Strike in Burgos

Hey guys,

Just a very, very quick message because the internet cafe I´m in is either closing, randomly shutting down my session, or....closed because of a STRIKE! That´s right, we are finally in a big city to relax and enjoy normal life for a day....is there a general strike. Almost everything closed. Haha, the irony, right? So the lady of the cafe sneaked me in but she keeps looking nervously outside whether the strikers are noting her down as not supporting the cause.
So i´m gonna wrap this up now and give you a proper story whenever I am not in  1) a soulless shithole, 2) a big town having a strike, 3) a place where internet costs 50 euro an hour.

I did manage to put on some pictures yesterday and now, so hopefully this will give you a bit of an idea of what in St Jacobs name I am on about all the time.They´re in the slidewhow.


xx

Rambo in tha house!

Ahh, people, I thought I could load my pictures on this computer, but helasement, this computer is weirdly sized, or my USB stick is. And I am dying to show you all those thrilling pictures of farmland, town, more farmland, and my masterpiece, a dumb sheep staring sheepishly into the camera. Next time!

BUT, what am I on about here? More important things to tell, namely that Rambo would´ve been proud of me today! I walked 30 K, aaaayt! I knew I said we would probably take it easy today, but that plan was made when we were very, very tired yesterday, our feet throbbing. So tired, in fact, that we all went to bed at 8 PM, and believe me, I was knocked out pretty quickly. The mattrass was really hard though so i woke up 2 hours later with sore hips, and this waking-up-turning-over routine continued throughout the night (same for the other ladies) but at least my feet were able to get a luxurious 10 hours rest. We had also arranged for a room for just the four of us, because if we had been confronted with yet another snorer, the shitty little town would´ve probably had to deal with its first murder case in its history. Although the Auberge was a bit dirty and run down (and my standards really aren´t that high), in the end we did warm to it because of the hilarious, and a bit crazy, keeper of the place. the middle aged dude had the face of a clown, which formed a nice contrast to the serious way he went about the Auberge business. He cooked us a healthy meal of lentils and rice, salad, and walnuts as desert, and well, he was just actually really sweet, you just had to adore him. He warmed to us too and even kissed us goodbye the following morning.
Another great thing about this still rather shitty town was that it was utterly quiet...ahhhh. No traffic, no traffic, no traffic. How enjoyable silence can be! Around sunset the silence was broken by the unreal sound of all kinds of birds singing. Unreal because it was so loud and clear that it almost seemed like there was a taperecorder on. I really enjoyed just sitting outside in the cool mountain breeze while the evening sets in, and listen to the silence.

There, I´m trying to make this piece sound less complainy, because I don´t want this blog to become some sour-creamed over-dated dish. So, what more did occurr today? Ah, well, the walking does give me freaky weird dreams. Last night I dreamt i had a fight with our Dutch neighbour (a middle aged, upper-class, retired man, who probably uses words like "chips" on the rare occasions that would make him want to curse). Anyway, in my dream he got so angry he threw the garbage bin through our kitchen window, after which i took revenge by cutting off his carefully tended to roses in his garden. Ah yes, pretty fucked shizzle i would say.

Anyway, although we started the day slowly (after all, our initial plan was to only do like 12 k), we arrived in the first town at 9 AM, and since it was sunday, it was even deader than it would usually be. So after drinking a coffee and having a croissant, we pressed on to the next town, repeat the story. The tendon at the back of my left leg is still a bit overworked so i walk a bit funny, but somehow I did have the mojo today, and I went from town, to town to town, leaving the chica´s behind after 21 k. The town they are staying looked nice enough, and the auberge even looked splendid, it was however yet again a cluster of five houses with nothing to do and hardly any people. And even though I had already exchanged my boots for my flipflops once again since my little toe was falling off, i did feel like I could make it 9 km further to the supposedly bigger town of Belaro where i am now. I just felt like taking on a new challenge and detach myself from the semi-comfortable and safe routine our group has developed over the last ten days. I was also in need for a bit more LIFE around me and some new faces. Thus, I wobbled on for another two hours on my flipflops along a very boring, straight, straight road. My Ipod, playing Florence and the Machine, The Whitest Boy Alive, and Royksopp kept me in relatively high spirits for 8 km or so, whilst the last 2 km my feet really started complaining and I started craving a wheelchair. Well, the town is hardly more lively than the ones we passed today, it is bigger and at least there are 2 restaurants instead of one. Ah, the luxury of choice!

Half dead I checked in to an auberge conjoining the church, run by a very old Swedish couple, and completely sustained by donation. The couple was really sweet, offering the new arrivals a cuppa tea and a cookie and took time to explain the house rules. I was starving however, so I took a warm shower and stumbled to the nearest bar where I am now. All i had enery for the past two hours was to stare with empty eyes at the (soundless) Spanish television program while stilling my hunger with an overly delicious tortilla de patatas with ham and cheese. And a glass of wine and a smoke, something i will have later again hehe. I mean, hell, I deserve ten tortillas if I wanted to! Since I have no energy to be all social and interactive and stuff, I am just now relaxing by babbling away on this blog.
Damn shame about the photos; i also had a really nice one of the cutest and tiniest beagle puppy on the planet...ahhh, doggy! I´m sure you can´t wait. I also have evidence of my bedbug torture, something which is still continuing by the way. The little shits have probably settled in my backpack and are still roaming around in some of my clothes, which I simply have not been able to clean on the required temperature. But the amount of bites I get each night is doable, compared by the complete invasion I had a few days earlier. And I now know what they are and that they will disappear after 6 days or so, first turning from red, to a concentrated very-red, to actual pruple, after which they slowly fade. They are still a nuisance however. But as I said before: the Camino is about suffering.

I am actually really starting to look forward to arriving at Burgos in a day or two. This is supposed to be a PROPER big town, where the chica´s and I had already dreamed about taking a "chic" hostel, hopefully without fleas or bedbugs, and a clean shower. I will probably take a day off there and enjoy "normal" life again, to charge me for the days of hiking that will follow again after Burgos.

Righto, i think I´m all typed out for now.
Hope y´all are doing fine, that the job hunting is going somewhere, dissertations are being written, and may the sun shine in glasgow! If i wasn´t so tired i woudl probably miss you...a little...maybe.. ;)
Luv y´all! Keep it cool! Peace out mah homeehs!

Howdy people!
Well, we didn´t make the 32 km today, but did make it crawling into a town after 25 km. Still pretty OK I would think. Our feet were just too tired (and in my case the tendons at the back of my leg as well) to drag ourselves to Santa Domingo, the "official" stop. Also, last night speedy gonzales C, that had pushed on 3 hours ahead of us, texted us that she missed us and wanted to meet up again the next day. Ahhwww....but ofcourse it was a bit foolish of her to abandon her "motherflock"; no wonder she felt like a lost wee sheep. Because what a cool flock we are! With M as our shepherd, always urging us along when breaks take too long, waving ´Bert´, her wooden walking stick in the air to make us move ours asses. Besides guiding us on the road, M also uses ´Bert´ for other purposes, such as poking into grossly loud snorers haha. Unfortunately I was asleep when the poking took place, but there was indeed a guy that was snoring awfully loud right next to us. So M actually did poke him in the leg from her bed, and she said it worked. Haha, good, because really, these FUCKING SNORERS! I am more than agitated after 8 nights of fucking snot concerts. Some people just snore so incredibly loud and so incredibly gross, like a monster frog being drowning in porridge. Man, it really starts to piss you off after a while. And it´s usually old, grey men, although there is also this Spanish couple with a very ugly woman that snores just as she looks. Actually she looks a bit like a man, so I guess the theory of men being pigs still is valid. Ahhh, i love ranting on the internet. Haha, actually last night, when we were surrounded by ()·$!!·%/$%) again, M told me in the morning that during the night she threw her footcream at one of the snoring bastard´s legs (Bert wasn´t allowed in the room. Obviously they had had accidents before), you know, just to give him a hint like ´dude, you do realize you are the only one getting any sleep...´, and then she said the bastard woke up and immediately threw the cream violently right back at her ... Bastard! Ieh, snoring creep! Go home and keep that cat of yours awake at night (assuming such a guy would never be able to marry someone).
So far I have not thrown any objects at snorers, but try to get by with sleeping with my Ipod earplugs in, they work the best.
Speaking of my Ipod, i am so glad I brought it; it really helps to distract me from having sore, sore feet while walking. I am listening amongst other things to dear Aretha Franklin, Laura pausini (I know, I know), and some hard core electro shit to push me when the road goes upwards.

OK, although the town were are in now is an absolutely soulless shithole and the auberge an pile of dirt, there are actually more people in the bar than the previous night so I have to wrap it up soon. The keyboard is by the way also the grossest I have ever seen; covered in a layer of dust and years old grease. I did just order a glass of whiskey (spanish measures, so something like half a litre) and tomorrow we are going to take it a bit easy I guess, because 30 KM is just not fun, I think we´ll stick to an easy 15-20 tomorrow.

Righto, kisses and stuff.

The Camino: Day 8

Soooo, it´s been a while. It is surprising how little time you have on the Camino to keep blogs and stuff. Although I am not really sure what my plan was with this blog anyway. But one thing I am sure about is that the last thing i wanted it to be is a summing up of boring facts, such as ´I got up at 6. We walked very far. My feet hurt a lot. The weather was nice´. I am sure that i would fall asleep myself while writing it.

thus, i´ll try it interseting for yáll. I have to say though that this is rather hard considering that at the end of each day I always feel pretty worn out and can only think of having a warm shower, and all my brain can come up with is a boring factsheet. Today, however, although feeling pooped as always, I am in a very, very quiet town (perhaps a house or five in total) and there is no time limit on the internet for a change and up till now also no one breathing in my neck waiting for his turn o inform the homefront of all his personal sufferings.

Because suffering is what we do here, amigos. Every pilgrim has to be at least a little bit sadomasochistic to continue with this hike for more than three days. Today was my 8th day of walking between 20-30 km without a day off. And it is mainly this non-stop mode that makes the Camino a challenge. You can stop, of course, but you don´t want to! The walking is strangely addictive. From day one you just get caught up in this flow, and it seems a bit like you would be breaking a spell if you took a day off. Some obvious reasons for this "flow" is that the Camino practicaly organised in this way. As a pilgrim, you are only allowed to stay in the pilgrim auberges for one night at the time. They offer special, very cheap rates, so after one night you can book another private hostel or just continue walking. Since there is usually not much to do in the mainly tiny villages where these auberges are located, and since you came here for walking anyway, the most logical option is to just continue with the journey. Another reason, that gives a stronger impuls, is that majority ofpeople walk the same distance every day, so after a couple of days you get aquainted with most of the other pilgrims walking in the same "flow". This creates a bond and a sense of familiarity, and this feeling of comeradery is what urges you onwards. It is inevitable though that along the road the group changes as people fall behind or speed on ahead, as is what happened with our womens gang today. Having walked agonizing (for the final two hours) distance of 27 km yesterday, three of us, including me, had either too sore feet, bruised hips, or lack of sleep, to make the 29 km to Najarena. Instead, V, M and I stayed in this quiet cluster of houses, while C sped on ahead. We had still walked a respectable 20 km today and although I was considering torturing myself for 3 more hours to keep to the "main" planning, my footsoles were screaming for a rest and, well, why push myself to shreds? I think it was a good decision because a bit of peace and quiet (and more importantly: clean showers and a relatively small dorm of "only" 12 beds) are allowing me to collect my wits and update my blog for example. Nevertheless, it is a bit of a pity that we have now fallen behind with our "flow" crowd...amongst which a rather cute Irish lad, D... But running after guys has never gotten me very far and i am pretty fed up with it to be honest. One of the things the Camino has inspired me to, is to more accept the flow of life. No need to push and run too much, just try to grasp the opportunities that come your way, and if the opportunities you wished for don´t occur, have faith new ones will take theri place.
Now this may sound a bit new-ag-y, hippyish and all, but let me defend myself by saying that this really is a part of the Camino. What better opportunity is there to go over the deeper things in life and your attitudes towards them? Although every pilgrim has a different reason or personal goal for undertaking this journey, many are also seeking to find more depth in their daily lives. To illustrate the variety of personal goals you hear about along the way; C told us she was speaking to a 50-something old Danish lady who was desperate to get laid. And she is not the only one: the italian guy joining our "flow" has ´desperate´stamped all over his forehead. As 37 year old dude who´s biological clock is loudly ticking, he literally clings to anything female between the ages 18-40. In the most obvious and cheesy way possible (when he and I were the only ones left in the auberge´s garden for example, and the keeper announced no more speaking was allowed, the italian started something about body language and communicating by staring in the eye. NO THANKS). I pity him a bit though, perhaps I should suggest him he can always buy his Russian bride on the internet if he gets more desperate (if that is possible). Anyway, you can´t really resist the thinking-about-the-important-things-in-life, since every day it is just you, the countryside, physical pain, and strangers. If you were thinking I am building up to a climax to enlighten you with all the new insights I have gained; sorry, so far it has only occurred to me that getting fit and flying back with slim, muscly legs, may not be the only result I will get from the camino.

One of the ´gifts´of the Camino to me is very obvious though: bedbugs. BLOODY HELL. What torture!! These fucking ANIMALS have bit  me all over my body, covering me in flaring red, very itchy bumbs. Bedbugs are a widespread problem in all the auberges. You can´t see them but they come out at night and after biting settle in your clothes, sleeping bag, basically evrything made of cloth that is in sight. Remember I wrote about the mosquitos loving me so much? Well, it was the fucking bedbugs. I started to become a bit suspicious when the bumbs didn´t go away, itched about 5 times as much as a regular mosquito bite, stays about 5 days longer, and is about 3 times as big. I don´t really react well to any kind of insect bite, and these 50 or so bites I counted on every part of my body (the fuckers even got me on my earlobe and forehead) started swelling and burning. Yesterday I went by the farmacy because it was looking rather bad, and the lady there told me what it was that had got me. I´m on pills and a cream now and need to wash and tumbly dry my clothes on 100 degrees to rid of the little fuckers. Ofcourse, when you are walking every day and didn´t bring many clothes to begin with, it´s quite hard to do this all at once. So basically I have washed and torched some of my clothes but as I´m typing I believe I have just gotten two new bites of the fuckers hidden in my Jersey. Yesterday I was suffering so much I thought this would be a close call to throwing in the towel. But a large glass of vodka before bed did the trick and I passed out within 5 minutes, preventing me from scratching myself all night long instead of sleeping. Things are better today though and I have faith again i can go on!!

I´m starting to fell guilty now for occupying the only public computer in this village for so long. There is much more to tell but I better go and order something at the bar to easy myconscious for using the free internet for so long.

But it is a weird and cool thing this camino. Although I´m usually more a city person and enjoy a party here and there, somehow this walking routine detaches you from "real" life and instead you become caught in this sort of parallel reality consisting of physical pain, fatigue, and meeting new people. There was a festival at the (actually fairly big) town last night, which i would normally enjoy checking out, but I just didn´t feel like it at all! We just did our regular thing; shower, chill, go out for some tapas and climb into bed between 9-10 to wake up at 6 and start walking at 7. I´m actually enjoying this rather bizarre routine. I´m going to try and make 32 km tomorrow, to catch up with the schedule. Light a candle for me if you can ;).

But really, guilt now, gotta go!

Besos!

Hoy estaba muy chulo!

Today was great. I am writing this in a slightly tipsy state thanks to some very good Spanish wine. We are approaching the area where they make the famous Rioja wine, and this expertise is rubbing off on the surrounding areas. We (the gangsta womens gang) had a nice picknick just now in the garden of the pilgrims Auberge in Puenta la Reina with some other pilgrims we knew from the previous days, enjoying manchego cheese, fresh tomatoes and olives (and wine of course). Puente la reina is just as lovely as most other Spanish mountain towns; lots of churches (of course), a mideaval bridge, and cobly stoned streets filled with limping pilgrims. Haha, everyone around us seems as stiff as we are, except for the hardened die hards that have either walked the Camino x times or have run up and down mountains at home to train.
Today, our group started rather optimistic. In my case, my heels had managed to heal a bit overnight so i could wear my boots without too much trouble. i didn´t have much sleep though; perhaps you remember me mentioning a very loud snorer on the second night about whom  I was glad to be sleeping at the very other end of the room. Well, this night, he was sleeping...in the bunk above me. My god, they should brand this guy on his forehead and prohibit him to sleep anywhere near other people within a distance of 100 meters. Really, this guy has a masters degree in snoring: I believe I could feel the bed vibrating. Every three minutes or so he would snore himself awake, only to noisy twist and turn a bit to start over the process. Honestly, this should be forbidden! They should make a sound proof snorers room where all the elephants can go and start a snoring band. Besides the snoring, i am suffering from having such tasty blood. I know i should be grateful for being loved, I just wish it wasn´t by musquitos! They are shameless: they even got me on the cheeck. Not extremely contributive to impress the sexy male pilgrims around me. Not that there are much; the few tasty individuals we have already spotted during the past few days, but we seem to be scaring them away with our wit, intelligence, charm, and good looks (i understand this can be a somewhat intimidating combination, but come on, you were born with balls, right?!! Although my latest personal experience before coming to the Camino has seriously made me doubt this myth that men are born with balls .. !!...!!). Anyway, especially M and I are having some good fun making up stories about how to corner our victims this time, hehe. Our womens gang is great. It´s just cool to be able to share all our physical pain and the rest of the journey together. No strings attached though; everyone is free to go their own way or seek solitude for a bit.   

Although today it were my foot soles that hurt like hell for the last two hours, I feel my legs are slowly growing stronger. My blisters have somewhat returned but the woman from yesterdat gave me the the needle to drain the fluid so i will do this tomorrow I guess since it seemed to work. Tomorrow another 20 km ahead to a town called Estrella. If everything is going to plan we will enjoy dinner with the italians and japanese guy from today (the plan is that they will do the cooking haha). Damn, I just wish these musquitos would leave me alone, or my skin will look like some weird dune-landscape very soon.

So, the journey is getting more fun and interesting as the days pass. The weather today was awesome again; about 24 degrees, clear, clear blue sky and a slight cool breeze. This is definitly the perfect season to do it, although tomorrow it might rain again, which is actually good because my tan is on the border of looking like the regular sun burnt west european tourist.

People, I believe the lights have already gone out in my dorm and I need to start looking for my pyjamas, do the dreadfull brushing of the teeth routine and try and get some sleep because tomorrow will be a busy day again.

Ugh, a moth just landed on my keyboard. it is The Spirit saying i should get soem sleep.
Haha, scared you for a moment huh; almost sounded like becoming a twisted, meditating, "spiritual" individual no? No need to worry; I´m still not flexible enough to sit crossed legged for more than 10 minutes and am too tired to think about God and stuff.

Internet running out!

Grandes besos!

Camin-ouch!

Guys, Spain is FANTASTIC! This is old news, but today i was reminded again of how fantastic this country is. Let´s start with the weather: clear blue sky, 25 degrees. That´s what I call perfection. the  there is the famous spanish culture ofcourse. Today we walked past Pamplona, famous for its bull chasing thing in June, and around this time just a lovely little town with middeaval cobblestone streets, a hige square surrounded with cafe´s and, you guessed it, a cathedral. besides the welcoming atmosphere of spanish towns, people just know how to enjoy life over here! Everywhere there are little cafe´s, bars, restaurants with the most delicious food, where people go in the morning, afternoon and evening to have a good time, get some breakfast, or just have a coffee break. This morning we stopped in a small town along the way to have a sandwich, and the small bar we entered served the most deliciously looking sandwiches, 10 cm thick torillas, and local seniors were enjoying their first glass of wine of the day at 11 AM. Ah, you gotta love it.

But i don´t have much time: you need to pay for internet here and time always runs out very fast. So besides the excitement I feel for being in Spain again, I have to admit the body was pretty much a wreck today aswell, especially from the waist down things weren´t looking too good. Stiff as grandma´s we started walking at 7.30/8.00 AM this morning. I had developed a bit of blisters the past couple of days but i thought I I´d tape them in things would be OK. But halfway I was just limping again so i took off my boots and walked the second half on my flipflops. Also not hugely comfortable but at least the pain was bearable like this. We walked 20 km today and had a little stop in Pamplona where we had a coffee and some super delicious tapas. Before we arrived I couldn´t make up my mind wheter I would spend the night there or walk on to the guidebook destination, Cruz Menor, 5 km from Pamplona. But having walked 2 x 27 km the day before with some decent as- and descends, it felt a bit wussy to stop the day at 16 km over mainly flat terrain. So after a stop and a look around we (the gang from yesterday: Claudia, her friend Viy, and Maeve) continued to Cruz Menor. Everyone was feeling sore so the pace was rather...easygoing, but in the end we made it and right now we are staying in a lovely Auberge run by an old spicy lady. She said the only medicine for tired legs is a glass of wine for each leg, haha. I also went to her with my blisters since she had mentioned she was able to give medical advice, and as a true professional she extracted the fluid with a needle, desinfected it and bandaided me poor heels. The blister on my left heel was pretty impressive; they were several on top of each other it seemed, and reminded me a bit of frog eggs in a pond. I could give you more details if you want...:).

Ahh, running out of time again! Tomorrow the guidebook says it is 20 K again. I hope I´ll make it on flipflops...

Basically everyone is pretty exhausted and suffering quite a bit, but well, that all is part of this whole acmino thing. Actually it is kind of addictive! And, still rather fun.

Excusez moi for all these rather plain, uninspired messages, but it is a reflection of my brain, that is already resting on the pillow, and the fact that we are mainly staying in quite primitive mountain villages (population: 200).

Time to go! Bye hunnybuns!

Victory # 2

Ah guys, my legs are falling off and I need a new pair of feet, but we nailed it again: 27 km today! No more 1200 meter ascend this time but just a bit up and down, luckily mainly down. However, I was a bit of a wreck today. The morning started off on a rather jolly note; together with Claudia, the German woman and her friend, Maeve and I started walking at 7 AM, still in the dark. Íts quite an experience to start walking under the stars though. The night at the hostel was good; I managed to get a lot of sleep (pure exhaustion) so getting up at six was no problem at all. And there was only one (very, extremely loud) snorer in the room of 120 beds, who luckily was at the very other end of the room. Poor people next to him though, I bet their beds must have been shaking every time he inhaled.

 

The route was nice today, mainly through the forest and passing some tiny villages where we could have a drink...in the sun! Thank God it had stopped raining and I could finally enjoy a coffee in the sun as I had envisioned it would be. Although we were all joking around during the first half of the 9 hour walk, the second half my legs really started protesting and the last two hours I was just limping along at the back, walking the last painful 6 km on my flipflops.

 

Finally, at 5 PM we arrived half-dead at our final destination Linasoarra (probably spelled wrong because brain is like my feet right now). A tiny village with yet another pilgrim Auberge, and after having a heavenly hot shower we signed up for the pilgrim´s dinner, before which Maeve and I shared a bottle of (shitty) wine in the sunshine laughing about all the people and things we have so far experienced. Like my friend´s attempt to climb in the bed of our fellow hiker after a toilet visit at 5 AM, thinking it was her bed (it is hard not to get lost in a room with 120 beds).

 

Because everyone walks basically the same distance every day (except for the nutrcase that do two dyas in one, and are now already at pamplona), you meet a lot of the same people in the auberge and at dinner every day, so there´s already a bit of a family atmosphere.

 

Right now I am pretty exhausted with stiff legs and sore, sore feet, but luckily today is a short day )20 km), but I might decide to stop a bit earlier in Pamplona and spend the nigth there. But the beauty about the Camino is that you just decide as you go!

 

Now it is bedtime; yet an early day tomorrow, hopefully with sunshine and somewhat healed feet.

 

Buenos noches amigos!

victory

Yeah people! I made it! first day 27 kilometers and according to the guidebook 1200 meters up and about 900 meters down. I feel pretty cool right now. I arrived in Biarritz yesterday afternoon and on the bus I met a fellow pilgrim, a really nice and chilled-out South African woman. We travelled together to saint Jean pied de Port in the French pyrenees and arrived there around 7 in the evening when it was already getting dark. Bit different from my expectations. I expected, as you know, rough tough rocky mountains, but instead mainly saw cows on grass patches....and fog. Yes, the weather has been pretty awful: right nowthere very thick fog and drizzle surrounding us outside. Pretty much the story of the day. Maeve (the SA woman) and me started walking around 7.30 this morning. Hardly slept the night before though. the hut was very nice and no snoring people but they had closed the window so with 6 people in the room it was blooody hot! The thing with waking up because you are hot is that you don´t really find out that that was the reason you woke up only after it has happenend 6 times. then it occurred to me ´wait a minute, maybe I´m just really hot´. Ofcourse it takes another time waking up to finally decide that it really isn´t working and drag your ass out of bed to open a window. helped abit, but still, not much sleep. the adrenaline made up for that though, the 27 km seemed pretty daunting, especially the 1200 meter ascend. So we got up at 6.45 in the end and started walking without breakfast or packed lunch because it was a friggin mountain town where everything was closed. But that´s no problem; my aim is to become skinny as hell anyway so I´d say it was a good start. Although i had kind of set myself onto the idea of walking the first day alone (I just didn´t want to feel any pressure whatsover to walk too fast and collapse halfway),  Maeve and I took it very 60+ age easy and gently dragged ourselves up the hill. The weather was rather shite; constant drizzle and thick, thick fog, but actually i guess this was quite good for the first day because I would´ve definitly gotten a heart attack if it had been any warmer. So even though we looked like drowned cats after an hour, spiriots were high and the pace steady. there were many other pilgrims on the road and we chatted with some of then and eventually met a woman we saw the day before. We hooked up with her and a German guy after the first stop, and continued walking with them all the way to the final destination: Roncasvalles, having crossed the border with Spain on the way. And even though it didn´t stop raining and I´ll probably come down with pneumonia any minute, and we didin´t see anything of the ´´splendid scenery´ because of the constant fog, spirits were high and we had fun! The trip took about 9 hours (including 1 hour rest) and the last 2 hours were a bit tough because the feet soles were protesting and the legs craving a seat, the last hour we hooked up with yet another pair of pilgrims, an italian and a japanese guy, who made sure we were distracted enough not to notice the pain too much.
At the moment i am sleeping in what used to be an old monastry and there are 120 beds in one room and 2 showers. I managed to have on and it was heaven. Now i have 7 minutes left on the internet so i dont have too much time to become extremely witty this time, but hopefully I will have more time in pamplona (in 2 days) to entertain you properly.

So far i am having fun! it is great to have an aim every day, and to be alone and meet new interesting people, and be out in the mountains (even though its raining). Whenever i think of having to do this for 4 more weeks i find it hard to imagine, but this  "holiday" is all about taking it easy and doing whatever I want. Ha, i´m loving it (just like Macdonalds)!

I´m gonna post this thing now and go to bed. yes, it is 20.30 here now at the ,moment and i am missing the mass that started at 8. hard wooden church banks? Didn´t think so.

Adios amaigos! Buenos noches!

London: explore!

Yo people!

I gots tha spirit right now so better put it onto paper! First thing I wanted to say is that London is bloody fascinating (incorporating the local slang here). Today I was on an excursion to try and find a guidebook on the Camino de Santiago, because although leaving without any clue could be called adventurous, it is perhaps also a little daft (again; incorporation here, although I’m not sure whether ‘daft’ is particularly used by the English, as I can easily imagine a Glaswegian calling someone a ‘daft cunt’ or a ‘daft bashtard’). I call my search for a guidebook an ‘excursion’ because anything in London easily becomes an ‘excursion’. Bloody hell (again…), this city is BIG. I still loose my bloody way in my parents’ bloody neighbourhood, and not because I have the sense of direction of a daft bashtard but simply because there are too many streets that look too much the same. Today, however, I didn’t get lost, I just couldn’t find the bloody Waterstones, leading me to walk back and forth along the same street, which by the way was Oxford street, for three (!!!) times like a proper daft cunt. The manly side of my character had up to that point been too stubborn to ask for directions, but since I was wearing heels the more sensible and female side of me finally asked someone that looked smart enough to probably produce a useful reply, and she actually pointed in the direction I just came from. So, I found Waterstones in the end, only to find out the books on Santiago were sold in the store at Piccadilly Circus 20 minutes walk away… Yeah, right, maybe tomorrow.

Although my ‘excursion’ thus didn’t have the smoothest start, I did enjoy just walking along the streets of London. It’s like getting a D for an essay but not caring because you enjoyed the writing process so much the outcome doesn’t matter. OK, sorry for using completely unrealistic analogies here. I mean to say that what makes London so fascinating is the incredible variety, and number, of people on the streets. The people that I so far have encountered during my stay in London, besides English, were Romanian (more to say on that), French, American, some Eastern European country (let’s just say Russia), Iranian, and Italian (alright maybe this one doesn’t count because it was the waiter at the Italian restaurant), and you can obviously guess about a dozen more nationalities from just looking around you on the street. It’s pretty amazing. And to be honest, this melting pot-multicultural thing is what would be my number one reason to move to London, may I ever decide to do so. People from all walks of life, from all kinds of weird countries, with any level of education; you can find them here. Interesting! I want to interview them all.

Now, the downside is that it is just busy as hell. Honestly, one hour on Oxford street and you will be exhausted, at least I was. And the size of the city makes everyone pretty anonymous, which is a bit of a truism when speaking of big cities. Anonymity can be a splendid, blissful thing though. I mean, how great is it you could wake up one morning and decide to put on that monkey suit you have hanging in your closet to go shopping, and nobody on the streets would give a flippin flip? Here in London you could probably bounce around in that suit, making a dick of yourself attempting to climb the pole of a street light, and people will very likely not even lift one eyebrow.

But I’m drifting off here. What other interesting stories do I have in store for you? Ah well, I had a haircut. Not interesting but very necessary, as I was in the danger zone of people having drop change in my Starbucks coffee when I am just waiting for the bus. So I finally dragged myself to the nearest affordable hair saloon and was lucky enough to find it waiting for its first customer. I’m sure many people can relate when I say that one of the reasons for my apprehension towards the hairdresser is the fact they see it as part of their job to start crappy conversations with you. I feel bad for not enthusiastically replying, but I feel equally bad for doing so because I am sure the person doesn’t really want to be tortured listening to what it is exactly I am studying. So under the motto ‘everybody must have something interesting going on’ I usually just start asking them questions back. Thus it happened I asked the young, rather good looking, but short, hairdresser dude where he was from. Cheekily, he made me guess up to three times (I decided to play along), after which he finally admitted he was Romanian (there we have him :). He was washing my hair and at some point during our wee chat he started massaging my head verrrry slowly… So slow we had to stop talking. I have had hairdresser head massages before but this one made me feel….well, it made me …feel. And I think he knew exactly what he was doing because he was rather rude to a man that came in to make an appointment, and he started flirting with me after I sat down to get my bush trimmed (I am aware this choice of words is slightly dubious). Hmm, this made the situation rather interesting because there were obvious power relations at play. On the one hand, being the customer, it was mainly up to me to draw the boundaries of our little flirting emporium. On the other hand, he had big ass scissors in his hands. Sounds like soft versus hard power, or constructivism versus realism, whatever way you want to put it. Nevertheless, this transformed what is usually a duller than dull half hour into an interesting and at times a bit uncomfortable play of push and pull. The inevitable questions were asked about my age and boyfriend status (this is where the uncomfortable part came in), to which I gave an honest answer after a few moments of pretending to be the cheeky, charming lady instead of revealing the shy, and even slightly intimidated, inner bashtard in me. He kept repeating 26 was a nice age. A very nice age. And he liked it when I closed my eyes (sorry mate, you didn’t really expect me to let you blow dry my eyeballs to dust now, did ya). Having mixed feelings about this slightly weird flirtatious tension in the (h)air, partly because of the fact I really did want him not to ruin my hair out of revenge, I kind of went along with it, restraining myself at the moments I noticed how empty the saloon was with just us two in it. Although he was short in height, the puppy-eyed Romanian definitely showed some leadership skills whenever he firmly directed my head into the right angle in order to display his snipping skills. I have to say, I felt a bit like a dog being handled by Cesar the dog-whisperer (in case you know him). It was attractive and intimidating at the same time. So, guys, if that is the effect you want to have on a girl, push her around a bit and take the lead; no lady can resist some cave man displays. I suggest start by returning her calls within 48 hours (and emails; but this is an insider joke). Anyhow, let me shatter any of the reader’s illusion all this courting went anywhere. He did give me his number and his name but, sadly, good leadership skills don’t weigh up to a 10 inch height difference…

This was my bed time story for today. Now I’m gonna sneak a smoke on the balcony, without the tedious remarks of my mom for a change (‘So, you’re an addict too now’, bitch bitch, whine whine) and then go to bed, because my administration shit is far from done and so is my packing.

Wet, sloppy kisses on all yer cheeky cheeks!

London calling

Hey people!

I’ll tell you this: the weather in London is much, much better than in our beloved Glasgow. Today I was even sweating! From the sun, that actually shone! A thrilling long lost sensation. It probably helped I was puffing my way up a hill in the English, neatly organized countryside. Yup, I figured it would be a good idea to practice a bit for my great Spanish hiking adventure that is to take off this Thursday. A good decision, because it turned out my old hiking boots that had been in the closet for ages gave me blisters after one hour. So I swapped shoes with my dad who has the same size as me (no, it is he who has small feet!) and luckily my wee feet were able to swim around comfortably in those, so I will just take them to Spain. This two hour practice also warned me the first week of the Camino will probably be a bit of a challenge because my uphill leg-muscles felt like awakening from a very long winter sleep and they didn’t like it. Luckily there were plenty of blackberries on the way waiting to be picked and devoured, giving my poor, rudely awakened legs an excuse to have a bit of a break. I am just hoping there will be blackberries in the Pyrenees as well…or I’ll just have to become very interested in taking pictures of rocks or something in order to be able to hide the fact that all I am doing is catching my breath like a panting old lady. I am confident though that after two weeks I will be able to discard some of these new found hobbies and storm up the mountain path as if it were my every-day job. The Pyrenees will hopefully also look a bit cooler than the cute, puppet-like fields and cute cottages with too many families doing their Sunday stroll. I don’t want cute: I want rough tough gangster mountains with lots of scarred, bearded, tanned hot dudes that will save me when I am hanging from a cliff holding on with on arm in a hailstorm. These are my expectations and they’d better be realistic!

As far as expectations go, you might have gathered these are not very well underpinned by thorough research. That is my task for the next three days; find out where I can actually sleep in those rugged mountains and find out if I have any proper clothes to wear ‘on the road’. So far lying ready to be packed are my green long skirt, my sandals with just a slight heel (I’m in the mountains after all), my short blue skirt for when the weather is really hot, the sleeveless top with that disco-ball glitters on the front (they must have a party somewhere, even in the mountains) and my see-through hooked blue vest in case it gets chilly. I’m just a bit worried about bringing too much make up; I put my beauty case on my parents’ scale just now and it was already one kilo! Perhaps I could do with a little less foundation since this is likely to come off anyway in the sun. What do you guys think? Any tips?

Right, in case you thought I was serious; please, you do know me better than that right ;)? Yeah, I’m going native on this trip man! As Bagheera from the Junglebook would sing, I am going to take just the ‘Bear necessities lalala bear necessities’. That means 2 shirts, 2 trousers hiking boots and flip flops. If a guy rescues me then when I am hanging with one arm from a cliff, it means he really digs me. I’d better not try it the other way round though, rescuing a guy hanging from a cliff with one arm, because he might just let go in horror by my approach. Muhaha. Anyhow, who said anything about guys? This is a spiritual journey goddamnit! That is why I will put as many songs on my IPod as I can and bring as many books as I can carry to stimulate my thoughts about God and Life. I do hope they serve sangria in those mountain huts… And I still need to get my hands on that Twilight series… I’m sure God would approve; they make a big deal about no sex before marriage, right?

Better get started and run to the bookshop tomorrow! I will also look for the Lonely Planet phrasebook, because it seems my Spanish is bit rusty after a one years rest. Since it was pretty rusty in general strong measures must be taken. After all, I don’t want to make the mistake of telling the guy that has rescued me from the cliff in the hailstorm that it is OK to ‘get cozy’ before we get married. Imagine! LP phrasebook coming up.

To leave the Camino-theme for what it is, let me now give you guys a short update on what’s been occurrin’ (ah, I gotta incorporate this awesome phrase into my daily usage; ‘Whot’s occurrin’ mate?) in London. Well, yesterday I arrived in pretty travel-torn state at my P’s (parent’s) posh crib after a bus ride of 9 hours. It wasn’t just the 9 hours Megabus service that had kind of roughed me up, but also the fact that that morning I had still needed to pack the majority of all the crap I had gathered after one year of studying. After the awesome party the night before (thanks guys!), my body was feeling like a panda run over by a train when my alarm did its awful thing in my ear at 7.30 in the morning. Stress made me jump out of bed right away, only to waste half an hour taking a hot shower trying to sleep on with my head against the wall. But the pig sty that was my room screamed to get cleaned and sorted so I managed to stick some clothes to my body and started packing. I should have learned after plenty of times living abroad that you always gather more crap then you think, but no, as this is always an unpleasant fact to deal with my brain had done what it always did in these cases and just started whistling whenever this thought occurred (yes, occurred, hehe). So I ended up with 4 big bags of excess luggage that would be useless to take back and forth to London. Luckily, my brain had not been completely ignorant and the day before I had asked my dear flatmate whether it would be OK to leave some stuff in their store room for the few weeks I would be gone. He said that was fine, so without feeling too guilty I stuffed my shit as much out of the way as I could, quickly cleaned the room, and ran out to grab a cab because obviously time was running out.

Megabus…Well, it’s cheap, it gets you there, even on time, and they don’t like to bullshit around with giving their drivers one hour lunch and dinner breaks when all you want is to get on with it, but… the seats are cramped.  I was forced to sit like a farmer milking a cow, or to put it differently, like a regular guy; legs wide spread in order to give my knees the opportunity to breathe. That means my neighbour also had the chance to get acquainted with my left knee, and since the first 4 hours that neighbour was a skinny girl that only took up half a seat’s space, so she seemed to be able to handle it. In Manchester however, my skinny neighbour got replaced by an older and, let’s say, far sturdy version of her, leading to things getting a bit squashy. I did my best to be civilized however and even offered her the left armrest without putting up a stupid ‘I-am-touching-you-but-refuse-to-give-it-up’ struggle. I mean, she already had my knee on her lap so it only seemed fair. My IPod failed me on my journey though so all that I was left with was my hangover, my book, and my imagination. The first excluding the second, I was left with the third, my imagination, but since this is pretty lively I was entertained enough throughout the journey. But it was just a shame, as my rear neighbour put it: ‘These seats are made for freakin’ midgets!’.

Now I am sitting at the chic dining table in this nice apartment in Marylebone, and tomorrow duty calls and I will need to start with this job-finding thing and go on LP phrasebook excursions.

Good night and sleep tight everyone.

X

Semana Santa

 (Originally posted 14 April 2009 in: Spain, Granada)

Note before you start reading: the internet connection in our appartment is sporadic. This little story was written over the course of a few days and already outdated by a couple of days since semana santa ended last Sunday. In a meanwhile E and I have had a few interesting nights out, including a night out with the English troommates mentioned in the end. Due to privacy reasons I will report on these outings to you guys personally. Anyways, enjoy!

Ever heard of Semana Santa? Neither had I. But man, is it a spectacle! For 8 days traffic in the streets is regulated to a minimum and the streets fill up with people. And they’re not there just to push the buggy with sleepy toddler and grab a cerveca, no, they are there to see the processions. A procession? Must be some sort of group of people that walk around the city, probably dressed up or something, I thought. But it had to be quite special since a week ago the tribunes to watch these ‘procession’ had already been placed on several locations in the city centre. Esther, the teacher that lectures us on Spanish culture each week had mentioned something about it but since I am not that fond of carnaval or other dress up activities I didn’t pay that much attention. So E and I were in for a surprise when we came down from the Albacin (I will explain what that is later) on Sunday evening, hearing what sounded like drums from below in the main streets. It didn’t take long for us to bump into one of these famous processions, and it was quite different from my vague expectations. What confused us first of all was that the people walking the procession are dressed up as if they came straight from a KluKlux Clan gathering: completely covered in white cloth with a tall pointy hat, while carrying a huge candle. We later learned that these suits come in many colors and that there are in fact around 32 different processions alone in Granada. Take that. Thirty-two is a hell of a lot processions! And because this year is the 100-est (?) year Semana Santa is being celebrated, there will be not less than 22 (!!) processions this Saturday. This might sound even more impressive if I tell you a procession takes a minimum of 6 hours till a maximum of 12 (!!) hours. This mainly is due to the fact that as part of a procession two huge statues, one of Jesus Christ followed by one of Maria, that weigh between the 1000 and 3000 kilograms (!!) are being dragged along the way. By men, on their shoulders. The statues are placed upon huge rectangular structures made of wood, and for the heavier variations, partly marble. This whole décor is decorated in detail with flowers, candles, cloth, and the Jesus statue often comes with some disciples or other biblical figures. The men that carry this heavy burden are in fact standing under the whole thing and can’t see a thing. Bystanders can only see rows of feet shuffling forward on the sound of the beat, creating the effect Jesus and Maria are ‘bailando’ (dancing) as Esther pointed out. Ha ha, if you are aware of it, J & M do seem to have a good feeling for rhythm!

 Anyway, since the poor buggers underneath are unable to see, the whole thing is coordinated by couple of men neatly dressed in official suits that shout orders like ‘Stop. Two steps to the right. That’s right. Now forward!’ and by tapping on the wooden structure. The skills of these ‘commanders’ are really put to the test when the procession emerges or enters the church. Sometimes it can only just fit through the church doors and in some cases the porters need to get on their knees and sort of crawl out of the church or Jesus would bump his head against the church doors. We actually saw this happen once (the crawling) and it is truly an amazing thing to see. The whole crowd holds its breath as Jesus wobbles through the doors and sometimes scarily falls a bit too much to the one or the other side. While we were viewing the spectacle amongst a practically silent crowd one man amidst the spectators started chanting some sort of religious song on the top of his longs, which made it even more amazing. It took a whole hour for the whole procession to emerge from the church. It is made up out of different groups, amongst which are the KluKluxClan like fellas, which in fact are called los petentios. The ghostlike hat, which only leaves the eyes uncovered, is copied from the hat people had to wear during the inquisition after they were convicted. They are meant to symbolize penance, which is actually the main point of the whole procession. But these petentois are only part of the gang; there are also people carrying holy books, crosses, ladies in black dresses and little kids running around to relight all the candles. But the most amazing about the whole thing I find the music band, dressed in impressive suits of course. A few days before Santa Semana officially started we had already seen some of these guys walking through the city carrying a trumpet, drum or trombone, or some other instrument that I am usually not to fond of and immediately makes me think of terrible music on which you are expected to put the hands on the shoulders of the one in front of you and shout along drunkenly. But again, was I in for a surprise! I had no clue trumpets could actually sound beautiful. Nah, I’m not kidding; they can! All the flutes, drums and various trumpets together created some beautiful sound that had some Arabic, Hebrew taste to it. Not your standard church sound at all. The music is quite famous actually and I understand why. It also fits very well with the Granadian entourage.

Alright, before this story becomes a complete novel on the beauty of Semana Santa, let me leave the undescrided to your imagination on skip to the annoyances of the whole thing. Because it is now a couple of days later that I am finishing this exciting piece and I just came home from the city centre. And well, it was almost IMPOSSIBLE to get home. Today is actually the Saturday I mentioned above with 22 processions in the planning. When I got out of the Zara and wanted to walk back home one way was blocked with people so I walked the other way, only to be blocked again by yet another solid wall of bystanders. The only option was to go into an alleyway. It didn’t take long before my way was blocked again. I turned into another street and…another wall of grandma’s, parents and young kids with hip and uncomfortably looking haircuts obstructed my way. I started to feel like a rat trapped in some sort of laboratory experiment setting. Slightly desperate and frustrated I found a small street that looked to small for any procession to ever get through. Yes, you’d already guessed; I bumped into a crowd all standing with one hand in their side and the other waving their finger and shaking their heads. Damn! I guess I will just have to force my way through the crowd, using elbow thrusts and karate kicks if necessary, I thought. Using physical violence brought me about two meters closer to the street but damn, the bastards were clever; they had placed a row of chairs solidly held into place by overweight seniors. Putting my arms up to heaven amidst my prison guards I let out a beastly, frustrated cry. In the end it took me another 20 minutes of detours before I finally saw a hole in the defense wall of the enemy and quickly took off to the safe heaven that is our apartment.

Anyways, have I mentioned the hippie sub-culture they have here in Granada? There’re hippies everywhere man! The dreadlock, juggling kind of hippies. It’s like a plague or something. A pretty harmless plague though. They just play a bit of guitar, do minor acrobatic stuff, but most of all hang around on the pavement selling self made hippie bracelets and other crap. Usually some well fed dog by their side. Which brings me to another point; the dogs. Or rather, guinea pigs, mice, rats, small sheep, or some Chinese dish that escaped the pan; the dogs come in all sorts of shapes but only one size: tiny. Poor buggers, I pity them mostly, if there would be plastic surgery for dogs, they’d sure all want some implant or a make-over all together. That last phrase is actually inspired by the series E and I are watching on my laptop-baby; Nip Tuck, which is about plastic surgeons. Pretty good series. Our apartment is pretty homely now. We bought some plants and some candles and I changed rooms. I collected all the best furniture and the biggest mattress from all over the house and stuffed it in my small but cozy, and meanwhile perfect, bedroom. In our apartment there is room for 7 people but so far we have only been here with a max of 4. Our latest roommates are 2 English girls whom are nice enough but stay in their room for a bizarrely long amount of time. Honestly, al they do is hang around in their double bedroom while there is a perfectly fine living room in place, not to mention the outside world of this lovely city Granada. During the week E and I found it increasingly bizar how much time they spent in their room and we started developing crazy theories of what the hell they were up to. They don’t seem gay at all so that isn’t it. Anyway, they are leaving today, and the most probably reason for their self imprisonment is they have exams soon. Actually, you won’t believe it but at this very moment they just came home to tell us they are staying one more night. Alrighty, fine with us, we probably won’t notice they are there anyway. So far we haven’t met that many people yet, except for some guapo’s we met while going out, but no friends fit for daylight I meant. Our only buddy that we have spent almost every day with the past two weeks, Barshka, left yesterday. A shame, she was nice and fun to go out with. Oh well, plenty of undiscovered souls out there I would say. We got our hands on a booklet that lists all the cultural events going on in Granada and there seems to be plenty of stuff going on.

Next time I will tell you more about the Albacin, the old Muslim quarter of the city, placed on a hill opposite the Alhambra. It is most beautiful city quarter in the world (to get a bit soppy). Honestly, every little street could be in a travel magazine. Little balconies with flowers, cute squares with churches and well…sigh….you should see it. We have been walking our foot soles to shreds.

In short; Spain is great, the Spanish really know how to handle life. Get lost with that 9-5 regime and make it one of 9 AM to 9 Am. Honestly, we went out on Thursday and the club opened at…3. Yes, so that was another arrival home at 7 in the morning. They really like funk and breakdance stuff here, and man, can they dance. In that particular club at least. Spinning around on one arm, eating a sandwich with the other, pretty spectacular. The Spanish way of flirting is also a bit different from the tactic the Dutch men handle, if you can call lurking at you with a drunken eye from over your beer from across the room a tactic at all. Spanish guys just come up to you and start jabbering in your ear or show some pretty eloquent dance moves. Much more fun I will say.

The Spanish know how to make life worth living and I am digging it!
Righto, so much stuff is left out now but I have to draw the line somewhere.
Time to stick on some make-up and hoist myself in that new Zara shirt I bought today. Fiesta baby!
And just FYI: learning Spanish is great to, I love it!!

xx

Granada, Granada, Granada

(Originally posted 2 April 2009 in: Spain, Granada)

I will not leave you in tension any longer; como esta en Granada? It all started promising on Saturday, now already 5 days ago. Ten minutes before the ultimate deadline to leave for the train station I managed to leave the house with a relative confident feeling I had not forgotten to pack anything muy importante. So far it has turned out I was right; the only thing I left was a shoe, so now I am stuck with one incomplete pair. Still, I have two complete pair left though so nothing to worry about (three actually, if you count the pair of running shoes, but no woman, except an American toursist maybe, would dare to be seen wearing them to work or school). So, with the help of my loyal porter, N, I managed to be at the train station on time for once. In fact, we were early, since I had mistaken the time because of perfect eyesight, which in this case worked out for the better. Since you all have experienced a Dutch train ride before I will cut the crap and skip to the interesting stuff. After a 2 and a half hour flight, during which I had no problem sleeping since I had only had three hours the night before, I arrived in coastal, touristic, palmtree-laned Malaga. I had imagined a very busy, big city with lots of flats and fat, red tourists, but it actually looked pretty exotic and charming. From the plane I could see the whole city, surrounded by hills, sandy colored houses with an Arabic touch and here and there the silhouette of a palmtree. Having had to close up my winterjacket tight and firm not a week ago, I now stepped from the plane just wearing a loose summer jacket and sleeveless top. I’ll tell you this; 22 degrees is a pretty welcoming temperature.

Right, I said; interesting stuff. Well, I took the bus and managed to find the hostel after a half hours walk, my spirits lifted by the surprising charm of the ‘horrid touristical’ inner city of Malaga. Damn, it was warm, there were palm trees and I was in Spain! The hostel turned out to be rather charming (my new favourite word) as well, but all I had energy left for was to lift my legs into the bed.

The next day I met E at the bus station where we were supposed to take the bus to Granada. The bus leaves about every hour, and E came rushing in 5 minutes before the bus at noon left. While I grabbed on to the bus driver, E managed to get tickets…for the next bus…at 14.00 o’clock. At least, we thought at 14.00 o’clock since that was what the guy at the info desk had told us, although our ticket said 13.45, which we figured must be boarding time or something. Anyways, the weather was hot and splendid so we didn’t mind waiting in the café across the street at all. Around 13.45 we thought; let’s get there a bit early this time. So ladieda we walked into the bus station and saw our bus, walked up to the bus and slowly started to get out our tickets to see whether it was indeed the right bus since it looked like it was leaving. While the bus pulled away, it slowly started to dawn on us that it was indeed the right bus and that it really was leaving. We started to utter some things and while we put up our arms the bus gently left the station. OK, we laughably scolded our retardedness and scurried back to the ticket office. There was a bolding chunky police sort of guy with sunglasses that grabbed our ticket and without many words changed our ticket for the next bus. So, we waited in the sun (how awful) for another hour and finally arrived in Granada around 6 o’clock.

Wearing just a t-shirt and even having exchanged my sneakers for slippers, the first thing that struck me (and my toes) was the cold. Damn, it was like 12 degrees or so; freezing!! (for Spain). But of course the weather was bound to different from that in Malaga since Granada is about 600 meters below sea level and an hours drive away from the sea itself. Which does means a pretty awesome view on the other hand. Literally on the foot of the Sierra Nevada, with mountain peaks of around 3000 meters, on a clear day you can see snowy mountain tops. But well, it was cold. We got on the bus and the first stranger with we landed ourselves into a conversation turned out to be a 19 year old blond Dutch girl that was also going to study Spanish. Pfff, not with the same organization. Nothing wrong with the girl herself, but 19 year old Dutch girls is not what Emily and I hoped to find in our class and apartment. We hoped to meet intereresting, international guys and girls of various ages with whom we could have some good talks and enrich each other with our company…or something like that. And guess what, the first thing we stumbled upon when we opened the door of our New Home were…more blonde 19 year old Dutch girls. Of course I had expected a certain percentage of teenagers, but not that high! The next day at the school didn’t show any more promising signs. The cafeteria was packed with 19 year old sucklings, mainly Dutch and female. That afternoon we got a city tour, and the other participants were a bunch of carefully plastered platinum blonde anorexic Norwegian girls and some spotty male sidekicks. All the girls did was cling to each others arms and make giggly pictures while our lovely teacher and tour guide was trying to update our knowledge on history. Horrible. Let us not make foul any more words on this unworthy bunch of nitwits (as I put my nose up in the air and make a little degrading sniff).

Anyway, the lessons are nice. We have lessons from 9.30 to 13.00 o’clock every day and are in a class with 4 others, of which 2 BDN’s (blonde Dutch 19 year olds), a quiet nerdy Chinese girl and James, a 28 year old Australian guy (he seriously looks like 21 though). James is a nice guy and has a very amusing accent when he speaks Spanish. So, now that I just made a positive remark about someone, allow me to bitch on the others for a bit. But let’s be clear here, all the people I have met so far are nice enough, good people, BUT…our classmates are dumb man! I am talking about university level-educated or potential university level students, and g-sus hell, especially one, is so SLOW. After having talked about comer (eating) for like 15 minutes she still manages to say, What is comer?. Aha, AHA, now that is DUMB (this was just an example). Especially annoying is when she doesn’t get something, usually something pathetically easy, and the slight panic she than slides into; nervously she looks around, saying what, what, I don’t understand, wheh wheh WHEH. The teachers are great though, very friendly and patient, and they explain everything in Spanish so you pick up a lot from that as well. So, the tempo of the lessons are quite slow and easy, but you still learn a lot of new stuff, so the lessons are ok. The atmosphere is quite nice too (except for these moments of wanting to sigh straight in the face of that girl and roll my eyes), I am quite happy to be there! Spanish itself is pretty great too! It is pretty easy to pick up with 6 years of French and some Latin and Greek as a background so that makes it even more enjoyable. Speaking is something I do need to practice a lot though, but the listening is surprisingly easy (I am talking about following the stories of the teachers; the streets are still out of my league of course).

And then; Granada, Granada, Granada. Very beautiful city. What surprises me the most is that the nice, old part of town, which in cities like Utrecht and Leiden are only 50 meters by 50 meters, is just BIG. The cute, hilly, cobble stoned alleyways don’t seem to end! There are dreamy romantic little squares all over the place and the Arabic influences make the yellow, rugged, cute little appartments look even more charming (yes, charming). I’ll try to put up some pictures, because images can speak louder than words. Oh yes.
We live just on the edge of the city centre, in an apartment big enough for 7, but only occupied by 4 at the moment. It is a bit dirty and nasty and breaking down but i’ve had worse so not too much to complain. One thing I do complain about, a lot, is the fact our apartment is situated sort of in the middle of a very busy roundabout. Especially buses like to pull up straight in front of our window, and to complete the orchestra they are also working on the roads and by the look of it they will be during the coming month as well. I was kind of freaked out the first day when I couldn’t hear what E was saying because the window was open and I woke up at seven due to the lovely sound of car engines. So far my fantasy about chilling on a sunny balcony with red flowers hanging from the balustrade. No man overboard though, since his sort of forces us to get out of the apartment a lot, which we have been doing indeed. And I must say I am getting used to the noise now. It really is NOISE though. There is a possibility to change apartments so I’m gonna check that out. But secretly E and I are also looking to maybe get a flat that we dreamed of (sunny balcony included), there seems to be no shortage on the house-rent market. But we’ll need a job first. Working on that.

And did I tell you you get free tapas with every drink you order? It is great. In Spanish bars you don’t sit, you stand. And you speak loudly and eat tapas while you drink. People seem to get out a lot more than in Holland. Just a drink after work, in the break or instead of cooking at home. Promising.
To conclude; Granada is beautiful, has a good atmosphere and seems like a pleasant place to be. Challenges for the near future are making Spanish friends, meeting more (interesting) people, learn the grammar and the vocabulary, and maybe find a job and a new flat. Enough on the agenda I would say.

I will keep you updated!!
Buenos noches!

Homecoming

(Originally posted 5 September 2008 in: Nepal, Kathmandu)

Dear friends.

The time has come for me to go home. The past few weeks I have been hanging around in Kathmandu trying to find an internship or anything that looks like a real job. Nothing so far and because it was low season I haven't been able to meet a lot of fellow travellers to hook up with. So after all this solitude, home looks quite appealing. I just don't have the motivation anymore to arrange all kinds of wicked adventures. I'm sure I'll come back some day to really do the 3 weeks Annapurna circuit, one of the most beautiful hikes around so they say. Hopefully with some of you guys!

I did go on one 'adventure'; I took the bus to Pokhara, a small city close to the Himalayas, to do some daytrips and check out the scenery. The bus on the way there was bloody hot, luckily I had a windowseat so I was alright, but my neighbour was dying. At dinnertime it started raining, and I'll tell you these weathergods were pretty pissed of. Basically it didn't stop raining the whole week I was there. I just took a nice room with television and drank as many banana lassies as I could. Yes, yes, so far for adventurous and courageous backpacking.
Last week I came back to Kathmandu to pick up my Indian visa. It is cheaper to fly back from Delhi so that's why. The Indian visa looks way more sophisticated than the Nepalese visa, which just looks like a printed piece of toilet paper (no offense). The past week I have been waiting in vain for replies to internship applications, and actually it bothered me less and less that I didn't get a reply so I didn't really chase after them either. So did I just watch television? No, that was just the last few days in Pokhara, if I had been watching more television even I would have been ashamed. No, instead I am on to my 6th book. I'm getting really intelligent here. Allthough one might ask how intelligent you get from reading Bridget Jones. But my book standard is improving, I'm now reading about the farming culture in former Rhodesia in the 50s. If the electricity lets me, because there are very frequent powercuts here so often candles is all I got.

I feel a bit weary about having done so little in Nepal, but that is something I will go over with myself when I get back. Now I'm off to India! I have just booked my bus and train ticket and hope the hundred or so kilos I have with me won't kill me. It's a pretty long journey to Dharamsala, the place where I'm going. After I decided not to join the Buddhist programme in Kathmandu, I registered, as advised by my neighbours, for a 10 day course Introduction to Buddhism in Dharamsala.
Dharamsala is supposed to be really nice. It's the home of the Dalai Lama and apparently it is amazingly popular among Western hippies, whom I will join in a few days. I wonder how I will cope with the daily meditation practise and no speaking for 10 days (!!). Anyway, I'm looking forward to it, I heard many good stories about Dharamsala.
Tomorrow morning I leave early for a busride of 8 hours to the Indian border. There I will stay the night and leave the next morning for a 3 hour busride to the place where the train departs. There I will have an overnight trainride of 15 hours to Delhi. In Delhi I will hop from the train on the 12 hours bus to Dharamsala. On Wednesday I will start the 10 day course and spend the last few days of my adventure abroad hanging around in Dharamsala probably. And then...

On October 2nd I will fly from Delhi to Stockholm, where I will spend the night at the airport and than take a cheap flight to Amsterdam, where I will probably arrive on friday October 3rd around 10 in the morning! Yeeh! Hope to see you all soon!

Horsetrack + photo's!

(Originally posted 8 August 2008 in: China, Chengdu)

Hi dudes!

I've just done a three day horsetrackking tour through the mountains and it was awesome! And painfull....for the ass...ohoh, poor ass of mine (wooden horse saddles). Unfortunately the weather was shitty since it is rainy season right now. So it was bad luck that we didn't have any view on our destination: Ice Mountain, a round 4500 meters high.

Check out the pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/Babala.in.china/HongKongEarthquakeHorsetrekking

I'm gonna keep this message short because tomorrow Noortje and I are going to...TIBET. Oehyeah. We have just paid the biggest pile of banknotes ever! The largest amount on a note in China is 100 Yuan, and I just gave the lady 76!!! notes. And I had already paid her 32 before that. Damn, I made sure I have a picture of these few minutes of pure wealth.

So Tibet, it is really a hassle to get in. You need to be in a groupotour with people of your own nationality. Don't mind logic, logic doesn't apply when it comes to rules for travelling through Tibet. Tomorrow morning we fly to Lhasa and than we start a 9day tour all the way to the Everest Base Camp (wicked), and than we go back to Lhasa and I will fly to Nepal on the 16th of August. Velly, velly exciting!

Ok, now I have to start packing (ohhhh, such anuisance, next time I'm just bringing an extra pair of socks and underwear; travelling with to much stuff is PISSING ME OFF. Yes. But I need my stuff .


Bye peoples, more stories after I have survived the high altitudes in Tibet. Did you know you can die from High Altitude Sickness?


Farewell.

Adventure Summary

(Originally posted on 30 July 2008 in: China, Chengdu)

Alright, I have the feeling you guys must be loosing track of where I'm at and where I've been. So I'll just cut the crap about scooter adventures and dramatic Chinese songs for a sec and place a good old-fashioned, plain and dry message. Let's see if I can do it...

At the moment I am in Chengdu, capital of Sichuan province, which was hit by the earthquake. Chengdu remained intact though, so I haven't seen any trace of the destructions yet. I arrived yesterday evening by plane from Shenzhen, a Special Economic Zone right next to the Hong Kong border. Shenzhen is e-nor-mous. I believe it is the richest city in China, and to get to the airport I took a bus that drove along tall building after tall building, flat complexes after flat complexes. Before I came to China I found it hard to imagine what a city with 10 million or so inhabitants in China would look like. I've seen Londen, Paris and the lot, but in China, there are over a 100 of 'London's', Paris's' etc. Well, it takes a lot of square blocks with flats, called 'estates'. Driving through Shenzhen was just 40 minutes of estate after estate and in the centre it was packed with flashy business buildings. And I think I've only seen a fourth of the city. It's impressive, but I must say not my piece of cake. If I had to choose a place to live, I would prefer a town like Yangshuo where we were before we keft for Hong Kong. Details on the way.

Anyway, I booked the flightticket, very Chinese, the day before. Flying here is so cheap and easy! It may not be the most environmentally responsible way of travelling but hey, put yourself in my shoes: either I take the train from Shenzhen to Chengdu, which I havn't checked but I'm guessing takes around 42 hours and costs around 50 euro's. Or I buy a flightticket for 80 euro's and install my ass on a plane for two hours. Keep in mind, I have a backpack that weights 21.8 kilo, plus a small rucksack of about 3 kilo's. oh yes, the trainticket is also harder to book; long lines, no English, people shouting their ticket wishes over your shoulder to the counter lady while you try to book a hardsleeper that may not be available in the high season (now).
Ok, I admit it is less 'adventurous, and less 'backpacky' but honestly I'd rather be adventurous doing a cool tracking tour through traditional villages than sitting on ze train. Anyway, you get the point. So much to tell, I need to learn to set priorities.

Priority 1: how did our scooteradventure on Hainan Island end? Recap: We stood there on the side of the road, heavy rain clouds closing in and my scooter paralysed. Well, we managed to wave down to guys on a scooter who took a look at it. One sped to the nearest village to get reinforcement. After ten minutes he returned with a buddy and a rope. They tied the rope around my scooter and while I sat on the back of the newly arrived scooter, they pulled it to the village. And at that point the clouds broke and what followed was the heaviest rain shower I've had in years. It was almost like hail! Completely soaked we entered the village where the dudes started fixing the bike. Ofcourse, they didn't have the right part because we were in the middle of nowhere. So after calling the hostelmanager and discussing with the guys (well, he did because they didn't speak any English), they decided to drive to the nearest bigger village to prove their luck there. We waited for two hours in one of the most depressing towns I've seen. It was just one big road, with concrete pavements on the side, parked full with motorbikes, all along the pavement. Not a pretty seght. And it was filthy; people selling crap, like dead fish, on little blankets that were soaked from the rain. Brr, ugly. Finally the guys fixed my bike (we were lucky with that) but than ofcourse wanted too much money, so we had to negotiate with a couple dozen spectators; villagers who obviously had nothing to do all day but stare at the funny bargaining foreigners. We were happy to leave. The way back was pretty though, so in the end an experience worthwhile.

For the rest of our stay we did what you normally do on a Bounty Island; nothing. D and T moved to a beach resort which offered incredible discounts because it was low season. Janneke and I ofcourse profitted from that by hanging around in their pool that had a little island and a slide that gave me a bruised spine. Their hotel also had a hittle pool filled with small fish. For a bit of money you could sit in the pool and the fish would eat your dead skin. I can tell you this; it tickles! And when you sit real still, the fish grow more confident and really go nuts after a while: a true feeding frenzy! Because the poor beasts looked so starved we did two sessions. If you're interested I should warn you; my left index finger got permanently damaged...
On one of our last evenings D, T and I took a big bottle of vodka, some lemons and installed ourselves on the island in the middle of the deserted pool. We got incredibly drunk, finished one pack of cigarettes each, and as a finale took a dip in the sea which was three steps away from the pool. Wicked. Not so wicked the day after though; we were pretty poor company for J.

After two weeks of doing nothing, stuffing ourselves with delicious Western food, and waiting for my visa to get extended it was rime to leave Sanya.

By the way, I'm listening to 'You mei you ren gau su ni' (see previous message) and it may be slow, but it's really good, especially the second half! When you are watching the crap videoclip, don't, just listen, but do check out the video when it is at 4.47 minutes, there is a very funny scene with two penguins .

Priority 2: Guilin and Yangshuo. From Sanya, we took a plane to Guilin, famous for it's limestone peaks. And it is certainly famous for a reason! We arrived in the evening. We sat in the bus and even in the dark the landscape was bizar. As we drove to the city, sudden dark shapes of mountains would just pop up out of the blue on the roadside. it was a full moon and the light it shined (is this correct Englis?) over the peaks was amazing. More bizar, this was the same in the city! You're just, ladiedadieda, sitting in the bus and BAM! there's a limestone peak in your face. Awesome. We didn't stay in Guilin but took the bus ro Yangshuo the next morning. That it is a touristy area was very noticable. People kept harrassing us. Very annoying. They just stand in your face, if not on it (if they could), and keep asking the same thing even after you've declined 3 times already. There is no point in being polite, in fact, you have to become rather impolite to finally get rid of them. It just pisses you off. But there is nothing you can do except keep calm and hope they lose interests after a while. I manage to keep calm by thinking over and over:'But I'm glad I'm not in your shoes'. I mean, I probably would be that annoying if i had a shitty job like that. But it does put your patience to the test. J's patience broke down that morning in Guilin and she simply turned to the guy, and said 'What?!' a couple of times. What followed was a bunch of 'Fuck you. Fucking you. Don't come to China etc etc. from the guy. All this shit just makes you sigh and we were happy to get on the bus to Yangshuo.

Yangshuo is amazing. I looks somewhat like a Swiss Alpine village with cute cobblestone streets, small houses and a little river running through it. But than, the amazing part of course is the surrounding scenery. Through the houses you constanly get a glimpse of the amazing limestone peaks. It saves me a page describing the amazing nature if you just search google for pictures of Yangshuo. Ok, I see I've used amazing 5 times or so, I'll stop now. We were in yangshuo for 4-5 days and we went on a bamboo raft river cruise, walked along the river, checked out a place near the Yalong river and once again enjoyed all the western food in this tourist infested place. We sat on the rooftop bar of Monkey Janes hostel with a view over the peaks and the river and drank cocktails with a Canadian couple who we had met before in Sanya and accidentaly came across on the streets in Yangshuo! The backpackers world is small, even in China. In the third day i took a mountainbike and did a tour through one of the valleys. I came across the river, and tons of tiny fields with crops, rice fields, small pictoresque farmhouses, all along a rocky one way road. Absolutely fantastic. A bit warm though; temperatures were into the 30s. The first day was a bit suicidal; excited like little kid I had grabbed a bike to discover the countryside but hadn't paid attention to the fact that it was 2 pm and no clouds. I came back soaked in sweat and as red as a tomato with an irregular beating heart (sort of). But it was worth it.

After Yangshuo, we took the bus to Shenzhen to cross the border to Hong Kong from where J would take a flight back to The Netherlands. The bus we took was not your regular bus, it was a sleep-bus! Yep, with actual beds. The beds are put in three rows: two rows next to each window side and one in the middle. They are a bit short but for the rest pretty comfy! The only thing that wasn't so comfy were the road conditions. Gee, the bus swang from side to side dodging or driving through what must have been big ass potholes. I had a bed in the middle row and the small fences (not the right word) that were supposed to keep me in the bed were abit short. And a bit low. So everytime the bus swung from side to side I had to grab hold of the rail to make sure my legs wouldn't fall overboard, with me following my legs. So for most of the night I was just dozing of untill there was onother pothole. Really, the sleep-bus is a great invention and they should make more of them, but for taller people you need more straps to the bed. When it was almost light I decided to try out one of the window beds where at least there was one wall to support me. That was a genius idea and in the end I managed to get some sleep. We arrived in Shenzhen in the morning and it took us four hours to find the right bus, go through customs and take the train to Hong Kong Island where we had reserved a hostel.

Priority 3: Hong Kong. People, people, people. Neonlights, skyscrapers, amd more people. Our hostel was located in one of the busiest parts of Hong Kong; in between the big shopping malls on HK Island. It was nice to have some luxury. I don't mean the room, the room wasn't much better than the ones in China, but just the fact that people speak English. And that they have clean western toilets in which you can flush the paper instead of putting it in a basket next to the toilet (something I still find gross, even after 7 months). And the clean, bright luxureous shopping malls with no bargaining. Starbucks, the smooth flashy subway. These kind of things. Downside for me was that I found it a bit claustrophobic. Narrow pavements packed with people you need to dodge or that block your way. The sreets with the always tall buildings. It's just a bit crammed It looks pretty awesome though. it really looks a bit like London (but more crammed and narrow); you could really notice it had been under British rule.
But it's a pretty astonishing place; the many islands, the mountains, and the skyline of HK island. Worth it. But I didn't find the people that friendly. The people in our hostel were unhelpful, cranky bastards, really assholes. And other staff that is supposed to help you I found a bit uniterested and rude.
But maybe I also find this because I think I've had a bit of a China overdose by now. I find myself feeling more annoyed by small things and the people. For example all these stupid glasses that 60% of the people seem to wear (at least in HK). The geeky guys and the giggly girls, it just really annoys me now on occasions. And the friggin language barrier. You just can't communicate with people, and because of this I quickly put them off as geeky and giggly, simply because that is all you see. I have noticed my tolerance level in China falling from Very High in January, to Very Low at this moment. I just get annoyed quicker. I think it is a good thing I'm leaving for Nepal om August 16th. But these moments of annoyance put aside, China is awesome and it is a great place to travel; so much to see!

So HK. One more thing: the cockroaches. Everywhere. On the streets. I hadn't noticed untill the second day that they're everywehre. but once you spot one and you start looking, they are e-ve-ry-where. J and I walked to a bar and we saw at least 8 running down the pavements on our way. Goddamn nasty beasts! I just get a light heart attack everytime I see one blindly and brainlessly running to the middle of rhe pavement, so that if you don't look, you would step on it, something that janneke almost did. Gross man. Even writing about it creeps me out. during the day, everything is blossomy and fine. but when nighttime falls, the Beasts come out of their holes and roam the streets.

Ok. Happy thoughts now. Yesterday I put J on a bus to the airport and took a plane from Shenzhen myself. I am in Chengdu now, my last stop in China before I travel from Tibet to Nepal. A Dutch girl, N, who is Carmens friend and who I've met in Holland before, will meet me in Chengdu and than we do a private 8-day Tibet tour. Its pretty complicated to get into Tibet and you have to go through a travel agency. It's a bit expensive but I'm guessing it will certainly be worth it.

Time to end the story. the title of this piece has turned out a bit too optimistic. I tried to put credit on my account but failed because my mother already used her credit card for her own account. Instead of Skyping: SEND me your ADDRESSES! The people who already received a postcard from China needn't to ofcourse, but if you havn't received a card yet, sent me your address again because I've probably lost it.

People, hope you're having a great summer!

xxx B

Chinese songs

(Originally posted on 26 July 2008 in: Hong Kong)

Ohyeah, at first we all went crazy by this song because we heard it EVERYWHERE. Mainly a very bad quality version; in shops, on the streets and as goddamn ringtones. But the trick with brainwashing is that after a while...your brain is washed. So we started to like it, and now, we all LOVE IT! J and I actually went looking for a CD with all those Chinse songs we heard so often and after a while sound actually pretty cool. This is a slow song. Sit back, relax, and let the guy's pain touch your heart, yeah man, he's in pain. I present to you:

You mei you ren gau su ni.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0zbbFnMFQM

And here is a cool band I found out about through the owners of a really cool, small music store near our appartment in Shenyang. The band is called Sand, and here is one of their slower (and depressing) songs:

Sand - Tonight Moon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSDqNX6mlcE&feature=related

Over 'You mei you ren gau su ni' staat het volgende op youtube:
This song described a rootless wanderer led a vagabond life.For seeking a better life,he went to south of China where is no snow in winter. He's lonely but still thought about his beloved.So touched. My new work made by QQ emotion icons,enjoy it!


Lyrics: (in Hanyu Pinyin for all Chinese learners)

dang huoche kairu zhezuo mosheng de chengshi
nashi chonglai jiu meiyou jianguo de nihong
wo dakai libie shi ni song wo de xinjian
huran gandao wubi de si nian
kan bu jian xue de dongtian buye de chengshi
wo tingjian youren huanhu youren zai kuqi
zao xiguan chuansuo chongman youhuo de heiye
dan que wufa wangji ni de lian
you meiyou ren ceng gaosu ni wo hen ai ni
you meiyou ren ceng zai ni riji li kuqi
you meiyou ren ceng gaosu ni wo hen zaiyi
zaiyi zhezuo chengshi de juli (repeat)

you meiyou ren ceng gaosu ni wo hen ai ni
you meiyou ren ceng zai ni riji li kuqi
you meiyou ren ceng gaosu ni wo hen zaiyi
zaiyi zhezuo chengshi de juli
ou~

#The main idea of the lyrics in English:

Has Anybody Told You --- Chen Chu Sheng

When the train entered the strange city
Those were the neon lights I have never seen
I opened up the letter you gave me at our parting
Felt incomparable missing suddenly
No snow here in winter, sleepless city
I heard that some people are cheering,some are crying
Already used to shuttle the dark nights full of temptations
But unable to forget your face
Has anybody ever told you that I love you so much
Has anybody ever cried in your diary
Has anybody ever told you that I'm very concerned about
Concerned about the distance from the city(repeat)

Has anybody ever told you that I love you so much
Has anybody ever cried in your diary
Has anybody ever told you that I'm very concerned about
Concerned about the distance from the city
Oh

Adventures

 (Originally posted on 25 July 2008 in: China, Sanya)

This time while I'm writing for my blog, I'm surrounded by the most amazing lime stone peaks. I'm in a town called Yangshuo, in one of the Southern provinces of China, and the scenery is fantastic, sublime, jaw-dropping and...bizar. we arrived 4 days ago at nighttime in the city Guilin. Well, we almost hadn't arrived at all because we almost, ehm, missed the plane. Yeah, well, the thing is there are a lot of domestic flights in China. They are cheap and you can book them one minute in advance if you want to. So we booked our flight on Wednesday to fly away from our palmbeach bounty island on Friday. Allthough the last couple of days it was a bit of a soggy bounty; we finally were remembered what the word 'monsoon' implies. No dramas (T's favourite expression) though, because after 10 days the beach gets kind of...sandy, and sticky, and salty. So we entertained ourselves with, let me think, not with much that's for sure, well, I can't remember but we were entertained. mainly by eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at wonderful Western-food restaurants. Man, they had to use a horse-cart to carry the loads of pizza's and tortilla's we stuffed our faces with. Luckily I was able to sustain supermodel figure by playing in the sea, dodging the waves like crazy. Happy times man. If there was a market for body-surfing-without-board, I would offer myself as a tutor (80 Yuan per hour). All you do is just dive with the wave just before it curls, and don't forget to take a deep breath. Sometimes the waves are a bit bigger than you had calculated with the result of being mercilessly slapped to the seabottom as if you were a bag of unappreciated potatoes. (I know I'm using some Dinglish here: Dutch/English, but hey, hope it works). So after a few hours of feeling like unappriciated potatoes, I think you're allowed to eat some appreciated fried ones.
Besides eating and being live beach entertainment for all the Chinese passer by-ers, we did actually have one real adventure. That was the day D, T and I rented scooters to explore the island. The scooters were brought out from a crack under the stairs in our hostel, dusted off by the chef-cook/handyman, who subsequently tried to bring the things to life. One worked fine and stood purring, ready to go. The other one however, had some difficulty regaining consciousness after what we guessed had been a long winters sleep. We had almost given up hope when the beast started roaring, and slightly nervous I mounted the saddle. I gently twisted the gas-handle, and off we went! Driving grandma style at first, amazed by our courage to venture into the mass of cars, bicycles, randomly crossing pedestrians and crazy motorbikes that is calles Chinsese traffic, we quiclky gained confidence and speed. We skilfully manouvered our bike through the mess and found some nice, relatively quiet roads heading towards even-better-bounty beach. All went fine, racing along the highway with quite amazing view on the hills with lush greens forests. Highway sounds pretty cool, but there weren't that many cars and the drivers were actually very well behaved. This seems the right time to give a short note on Chinese traffic. The first thing you need to know is that if you're on a Chinese road, you need a horn. The biggest, loudest horn you can find. And get one which is easy to reach because you.will.need.it. People don't use index lights. If they want to move, they just blow the horn untill everything is blown out of the way and they can proceed their journey. Luckily, Chinese are 'careful' drivers, so if you are peacefully cycling/walking at the far right side of the road, no oncoming traffic in sight, they still blow the horn, suitable for the Titanic, at least three times, just in case you got a fit of retardedness and suddenly jumped into the middle of the road. Anyway, DAMN those bloody horns. I used to think. Untill I got myself onto a scooter. Addicted after only five minutes I beeped my way between cars and motorcyclists, beeping twice just in case.
But than, happily beeping away, disaster stroke. I turned the gashandle, preparing for a spurt up a hill, and...nothing, no more power. The thing quit. We parked on the slope and while dark clouds assambled above our heads (this is no lie, there really were clouds), we grasped our heads trying to think of a solution. Desperately trying to wave down passing traffic for help, we felt panic rising in our bodies, as a threatening wind suddenly started blowing. Haha, nooh,

Damn, i know this is a crucial point in the story, but meanwhile I am already three days ahead. In fact, I am in the most noisy internet cafe on...Hong Kong Island. I saved this story when some guy came up to me to ask how long I still needed to use the internet. There was only 1 computer so I felt guilty. My internet time here is also nearly up so I will just post this story untill I have time to finish it!

ohoh 4 minutes left, better post it!

bye bye my friends, papah and mamah,...ok, brothah and sistah..gotta post!