme de la creme, the salt lakes of Uyuni which are 12000 square meters of beautiful white salt on a lake that you drive on for hours and just marvel at the scope of it.
One of the goals of my trip was to encounter a llama so you can envisage the glee on my face as we interracted with a baby llama called 'leche' which means milk. We felt a common bond, two drifters in the desert searching for meaning. At that moment, for the first time in my life i considered vegetarianism, which is ironic considering that later that night, I ate llama pizza. In La Paz, Bolivia at present, the world's highest capital city. It is well known for kidnapping, and various police scams which makes me nervous seeing as I only know how to say 'is breakfast included' and 'one beer for my llama called Milk please'.
(Jamiroquai's ugly sister)
AUGUST 1 - THE TERMINAL
I encountered a major challenge yesterday, my first in some time giving my brain a healthy work out after 6 months on the blink. It was at auckland international airport, whilst waiting for a flight to santiago chile. I had $13NZ burning a hole in my stinky pants and 3 hours to kill. The challenge I gave myself, was finding the best use for this money. Now some of you may say this is in poor taste, and I should have just given it to charity, but to that, I say simply, sod off.
So, 3 hours to kill. Easy. Right, whats in duty free. Cigarettes, dont smoke. Perfume, bit gay. Alcahol, been sober for 3 days, a year long record beaten. Gadgets, got, got, got and got. Lingerie, they dont have my size. Time check, a minue and a half gone. Bugger.
Move on, there must be loads of shops. Wander past burger king. Interesting.
Ah, now we are talking. A CD shop. Rubbish selection, too bloody expensive. Bit like Real Madrid.
Book shop. You can never have enough books, though my ruck sack is now heavier than my nut sack given limited lady action of late. Little book perouse, the usual rubbish, new age section, lots of books titled 7 easy steps to the new you and Love yourself or no-one else will. Small peak in those, learn nothing new, still feel like the old me and dislike myself immensely. Time check 4 minutes gone.
Time to take drastic action as running out of shops so head to burger king. $3 spent, belly replenished, plan entire south american trip and wasted another 6 minutes. OK, lets flash the BA silver card and get some quality lounge action. Yes, I'm in. Bit snooty in here...oh lord, I am becoming one of those detestable moany traveller types, who seem to spend their entire journey trying to save the kind of money that would buy you three 1p sweets. Free internet. Excellent. Firewall which means no porn. Bugger.
And so it went on, until finally, with precisely 6 minutes to go prior to boarding, I gave the rest of my money to a chinese guy with a board who was offering $10 five minute neck massages which was both painful and painful (due to a serious pain in the neck).
6 months gone. 3 continents down. 2 to go. Money low. Morale high. In santiago, chile at present, feeling a little initimidated after the luxuries and comforts of the western civilisations of australia and new zealand. My spanish vocabulary is limited to the words i have been exposed to in cheech and chong movies. Which means I know the words for beer and prostitute. That allowed me to get very drunk last night off the money i made for putting out. Now I have more money burning a hole in my stinky pants and this time I will do everyone a favour by spending it on new pants.
JULY 29 - THE INCREDIBLES
Today, I was on a bus, witnessing the beauty that is 90 mile beach located in the very northern tip of the north island, new zealand. The driver was seriously into his own voice, so to escape, the bose noise cancelling headphones adorned my hefty skull, and Bruce Springsteen sang a song about courage.
At that moment, I swear to god, I just burst out into tears. The lyrics were powerful, but the image in my mind was of my friend Sheary's wedding. He was in the midst of his speech, when he made reference to his father who was present. Right then, his voice crumbled, he stopped momentarily to compose himself and then bravely hung on to complete his duty. That moment of pure love and emotion was one of the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and it made me cry to wonder if I would ever have the chance to make my father proud.
The bond between a father and son is extremely robust and very influential. I have always tried my hardest to make my family proud, and have felt guilty throughout my life for not being a good son or a good enough brother. This is mainly because being the youngest, my role has been that of a 'taker' and not a 'giver'. I am of course speaking figuratively about our relationship materially and emotionally, not in prison terms. The role of taker does not just apply to family, there are many friends out there who have given so much at the important moments.
I have always said there are 3 ways to develop, manage or influence somebody.
1. You tell them they are not good enough and wait for them to prove you wrong.
2. You encourage them, focus on the positives, and tell them that their best is all that matters.
3. You leave them to their own devices, let them figure it out on their own.
For me, if you told me I am not good enough I will believe you. If you tell me I am doing well and to stick at it, I won't believe you, and if you leave me alone, I usually become reclusive, though I do get there in the end. This is another reason why I have felt like a bad son. My father is undoubtedly an authority figure. Someone to be respected. Someone to be admired. Someone who achieved gold medals, against all the odds and in face of stiff competition. And I have never felt like I can live up to that, and often felt like I have bought shame upon the family.
But now I realise how truly gifted I am. To have a father that cares for me unconditionally. He has always been there for me, no matter what. He is my moral centre and my source of life's education and I owe him everything. To have a mother that is the most caring, beautiful soul on the planet. She is so delicate, but stronger than any women I have ever encountered. I owe her everything. To have two brothers that are my rock of support, whether they know it or not. When I was young, I used to just sit with my older brother Greg. He didn't need to speak to me or even acknowledge me. I just felt safe and loved. My other brother is more verbal, and no matter what he has always been there for me, been supportive of me, and given me an earful if I he ever felt I was being disrespectful. He has always been right, and I just marvel at him in shear admiration whenever he is near. I owe both of them everything. And my family of superhero's continues to grow. Two incredible sister in laws (despite being a family of strong male's, its the women that keep this family together), two awesome nephew's who are my new best friends, and two gorgeous neices that break my heart every time i see them.
You see, true love can be unconditional. I have given little, but taken a lot and never have I heard one word of complaint...it just keeps coming. I hope that one day I can make them proud. I think about it every moment of every day, and sometimes it is a burden too heavy to carry. One day I hope to settle down, knowing that this is the greatest gift I could give my parents. One day I hope to emulate Sheary's speech. However, if and when that day comes, I know that I will not be as brave as he.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JULY 28 - POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE
Some pictures for you. The first 5 showcase an incredible white water rafting experience in sulphuric Rotorua. At one stage we dropped 7 meters through the highest recorded legal rafting waterfall.
The next 6 give you a before and after glimpse at the most exhillirating, terrifying experience of my life to date, sky diving. Its not only my jacket and hat that was green that day. I looked and felt like Kermit the frog.
The last 3 are snapshots of the celebration. That evening, my scottish friend Alan and I belted out Suspicious Minds at a mauri karaoke bar. The King himslef would have been proud, both of my performance and the jumpsuit.
JULY 22 - MOMENTO
2:12pm;
The plane awaits. They have called your flight, and you make those last minute preparations.
- Something is not right.
You stroll quietly and reflectively towards the tin machine which promises to deliver you to the doorstep of your next adventure. You greet the other passengers and wonder what the future holds for them.
- But something is not right.
The pilot skillfully undertakes his final procedure, and you are cleared for take off. For some reason, today is not the day to take your safety demonstration lightly. You listen intently, but your mind is elsewhere. Its focussed on the fact that
- SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT.
2:15pm;
Take off. You make peace with whichever higher power you follow. An overpowering man behind you pulls you toward him, and whilst it feels uncomfortable, his words are comforting. I don't know this man, but I trust him. I trust him to absorb my fear, absolve liability, and deliver me into an unknown universe. I have friends around me, but they are of little use now. Their empathy is the meagre food scrap that energises my physical being. A quick look out of the window tells me that the moment of truth is on the horizon. A final check of my safety equipment tells me that there is no turning back.
2:35pm;
There are 16 people crammed tightly into an inconsequential propeller plane. I am the heaviest so have been allocated a meagre slot at the back. I am afraid, of that there is no doubt. As my age has ascended, so too has my fear. My predetermined will towards risk aversion seems arbitrary now. This is the time for courage. This is the time for the brave to show their worth. We are brothers now, my associates in this air craft. This is the time to jump from the plane.
One by one they vanish. Their legs dangling from the open hatch, they are there, and then they are gone. I look to the side, and there are no more able bodies...it is time. A final picture to capture the look of terror on my face. The moment of truth. Do i have what it takes or aaaaarrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
11:05am;
"I'll have two fried eggs on toast, two sausages, two hash browns and a pot of tea please"
Sea legs. That's what happens when I get scared. Sea legs. Try to stop thinking about it. Try not to focus on what I am about to do. Focus on what has happened in the last 3 weeks. The landscapes I have seen. The snow capped mountains. The friends I have made and travelled with. The fun I have had.
- Ad, you are about to jump from a plane.
Quiet. These thoughts are of no use. Focus on your friends and family back home. I miss them. I miss them.
- Ad, the theory is one thing, but do you really want to do this in practice?
Shh. Focus on that breakfast. Beef sausages. Life doesn't get better than beef sausages.
- Ad, you haven't been able to sleep for fear of this moment. Let it consume you.
No. I have always wanted to do this. Despite a fear of heights, I have always wanted to, and I will. I will godammit.
2:40pm;
'Cos I'm freeeeeeeee, free fallin'. The song plays over and over in my head as I hurtle towards the earth. My fear is pedestrian, elation consumes it. The greatest natural morphine kicks in and serotonin rises throughout my being. OK, the breakfast was a gross error, but this is a life affirming experience, almost out of body.
Now;
As I land, I realise an emotion that has been sadly lacking in my life. I am proud. I am proud of myself. I said I would travel the world. I am doing that. I said I would learn to dive, I have done that. I said I would experience some of the world's beauty, and I reflect back on trekking up a vulcano, sitting next to an orangutan in the jungle and whale watching in Kaikora, New Zealand. Life may have its downs, but when you are at the bottom, a zero floating in a sea of higher numbers, the only way is up. And when you get there. When you rise to the very top. You might as well jump.
JULY 11 - THE TRUMAN SHOW
Television impressions. Invokes memories of Spitting Image or Rory Bremner in full political propagandist pose. But it means something altogether different to me. You see, I have a rather impressionable personality and it tends to be shaped by whichever television series I am currently watching.
The West Wing replenishes my moral centre as I aspire to be a better person, more capable, witty and able to think on my feet. After Curb Your Enthusiasm, I become a balding neurotic jew, unafraid to be himself, and able to put a funny spin on the strange situations I am constantly expsosed to.
The Soprano's alters my physical state, as I hunger for italian food and become more rotund. I become a hardball with no fear of consequences, and somehow find myself obsessively attracted to my therapist. After Deadwood, my previous distaste for swearing evaporated and my whisky intake increased. Yet still I felt like the one moral man in a vastly immoral world.
24 was dangerous as I felt indestructable and suffered from a Truman Show complex that the world revolved around me. Arrested Development made me feel like I was constantly surrounded by morons who were trying to take advantage of me. I became inherently more sarcastic and thought that I knew better than anyone around me. Having just finished the first season of Prison Break, I feel like a smart guy in a mixed up place, devoted to a cause that only I understand.
But no matter which personality I assume, I know that I think way too much. Every moment of every day is dedicated to dissecting a thought process. It feels like I have chicken pox and that by constantly scratching the surface it will nullify the pain. Quite the contrary, the pain remains and tiredness creeps in. Every thought is a burden. Every burden is a problem. Every problem has a solution. At least, that's what Prison Break would have you believe.
JULY 5 - HENRY AND JUNE
In new zealand. Too cold to write. Thermal long-johns not doing their job. Have tried to wee in them to make them warmer. Worked for 2 and a half minutes. Now cold, wet and smell of wee. How I long for a beach. How I long to be the sweatiest man alive again. How I long-john.
In the not very jewish sounding Christchurch, 3pm and due for a siesta. Early mornings are devoted to the world cup, afternoons to sleep, and evenings to eating. I would imagine this is what its like to be called Henry and live in a retirement home sans colostomy bag (who needs one when you have LJ's).
Australia was copasetic. Somewhere I could settle. Somewhere dreams could come true. Somwhere over the rainbow. It delivered against the highest of expectations, and in sydney, has one of the finest capitals in the world. Big shout out to James Barney Barnfeld Barnetude Arnold who once again displayed the characteristics of a true friend. He was one of my best friends before this trip began, yet now I feel even closer to him. Big shout out to Fat 'linguine boy' Tony. Great to see you in airlie my friend. Big shout out to Katie. You are a beautiful person. Big shout out to Betti Budd, Jerry and Watson. So lovely to see you. Big shout out to Wendy, Fiona Mary and Rene. It was a pleasure being your Frank Butcher. Thank you for being my Peggy and Pat. Big shout out to the BVI crew. Pirates 2 rocks. Thank you for your hospitality.
Right, enough shouting. Time to shower. Time to sleep. Chico time.
JUNE 29 - TERMS OF ENDEARMENT
I was in love once. I was in love but it had to disappear before I could see it. We met in the worst of circumstances. I had hit rock bottom, the terbulent climax of a troubled past. She had also hit rock bottom, the result of anguish and the worst kind of anxiety. And yet our meeting was simple and unobtrusive. Our eyes met, we said very little, though we could see deep behind the eyes lied a lifetime of pain and a mutual understanding and respect.
I remember that moment. What she was wearing, how I felt. I took a mental picture and it will stay with me forever. We became very close and we supported each other emotionally, me with words, her simply with her presence. One of my strengths is an understanding of human nature and applied to others it can sooth like a balm. Applied to myself it burns the skin..
"Its a characteristic of human nature that the best qualities called up quickly in a crises are very often the hardest to find in a prosperous calm. The contours of all our virtues are shaped by adversity" (Shantaram)
I realise now that I loved her, but my inability to express myself emotionally and a reluctance to allow love into my life, lead to a shortlived relationship. Like most things natural and beautiful I took her for granted and have regretted that every day since. All the things you wish you had said but never did, all those deeds you wished you had performed but couldn't..
"the past reflects eternally between two mirrors - the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say" (Shantaram)
I met her at a time in which i have never felt so vulnerable and so ashamed of my inability to be happy. I have always felt as if loneliness was the punishment dealt out to those who don't realise their expectations. But then the expectations imposed upon myself was unrealistic and the expectations of others simply reflections of my own..
"one of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for lonliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful, that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you" (Shantaram)
Sometimes though difficult, it is best to give in to your feelings and let them run their course. This is the meaning of courage. Inevitably that risk can lead to suffering, but at least your sadness is true and real. To live without risk is to live in regret and falsity.
"suffering is always a matter of what we've lost. When we are young, we think that suffering is something that's done to us. When we get older we know that real suffering is measured by what's taken away from us" (Shantaram)
I have been guity in the past of constantly seeking for and striving towards perfection. But what is perfection? It is a standard, but is it real? Does it represent our hopes and aspirations or does it represent an impossible dream. Maybe perfection is just your ability to be, live in the moment and be comfortable with who you are and what you represent. Maybe we are all perfect but we are obsessed with imperfection. I was in love once, it wasn't perfect but it was real. I realised today that I don't have a single photograph of her, just a mental picture that will stay with me forever..
"A man is truly a man when he wins the love of a good woman, earns her respect, and keeps her trust" (Shantaram)
Shantaram is written by Gregory David Roberts.
JUNE 25 - SIGN 'O THE TIMES
I haven't written for a while and we have so much to catch up on. From the delights of the World Cup tournament, to the intensity of the years best movie to date, United 93, its hard to know where to start. After digesting the aforementioned movie, I believe we should jump straight to the issues, so where other to start than;
The decline of Britney vs the rise of Christina.
If this were an equation, Christina would be x, Britney would be y, and their contribution to music zzz. Going one step further, you could say the ascent of x is directly proportional to the decline of y. Why?
If anyone managed to catch Ms Aguilera's startling performance on the 2006 MTV Movie Awards, or indeed has heard her latest single or seen her latest music video, you will see that she is orbiting well above the stratosphere that Britney aspires to be. Christina's music and singing ability enables her to touch a wide variety of music genre's from pop to R&B to soul.
Britney on the other hand is slowly but surely transforming into white trash. Her last (and best) song Toxic seems an age ago. She is losing her once beguiling looks. Her brand of music has become old hat due to her inability to adapt her style (a la her protege Madonna) and she is squirting out kids faster than Michael Jackson in a creche. Her lack of talent and style is becoming all too apparent.
On that note, I caught the Brit awards on TV, or as I like to call it, the most pointless awards ceremony since the TONY's. It still bugs me that there is no music ceremony that touches the world in the same way the Academy Awards do. Anyway, I digress. The part of the Brits I saw went something like this...
PERFORMANCE THAT OPENS CEREMONY - KAISER CHIEFS
(playing one of their songs that sounds exactly like all their other songs)
AWARD FOR BEST BRITISH NEWCOMER - JAMES BLUNT
(Can someone please explain what is happening in the world, when talent free, dull men with no testicles sell more albums than anyone else)
PERFORMANCE BY COLDPLAY
(introduced by the witless Chris Evans as the band who have been busy conquering the world. Which one exactly? They went on to perform the dullest song, I think I have ever heard about nothing at all. The most uninteresting performance since their last one)
AWARD FOR BEST INTERNATIONAL NEWCOMER - KANYE WEST
Now a bit of R&B in a club is alright now and then (prefer Slap&Tickle), but lets not get carried away. All they do is sample old and better songs, put a beat behind it, and then talk quickly in a rhyming manner. Should that be rewarded?
Then, time stopped, the music gods said they had had enough, and the legend that is Prince performed two new tracks, Purple Rain and Let's Go Crazy. For one second you could hear the british music industry realise what a bunch of talentless morons they are. His performance was breathtaking, singing songs he had written, accompanied by his electric guitar, entertaining, dancing and harmonising making James Blunt (who performed later) look like a spotty student ("did i disappoint you?" yes, now shut your blow hole).
What is your point? Well music has many parallels with life, principally that the best musicians have an abilty to adapt and change their style in accordance with what is happening today. Its the reason Madonna and U2 are so popular today. Some even take risks, some of which work, and some of which don't, but invariably they learn a lesson. Its the same for us. If we are hit by life changing events, we adapt. If we learn lessons, these lessons are carried with us so that we know what to do next time. If we take risks, some work, some don't, but we tried didn't we?
JUNE 6 - INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE
Monthly review. How can we keep this fresh? OK, imagine its 10pm on a cold London saturday night. You are at home, too tired to venture outside. You switch on the box, BBC1, Parkinson is on. His first guest is Ad..
PARKEY: Good evening Ad, may i call you Ad
AD: You may Parkey
PARKEY: Righto, lovely to have you on the show, we have been trying to get you on for months
AD: I've been busy
PARKEY: Of course you have. Anyway lets get to it, but before we do, may i say how wonderfully dashing you look? You know, bald is the way to go..
AD: I appreciate that Parkey. You have a way with words which is lucky considering you are short in the looks department
PARKEY: Ay. Right, so monthly review. You have been away now for 4 months. I think its fair to say that all of your family and friends miss you very much. Do you miss them?
AD: Yes.
PARKEY: How eloquent. Where have you been this past month?
AD: Hong Kong, and the east coast of Australia.
PARKEY: How did you find Hong Kong?
AD: Loved it. You know Parkey, you find on journeys such as these, that cities are the same the world round. You have the least rewarding experiences in cities, but Hong Kong is different. Its unique. It has character. You feel when you are in Hong Kong, that you are in the King of all cities and you are at its behest.
PARKEY: Fascinating. Did you meet anyone there?
AD: Yes, my friends Alec and Natalie, Louise and Soren, and ex colleagues Anne and Kerwin. They were extremely hospitable and it was superb to spend some time with them. One of the most pleasurable aspects of this journey, is meeting friends from all over the globe.
PARKEY: Highlights?
AD: I would say the Peak, cable car at Ocean Park, and usage of their cinema's.
PARKEY: Now, I hear whispers that you are wasting much of your year in the wilderness in the cinema. How do you respond to those allegations?
AD: I can understand that view point. But you get to my age Parkey, and you know what you want out of life and what you dont. These things have become more evident over the past 4 months. I am never happier than when I am munching popcorn.
PARKEY: So, how have you found Australia?
AD: Its everything I thought it would be and more. Its rare you experience a place that meets your already high expectations.
PARKEY: Have you been burning the candle?
AD: And then some. I feel nocturnal at times, its incredible what a different person you are between day and the night. I see this as my final hurrah before returning to normality and hopefully settling down.
PARKEY: Now, there are some excited girls in the audience all with a preference for balding slightly rotund jews. They will be over the moon to hear you are thinking of finally settling down.
AD: Calm down ladies. Not right now, but soon, definitely soon.
PARKEY: What are the highlights of Aus to date?
AD: So many. The whit sunday islands, Magnetic Island, Fraser Island, diving on the great barrier reef, seeing my friends Tony and James, Australia Zoo and recouperating in Noosa.
PARKEY: Surely you cant top that?
AD: Well we still have Byron Bay, Sydney, Melbourne and the World Cup to go.
PARKEY: Are you planning to watch the world cup? The time difference must be a bitch, excuse my french.
AD: Gonna try and watch every game.
PARKEY: What do you think of Englands chances?
AD: I think this will be one of the most open World Cups ever. Our chances died with Rooney's foot, I fancy Italy actually. Brazil have too many weaknesses. Argentina are my other favourite.
PARKEY: Well its been a pleasure talking with you. You are looking better than ever, and if you dont mind me saying so, have an air of confidence and self belief that has been clearly lacking since you were a youngster. Good on you, and keep enjoying yourself. Remember, life is a marathon, not a sprint, so take your time, take it easy and chill out. Next up, Paris Hilton.
JUNE 4 - THE BIG PICTURE
Another summer, another season of blockbuster movies.
Da Vinci Code
The reviews I had read had not been kind. Having read, and enjoyed the book, I never felt that this would be an easy transition to the big screen. The casting also caused concern for me. Tom Hanks wasn't close to the Robert Langdon I had imagined. More of a younger Harrison Ford. Audrey Tattou was not inspired either, and whilst she charmed in Amelie and Dirty Pretty Things, she did not fit the profile of Sophie Neveu. Paul Betteny, much loved by many, despised by me, was the worst of all as Silas. He is about as threatening at Mother Teresa at a kindergarten.
It started slowly. Tom Hanks clearly was going to play this like a plank of wood, or as i like to call it, Clive Owen. Audrey tattou was strugling with her english. Jean Reno was playing it by the numbers. Perhaps, its because of such a sloppy start, that the rest of the movie appears to pick up. Ian Mckellan freshes things up, Paul Betteny looks as though he prepared for the movie with a week in the gym, and some of the historical sequences impress. However, the style in which the movie is shot, is just too clean and it lacks the humour and drama that made the novel such a page turner. It was never going to be an easy task, and in practice they delivered a mediocre movie which fails to offer anything different or original.
XMEN 3: The Last Stand
Can it really be true? The biggest opening in cinema history? For an XMEN movie? Apparently so. Franchises tend to have different behaviour. There's the Matrix syndrome (great first movie, sucky sequels), the Mission Impossible syndrome (no great movies), the Godfather syndrome (great first two, awful final installment) and of course the Lord of the Rings syndrome (is there a better blockbuster trilogy out there?).
The first XMEN movie had good intentions, and the Wolverine storyline made it a passable attempt despite poorly shot action sequences. The second movie built on the first, giving it a touch of the Empire Strikes Back syndrome. The third had been abandoned by Bryan Singer and given to Brett Ratner of Rush Hour fame who had just been kicked off Superman Returns.
The result is quite bewildering in that it feels more like a blockbuster than any XMEN movie before it, but lacks something that the other two had championed, a decent script. The characters feel superficial, practically transparent. The wit is week. And the story, one of the best in the comics, a damp squib.
Poseidon
The original movie, has proved to be far more popular over the years, than at its original release. Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine and Shelley Winters heading a cast in an era of great disaster movies. Recently of course, Fox had success with The Day After Tomorrow from the Emmerichs of Independence Day fame (and Godzilla failure). They had high hopes for this, practically a sequel in the same holiday period.
As usual, the studio deemed it inappropriate to invest in stars, claiming the effects or the boat to be equally billed as a key player. This is likely a budget influenced decision especially when you consider Wolfgang Peterson is at the helm. As a result, old timers like Kurt Russell and Richard Dreyfuss return, and those who cant quite cut it round out the cast (Josh Lucas, Jacinda Barrett, Mia Maestro).
It shows. Dramatic enough to keep you interested, the world didn't need another disaster movie on a boat, and this has showed at box office. Its one for video undoubtedly, the special effects not even enough to draw attendence and some of the weekest marketing seen to date this summer.
Conclusion
The moral is, as always with summer blockbusters, will studios please stop signing off movie budgets without investing in a decent screen writer. You would think the script would be the fundamental infrastructure of all these movies, but alas they choose to spend their money on effects and stars who are expected to turn glass words into diamonds.
MAY 29 - WALKABOUT
Australia has been kind to me. Phrases like 'no worries' and 'too easy' encapsulate the mind set of its inhabitants and the beer tastes good. To date, I have been fortunate to preside over landmarks such as;
Cape Tribulation - beautiful scenery including gorges, rivers, rainforest and beaches. Sightings include a python, 4 crocs and 2 swedish girls in skimpy clothing.
Cairns - ok get this. Its by the beach, adjacent to the great barrier reef, and home to some of the finest water holes and drinking establishments in the entire north of queensland. Stayed at my first hostel here, and was awoken on day one by a czech mans flatulence. Sightings include beer, a foam party, beef pies and 3 japanese girls who didn't speak a word of english but knew magic.
Mission Beach - after the recent cyclone larry, the majority of this area was out of commission which basically meant the order of the day was 18 cans of beer, a goon of wine, and a helping of local whisky. Accompanied by a maccum called Stu, 2 oxford graduates called Nat and Charly and a british 41 year old called Peter, we put the world to rights and ended each evening with a jammin session where I sang the blues with a local passer by with a guitar. Sightings include a guitar, a harmonica and the voice of an angel
Magnetic Island - the best day of my trip to date. One of those where you wake up and the entire day delivers and ends with a striptease. We hired a topless moke (moke not bloke), which was a small pink pimpmobile with pink furry seats and a pink furry steering wheel (I had no say in colour obviously). We had a BBQ on the beach. We witnessed Charly the oxford graduate drinking her way past oblivion and out of clothing. Sightings include a rock wallaby, a man fishing and catching a shark, a koala, a giant spider, a crime fighting man on a harley called Derek, 2 russian 12 year olds with a knowledge of local butchers, a table dance/striptease and a couple having full on naked sex in my dorm as I stumble in late and drunk.
Airlie Beach - what a wonderful week I have just had. Meeting up with my friend and former work colleague Fat Tony (he is very thin) and one of my best mates James (who used to be thin) we have just enjoyed a great weekend on airlie, admiring sharks in the great barrier reef and sharking in some of the university type bars that play tracks like 'Come on Eileen' and 'I Would Walk 500 Miles'. Prior to that, Tony and I experienced 3 heavenly days on a boat travelling around the island paradises of the Whit Sundays. Sightings include a shark, a giant turtle, a dolphin, stunning whitehaven beach, a mad diving instructor called Ivan, the Da Vinci Code and a yummy mummy landlady called Tracey who gave us her car without knowing our names.
Boating around the whit sundays I made 3 typical Adlike errors;
1. Telling a giant brick shithouse and former pro rugby player that rugby is for men that like sniffing other mens butts.
2. In a marathon game of shag marry kill, where you name 3 women and decide who you would shag, marry and who you would kill (and describing how) screaming out Schiffer would die cos she is a german to a german. Sophie, a girl on the boat who makes Rosanne Barr look like one of the Olsen Twins, said she would marry an umpa lumpa (for the lifetime supply of chocolate), sleep with mini me and kill stephen hawking. I said I would kill Kate Moss by gouging her eyes out with an egg whisk. Tony said he would kill Paris Hilton by covering her in dog food and letting her chiwawa devour her.
3. At some stage whilst admiring the magnifence of beauty on show, I was accompanied by my wife and best friend Ipod. The ipod gods were shuffling my songs, and Sophie sat next to me and asked what I was listening to. Without thinking I screamed out Fat Bottomed Girls which was blaring out of my headphones, and she got up, walked away, a tear forming in her bulbous eye. Damn you ipod gods!
MAY 23 - THE SOUND OF MUSIC
Boozing and scuba and cape tribulation
Nude table dancing and daily masturbation
Man plays harmonica whilst Rubins he sings,
These are a few of my favorite things.
Staying in hostels with two danish strudles,
Medium Rib eye with schnitzel and noodles
Beautiful islands and beaches in spring,
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the bank balance bites,
When the liver stings,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don't feel, so bad.
Jumping on motorbikes driving then crashes,
Ten pints of carlton druaght stumbling then slashes,
Two swedish lesbians tied up with string,
These are a few of my favorite things.
MAY 12 - RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
Its 3pm, only 4 hours until my flight to Australia, bidding a fond yet overdue au revoir to Asia, noodles and rice. I will miss being the tallest person in the country, but I shall not miss banging my head on every available partition. I have hit my head so many times, I am starting to believe that pigs do indeed fly and hell has in fact frozen over.
Asia, you have served me well, but lacking any unified leadership, whether it be political, social, or parental, here are some useful and educational observations for you.
1. Look the fuck where you are going. Now, I am not one for obsenities, in fact, I rarely swear. But for crying out loud, use consistency in your walking techniques. Follow a straight line. Look up. If the left lane is for walking, stand idle in the right lane. Follow these basic principles and I guarantee no road rage from impatient neurotic brits.
2. Learn and appreciate the ancient scientific procedure of personal space. Its a circumfrance that we stand in the middle of, and no-one is allowed into that space without expressed permission or a signed personal space intrusion authorisation form.
3. You may be the size of an impaired umpa lumpa, but many of your tourists, the biggest trade you have, are not. We do not enjoy sitting on two seats, we do not advocate spending a 12 hour bus journey with our balls nestled in our chin, and we do not appreciate urinating in a toilet that children would have trouble using.
4. You are a civilised nation, and whilst you have been crippled by communism, that does not mean that you are above (or below) queuing. There needs to be order, as without it, you are left with people like Liam Gallagher. Jumping in front of me in a line is an act of war and will be treated so. Remember, I am twice the size of you, so if i decide to throw you out of the window, I can do so without breaking sweat (thats a lie, I just broke a sweat thinking of that).
5. Just because I am a man, a single man, travelling alone, it does not mean that I want or require illicit sexual activity, pornographic dvd's or any kind of finish, happy or otherwise. Having said that, I am a jew and therefore always on the look out for a bargain.
Asia, please take these issues under advisement. I shall be contactable via email should you need any clarification. Despite these indisgressions thank you for being the safest continent I have ever frequented, and I too love you long time.
MAY 9 - BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA
OK, OK, I admit it. I dont like being told what to do. Yes, I have an authority complex or as I like to call it, the who the hell are you to tell me what to do complex. Now this syndrome has inevitably put me in trouble on numerous occasions, many of which with stoopid beefy bouncers on a power trip. But today, for the first time, I was escorted from a shopping mall.
Innocently taking pictures in Lane Crawford, Pacific Place, I was told in no uncertain terms that photography was not allowed in their store. Now there is only one response to this type of statement, hysterical laughter. Elbowing the store clerk out of the way, I started snapping again. This was, after all, a shop. Rather decorative and classy store, but a shop nonetheless. It was not the houses of parliament. It was not the royal palace. And it was not the school next door to Gary Glitter's place.
The world has gone mad when you cant take a picture of a shop. As security nicely walked me out, my screams of "I work for Cosmo" and "this isn't the last you will hear of me" echoed around the plaza. Sitting in a coffee shop over the road, using the free internet, I am plotting my revenge quietly and purposefully. Its time to pull out the big guns. Terry. Yes folks, I'm going streaking.
MAY 8 - CHINATOWN
Here are some things you probably don't know about Hong Kong
1. It is common practice for the locals to hack up phlegm publicly, though most of them wait until you are eating your dinner. If you tell them this is disgusting, they are liable to pretend that they dont speak english.
2. Burping is customary, the louder the better. Whilst brits hold in their windy pops, the locals very much honour the better out than in rule.
3. There is no such thing as queing. The advantage of being dwarflike, is your ability to squeeze in to tight spots. If spotted pushing in, you are required to stand absolutely still, pretending that you are a figment of imagination. Here pushing in is an art form, much like mime.
4. Mainland chinese are known as 'mainlanders' which is a derogatory term as in
'that person pissing on a tree must be a mainlander'. They are spoken about the same way we brits talk about the welsh.
5. It is virtually impossible to find an internet cafe in hong kong
Therefore you have two choices;
(i) sit in starbucks and use their one free terminal that is shared between you and the entire population of tourists. If a local is there, prepare for the no queing rule and pretence that no english is spoken despite their t-shirt quoting shakespeare.
(ii) go to the central library and pretend to do some research which I am doing now. Right now I have my library face on, which hasnt been used since university. The look that is supposed to say, 'I am concentrating' but actually says I am 'flatulent'. That being the case, I shall be loud and proud in my flatulence....OK, that rule clearly doesn't apply to libraries.
MAY 3 - MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
JJ, your mission should you choose to accept it, is to revive a dying and useless franchise. You are a rookie taking charge of a studio blockbuster, and whilst you have breathed new life into ABC television shows, you are an unknown quantity as a movie director. This message will self destruct in ten seconds...
It was 5pm. Ad had just touchdown'd in Hong Kong. He was hungry yet excited. Tired yet fused with adrenalin. Today would be the day. Today, he would find a cinema and all would be right with the world.
6pm. Ad realises that chinese food isn't quite the same as back home. Gone are the duck pancakes. Gone is the sizzling beef. Gone is the shredded chicken. It has been replaced by vile bodily organs that have no place in a round bowl with rice.
7pm. Ad asks reception to recommend a cinema. It will take 30 minutes by tram, but that's ok. He has re-fuelled allbeit with some sort of roasted rat. He has money in his pocket allbeit cambodian or vietnamese.
7:45pm. Ad finds the cinema and gives himself a hearty pat on the back. He is sure that dinner will repeat on him at some stage, but he can hold on. Especially because he has a ticket to see Mission Impossible 3. Its funny, the first two movies had done little for him. The first was a 6 (out of 10), the second a 2. Yet, excitement took hold of him. The silver screen. A cinema. An audience. After all, isn't this what he had been put on earth for?
3 trailers. The first for the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie. He shifts in his seat. The first feeling is one of shear exhilliration. The second is one of sadness, reflecting on his previous job, and how pitiful it was to see this trailer for the first time, with an audience. It didn't disappoint. They pulled it off again, he whispered to himself with a glint in his eye.
The Da Vinci Code and Xmen 3 intensify the frenzy of elation, and then the movie begins. He feels free once again. He is home.
(as mentioned in previous post, this is my love letter inspired by john hughes adressed to Hollywood)
AN ODE TO JOHN HUGHES
They tell you they are the best years of your life. Your teens years. The time when experience and influences make you the person you are. They tell you they are the best years of your life. Don't believe them.
As a teenager its fair to say I felt mis-understood. Physically awkward, I had yet to grow into my face and body. Mentally confused, I had so many questions and no-body to answer them. Academically anemic, there was no fun in being right. My social life was a saving grace however, a club if you will. However, it was a club to which I never felt I belonged. No-one understood me. No-one ever could.
It was around this time that my fascination with the silver screen began. Initially as a form of escapism, finally I could imagine myself in a world that made sense. My life could have a beginning, a middle and an end, a 3 act dynasty with a legacy leaving denouement. It enabled me to aspire to better things, to become my better self, a romantic vision indeed.
And then it happened. The Breakfast Club. A story about real kids with real problems. Outcasts. Romantics. Different individuals, who through social interraction and serendipity, are united for one brief moment. I saw myself in all of these characters. They appeared like fragmented pieces that constituted the all encompassing ME.
The first girl I ever fell in love with? Kelly Le Brock, Weird Science. Was it true? Could you create the perfect specimin on your computer. One that could oust all of my most corageous characteristics? The light switched on, I tried and failed through pretty simplistic computer code to re-create Kelly Le Brock on my BBC home computer. The movie would have to suffice, it became a personal favourite.
And just when you thought it couldnt get any better, Ferris Bueller came along and represented everything I always wanted to be, and at the same time represented everything that I was not. What a guy. What a zest for life. Here is a kid, in complete control having the time of his life. Just to be in the presence of greatness would be better than wallowing in self pity. Ask Cameron.
You see, to me John Hughes like no other could articulate my thoughts and feelings into story and characters. He could make me laugh out loud, and cry like a little girl (see Planes, Trains and Automobiles). This is the time of your life when you you can't relate to anyone or anything, but John Hughes gave me hope. The hope that maybe everything will be ok.
And then I grew up. Life seemed to make sense allbeit arbitrarily and I followed my dreams by working in the film industry marketing some of the teen movies of today. With few exceptions, they disappointed each and every time. Despite my older years, I could never have imagined relating to these movies and saw them principally as popcorn movies designed for box office. They even had forgettable names. I sympathise for teens of today, after all, who is their John Hughes?
So Hollywood, this is my plea. It's down to you. I cant hardly wait for you to get over it, so bring it on you clueless loser...
MAY 2 - WATT DREAMS MAY COME
Ah, my third monthly review which means I have been MIA for, er, 3 months. This is where I stop being witty and start bring factual. Anyone missing me? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Fry? That reminds me, my lovely gorgeous talented friend Kari Hollend is producing a documentary about John Hughes (www.dontyouforgetaboutmethemovie.com) and she asked me to write a letter about his effect on me which i shall post for your reading pleasure. Another friend of mine, Mike Wasserman is producing a sports movie with Powers Boothe and Sean Astin called The Final Season and i am just pleased and proud as punch for both of them. Respek.
Anyone, back to me, me, me. April started agreeably with a trip to Laos. Crossing the border from the north of thailand, I immediately met Barbara, a german Hamburger who asked me to keep an eye on her bags. Little did I know that some time later my eyes would be firmly fixed on her funbags (phnar phnar). An early start, we congragated by the Laos border to wait for the 2 day slow boat ride down the Mekong River. There, a group of us immediately bonded and we stayed together for around a week.
The boat ride down the Mekong, was one of the highlights to date for me. Stunning scenery, great company and as much beer as you could drink. The boat ended in Louang Prabang, a quaint city and world heritage site. It was there that I jumped from the top of a waterfall and finally became a man. A day later we were in Vang Vieng, the city not as picturesque, but once you explored the river side, it satisfied equally. It was there that I went cave tubing and kayaking. It was there that I victoriously strut my stuff in the dance off of all dance offs. And it was there that Barbara and I shared our first kiss.
A 4 hour bus ride down to Vientiene was made interesting by the fact that one of our mates Doug, had pilfered 3 strong opium teas the night before, and was stopping the bus every 30 minutes to throw up. Vientiene will be remembered mostly for being the hottest place I had been, but also the place I got my bank card nicked, and said goodbye to Barbara for the first time.
Then a flight to Chang Mai in Thailand, where I met up with my good friend Phil Cairns, on a sabbatical from Buena Vista. 5 days in all, the highlights being a day trip of elephant riding and bamboo rafting, a connect four tournament and thrashing from 2 ladyboys called Pete and Frank, and a wonderful Thai new Year spent in a heavy metal bar. You really must experience one of these before you die. To throw water at people in the street is an utterly cathartic experience. It was great to see Phil too.
From there to Siam Reap in Cambodia, where Barbara met me at the airport, and we spent the next day riding on bicycles and looking at the ancient temples of Angkor Watt which have haunted my dreams ever since. We said goodbye again, this time for good as she was going back home to Hamburg, and I got on a 6 hour boat ride to the capital Phnom Penh. I didn't love this city, mainly because the locals drive you crazy, and I was already beginning to tire of Asia.
However, I was looking forward to Vietnam and it hasn't disappointed. Ho Chi Minh was a great city, and enjoyed day trips to the Mekong Delta and the Cu Chi Tunnels. Also went to get a massage in a reputable spa, and the lady just took all her clothes off. She got a big tip. Hoi An was a lovely coastal city on the east, and there I met up with the irish girls I had met in Laos, for yet another crazy night out. It was there that free willy came on to me, and I met the legend that is Mick Jagger.
Then to Hanoi, which is more akin to Bangkok, although it has much to offer. A 2 day trip to Ha Long Bay, 3 hours outside of Hanoi was a lot of fun, and again, lovely scenery. Which brings me to present day. Tomorrow I am flying to Hong Kong for 9 days and then off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Aus. Hopefully he has waiting for me, a brain, a heart, some courage and a rib eye steak with bearnaise sauce.
MAY 1 - SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
Nick wrote briefly. Ralph studied the note, rubbed the side of his nose, and wished he didn't have to read it. Old ladies like this didn't cotton to stuff like what Nick had just written. She'd likely call it blasphemy.
"What's he say?" Abigail asked.
"He says..." Ralph cleared his throat. "He says that he don't believe in God"
The message relayed, he looked unhappily down at his shoes and waited for the explosion. But she only chuckled, got up and walked across to Nick. She took one of his hands and patted it.
"Bless you Nick, but that don't matter. He believes in you."
The Stand, Stephen King
Starving! It's been a long long morning, an active day tour in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam. But thank the lord, its lunchtime.
(sitting down for lunch)
ADAM: "Right, I'm starvin marvin
WAITER: "Hello Marvin"
ADAM: "It's just an expression...never mind"
WAITER: "One expresso"
ADAM: "No, oh jeez, just a water, thank you. What's for lunch?"
WAITER: "We have 4 choices"
(please say steak, please say steak)
"Pork, Crab, Shrimp or Ham"
(bugger)
ADAM: "You have anything else? I don't eat any of those things"
WAITER: "Are you vegetarian"
ADAM: "No, I just don't eat pork, crab, shrimp or ham"
WAITER: "Why you make it so difficult?"
ADAM: "Because I'm jewish"
I am proud of being jewish. Many people ask me if I am a religious man, and my answer a devout no. This confuses them, often when talking about marriage or relationships. The best way I know how to articulate it, is that they confuse religion with tradition, heritage and ancestory. I feel those things as strongly as I feel anything. It makes me feel like I am part of something bigger than plain old me and it's my responsibility to respond to those feelings.
Undoubtedly I am anti organised religion and I have my reasons for this but I have nothing against those with faith within reason. In fact, sometimes I pray I was more religious. But my belief in God is tenuous at best. Sometimes I think I am travelling the world in search of something to believe in, but the cold reality is that I am looking for someone to believe in me. Faith is the belief of an entity we cannot see. Seeing is believing.
APRIL 27 - ROMANCING THE STONE
Mick Jagger walks into a bar. It sounds like the start of a corny joke, but its true, he walked into the bar i was in tonight in Hoi An, Vietnam introducing himself to folks as Mick. Up until that point, I was quietly reading my book in the corner, every now and then looking up at the attractive girls sitting next to me. Mick's entry was my invitation to start chatting and ended up eating dinner with them but nothing more.
- You can't always get what you want
4 days ago I drank whisky made from snakes testicles. Its poured from a bottle with both a dead snake and scorpion in it. Tasted rancid, but the effect has been nothing short of dramatic. After swigging it back, I was informed that this was Vietnamese viagra, and ever since Tery has been standing to attention. If we can make it to tomorrow I will have beaten my personal best from age 15.
- I can't get no satisfaction
I was propositioned the other night. It was a group of irish girls, their average weight that of a pregnant elephant. Their leader, (think love child of Roseanne Barr and Free Willy) took an immediate shine to me, and straight out asked if she could sleep with me.
- Lets spend the night together
Letting her down gently I felt a little guilty. Whales are endangered species i thought, but tonight there would be no free willy.
APRIL 22 - HEAVEN AND EARTH
"Saigon, shit, I'm still only in Saigon"
(Apocolypse Now)
Actually I only just arrived, but have always wanted to say that.
"Gooooooooood Morning Vietnam"
(er, Good Morning Vietnam)
Actually its night time, but have always wanted to say that also.
"No Angelina enough. You will wake Maddox. 3 times is enough for one night"
(my dreams)
So, here I am in Vietnam, the land that time will never forget. I have always been fascinated by their history, so it truly is a dream come true to be here in Ho Chi Minh City (formely Saigon prior to 1975 dont you know). This morning I took a tour across the Mekong Delta which was absolutely incredible, and tomorrow, I will see the Cu Chi Tunnels which is where the Vietcong hid from American troops. So excited a little wee just came out.
Now, some of you seem to think I may not be having a good time. That couldnt be any further from the truth. To date, this has been nothing short of enlightening. The scenery has been inspiring, the experience has been incredible and the women have been ignoring (me). Well thats not quite true either but a gentleman never gets his leg over 5 times and tells.
A Seinfeld episode made me think back to some of my London dating experiences which have been at best turgid. Many of you are familiar with my river Thames story. Admittedly I was never ready to date any of these women, but lessons were learnt. Like if a girl says another girl is beautiful it means she is heavily overweight. Anyway, back to Seinfeld, Jerry is trying to fix up George and asks if there is any hope;
GEORGE: "I don't want hope. Hope is killing me. My dream is to become hopeless. When you're hopeless you don't care. And when you don't care, that indifference makes you attractive."
JERRY: "So, hopelessness is the key?"
GEORGE: "It's my only hope."
Its funny cos its true. But funnily enough, I think even the most hopeless are hopeful. I think George is referring more to desperation. Its funny, I feel extremely hopeful at the moment. Life is good and I cant decide if its because I just drank a tanker of beer, or if there is a glimmer of sunshine on the horizon. Either way, I need to pee.
APRIL 19 - THE LAMBSHANK REDEMPTION
I got in trouble today in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. It was 2pm, lunchtime, and my stomach was begging to be replenished. Give me steak it begged, preferably rib eye, medium with bearnaise sauce. And chips. And a side salad. The menu crushed my stomachs spirit and instead I tipped yet another wad of beef noodles down its pallet.
A young girl approached and we entered into some polite conversation;
"you english?"
"yes" (it may have been the england football top that gave it away
"lovely jubely" she delivered in perfect cambodienglish
"you speak good english"
"thank you, you have no hair"
It would appear that over here, it is normal protocol to point out others inadequacies. Turned out she was 10 years old and selling books, some of them R rated, one of them called Sex Slave which she claimed to have read
"look there is a fat man" she cried with glee
I looked over and sure enough there was a man afflicted by cake retention. He was as tall as he was rotund, not a man you would want to sit on you.
"why dont you go over there and tell him how fat he is"
Sensing a challenge, she skipped off towards the whale and loudly delivered the piercing words:
"that man over there told me to tell you you are fat"
Fortunately he could only speak hippo. A lucky escape I thought as he plowed into his 3rd dessert.
Alone once again, I turned to my current book, a depressing tale about an american guy who's best friend has died, and decides to take a one week trip around the world giving money to the poor. Less page turner, more page burner. Its taken me 3 weeks to read 300 pages and now the finish line is in sight.
Please please send me your book recommendations. I dont want to waste my valuable reading time on americans travelling the world, something we know they dont have any interest in. Bit desert island this, but if you were in prison, doing a stretch of 4 days and you only had one book, which would it be? Sex Slave is not allowed.
APRIL 17 - ADAM RUBINS AND THE TEMPLES OF DOOM
Dictionary definition of boredom and related words;
Boredom - refers to what is so uninteresting as to cause mental weariness. Boring implies feelings of listlessness and discontent. What is monotonous bores because of lack of variety. Tedious suggests dull slowness or long-windedness. Irksome describes what is demanding of time and effort and yet is dull and often unrewarding. Something tiresome fatigues because it seems to be interminable or to be marked by unremitting sameness. Humdrum refers to what is commonplace, trivial, or unexcitingly routine.
Ad's definition;
Boredom - he who has been to subjected to one full working day (8:30am until 6pm) of viewing and/or milling about aimlessly amongst ancient temples. Monotonous ancient stones do indeed bore because of lack of variety. Tedious absolutely suggests snail like slowness and the longest of long windedness. Irksome to a tee describes what is unbelievably unrewarding. Tiresome is truly indicitive of that which is marked by unremitting sameness. Humdrum is what one does when very bored, hum and drum the entire Beatles back catalogue.
Yes, its fair to say that I am not particularly fond of Temples (unless their names are Gerry, Lesley, James and Andrew from Kenton). Angkor Watt in Siam Reap, Cambodia is home to some of the most magical, spiritual and grand scale temples in the world as well as the classic joke
"Angkor Watt"
"What?"
The joke that keeps on giving. It is, alledgedly, the highlight of South East Asia and many stay for 6 or 7 days, taking in the sheer velocity of temples that Siam Reap has at its disposal. You can marvel at the levels of incredulous interest that bearded professors display upon finding a stone wall. You can jest at the unimaginable amount of photographs that each Japanese tourist takes. Either way, that is the most fun I had today. Not saying I would be an annoying boyfriend or anything, but I resorted to German word play with Barbara (lovely german lady I may or may not have been spending a lot of time with) to keep me entertained.
Did you know for example that in german, mother with butter is 'mutter mit butter'. Even better, two sweaty pig shits is 'zwei schweisse schweine in shisse'. Now all of this may make me appear a little uneducated and not all that cultural but true that ain't. Big fan of culture. Especially if it has a club and sings kharma chameleon. Temples are frankly, all the same. I am from the if you've seen one temple you've seen them all club and if you've seen one hundred, you should probably think about getting a life. So no more boring, montonous, tedious, irksome or tiresome temples for me. I am going to stick to what I am good at. Profuse sweating.
APRIL 15 - THE WATERBOY
Is nothing sacred anymore? The comments page of my blog is littered with spam, and not particularly interesting stuff either. Have just been perousing my junk mail, and there are several tempting invitations;
Enlarge your penis
Harden your penis
Effective hair growth
Effective weight loss
Its like they know me.
Right now, its Songkran, Thai New Year which lasts 3 days. Its also known as the water festival, as the thai believe that water will wash away bad luck. For this reason, it is normal protocol to stand on the street with a bucket and a dual pump gage plasma water pistol and drench any passers by. This also includes motor-cyclists of which many die over the course of Songkran due to slippery accidents perhaps disproving the theory that water washes away bad luck.
Yesterday we attended numerous street parties and got wetter than Westlife. We even managed to find a rock bar who pleasured us with the likes of Iron Maiden, Metallica, AC/DC and Van Halen. We moshed, rocked and competed with each other in an air water pistol guitar medley as the rock gods looked down on us proudly. Many of us were hairless, slightly aged and passed it, yet united in metal. Every now and then, we would step outside, fill up a bucket and target females and shemales who fought back visciously. I never in my wildest dreams imagined exchanging fluids with a lady boy.
As the water washed over me, I could feel a change. Bad luck was dissipating. The water festival was taking effect. And when I awoke this morning, it was confirmed. Magically, and without having to resort to spam, the mirror reflected back an image of a hairy thin person with a giant erect penis.
APRIL 12 - HOUSE OF GAMES
"Stranded at the drive in...branded a fool. What will they say? Monday at school"
Name that tune. Too easy? OK, here's another..
"Did you ever know that you're my hero, and ev'rything I would like to be? I can fly higher than an eagle,'cause you are the wind beneath my wings"
Name that tune. Got it? Now whats the connection between the two?
Sandy Beaches. I miss 'em. Been in cities now for 2 weeks and like Paris Hilton, they suck. On the beach, you feel free. On the beach, you gaze at open water and dream of better things. On the beach, you watch the sunset, and believe in a higher power. In the city, you tire easily. In the city, the worst of you is exploited. In the city, life can be shitty.
Last night I met up with my friend Phil and we hit the town of Chang Mai. With my bank card stolen, the night could only look up, and I refused to look down. Being a creature of habit, I swallowed whole my 78th pad thai with beef and swigged out of a bottle of beer. We moved on, hailed a tuk tuk.
"My friend, can you take us to a bar"
"Many bar. Bar here. Bar there."
"Take us to a good bar"
"You want lady fuck?"
I dont know if there is a symbollic sign over my head which says THIS MAN IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS, AND HIS BUSINESS IS SEEDY PORN but it appears that the locals see me coming. Literally.
So he takes us to a bar. And no ordinary bar. One overflowing with ladyboys. Well at least they serve alcahol. 3 whiskies later, and we are playing connect four and jenga with Far and Pink (who I christen Frank and Pete to their chagrin). Now my connect four skills are pretty solid operating at a batting average of one in every two games. But the ladyboys are something else. At one stage they connect five, a feat never before inflicted upon me. At one stage Pete touches me knee
"NO TOUCHY" I snap, offering the he/she a look that says, do it again, I dare you.
I guess the moral of this story is that ladyboys are people too. They may be confused, but aren't we all. They may just be the best connect four players in the world. And whilst their skills are no longer honed in erecting wood, their jenga abilities are unparalleled.
Yes I miss sandy beaches. But I also desire a relationship with a normal woman without a penis. I had that in Laos. It was like being on the beach, hopeful and calm. Do what you can to bring the best out of yourself. Do what you can to bring the best out of yourself.
APRIL 9 - FOOTLOOSE
Bearing in mind Laos wasn't on the original itinerary (one of the only countries in the world that didn't make the short..i mean longlist), it has represented many of the criteria I set out to achieve. Friendships have been formed, whisky has been consumed and yes, romance, sweet romance. But last night bore witness to an incredible event.
It started around 11pm. Manchester United were easing their way past Arsenal on a distant television screen. Meanwhile, the serious business of killer pool was taking place, with Adam "Terry Griffiths" Rubins in with a chance of the winners podium. Third place was enough for a shot of local Laos whisky (or petrol as we call it in the west), and he was ready. Ready to dance.
My portfolio of dance moves is extensive, more than most know. It takes a special kind of night to display them, one that normally ends in streaking. To the utter astonishment of the locals, me, a bunch of the finest funnest irish girls (since B*Witchd), and some miscellaneous others seized a local night club and had a dance off.
I say night club, it was more of barn with music which they weren't allowed to turn up for fear of the police. But what about the dance police i pleaded to a response of "i no understand, you want opium?". So, to a backdrop of some of the worst music since the last 20 Eurovision Song Contests, we set about our business and bust some moves.
Amongst others, I pulled out 'The Lassoo', 'The Rain Man', The 'Maccarubins' (based on the Maccarena), 'The Robot', 'The Side Spank', 'The Behind Spank', 'The Poledance', 'The Running Man' and 'The Nipple Twister'. All of these were performed whilst semi naked, hairy chest gleaming with sweat. Many of you know that whilst not at rotund proportions, i tend to sweat like a fat man running a marathon. It doesn't take much, i am sweating right now after ten minutes of typing. Last night, women came from all over town to see the show, were undoubtedly highly impressed by what they saw, and many stepped foward in the hope of learning something. At one point i was surrounded by 3 women, licking their lips as they marvelled at the sweat beast. One got too close and slipped over, falling awkwardly, hurting her back. Casualties of War I thought as I went back for one last robot.
APRIL 6 - WHITE MEN CAN'T JUMP
1. Neither Here Nor There (Bill Bryson)
2. A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole)
3. The Incredible Adam Spark (Alan Bisset)
4. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
5. Mr Nice (Howard Marks)
6. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
7. Staying Alive (Matt Beaumont)
The books I have read to date. All have had some sort of profound effect, and I have been able to relate very closely to some of their protagonists. Neither Here Nor There, a detailed account of Bill Brysons travels in Europe as a teenager, and then later as a travel journalist invoked parallels with my experiences inter-railing as a wet behind the ears teenager and then later, as an adult travelling with work.
A Confederacy of Dunces is a wonderful work of fiction about a spoilt brat and fascist revolutionary who has a distinct vision about the way the world should work. He is unwilling to budge in his beliefs and expects others to follow him despite his clear lack of leadership. His stubborness reminded me of times past, and my moral beliefs that could not be swayed.
The Incredible Adam Spark is a beautifully written story about a socially retarded 18 year old, living in Falkirk, who somehow ears super powers and tries to determine whether they should be used for good or evil. Undoubtedly I feel like a social retard at times, and also know that like most I have the ability to be both good and evil.
The Kite Runner and Tuesdays with Morrie are both thought provoking heart warming fables that are highly emotive. They both suggest that in order to learn how to live, you first have to learn how to die. They also encourage you not to live in the past, but to embrace the moment. This enables you to build optimism for the future.
Which leads me to the book I am currently reading, Staying Alive by the author of the innovative E. This is a story about a 31 year old advertising executive, who finds out that he has inoperable cancer, and only 3 months to live. It sounds depressing, but its written in such a way, that you cant help but laugh out loud. You also relate to a guy that gives his life to an advertising company that has no appreciation of his worth, nor any care. Its only in the last 3 months that he realises how to live and what he needs to do to make things right.
I had never intended to visit Laos (pronounced Lau, no s), but wouldn't you know it, this place truly feels like the beginning of my trip. Yesterday I completed a 2 day boat ride down the Mekong River, one of the best experiences to date. At the Laos border I met a group of people that I immediately bonded with, and we are still together. Today, I went to a stunning waterfall in picturesque Laong Prabang, climbed a huge rock structure and jumped from the top into the waterfall. It was a liberating experience and I wont lie, I was petrified never imagining in my wildest dreams that I could do such a thing. But it signalled a big change in my life. Now, it feels all to apparent that I am willing to try new things. Willing to review and challenge some of these high principles. Willing to be vulnerable and know that that is ok. And willing to start living.
APRIL 1 - THE THAI THAT BINDS
Monthly review time and Thailand special. Surprisingly, I havent enjoyed Thailand as much as I had expected, and there is little special about the place, other than pad thai and daily massage. Its an odd country, envelopped by juxtaposition and parallels. For instance, drugs get you a life sentence or the death penalty, and yet on islands like Ko Phangan, there is a major drug culture. Corruption is rife and the sex industry continues to blossom, mainly in Bangkok, a sprawling motropolis and cesspit, a capital city which is in no way indicitive of the rest of Thailand.
As opposed to boring you all with details on each island, they are all variations of the same, or same same but different as they say out here, here is an FAQ that should answer many of the questions I receive.
ARE YOU ACTUALLY ENJOYING YOURSELF ADAM, I JUST CANT TELL?
Of course I am. OK, there are good days, and bad days, but generally this is an incredibly rich and rewarding experience, one I dont regret in the slightest. The blog is mostly written whilst inebriated or miserable, its the best way. Looking forward to moving on, and heading into Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Honestly, the quicker I can get to Australia the better.
WHATS BEEN THE HIGHLIGHT TO DATE?
Unquestionably Borneo.
WHAT ARE YOU MISSING THE MOST
In no particular order, my family, tea, baths, QPR, the film industry, mates, comedy.
FAVOURITE PLACE IN THAILAND, AND WORST
Fave was Ko Tao, followed by Raily Beach in Krabi. Bangkok is by far the worst, closely followed by Ko Pooey (I mean Samui).
YOU CANT BE DOING THAT BADLY WITH THE LADIES, CAN YOU?
Yes actually! But to be honest, I havent tried that hard. Dont really have the same mentality as many of the other travellers, and at age 31, life isnt really about that anymore. Its definitely time for me to settle down, and that is more what I am focussed on. April fools!
Finally, big shout out to Stormin and Emma who came to visit me in thailand. Stormin is one of my best mates, fellow QPR fan and Weezer enthusiast. Like me he has an addictive personality, and without meaning to out him, do not open a packet of pringles in his presence. When asked his favourite kind, he quotes Win a Date with Tad Hamilton.He has found himself an incredible girlfriend in Emma, and their generosity knows no bounds. They changed their itinerary to come and see me, and they showered me with gifts. It makes me feel incredibly fortunate to know that I have such friends. We also had some legendary nights out, and were undoubtedly the life and soul of each party we attended. Thank you both, much love and respek.
MARCH 30 - NIGHT ON EARTH
I woke up this afternoon feeling positive. Open the curtains, run through my check list. Blue sky; check. Sun out; check. Ivan Lendl; check. Night to rook 4; check. Positive decisions today. Book next location (Bangkok), work on my tan, wax my ears (have been meaning to do that for 2 months). So tonight, I felt in...the...mood.
OK, so I am on my own. I'm a decent bloke, and a lot of fun. This is going to be easy. Initiate contact, no problems.
Bar number 1: They are playing Pearl Jam. Always hit the bar with the decent music. Order a whisky and coke. Pay. Pearl Jam stops. Replaced by some arabic rap concoction. Leave.
Bar number 2: Still feeling positive. OK, no Pearl Jam, but they are playing decent enough nod your head chart music. Sit at the bar. Smile on my face, I'm ready to initiate. Vanilla Ice comes on. A bunch of barely legal kids are sitting next to me, and one of them shouts out "Dude, what is this like 20, 25 years old. Its from like '96". Here's my chance..
"Actually it was 1990. Can you believe the album To the Extreme spent 16 weeks at number 1 and sold over 7 million copies?"
Tumbleweed floats through the room and I leave in shame but not dejected.
Bar number 3: Alright...some cute ladies here. Barman, whisky and coke please. On closer inspection, not ladies. Ladyboy to my left. Ladyboy to my right. Ladyboy walking towards me (Your once, twice, three times a ladyboy). Quickly scampered out thanking my lucky stars i was only partially drunk.
Bar number 4: Whisky and coke please. Check out the scene. Smile. Look approachable. No you look like a letch. Dont smile. Shit, you still look like a letch. Whisky and coke please. Do that cool James Dean look you practiced in the mirror. Great now you look like a paedophile. Whisky and coke please. Confidence waning, alcahol consumption increasing. Not happening here.
On the way to bar number 5.
"You want massage?" Ah, potential conversation!
"How much?"
"300 Baht for oil or thai massage"
"Wow, thats a bargain"
"You want or not?"
"Er, no thanks"
3 sentences. Krabi record. Woohoo!
Bar number 5: There are 2 songs that follow me about like an unwanted rash. They only play when I am on my own, but they are pretty much guaranteed to play. The first is David Lee Roth's 'Just a Gigalo' with the chorus
"I aint got nobody
nobody nobody cares for me
Im so sad and lonely
sad and lonely sad and lonely
Wont some sweet mama
come and take a chance with me"
The other, that greeted me at bar number 5 was Akon's classic joie de vivre 'Lonely' which kicks off
"Lonely im so lonely,
I have nobody,
To call my owwnnn
Im so lonely, im mr. Lonely
I have nobody,
To call my owwnnn
Im so lonely"
WHISKY AND COKE PLEASE. HOLD THE COKE.
So I am sitting here. 12:30am. In an internet cafe with my best friend PC Emaster. I refuse to give up though. Nothings gonna stop me now (sang Starship in Mannequin...what i would do for a Mannequin right now and not a Mannelady). Its on to the next bar. And this time, conversation will flow like the whisky, long lasting friendships will be formed, and a beautiful young lady will accompany to my room for some Terry akey. Lord, who am i kidding. 300 Baht you say?
MARCH 28 - TAXI DRIVER
Picture the scene. London. 3am. Just walked out of an unproductive evening at China White. Drunk. Need to go home. No black cabs, just minicabs. One pulls over..
"How much to Kilburn?"
"40 pounds"
"Bite me"
"How much you pay?"
"12 pounds"
"I do it for 30"
"Done"
Get in cab. Fall asleep. Wake up in Kenwood. Give him directions to my abode. He tries to charge me an extra tenner and frustrated when i refuse. Give him two twenty pound notes and he has no change. Looks at me as though I should have precise money. I look at him as though I am about to chop his head off. We are at an impass and hatred runs through my veins.
Picture the scene. Krabi. 3am. Just walked out of an unproductive night at some miscellaneous bar. Drunk. Need to go home. Only way home is a longtail boat. I ask..
"Boat to Railly Beach?"
3 men laugh til they wee in their pants
"Not until 6am"
"I hate you"
Walk around. Check watch. 3:10am. Walk around. Find bar.
"Sam Song and coke please"
Glug, glug, glug. Check Watch. 3:12am.
Bar closes. Walk on...find all night bar. Nice in theory. Gay bar.
"Sam Song and coke please"
"What your name?"
"My name is Sam Song"
"You funny"
Drink endlessly. Glug glug glug. Check watch. 4am. Get in conversation with ladyboy to pass the time. Check watch 4:01am. After a while, start drifting off. Wake up at 5am on the lap of some bloke and almost throw up on him. Start running.
Walk the streets for 2 and a half hours. 7:30am, finally find a boat.
"How much to Railly Beach?"
"300 Baht"
"You having a laugh? I payed that from Ko Lanta to Krabi"
"300 Baht"
"100 Baht"
"300 Baht"
"200 Baht"
"300 Baht"
"OK, lets go"
Get to the other end. He has no change for 500B. We are at an impass. Hatred runs through my veins.
Tired. Drunk. Hungry. Hemerhoids. Starting to feel a little bit strange.
Weak. Sleepy. Constipated. Bloated. Some german bloke's whistling The Winds of Change.
Bum. Numb. Sun. Out. Monging out and feeling like a veggie.
Stomach churns. Butt burns. Time to go, got a seri-arse wedgie.
MARCH 27 - THAI ME UP THAI ME DOWN
Thailand has had an odd effect on me. Maybe its the moon, maybe its the whisky, but my moods seem to be as up and down as Abi Titmuss's mamories. The travelling experience has not quite been what I had expected, mostly because of how much I have changed. Yes I am prone to self obesession, yes my brain is constantly working overtime, yes there is much more going on in the top half of my body than the bottom. Unfortunately, my manhood (aka The General, aka Terry) and I are not on speaking terms. I have neglected him, and taken more than I have given. He has let me down also. You see, in order to become a supercharged confident Adam, it takes copious amounts of alcahol. Once induced, it renders Terry useless and therein likes the dicotomy (or dickotomy).
This blog business has doubtless been useful therapy although it feeds my self obsession. Looking at other blogs, perhaps I should be sticking to formula and not going off piste (Terry would appreciate that also). Something to the tune of;
"Oh joy, woke up this morning and the sun was shining (yay!). Sat on the beach for two hours and then decided to order my seventh banana shake of the day (chortle chortle!). The waiter told me about this great view from the top of a mountain and i have decided to climb it. Oh, I am sure the view is just so darn peachy and I cant wait to see the sunset. That's all right now, but will get back to you after the climb! As if i could get any higher than i am now!"
YAWN!!!! Its so much more interesting to wallow in misery. As the rock group Therapy point out, happy people have no stories.
MARCH 24 - THE HUSTLER
I have never understood cigarettes. Not only do they practically guarantee serious ill health, they also ruin innocent peoples right to breathe fresh air. Add to this the fact that it actually costs money to feed this life threatening addiction, and the fact that 99% of smokers understand all of the above.
But addiction is fed by emotional insecurity and it can hit you in a variety of ways, whether through smoking, drinking, drugs or my own personal transgression, gambling.
Ever since i was a teenager, I have been fascinated by fortune's wheel. As a student, we all frequented casino's in a bid to empty its wealth through stealth blackjack techniques. Now sports gambling has become my chosen tipple and its something that has gripped me in a tight head lock.
I suppose all addiction is gambling in a sense, whether speculating on your life or your wealth. Consistently it offers you the ability to feel certain emotions that are alien through natural means. For me, gambling feeds my core schema of low self worth and allows me to reach incredible high's, and of course the antithesis. Either way, its time to stop and persue the path of moral righteousness, positivity and enlightenment.
Itinerary;
To date: Java, Bali, Borneo, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Ko Phangan, Ko Tao, Ko Samui, Phi Phi, Ko Lanta
Next up: Krabi, Phuket, Bangkok, Chang Mai, Cambodia, Vietnam, Honk Kong
MARCH 20 - PICTURE PERFECT
http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/2736042
MARCH 17 - HIGHER LEARNING
I have learnt a great deal already on this trip. To summarise;
1. When a rather rotund lady asks if she looks fat in a dress, do not say "it is what it is".
2. When your middle name is Dane, do not use this as a chat up line on Danish women.
3. Climbing is for people in their 20's, crawling is for people in their 30's and not necessarily in terms of movement.
4. Allowing your parents to look at your bank statements is both idiotic and cost efficient.
5. Chafing is as chafing does.
6. Your wrist is both an accessory magnet and a useful companion.
7. QPR perform so much better when i am not in the country.
8. Negotiating is obligatory and can save you up to 5 english pence.
9. Hairy shoulders does not prevent sunburn and can make women hate you.
10. Telling a woman you are bald, fat and jewish does not make them moist.
MARCH 15 - MOONSTRUCK
House. Garage. Jungle. Hardcore.
House is where you live, garage where you park your car, jungle is where tarzan lives and is generally massive, hardcore is 6 quid a night on pay tv. But apply these terms to music and they take on an altogether different meaning. I genuinely believe, that if you are unlucky enough to be assigned to hell on judgement day, the music that will greet you will be Hardcore Trance and they will serve Mexican food.
Full Moon parties in Ko Phangan are notorious. The object is to see precisely how wasted you can get. 24 hours later, they are still at it. Potential world leaders and budding entrepreneurs consume as many drugs as they can, get off with lady boys, and dance until their legs turn to jelly. Undoubtedly there have been fatalities, the largest of which is music.
Tell me something. What is it about the aforementioned music that draws such an emotional response? There are no lyrics. There are no instruments. The beat thumps like an unwanted migraine and no matter what you say, you cant dance to it. All over the world there are dance contests that encompass all different kinds of music, from rock n roll to country and western. I didnt see the episode of Strictly Come Dancing when Bruce Forsyth said "Nice to see you, to see you nice. And now, Gloria Hunniford is to perform to the trance rythm of the world famous DJ Otsi track "Migraine" with her partner Mr Anphetomines"
Clearly my views offend more people than they educate, but then how do you educate someone who is brain dead? If you like this music, can you tell me the names of the songs you particularly like, and on what classic albums they frequent? Can you tell me what a DJ actually does? For me they should be NJ's or Nob Jockeys. I tried to think of the movie equivolent to this counter culture, but then the only movies that give me a headache star Clive Owen.
So to all lovers of Breakbeat, Drum n Bass, Electro, House, Happy Hardcore, Trance, Jungle and Old Skool, I pose this question; You are clearly a brainless moron with no musical taste. Can you give me a rationale for liking such turgid ear excrement? I am willing to change my mind on this, if only you can give me a convincing argument. Comments like "coz its wicked innit" will not help your cause.
MARCH 13 - THE BEACH
The physical form is a funny thing. I have never rated myself highly in that category. Perhaps its a form of perfectionism, but I have always thought what I lacked in looks I made up for in repugnant loathsome pig features.
It started badly. A hybrid of the elephant man and the mask (eric stolz's mask not jim carrey's), it took a while to grow into my face. The antithesis of what I am now, hair was flowing, and I was thinner than Paris Hilton's arms. As such, as hard as I tried, women did not flock to chez Rubins. Doing my best to be suave (frequently mimicing Bruce Willis' character in Moonlighting, David Addison) my mantra was that cool trumped looks. It still is.
University allowed me to develop some self confidence, a provisional trait which lasted around 8 years or so. However, as each day passes, and age irreparably deals the physical form a bad hand, this has become undeniably noticible to an AROC like me. This is accentuated emphatically when travelling.
I suppose its a gladatorial view of the world, but when facing the tigers in a colluseum, strength is the key characteristic for endurance. Although a weak man, with poise, composure and intelligence, could possibly also be in with a chance of survival. Likewise in the dating world, if you lose the physical battle, you need to compensate.
Experience tells me, I am not an immediate person. It takes a while to get to know me, understand my self depricating humour, and appreciate my inherent decent nature. All this needs to change in the world of travelling. My competition is younger, slimmer, more hairsuit and swimming in stamina. Like a football player nearing the end of his career, I need to focus less on competing head to head, and more on identifying and playing up my strengths.
So, I have taken to beach volleyball. Lord knows, I am not blessed with natural sporting talents. I am able to play snooker and table tennis (the sporting equivolent to chess and connect four) to a reasonable standard, but I have yet to find a sport that supports my relatively hefty frame. Beach volleyball is a perfect match. At the net i can use my frame to smash, at the base I can use my strength and weight. Its only a matter of time before the scouts turn up and the girls start knocking on my door. Until that time, I frequently remind myself of those wondefully talented mingers, the Sugababes who croon;
"People are all the same
And we only get judged by what we do
My personality reflects me
And if I'm ugly then so are you
So are you"
MARCH 10 - IDENTITY
I was asked recently whether Singapore had an indentity and it got me thinking, what consistutes identity? I would suggest the following
People
Design
Lifestyle
Wealth
Character/Personality
Then, I thought, what if i applied some of these principles to myself. Would this help me to identify some of my characteristics? This is what i came up with;
People - er, me.
Design - I have always felt that we, humans, are comparable to computers, and some are designed with better hardware. Throughout life, we enjoy experiences (cache), and learn from them (software). I have always felt that I have not been blessed with the greatest hardware (quiet ladies), and as such have had to work harder than the average data processor. My relationship 2.0 package also appears to be corrupt and my hair package 2000 expired. I have to believe that all people are born good, and that through experience and influence (mainly parental but also others), they become the person they are. Its always important to develop and download new software, no matter who you are.
Lifestyle - this has been out of whack for about 13 years, since i left school. School was simple, breakfast, sweets, lunch, sweets, home, dinner, sweets, dirty magazine. Since then, university (sleep, sleep, wake up, consider lecture, sleep, dinner, drink george best style RIP, sleep) and then work (get up, skip breakfast, work, skip lunch, work, skip dinner, work, sleep) have confused my body clock to the point of being unable to poo. This means i am out of shape and have few reading opportunities.
Wealth - have been very fortunate to have a successful family. My giant flaw is a lack of understanding as to the meaning of money. A trip to indonesia has gone some way to rectifying that. But wealth does not make a man. If anything it confuses matters...remember learning number 1, the things you own end up owning you. Many people confuse wealth with representing who they are, and a reflection of success. Watch out for them, they are more insecure than most. Wealth is family and being able to provide for them. Other than that, wealth is unimportant.
Character/Personality - In abundunce some would say. I would say, a strong character with strong beliefs that previously could never be challenged. Black and white thinking is a disease of the mind and I understand that now. Character and personality is undoubtedly important when trying to analyse identity, but for me getting the best out of life is about confidence. Some believe that I am a very confident person, but this couldnt be any further from the truth. My confidence fluctuates at best but its overpowered by a feeling of low self worth. This is not something to feel sorry about, and many would say get over yourself. If only it were that simple. Humour is a great leveller and I try to implement the humour 2003 (needs updating) package wherever and whenever possible.
I speak to you because (a) i know i can and (b) it is theraputic. As time goes by, I begin to understand, appreciate and recognise my identity. I am Adam Rubins. My epitaph will read;
A little neurotic, can be funny, can be sad, but always thinking for good and for bad.
MARCH 6 - 28 DAYS LATER
Its been all quiet on the estern front I know and for this I apologise. Its now been precisely one month, and its time for your monthly review. You will now also notice that each blog entry has been attributed a movie title, strictly for gimmick purposes. On that note, may i congratulate both Crash and Brokeback Mountain for becoming the two most over rated movies Oscar winners in our history. Many of you disagree I know, but Brokeback Mountain is a weak sensationalist love story which touches obvious emotional buttons brokered by sub standard acting (Gyllenhal, from the Tobey Maguire school of child acting like a man). Crash was a movie about stereo types and empty characters that somehow managed to be racist, ridiculous and acceptable. Note to Hollywood, must do better.
So 4 weeks, 4 countries, 1 continent, incontinence. It started on Feb 4 in Jakarta, Java, Indonesia where I met Philadelphia and the mutes and resided in an abhorrent hotel. I say hotel, but flea pit or pig trough would better describe the conditions. From Jakarta to Pangandaran (http://users.cybercity.dk/~nmb3488/htm/pnd.htm), a lovely coastal resort in the north of Java where we ate fish, trekked through the jungle, fed monkeys, tippy toed through a bat cave and swam in a komodo dragon infested creek. Then, we made the long and arduous journey to Yogyakarta, aka Jogjakarta, aka Jogja, aka shithole. Here we met Arnold, husband to be of a beached whale with Julia Roberts like features, and visited Borobodur(http://www.sacredsites.com/asia/indonesia/borobudur_stupa.html), an ancient and impressive Buddhist temple. A laborious and dreaded trip to the PPLH environmental centre (http://www.paneco.ch/Library/Projects/Indonesia/Java/PPLHSeloliman/default.htm)followed and couldnt end soon enough. Then to one of the highlights, Mount Bromo where we observed a stunning sunset 3000 meters on top of a mountain, and walked the perimeter of an active vulcano. Then a short ferry ride out of Java and in to Balu for 2 weeks in Lovina (great vulcanic beach and dolphin watching), Tirtagangga (rice paddies and an impressive water palace)and Ubud (diverse, artistic and home to some of the worst jazz and reggae bars...dont get me started on jazz and raggae). Then the tour ended and I found comfort in relief in Ellies Hotel (http://www.ellies-bali.com), Nusa Dua where I met 2 great british chaps, Sam and Mike, owners of this fine and recommended establishment. This enabled me to complete my diving course, watch 24 series 4, and total a motorbike before moving on to Kalimantan, Borneo.
Borneo was an adventure and a half. It took 3 flights to get there, from Denpasar to Benjarmasin, to Pangkalanbun including trips on planes made of cardboard and named things like Lion Air (although Lemming Air would be more appropriate). The one night stop over in Benjamarsin was an eye opener. They have one computer in borneo, and somehow i found it at some blokes house, and him and his mates all sat around me whilst i logged in to hotmail and answered emails at the pace of Dawn Fench running the marathon. They refused payment. I felt like a jew in a zoo. Was picked up at the airport the next morning in Pangkalabun (I say airport, but air strip makes it sound more grandiose than it was) by Jono (pronounced Yono although i called him Yoko Ono) my guide to Tanjung Puting National Park (http://www.orangutan.org/facts/tanjung.php) and hotelier. For 3 days I lived on a boat, travelling up through the Heart of Darkness, going to sleep at 7pm and waking at 5:30am. The national park was breathtaking and we saw many proboscis monkeys, aptly named for their prominent snouts, as well as long tailed macaques swinging from tree to tree. Sleeping at night, moored on the river to the sounds of gibbons and monkeys was surprisingly peaceful. But the highlight, and the reason to travel to this tropical heath in the middle of nowhere, were the endangered Bornean orangutans found in Camp Leakey, a wildlife life research site and conservation area. All in all we saw just under 20 orangs, including King number 1 Kumasi who i sat next too. We got as close as you possibly could (touching distance) to nearly all of them, and they truly are amazing creatures, with charismatic personalities and human characteristics. It was far and away the highlight to date.
3 flights later, to Semerang, up to Jakarta, I finally arrived in Singapore prepared to see one of my best friends James. Now to date, this has been kept name free, but James deserves my first shout out, after showing me major generosity and a superb weekend in a city I very much took a shine to. Yes, its true, I have Anal Retentive Obsessive Compulsive issues and Sinapore is an AROC's dream. Its cleaner than Howard Hughes underwear. We visited Sentosa, a man made island get away, the singapore zoo where we experienced a night safari and Raffles hotel where we sipped Singapore Slings in the Long bar. Today I leave for Kuala Lumpar, but will look back fondly on a great weekend with my good buddy. Respek.
I start and end this entry with an apology, for both a long review and a lack of photographic evidence. I now have a new camera so photos will hopefully enable you to visualise my adventure shortly. Indonesia was tough and poor but a very rich experience. Malaysia starts here. Take care my friends and dont forget your old pal Adam, AROC in a hard place.
FEB 26 - MOTORCYCLE DIARIES/CRASH
There are 2 factions you do not want accompanying you when watching a football match. 1. Americans (sorry but its true) and 2. Women (sorry but its true). So when I had to sit through two games with the american woman from my hotel last night, it was every bit as painful as it sounds (like calling a goal keeper a 'goal tender'. What is that? Like a chicken tender?) Every fibre of my being screamed LEAVE ME ALONE, and yet she stayed, by my side, like an unwanted stray hippo. I even sang to myself..
American Woman, stay away from me
American Woman, mama let me be
Don't come a hangin' around my door
I don't wanna see your face no more
I got more important things to do
Like watchin football and being a neurotic jew
Now Woman, I said stay away
American Woman, listen what I say-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay
The worst of it was that we were in a sports bar, that was filled to capacity by young attractive aussie girls. I'm taling at least 50 women and no men. Now I'm not saying the girl i was with was rotund, but when she got a text message, people thought she was backing up. I realised that night that girls are 'share-a-holics'. There is no experience that they do not want to share. Even going to the toilet. Men long for moments alone, so they can lose themselves in their deep and complex thoughts ("check out the rack on that waitress"). The toilet is a sacred moment, whereby discussion is prohibited. It is our place of worship, our moment of solitude. But then you learn to comprimise, and sacrifice. My fear of sharing is the cause of a major dicotomy. The need to be independent, and the need to find love. Perhaps the answer is to find love, and go to the toilet, a lot.
Today, I decided that i wanted to learn a new skill. Not sharing, but riding a motor bike. So the owner of the hotel took me to a place, we hired a bike and I was ready to rock and roll. Feeling confident from my astounding diving skills, got on the bike, put my hand on the throttle and started moving at pace. There were two issues with this. Firstly we were on a main road facing a wall. Secondly, I had no idea how to brake. It all happened pretty quickly, but i sped a short distance, tried to brake (keeping my hand on the throttle) and smashed straight into a brick wall. Somehow i managed to launch myself off the bike and on to the ground, watching in terror as i totalled the bike in around 10 seconds flat. Luckily, I only mangled my toe and experienced some bruising, but as you hurtle towards a wall, you experience only panic and realisation. The realisation is the obvious, life is short and braking is every bit as important as accelerating. Even though I dusted myself off, took another bike, learned how to drive, it will be my last biking experience. Tomorrow I leave for Borneo, and the jungle where there are no bikes, no sports bars, no fat american chics. Just me, several hundred spiders, and a tour guide who speaks incomprehensible english. Adventure awaits.
FEB 23 - LOST IN TRANSLATION
Communication thus far has proved problematic. Not sure precisely why, but cannot seem to understand anyone foreign (i.e from outside of north london). Yesterday I commenced my diving course. Sitting in a classroom all day (feeling like a naughty schoolboy, slowly reaching for a sweet in my shorts and like a fat ninja assasin, placing it sluggishly into my mouth) I could make out only 1 of every 10 words he uttered. The only rationale i can muster is that his mouth is overwhelmingly chock full of overflowing teeth. As a result, pronounciation is futile. At one stage this genuinely happened. He has a habit of asking questions (funny that for a teacher). Now I am not short of an answer or two, but its nice to be able to decipher what it is he is asking. So he babbled aimlessly for about 5 minutes (felt like 5 hours), chattering words that were impractical given his Hampstead Heath and suddenly stopped, stared, and said in his best indonenglish;
"I want you, to spank my bottom"
(silence for at least 12 minutes)
"Excuse me" I said
(slower) "I want you....to spank my bottom"
I had two choices. Try and grasp what it is he is actually trying to say, or spank his bottom. HAD to try option 1 first
"You want me...to spank your bottom?" said in a kind of Ron Burgendy drool with a squeeky question mark at the end.
It turned out he was asking, 'what do you think is at the bottom' which must have been related to what he was talking about. Felt a trifle embarassed yet overjoyed that no spank was required. So far, I have asked a man if he was asking me to spank him, accused a hindu taxi driver of stealing 50,000 Indonesia Ruppiah from me ("how dare you, my God does not allow this"), screamed at another taxi driver for not understanding what a U-turn is, and made another cry. He was so lost, claimed to know the way, and the meter was ticking. Add to that around 15 bintang beers and 8 B'52's and you have a lethal concoction of lost drunk jew in a taxi with a meter faster than Darren Day on ladies night. Not proud of my behaviour at all, he was just trying to do his job and I was a complete asshole. When we arrived, he bent down (towards the jewish proof) and started crying hysterically telling me he has only been driving one week. Then, no joke, he started kissing my hand. For fear of syphillis, I apologised, threw in a massive tip (learn to drive) and stumbled back to my room.
Feeling exhillirated today after second day of diving. It really is the only time you can look like an utter tit and yet still pretend you are in a Bond movie. I won't lie, yesterday I panicked. First day in a classroom since University. First exam since University. 75% was the pass mark. I am proud to report that I came home with 2 fat ladies (not for the first time). 88%, very chuffed with that. So today we put it to use in a swimming pool. He is SO much easier to understand underwater. Tomorrow we go to sea. Hope the ears will have recovered by then, feel like i am in a badly dubbed asian comedy.
Right now, I have a lovely indonesian lady behind me attempting to sing "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5. I won't even tell you what it sounds like, but needless to say she hasnt hit a single note or word. Suddenly Lost in Translation makes complete sense. If only Scarlett Johanssen would whisper sweet nothings into my ear. Wouldn't be able to hear a word but I would certainly spank her bottom.
FEB 21 - BREAKING THE WAVES
I seem to have mastered the art of waving. And not just your conventional one handed wave, but also the one handed sunshine, the double handed and the salute to the head waves. It just feel right. This could mean a couple of things:
(a) It is a good way to communicate with people that dont speak the language
(b) I am related to the Queen
It got me thinking about communication these days and the paradox of communication being so much easier yet utterly more impersonal.
At present, I am staying at a hotel of which i am their only guest. It doesnt get much more personal than that. Its owned by 2 english chaps who are extremely nice chaps from England. They both love movies, and have lent me both series 4 of 24 and their car. You dont often come by this level of generosity and yet the more nice people are to me, the more I feel the urge to wave. Tomorrow is the start of a 4 day diving course and all i can think of is Jack Bauer and Tony Almeda (if you are unfamilar they are 2 chaps from 24, NOT the Blue Oyster).
What with the mutes, i havent had a decent conversation with a woman for 3 weeks. Went to a bar last night to see some live music. There was a rather attractive woman sitting in the corner, and after 5 or 6 beers I worked up the courage to communicate with her. Unfortunately, natural instinct took over and the wave came out. Not one of my best either, more of a half hearted attempt which was scorned in favour of the singer in the band. Still I had my revenge. They were taking requests so I asked them to play Stairway to Heaven which they completely botched up. Then I gave them a condescending knowing wave goodbye and went home. On my own. On to waves of a different kind tomorrow. Lets hope there's plenty more fish in the sea
FEB 19 - SIGNS
ADAM: Hello Mr Taxi Driver. I am ready to do business with you. I have a warm feeling about Balinese culture, just arrived in Nusa Dua and have been recommended a tremendous eaterie named the Tuesday Night Pizza Club. Alledgedly my friend, they are the best pizza in town. Do you know of this establishment?
TAXI DRIVER: Yes
ADAM: Very well my friend. Lets away to this pizza joint, there is much frivolity to be had.
We drive, for 30 seconds and he pulls up and points
TAXI DRIVER: Pizza Hut
ADAM: (chuckling warmly) No my friend you are mistaken. TUESDAY NIGHT PIZZA CLUB
TD: (pointing) Pizza Hut
ADAM: TUESDAY NIGHT PIZZA CLUB. Say it with me T-U-E-S-D-A-Y N-I-G-H-T
TD: Pizza Hut
ADAM: (getting angry but trying to use new found patience, words in pidgeon english) Can you ask your friends?
TD: Yes (calls taxi firm) Indonesian Indonesian Indonesian Pizza Hut?
5 seconds later, to my utter angst, he points out of the window and says...
TD: Pizza Hut.
Then, I see a fleet of taxis ahead. I ask him to drive there so that we can ask someone that maybe knows his way around. We pull up alongside a gaggle (is that the collective term?) of taxi drivers
ADAM: Anyone speak english
ALL: Yes
ADAM: I am looking for Tuesday Night Pizza Club. Apparently it is next door to a Trattoria on a road nick named Eat Street
ALL: (mumble, mumble, mumble Pizza Hut mumble mumble mumble)
TAXI DRIVER GAGGLE LEADER: (pointing) Pizza Hut
What are the chances of coming across 16 grown men who's only grasp of the english language is 'yes' and 'pizza hut'?
My philospophy of life is roads. You see, i was travelling down a rather well maintained road, making strong progress and at times enjoying the ride. Problem being i was on the same road for too long and driving with my feet. The Mutes asked me what I had learnt and if i had any advice. What I told them was utter crap so thought about it a bit more. I believe in life you should trust in and follow your instincts (unless you are Charles Manson). If you can't do that follow your passions (unless you are Gary Glitter). We are all at the mercy of individual and external responsibility, but its important not to take that path until you are willing to sacrifice impulse. This trip was certainly a new road, and undoubtedly impulsive. I hope and pray it ultimately leads me to another road, full of possibilities and signposted ahead;
Contented family life - next turning
Tuesday Night Pizza Club - near Pizza Hut
FEB 17 - THE NATURAL
Its not easy to get on with 20 year olds. I mean, they are a different generation, they were born in 1986 for Christs sake! By that time i was already saying hello to my little friend (easily adaptable Scarface quote although the best use is when you have a friend who is a dwarf).
This has been my longest time without a movie since umbilical cord. Right now, I would give anything to watch a movie. Even something with Clive "Woodwood" Owen in it, I am that desperate.
But instead I am exposed to environmental centres. It has to be said I am less of a naturalist (and more of a naturist). Less of an environmentalist (more of a mentalist). People who re-cycle just drive me to insanity. I mean, folks just dont comprehend the degredation we live in NOW. If you have a choice to save a life now, or the environment in 100 years time you save a life. Like it or not, we live in a society where capitalism trumps nature. Money makes the world go round. It pays for food. It pays for education. It pays for healthcare all of which are needed NOW! The deteriation of the environment is syptomatic of poor education, not the other way around. Ask an environmentalist to part with 10% of their salary and they will most likely say "er, what salary". People, lets be dilligent propriators of our own priorities please!
Yes that is what environmental centres do to me. It brings out the orator in me. Perhaps its also the 20 year olds. I cant help but think that somehow 10 years disappeared and life became complicated. Talking to 20 year olds and eating plants makes you long for the days when on Valentines Day you got 12 cards from your classmates, Monkey adorned our television screens and you got a bad spanking when you were naughty. Instead I was left spanking the monkey on Valentines Day.
Ipod playlist
1. Jealous Again - Black Crowes
2. Questions and Answers - Biffy Clyro
3. Hail Hail - Pearl Jam
4. Satellites - Doves
5. Cant you hear me Knocking - Rolling Stones
6. Racing in the Streets - Bruce Springsteen
7. Independence Day - Bruce Springsteen
8. Bombtrack - Rage Against The Machine
9. Words - Neil Young
10. Last Great American Whale - Lou Reed
11. We Care A Lot - Faith No More
12. Changes - Sugar
13. Long Distance - Turin Breaks
14. Monkey Gone to Heaven - The Pixies
15. Holy Mountains - System of a Down
16. Lousy Reputation - We Are Scientists
17. Burndt Jamb - Weezer
18. Holiday - Jason Falkner
19. Not Even Jail - Interpol
20. Fingers in the Factories - Editors
21. In Bloom - Nirvana
22. All My Life - Foo Fighters
23. When You Were Mine - Prince
24. Sabrina - Jellyfish
25. Followed the Waves - Auf Der Maur
FEB 15 - THE SOUND OF MUSIC
Life is funny. I have grown quite fond of the Mutes and Phil. They even have names. Mute number 1 is called Iris and when she decides to be in the mood, she can be very sweet and bubbly. Mute number 2 is called Sobana who has a lovely smile and great sarcastic humour. Philadelphia is called Andy and he is a really top bloke. Sometimes I feel a little guilty writing the things i write, but its all in the name of entertainment, a good story and great characters.
I had a thought the other day. You know how our parents annoy us with their horrific, tuneless out of date music taste? What will we be like with our kids? Will I still listen to Faith No More, Metallica and System of a Down when I am in my nineties? Will I be at the end of the dinner table making metal signs with my fingers? During the passover family sing song, will I break into a verse of Enter Sandman?
"MUM, dads singing metal again, make him stop"
How is it gonna work when we are older? We already have a much grander social scene than our ancestors. We are much more modern in the entertainment we consume. I guess all of that will still seem out of date when we are grandparents. It will be hugely embarassing to admit that The Godfather is one of your favourite films ("thats so ancient gramps, I much prefer Mafiarobots 2050"), that in your youth you saw the Stones live (even though they will still be performing long after we pass) and that you cherish the 60 gig video ipod you still own from year 2006 ("gramps I have a 4 trillion gig video ipod which makes me coffee and does my homework").
Something to think about...perhaps i should just relinquish control and join the Coldplay revolution? NEVER!
FEB 14 - PRETTY WOMAN
So, its the evening of feb 10 and our last night in Yogyakarta. Mute number 2 and I decide to go for a drink with the tour guide I had insulted. Mute number 1 needed to be in bed by 10 as she turns into Shrek on the stroke of midnight. We are drinking, but nowhere near the pace of our indonesian tour guide. He had been drinking whisky since we had got back from our trip and was quite heavily inebriated. Conversation was light on the ground. I was after all with a mute and someone who only knew the words of My Heart Will Go On. Suddenly, he turns to me and says sullenly
"My girlfriend is fat"
"noooo she isnt" i say trying to soften the blow but secretly knowing that if i were to fall off a clif, she would soften the blow
"She is so fat, I cant even find her hole"
To which the mute and I cough out our respective Bintang beers. OK this is getting interesting...
"I try, but she doesn't help" he continues
To which i responded, almost in disbelief but in a genuinely caring way
"Have you tried rolling her in flour?"
It was a strange conversation and to be honest, I was happy to get out of Jogja. We then travelled up to an environmental centre or as I like to call it Hell on earth. There they teach you about herbal remedies whilst you eat things like plants and earth for lunch and dinner. I couldnt sleep at all that night. We had seen several spiders that day (and i am not talking about little cutesy wootsey spiders, I am talking about their parents) and wrapped up in bed with the light on, my arachnaphobia got the better of me. It was cold, and all you could hear were insects speaking to each other. I convinced myself that the spiders had had enough and were planning a Starship Troopers like revolution, starting with the scaredy pants bald jew. I had also convinced myself that the spiders were muslims. Strange things happen at night when you have one eye open for Philadelphia and the other eye open for creepy crawlies.
The next day we had breakfast (2 fried plants on a bed of earth complimented by a soupson of delicious boiled ground). Then I was accosted by a man who claimed to be an english teacher (i understood one in five words) and managed to comprehend that he had 2 students he would like me to converse with. So 2 young muslim girls proceeded to hit me with a list of questions that they could neither pronounce nor understand the answer. They took pictures, made me write my name, and out of nowhere asked me for lunch money. My first conundrum. Should a jew give muslims money for lunch? I thought about it for a while, they are young (15) innocent, and dont deserve to be treated like a fundamentalist who preach hate. But the jew side got the better of me and walked off leaving them hungry.
I was so excited to leave that place. It had no shower and I was still having epileptic fits of paranoia that spiders were hibernating in my bottom. We drove up the mountains to a place called Mount Bromo which is an active vulcano (PS. My arse is like a vulcano and like Mount Verpoovius there has been minimal activity of late). That evening we got an early night (still no shower and as my light didnt work, lay in bed with a torch seeking out the revolting spiders) and arose exhausted at 3:30am to see the sunrise on top of the mountain (3,000 meters high). It was absolutely stunning. Conversation again was minimal. Philadelphia talked about how he used to work at a yeast factory and he remembered getting up early to see the sunrise to which I responded
"well the sun does rise over the yeast..." - tumbleweed.
We are now in Bali in a small town called Lovina which is much more relaxing. Have shelled out a whopping 6 pounds for a room with a hot shower. Seeing an active vulcano is probably the highlight to date and ticks off something i have always wanted to see. Next up a bit of chilling and then on to Ubud for last leg of the tour. It struck me last night that the muslim kids have my name and picture and thats probably working its way over to Hamas as we speak. Mental note, always buy lunch for perspective terrorists.
FEB 10 - BEING JULIA
Alas it is our last day in Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogjakarta although it should probably be pronounced dead). We have experienced two main sites.
1. The Sultans palace. Sounds grandiose huh? But by these standards I am the Sultan of Kilburn. He is the 10th Sultan and he is considered rather lame as (a) he only has one wife - loser! and (b) in 5 times of trying, he has been unable to have a son. I asked if perhaps one of his daughters would take over and become a Saltana and a wave of tumbleweed swept through the palace.
2. A buddhist temple from the 9th Century and one of the largest monuments in Indonesia. That was pretty cool. Even had a long, thought provoking conversation with a police man.
POLICE MAN: Where you from?
ADAM: England.
SILENCE....
ADAM: Where you from?
POLICE MAN: Indonesia.
We had a different tour guide today who was local. We got in to a conversation about movies and he told me his two favourite movies were Ghost and Titanic and proceeded to take me through both scripts word for word and even ended with renditions of 'My Heart Will Go On' (worlds worst song ever even in indonesian) and 'Unchained Melody' (not the Robson and Jerome version)
But I really put my foot in it. He was telling us about his girlfriend who he had met on one of these tours. They have been together for 7 years although she lives in Australia. He told us she was the spitting image of Julia Roberts and he pulled out a picture of him standing next to 2 women. One was rather hideous, slim, but kind of had Julia Roberts hair I guess. The other was an atrocity. She had short blonde hair, was probably about 10 stone overweight and could pass for Mo Molams twin sister. In typical Rubins fashion I broke into immediate laughter and said and I quote
"Thank god you got the Julia Roberts lookalike. The other one looks like she ate Julia Roberts"
His face suddenly changed, he grabbed the photo back, and said that IS my girlfriend. The rest of the car journey was uncomfortable.
FEB 9 - PHILADELPHIA
Philadelphia is 43. The Mutes and I think he is addicted to smack (well the theory is mine, they grunt in agreement) as every 30 minutes or so he starts to convulse and disappears to the toilet. I suppose it could be diabetes or just a weak bladder, but lets go with smack.
We have something in common. Something so deep, so profound, so tortuous that only the two of us and Duncan Goodhew can understand. Now I know you are sick of me talking about this, but baldness is a major disorder. Recognised as the 187th biggest disease in the world, no day goes by without a wave of despondency as you catch your reflection in the train window. Every morning begins the same. The birds tweeting, that happy song in your head from the night before and then it happens. You look in the mirror and bang. You are confronted with Kojak. I always ask the question, how many good looking bald men are there (It normally goes, er, sean connery, er, bruce willis, er, hulk hogan)? Answers on a postcard to Yogyakarta, Shithole, Indonesia, IND 00D00.
For those of you that will be joining me in the folically challenged elite crowd (you know who you are), check out www.baldrus.com. The message board answers all your questions, and I was a key influence in making Yul Brynner Bald Man of the Century.
The reason I bring this up, is that there are very few bald men in Indonesia. They are without much but not hair. So everywhere I go, they laugh at me, poke fun, point and mock. Being bald in Indonesia is the ginger equivolent in the Western World. But it doesnt bother Philadelphia (the smack undoubtedly helps) and I wont allow it to distress me any further. With a body like mine, who needs hair?
FEB 8 - ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOOS NEST
I think Mute number 1 digs me. Behind the angry mist, death ray stare and condescending grunts lies an insecure bunny rabbit drowning in adulation and lust. Mute number 2 still gazes at me smiling. A smile that carries so many words, promises and sentiments but she is unwilling to express them in speech.
So there's only one thing for it. A Mute off. A Mute deathmatch. A fight embittered with deadly sign language and callous blows using only the art of mime.
Despite the solitude, many lessons have already been learnt.
1. The things you own end up owning you.
2. Not everyone has to like you. You have to like yourself
3. No matter who you are, life is hard (whether afflicted socially, culturally, economically, politically, physically or psychologically)
I understand now that life requires determination to overcome affliction. When your school tells you will amount to nothing, you beat it. When you face deep and dark depression, you beat it. When at 13 you discover your manhood, you beat it. When you have an egg and you want to make an omelette...you get the picture.
Indonesians have a hard life. They have very little but what they have they cherish. They have no judgements, no preconceptions, just life that they cling on to positively despite adversity.
I feel rich here, and no I am not talking about money. Its no secret that in London, there is an overwhelming feeling of isolation. Despite having a wealth of patient and generous friends, and a family that offers nothing but love and support, I find the sense of loneliness inescapable and the guilt that ensues with that.
An ex girlfriend (or perhaps it was a lady of the night, i forget) once told me I was a closed book. Actually I am not, quite the opposite. Its just hard to articulate yourself sometimes and when I cant, I dont. I think thats why the Mutes understand me.
Ipod playlist
1. Big Wheels - ELO
2. I Know What I Know - Paul Simon
3. Doesn't Remind Me - Audioslave
4. Maybe I'm Amazed - Paul McCartney
5. You To Thank - Ben Folds
6. Good Fortune - PJ Harvey
7. Choice in the Matter - Aimee Mann
8. What it is to Burn - Finch
9. Shame - Eurythmics
10. Non Fiction - Black Crowes
11. Night Flight - Led Zeppelin
12. Crawling Back to you - Tom Petty
13. Starfish and Coffee - Prince
14. 6060-842 - The B'52's
15. In the City - Razorlight
16. Running Out of Time - Hot Hot Heat
17. Here Me Out - Ben Kweller
18. Dance The Night Away - Van Halen
19. Sunset - Kate Bush
20. Rock N Roll Suicide - David Bowie
The Bowie song was the last I heard, as we arrived in Yogyakarta. The lyrics felt poignant..
"You're watching yourself but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up, but if I could only make you care
Oh, no, love! you're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, so I'll help you with the pain You're not alone"
In a life of solitude, music is my solace.
FEB 7 - MEAN CREEK
Its official. Mute number 1 doesnt like me. It took me around 4 hours to work up the courage to ask her a question, and finally i settled on the rather pervy "do you like my sarong?". I got one of those looks, you know the one that says "get away from me you sick pervert"
Mute number 2 however digs the Rubins. She gives me the occasional smile as if to say "if i spoke i'd tell you you were handsome". Or she may just have flatulence.
Philadelphia is 43. He has no wife, no kids, and is so homophobic he must be a backward pyjama wearer (no offence to my gay audience!). In true streets of philadelphia fashion, he spoke for an hour today on AIDS. He said he had a "" friend who had AIDS and that it really wasnt a big deal. This from a guy who asked if he could sleep in the bed next to me for reasons of better air conditioning. Sleep with one eye open Rubins...
Today, we saw how prawn crackers were made (if only they knew how many i have thrown up), we saw how sugar was made and then we swam in a creek. Had to keep eyes open as Philadelphia was blatantly trying to swim up my creek. Its a lot of fun, but its lonely. No-one gets my sense of humour so have resorted to pointing at my head and screaming 'bota' which means baldy. Its a sure fire way to get a laugh, but perhaps not laid.
FEB 6
Day 3 in the Big Brother house.
Rubins is smarting as he has had his smartphone pilphered. It actually happened on day 1 after what he thought was a flawless beginning to his trip. Life was peachy until he checked his ruck sack. The ipod is currently living inside his pants. It smells of cheese, but its safe.
Well, you would be proud of me. I have conquered many fears already and done things you would never expect me too.
1. I am sharing a room with a bloke who looks like he inspired the movie Philadpelphia.
2. I ate food cooked on an Indonesian train.
3. Went for a walk in the jungle and in to a dark cave. Saw wild bats, monkeys (who i fed), deer and porcupines. Walked into a spiders net and have spent the last 3 hours wildly and suddenly slapping myself for fear of a spiders nest growing in my pubic region. It looks like i am epileptic, but it keeps the spiders and the locals away.
The other thing i have been slow to understand is that travelling actually requires some sort of travel. 5 hours on an uncomfortable train and 7 hours on a bus straight out of Speed (pop quiz, what do you do when the driver has no respect for life, others or his own?). Suddenly, the 98 from Willesden to Marble Arch is looking joyful.
Well the 21 year old aussies turned up eventually. For a while there it was looking like a tour for two. Unfortunately they are as attractive as they are talkative. All in, so far, its a good tour and soon we go see active vulcano's. Would be nice to share it with friends though not Philadelphia and the 2 mutes.
JAN 30 - ADAPTATION
(generic vomit inducing sunset picture that suggests a new beginning but means man who is slowly soiling his pants)
Yes ladies and gentleman, I am now officially sponging off society. A derelict bum, down-and-out drifter, a floater, a gypsy, a jezebel hobo, loafing around like an outcast vagrant vagabond wanderer.
Yes, I am in an internet cafe!
Firstly, these places smell. They smell of insipid map carrying coffee drinking ruck sack wearing travellers with jizzum drenched clothing. Secondly, as are all places travel related, they are full of travel snobs. Now this is a new counter culture to me. Being a film and music snob (Coldplay, pah!) I didnt think i could be out snobbed. But travellers, my lord, they laugh at you if you ask any kind of question. How much for a computer i ask in the easy internet cafe. 1 thousand pounds in pc world they respond but 2 pounds for an hour here. Then they smirk, as though they have just won comedy gold.
Well, I am setting off next friday the 3rd, determined
(a) to find myself
(b) not to talk to anyone
(c) to come back with at least one dreadlock
and
(d) not to come back with anything you cant pack in a suitcase
Yes, ladies and gentleman, I have a blog which makes me, one of those insipid wayfaring adventurers with brown suede hiking boots, but i make this promise. I will not email you with vapid non sensical details of geographical location. I will not email you with a sub text that reads, I am having the time of my life whilst you rot in londonium. I will not email you with boring drivel that sits better in the big issue. It shall only be entertaining. It shall only be worthy of your limited reading time and it shall only be worthy of a pulitzer prize. That is my promise.
Blogger out (is that what they say?)
posted by arubins at 9:20 AM
171 comments
