si, si nicholas e' una casa meravigliosa....

i wish to point out the following;
no sleep til bristol
buses and buses and buses to brisvegas airport
no, i dont have any liquids
except those ones there
sorry about that... again
flight to orio al serio... otherwise known as bergamo or milan bergamo
what a load of bollacks
i could see bergamo alto from the train
made me all sooky for the ilaria daze
cruised past dalmine on the autostrada
train to genova from milano centrale
texts stronzuomo saying i will be there around 7
no answer, no interest
arrive and spend 2nd last euro to get the toy train from principe to sarzano
stroke of genoese brilliance no.1-take 30 years to build a shitful little metro line
have a stop at one of the main stations, which cooincidentallyh is underground
but whatever you do, dont join the underground main station to the underground metro station
make the suckers walk up and out and up and out and around and for fucking miles to then go down down deeper and down
fucking eeejiots
communque
finally arrive at casa stronzo.. but theres no answer to the doooooh
sitting in via ravecca passing time
got not credit left on italian fone
got not credit left on uk fone
cant contact anybody
got no euros
got no money in bank account
only money is on credit card, but i dont have a bloody pun
cant get no credit man
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
in the end make a dash for the office of mr mountains and the beauty of his shock when i wombat into the office
good old life saving mr mountains... long may he diatribe
____________________________________________________________________
in genova there was erik
he was off his face
lovesick and not little squilibrato
his shower was green
the hot water was a trial to achieve
duck your head and turn the yellow knobs
paolino is loving his new music collection
in his luffly house with a view of campo pisano over the porto.. sort of
marco is on form
marco is always on form
marghe is on super form... tales of tall and true
mr mountains is barking
barking, woof woof, rock n roll
unibank credito in via dante is a merda
passed 4 hours waiting for service
mentolocale is still doing apertivi
still asking too much money
money runny nose
monica is there
hello monica is there
quanto sei simpatica....

________________________________________________________________

napoli-
arrive in a weary old state
too cold or not too cold
sit up a drinking with lovely laura
talking and chiacchierando
tutti e both
next day is rest day
feeling not too energetic
another evening of drinking and smoking
watching fillums and talking bollocks with l and antonella
also chat with housmates, err him, him and her... and friendly paco perbacco
day 3 and was a day of gringoism
walking tour of old napolitown
really very lovely
fantastic streets rammed with people
the presepe streets
the that street
lots of interesting stuff to do and see
and all the more appealing with a charming hostess
find a funky prez for the sorellina
try the babA, try the sfogliatella...
ooh that babA is sooaaaked in rhum not ron
gotta do it man, im napoletano now
both delightfully delishvous
the presepi are amazingly intricate
pity they are based upon lies and propoganda
look at jewellery shoppes and snaffle a ring and a post nasal stabbage
lovely l buys the ring for me
what a kind being...
wander down by the piazza del popolo
the palazzo reale
and some pitchas down by the watttta
it was really lovely
fresh but not too cold
the sun did show and make it all fancy dancy
back to vomito and walking about looking for a gnarli rad shop
we find after many moons but its closssssssssssed
back for a chill winston
then its orf again around vomito looking for gnarli rads, sleeping pills and train tix
no joy there
in the end plump for change of idea and herbal slippages
decide to drop into gs rip off market and buy years supply of stuff at an exorbitant prices
lovely l is not a happy bunny
back to herr place, trying desperately to sort train tix online
but the trenitalia site is a mare
in any language
hoping against hope my cc hasnt been frozen following email
after seemingly hours of stress its all done
and im very happy
guests show up and i get to play tropical fush
dont see much of the hostess
which is a pity
eating napolitan pizzas
like they should be done
drinking beers and wotnot else
passing spliffs and playing a silly board game called taboooooooooo
kind of unfair on rusty non mother tongue speakers
so i just swear a lot
followed by sleepless in neaples...

high hoe, high hoe

its off to napolilandia i go....

thrills mills and smellybakes

a blur of a brisvegas
a weekend of giggles and more giggles
highlighted by saturday night right
a few casual drinkies and yummy munchies at ems
the people flowed
i ebbed
and we are off and racing in a phlange
to the mingers arms
its cold and dark on the firm streets of brisvegas
doon and doon we go
feeling a bit weirdy
go sit that way
then find a room with people in it innit
theres smelly shelley
she isnt really that smelly and very lovely
new and strawberry matt
some other fresh faced chap
some rather dull bloke who turns out to be the friend of twat
not a big suprise that
a hairy christian is found with his laydee
faisel the popular
and some more thangs
a big phat pint of hooooooooooergarten
catherine is falling down all over the shop
convinced we need to hijack a taxi
then off to the prince of whales
not that one
or that one
or maybe it wasnt
we wandered through a dodgy park
someone went missing
chris had no feeer
odd place that
downstairs, bowling thang, upstairs and outstairs
chatting and blahing all over the various stairs
quite fun that
except the twats didnae wanner serve me after dung bell ringing time
ive been waiting here 10 minutes i said
no you havent barnob says
yes i bloody have i said
then its orf back to party hearty at georgelandia
ragtag bunch of tagrags and toerags
and we are off and racing in 15 or so
martin on spliff duty
catherine on crazy saucy dancing with flowers
juicy and em helping out
chris on spliff duty
faisel on baby shaking duty
everybody on various drinking duty
and many more grates
then a large twat showed up, matt the following
he sooked and was shit until sooking at em for having a life
then ringing and abusing people and leaving unpleasant messages
what an enormous act of fuckwittery
even for that enormous fuckwit
fortunately nobody particularly cared
too busy good timeing
singing dancing spliffing boozing pilling and grinning like big bad muppets
taking photos in the extreme
til at least 4
i went to bed at midday and slept all day
missing all day boozing at the pub, NEXT DOOR
in the evening it was all off to juicyland for home delivered debacle curry
four luvved up and fuzzy people just enjoying eachothers company
not an early night either
catherine didnt want to goooooo
so she stayed and watched chopper with us
then freaked out coz a man with a knife was going to stab her
and spent a good 40 minutes wandering upstairs and downstairs
making my sides hurt with larfffta
sad farewells to vomity boots catherine in the middle of the noiwt
monday the day of rest
pfiffed pfaffed and read benji some bedtime tintin
packing in the hall staying up late watching 342434 channels of stuff
funny that
farwethewells in the morn and its orf on another transport binge...

mangia merda padre del cazzo

Padre Pio 'faked his stigmata with acid'

By Peter Popham in Rome

Published: 25 October 2007

Padre Pio, the friar with fingerless gloves whose image is found on a million Catholic key chains; who was canonised before 200,000 ecstatic pilgrims five years ago, was a charlatan who deliberately mutilated himself with acid to give the appearance of bearing the stigmata of Christ, according to evidence to be published next week.

The Italian historian Sergio Luzzatto will release Padre Pio, Miracles and politics in 20th century Italy – a book producing new evidence from Vatican archives, which he says proves that the charismatic friar secretly procured carbolic acid with which to burn his hands, feet and sides.

The allegations are not new: two successive popes regarded Padre Pio as a fraud. By 1920, when Pio was 33 and was already exhibiting his scars before masses of pilgrims, the church was worried that his cult was spinning out of control. Reports commissioned by the church claimed Pio regularly scourged himself with a metal-tipped whip, and had sex with women twice a week. For many years Pio was banned from celebrating mass in public.

Of particular concern to the church were the ugly, weeping wounds which Pio concealed under those fingerless gloves. The friar claimed that he had received the stigmata of Christ – wounds to his hands, feet and side like those suffered by Christ during his crucifixion – at the culmination of a mystical seizure.

A doctor sent by the Vatican to examine them concluded that the wounds were probably caused and maintained artificially. To test the hypothesis he bound the wounds and sealed the bandage to prevent it being tampered with. But on examination a month later the doctor was nonplussed to find that the wounds had failed to heal.

Yet now Mr Luzzatto claims to have unearthed documents that prove beyond reasonable doubt that the friar was a trickster.

In the summer of 1919, the 28-year-old cousin of a pharmacist in the southern city of Foggia, a deeply religious young woman called Maria de Vito, made the pilgrimage to Pio's church, San Giovanni. The pharmacist told his local bishop, Mgr Salvatore Bella, "When she returned to Foggia she brought the greetings of Padre Pio and asked me in his name, and in strict secrecy, for carbolic acid, telling me that Padre Pio had need of it, and giving me the little bottle he had given her, capacity 100g, and with a skull and crossbones."

The pharmacist jumped to what Mr Luzzatto believes is the right conclusion. "My thought was that the carbolic acid could be used by Padre Pio to procure or further irritate wounds on his hands."

Mr Luzzatto cites the note written by Pio to the young woman, Maria de Vito, "though much more neatly than his normal hand".

Invoking the blessings of Jesus, Pio writes baldly: "I am in need of 200g or 300g of carbolic acid for sterilising. I pray you to send it to me on Sunday." This, claims Mr Luzzatto, is the smoking gun. If he had really needed the acid for sterilising purposes, he demands, "why did he proceed in such an oblique manner?"

Mr Luzzatto's claims, splashed across a full page of Corriere della Sera, Italy's best-selling daily, were furiously denounced by Pietro Siffi, president of the Catholic Anti-defamation League. The "presumed proofs are absolutely false," he said. "According to Catholic doctrine, canonisation involves the infallibility of the pope."

muppet day in bristol

tis a big day round this parts
oooh arrr my lovaarrrrrrr
theres a bday affair for little miss muppet
we are going to a pub called the pub
then to anuvva pub called the pub
then going to sit out back of her place under a gaze-bo
they used to be called place-bo
in the meantime the rain has stopped and the soooonshine is oot
many important peoples will be there
catherine the great
martin the great
chris the great
juicy the great
joe the great
emma the great
faisel the great
claire the great
that other bird the great
that bloke the great
me the great
lots of other people the great
but not grim the great
unfortunately....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it seems i fell off a bike
maybe i couldnt find a parking for it
i dont know anything
no, not much at all.....
only that i fly from rome to far fucking away in 8 days
erik the stronzo is dead silent
coz hes in luff
the figa might be bizzaay
ive got parcels going to mo
but they are going missing
and addressed to sheep
where the hell am i going to fly to
im flying on blue monday
to bloody where?
the prices keep salendo
arghghhghghg
my brain is in a state of flux

a juice is loose in the hoose with a mousse

holsten pils 7 for a fiver and stella a quid each

stockwell road brixton
or is that brixton road stockwell?
sure he does....
i have been camped here for a week and a half
the tent is out the back
behind the coq sportif
nowhere to park your bike tho
uniteds front line needs reinforcing
susan sarandon reminds me of somebody
with vucinics second
fell to pieces
just a word then
milky joe isnt happy with the holsten
i just wish he could keep his cool with those penalties... freddie
the exponentially expanding friendlist
viola wot?
the general welfare of the soldiers
she just pulls the tab and off they come
dead man walking just doesnt compel me
silly men discussing silly game moreso
what might that say about the chap down below bellowing about his missing shoe?
catherine went to bed
too cold she cried
its sevilla one
arsenal one
bugger...

and then everything was M A R V E L L O U S...

FUCK YOU, FUCKING PRICK!


John Howard! You’re a fucking cunt.
John Howard! You’re a bloody liar.
John Howard! You’re full of shit.
John Howard! Why dont ya get fucked.

c/o Victims of Noah

and everything was terrible...

england v croatia euro 2008 qualifiers 2-3, football's hasn't even called home...

albion

ridiculous argos store...


everything is lovely after australia score , except i didnt see it...
get off silly iberia plane
will there enough time to get to the fitba?
check out transport options
heathrow express
heathrow tube
heathrow connect
heathrow lavatory legs
plump for the intermediate one and im orf...
v hungry and forced to eat shite from vending machines... first time in a long time
change at paddlington and tube it to oxford circass then change again to heading souf
orf at stockwell and down the road that im begining to know well
arrive at the far side and into the arms of my beloved cat
who has cooked up a storm
eat a storm, speak some bollocks, shower and head out to craven cottage for the fitba
wondering where do they get off
we find craven cottage and a huge swell of australians
not as excruciating as i had feared
get in sneakily and find out theres no booze til arf time
bastards
take our seatage and marvel at how ickle the place is
the players are just... over there
game is fun and my brain is playing along
in a clever ploy i go to the bar before half time
but they are being twats
eventually we stock up and sit in an enclave
surrounds by hordes of australians
not as excruciating as i feared
one ridiculous 18 year old is swaying and staggering
oz flag draped around her shoulders and she cant walk or talk
we quaff our stuff as you cant take booze into the stands
clever ploy backfires as we miss the only goal of the match
funk dat
anyway
after the goal the atmos is fab
jumping up and down and loads of chanting
oz play well and so do nige
oz wins 1-0 and everything is okay
we bus it back and start drinking
oh dear
__________________________________________________________________

team keeps on moving and a few days pass with doing not much
just hanging about above the pub
evening boozing sessions and lots of fun chatting and catching up
at some point a trip to argos to get some blank dvds to steal lots of films
and shock bloody trevor its the shop from the future
nothing in the shop except catalogues
feeling very 3rd world i figure it out
you find what you want in the catalogue
write down the number
go and pay then wait to be called to pick it up
very whizz bang and definitely the way of the FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTURE
quite liking brixvegas
has its charms
very multicultural innit like?
___________________________________________________________________

plans gradually falling into place
go to here when where?
flights to oz
flights to somewhere in italy
coaches around uk
trains around italy
staying here where and what?
confucious said that he had lost his left sock at the laundromat
lucky bloody him
watching dvds on johnnies obscenely big and clever projector with big o soundo
very very very fucking impressive
enough to make you wanna take drugs
___________________________________________________________________
last night big game o foot o ballo
england v croatia
england needed a draw to go to euro 2008
the drama, the passion, the boots
incredible bad start with the goalie gifting a goal to croatia
shortly after another fuck up and its 2-0 down
the commentators on five live are in disbelief
catherine gets in so we head downstairs to watch the 2nd half in the pub
lots of doom and gloom and some nice soup
england get a rubbish penalty and the place cheers up
they get an equalizer and the place goes mental
then croatia score again and its hat throwing time
all over and lots of miserable englanders mope about
i have some staropromen and go to beddy byes

watch out for iguanas

an iberia plane being shit




so iberia are shit
they are so shit
they were shit in 2001
they were shit on the way there and shit on the way back
the plane was late leaving crackvis
they didnt bother letting people know about the chances to missing connecting flights
when i asked about it the answer was 'oh well they will put you on the next one', disinterestedly
twats
i was an hour late into madrid was offered no assistance to speed my way to connecting flight in around 25 mins
hurried off to find the next plane
get sent to the wrong place
stood in a queue and watched the clock eat my time
eventually at the front they tell me i was in the wrong place
cursing in 3 languages i go to the other check
only to be told i had to go back
fuck that
i insisted and got thru to find the gate deserted
legged it to a helpdesky place
while some lady farked around for 45 mins
and eventually told me i was on the next flight boarding now at gate x
so i rush of to gate x to see it deserted
i ask the unhelpful bints who say the next flight is at that gate
so i sit, listen to a pair of south africans complain
the clock is ticking away and there is nobody there.. and its not up on the monitor
so i go off to another helpdesky thing
where they send me back to the fucking empty gate
eventually 10 mins before take off i go and hassle the silly bints at the gate
oh, its at another gate they say snottily
fucking idiots
im bussed away through concrete tunnels to the other fucking side of the place
and board via the back
then... as we are preparing to take off they say the delay is caused by 3 passengers not boarding
and that they are unloading their baggage
a horrible thought struck me that i might be one of them as they didnt even seem to know i existed and i never officially boarded
they check and say all is cool but i dont believe anything they say anymore
then, to top it off.... they charge for food on the flight
on a fucking scheduled flight!!!!
fuck iberia and fuck rubbish spanish customer service

watch out for posadas

not frank not showing his
not butt

somebody else riding not sad ken

still in los llanos
despite the fact that this is now several days ago
big snorefest ensued
and lots of sulking from the roman twat
new day of adventures
we tumble in the jeep and i cop a view from the top
very sschpecktular miss moneyshot
off to another accampento and for a bote trip
we cruise around in little canoe
looking for groovy wild animals
we see pink dolphins but the bastards wont sit up for a photo
selfish gits
we see errr lots of birds, capybara, one in particular called frank that only wanted show us his but, groovy iguanas, a big hairy arsed baby bird in its nest, and some other stuff that may well have been amazing but it slips my reverse flushed mind
back for lunch a siesta and then........
we go for a horsey horsey ride
im pretty freaked coz horses are big monsters with swishy wishy tails
i ask for a horse with one leg
they laugh and away we go at a nice stately little pace
im told off for being to nice to the horsey
apparently you gotta show them whos boss
but im a big softy and i lurv animals
not in the farmlove sense mind...
we plodded about for a bit
after a while i got a bit courageous and took the bugger up to 2nd gear
my horse was called caballo... mysterious name that
i wish i had called him sad ken
but im just not that funny
it went on for a couple of hours and in the end the horse not called sad ken got a bit of a trot on
so i got an even sorer arse and other nethery regions
how on earth do you ride one of those things
anyway now im a big tuff cowboygauchojackaroo
with my howard carter hat
when its over theres another party with a band playing thththh music
and lots and lots of beers
and some little pipe efforts under the stars
michela wants to talk in english and i wanna talk in italian but we find some common ground
might be all that beer
the local band are really quite good but i dont get into it
some folks are dancing and stuff then a star shows up
the fabled giant ant eater that we had started to doubt existed
he wombles around and drinks beer and is surrounded by drunken buffoons
i get a bit close and he wants to play with me
hes a big fucker and i freeze assuming thats what one does
til im shouted at and i get outtay there
helene is flirting with all the local boys
especially pomodoro and junior
all good for giggles for me and the english blokese
then its all over and im chatting to a disappointed jr
he tells me its iraq in our big roomage
im off my trellis and expected a big fight and wanted to snot the roman twat
but not much really...
swinging in the hammocks
or is that swingeing
ninna nanna and all that rot
next day feeling kinda seedy and we are off and racing
to barinas where jr sorts out a ticket for me
which is great coz i really couldnt be arsed
eat big chicken, the best in barinas apparently
then say the farewells and its onto the coach
what follows is a big ridiculous farce
nobody can tell me what time the bus will get to caracas
or more precisely they all make up different numbers
it take cken ages and im thinking i might be on the wrong bus
poor vanessa is coming to meet me at the terminal
but my batteries die and i dont know what the fuck is going on
several hundred years later we get to the terminal after a gazilliion years of traffic
then we turn around and go to another one
im finally off and ring vanessa from one of those little stands
and she comes to get me
in the meantime im getting seriously cranky at all the maggots who keep calling me gringo and trying to shovel me onto a taxi
eventually lovely v shows up looking v stressed and it back to hers in a crab
quick hellos to simona the nutter and a play on the nerd them sleep
all too soon its uppy time and packing
vanessa takes me out to get a hammock and a leones t shirt
and then rushes off to university and luis come with me to the hairport
what a lovely man
a crab, some dodgy bead shopping and a bus later
we are at the airport where hes trying to help me out by translating spanish into spanish and guide me around the place
bless him
queue in the longest queue to get thru immigration
may well have been an hour as the dozy cow was pathetic
then its thru and onto the plane
iberia are shit
we are delayed but there is no explanation
im way too late to get my connection from madrid to london im all the the place
standing in queues
rushing about and getting useless info and being hopelessly misdirected
fuck iberia and madrid airport are diabolically bad

watch out for los llanos

this piranha is not the one i caught.. some bloke got it in brasil and i stole the image... mine was much harder, it had a gun

right there i was

up and early dooooring about

jump into jeepage with 2 italian birds, swiss german and meet fellow travellers

a roman who turned out to be a huge wanker and 2 coventry lads

off we go...

we stop to look at an old stone church

which didnt thrill me much

then driving driving driving driving driving driving

up through mountains and back down again

for a loooooooong time

lunch at a roadside place with crazy big roast stuff

the roman was decidedly weird

more driving and the option of going white water rafting..

we try it on

im a bit worried and take the 2nd seat after being given the first coz of my 'experience'

fell in the water a couple of times and did lots of effort

hoping against hope the brokes wouldnt arrive

the day so hot and the water so deliciously cool

we finish with some beers

some crazy lady on the street told me something about being hermoso and something else i didnt get

more driving followed to arrive at 11 at the accampamento

some beers and some sleep in the hamaca

next morning we are off to go piranha fishing

very cool

a few unsuccesful spots and we are away

no luck for me or any other gringos except peter from coventry

eventually got one

scary scary little fuckers with nasty teeth

then we go looking for big anacondas

the guide, junior and some other fellas go wandering around swampy stuff with big sticks

no luck really

on the way back we see a little one which gets cranky when junior tries to pick it up

hardly epic 8 metres we had heard about

back to the accampamento for a big old booze up

i only had about 10 then went to bed first

party pooper shooter

its a long story

i sit before a steaming keyboard in brixton

but thats not really the point

it all started way back when... um then..

an obscenely long bus ride from ciudad bolivar to merida

full of bad bad bad films

a charming gent called dieter came to get me from the bus station

rescuing me from some over friendly venezuelan dude who wanted to be my bus trip companion

but seemingly only spoke worse spanish than me

quein lo sabe el porque

maybe he was just trying to talk to a green go

farked if i knew

but i wasnt interested in the view at the front

anyway

dieter said i had sod all hope of getting a gig at the teleferico

apparently there would be long queues and i would need to book for another day

but i dont have another day!

a kwik stop at the luvverly posada allemana suisse

markus put me at ease

i sorted some stuff with my addled brain and set off with dieter to the teleferico with a sinking heart

but what to lose?

it looked grim on arrival with a laaarge q

wot

wot

wot did that vino tinto say

.....

oh yeaaaaaaaaaah

standing the long q

not really aware of what was going on but aware in that hyper sensitive way that the default traveller brain can only do

then a bloke comes up and offers me a spare ticket

in castellano

the imperative seconds pass by before it registers

is he another dodgy fucker in this universe of dodgy fuckers

much stalling and fobbing off of other would be recipients follows

and a deal is done with marvin

a student from a university somewhere in the north

which i cannot comprehend

and i have a ticket

brill..

that lady tries to butt in and buy it

but im onto it and the deal is done

its for 10.30 but the chaps say to give it a try

they are 5 perhaps

on a wkd of fun

farked if i know what they are on about

my castellano is suffering badly

lots of grinning and shuffling follows

and we all end up on the next teleferico

#me first and they follow

a fantastic vuuuueu

four different beasties over five stops

we make bad small talk and listen to the cd of commentary

each time the car goes over a pylon the passengers go

whoooooooooooooooah

very cool

a blur of stops and wanders

buy a coffee here..

or a hat there

fresos con crema

and im at the top

the brain gets cranky and puts the question out there

altitude sickenss?

a sanddddewich and a bad hot chocolate and we are at thetop

wander to see the view

2 lakes and a possible horse thing

take a photo of a bloke

whose english is much better than my castellano

hurry back for the next car

but miss it

hoping the brain is ok

next time around im there

quite spooky last stop

over rocky stuff

a suspiously new car

more on that later

at the top the clouds move in

a jesus in the nube

a wander about and photo not taken

what was that token aboriginal statue?

buy the surprisingly reasonalbe priced hat

and back back back down

will it all be ok or wil the brain spit it?

marvin and the boys are long gone
trying on this video biz
way over my head
search a souvenier, but not rubella injections
get a crab back to the posada
unfortunately the driver doesnt know it
not even for seven thousand
my spanish has gone with the wind
we get there
my room is .. ridiculous
no really , that was the term

this is getting hard just now

back at the posada
2 double beds and a strange head
meet blonde italian lady
what more could i want

time and beers pass with a snooze
meet the other one and some apparent not italians from sud tirol
such a bore this whole nationality thing
decide to card it
why not... the farce continues
dinner with my travelling companions
michela, helene and swiss girl.. she doesnt say much
karin
with the accent in the right place
a big old walk to the place
will it ever end?
past all kinds of dodgy places
to the chicken on the brasa place
only ones home
simona rings!
what on earth is she on about?
inside, outside, addled we go
hope to explain the sitch
did vanessa know what went on
did she read the mensajes?
negotiate a crab back and some more beers and nerd before hometime..
basta por ahora...
pleeeze
but its only one day
and so much putty to fill...

something comes crashing down

more bloody arepas

all the doggies go bow bow bow

from A to B in not just one easy fucking long bus trip

dateline
a tv show with globetrotting george
qualcosa di qualcosa
merida town
apparently the nicest, cleanest, richest and safest town or city in venezuela
seems quite nice, clean, rich and safe to me
i could just be being naif tho...
im good at that
staying at casa aleman suisse
which was super highly recommended by some dutch people in bolivar city
dont lean on me man coz i cant afford the ticket
back to bolivar city
http://www.casa-alemana.com/
its pretty damn fab it must be said
run by markus a swiss german bloke
with 2 big old boxer dogs
just woke up after much needed snooze
had a lonnnng bus trip from plc
18 odd hours
with a couple of normal ones thrown in
some geezer wanted to chat with me at one of the stops
but he didnt have anything to say
and his spanish was disgraceful
i can only guess he thought he was speaking gringo speak
another traditional old venezuelan civil engineer
well theyre alright for civil engineers then
they are having a bloody civil engineer party.
they put on bloody black dog
not an interesting dissection of winston churchills less cheery episodes
but an absolute piece of crap with patrick swayze trying to be moody
meatloaf trying to be tuff
and randy travis .... dont know what he was trying to be
coz i couldnt figure out which one he was
but with a name like that...
afterwards, they put on continuous salsa rubbish music for hours on end
porca fucking miseria
did manage quite a few dabs of schleep tho
so arrived here this morn in reasonabubble brain shape
friendly dieter came to pick me up from the bus station in his big shiny 4 wheel job
i dropped my load and they took me straight off to the teleferico
with the warning that i probably wouldnt be able to get on coz its so busy
that would have sucked
just after i showed up a student dude told me he had a spare ticket
so not only did i get on, but i didnt have to queue for hours like everybody else!
is it, is it wick.....ed
damn cool teleferico that thing is
4 stages up to 4750 metres
and from hot to minus 12
lucky i had my lucky rod with me
so in 24 hours i went from sweltering and sweating my arse off on the bleach
to freezing and shaking my arse off on top of the andes
thats entertainment...
http://www.telefericodemerida.com/
anyway the teleferico was brill
it might be the biggest and splashiest in the world... im not sure tho
despite that fact that my brain wasnt playing along
hanging with these studenty types from somewhere in the north
their english far worse than my frazzled spanish
of course there is the virgen at the top
but i didnt dare take a pissytake photo in case i got attacked for being a disrespectful gringo
then back back back down
bought a silly hat
jumped into a crab with a driver that didnt know what he was doing
then got here...
drank some bleers, spoke some bollocks
herr markus has all the right answers
so manana im going on a four day trip to los llanos
a great big savannah thingy full of the nature and the animals and the the
matt johnson doing a one off gig
thatll be cool
now if only i could find my hairnet

port the cross

la piscina, the really rubbish beach where i went snorkelling
its hot
how hot?
'n hot
thats how hot
im in puerto la cruz and its hot
last tales involve an all day beer drinking and smoking frenzy with a south efrican bloke in ciudad bolivar
cant remember his name, but he was from durban and an accountant who lived in the cayman islands
contintued sleeplessness and all day bussing frenzy to puerto la cruz
pretty dull really
had to watch the same fucking adam sandler movie.. i decided to cut my eyes out
so now using braille keyboard and braille smalls
during the drinking frenzy i was variously told about how shit santa fa was
and how great santa fe was
couldnt be bovvered finding somewhere else so i took a punt
whilst waiting for the bus i thought about getting some cash out from a nearby cash machine
but decided i couldnt be bothered
also somehow managed to leave a little bag with about 40,000 bolivares (not as much as it sounds) in the taxi
taxi driver bus must have been happy
he had lived in italy washing dishes somewhere near lake garda
but didnt turn up to get his permesso di soggiorno and was amazed when they through him out
on arrival at santa fe wandered around like a muppet
til i found the posada,
right ON the bleach
was costlier than i hoped
but i certainly couldnt be farct looking for another
was hoping big time there would be a bank there
or soembody would accept visa
but no
luckiily amalia the owner was v kind and said i could pay her the next mornç
frantic searchging for funds followed
without much joy
so i had to hope there would be a bank that would let me draw over the counter on my visa
not very reassuring stuff really considering in caracas i had to go to the biggest arsed bank in the universe
had to be back by 11am for a boat trip to some islands
got funky little private bus to psc
wandered around sweating like a fool
found a bank, found out it was the wrong bank
found another bank
queued for approx 4 eternities
very relieved they said okay, even if i couldnt remember the correct mode of saying thousand
a big brawl almost broke out in the waiting room coz some dodgy cow tried to jump a queue or something
hoofed it back to bus terminal, booked a bus for today to merida
then got another silly bus back to santa fe
santa fe is tiny, but has about 100 metres along a luffly bleach with half a dozen posadas and a few muncheries
the water is not quite transparent coz of some seaweed but its v clean
the locals jog up and down the bleach the the fishing boaties buzz by quite often
not many gringos at all, a group or two of french geezers sat about looking quite french
rushed like a buttffoon after getting off at wrong stop only to discover the dude want going
spent pm getting friend and playing in the water out the front of the hotel
then getting drunk in the munching place on the beach next to the hotel talking to some well travelled but dull german guy and a truzzo from reggio emilia.
later on i met a genovese bloke who was thoroughly un thrilled to meet a muppet with a belin t shirt on... play down those stereotypes baby
next morning in no brain condition at all went to get agreed boat trip
except nobody else had shown up
so it was no dice
in the end i hassled him into talking his fishing boat mate with less teeth than most people into ttaking me to the isla arapo
bloody marvellous isla that
postcard stoof
walked through recent ruins and forest being scared of snakes to get to the piscina
thus called coz the water is so transparent that it looks like on
snorkeled there for a couple of hours
fucking brilliant
got nosefuls of salt water but saws loads of groovy coloured fish and brownish coral
really was a great big pair of dogs swingers
i kept reminding myself that it was that good
and it also was that good
then hoofed back to little town near the pier and got some munch, a little expensive munch on a little restauranty bar thing
ordered pollo and got half a dinosaurpollo
with more beer of course
ending up chatting with a couple of rather wealthy venezuealans that used to live in the us and had a daughter in trieste and a rooster up a tree in tasmania
they were lovely and had this ridiculous gung ho speed boat that they drove from plc for a day trip
all of a sudden they invited me for a trip
whilst ramming copious pollo and platanos and arepas and beers down my throat they sat around and nattered with owners
an incredibile butterfly of the most astounding azul flapped about and then landed on my beer and tried to scoff it... pity it was brown with its wings closed
then an iguana showed up and looked like a very tough mini dinosaur
then off we went for an hour and a half in this insane speed boat around the gulf
they plyed me with white wine and showed me all kinds of cool stuff
absolute magic
they dropped me back at arapo and i then got the more teeth than most people fisihing boatage back to santa fe
man the locals love a good stare at a gringo super blanco
especially one that is strategically red in all the wrong places
ate food, studied thththth in room and went to sleep very early
happy that i didnt bump into any truzzi, genovesi maleducati o tedeschi noisi

day cinco

the falls at canaima lagoon, very gnarli

and a pretty colonial church in ciudad bolivar

errr
got a long barss from crackvis to ciudad bolivar... took 10 hours...
v comfy tho..
but i had to sit through a film with sandra bollocks in it, she really sucks
and whats more i am convinced that she and michael jackson are really the same person
then came a film with adam sandler
fucking
whats worse the thththth bus driver put the language setting on the dvd to commentary
so i had to listen to adam sandler going on about how funny he is
fucking
things then brightened up a bit with 3 consecutive jaws films
had a natter with a bloke called herman who did graphicky designs for shops
finally got to ciudad bolivar and the dude came to meet me at the bus station
drops me off at posada don carlos
so very beautiful this place
colonial architecture
a plaza and native wood carvings all over the place
take up residence at bar
chat to marlon from trindidad, the barman
groovy spanish tour leader who wants to settle down
and japanese bloke living for 2 years in the jungle
v odd talking to a nihon jin in espanol..i tell you
too hot to sleep
next morning go to agency
mary mary is a spectacle and luis is a good bloke
then to hairport then get a 'bus' 3 hours
yakking away with swiss bloke
backpack falls apart to my dismay
but ronny saves the day with his swiss army knife
who would have a though a swiss bloke would have one of those?
followed by an enternity at a little airport in big nowhere waiting for 30 min flight to canaima
attempted to make small talk with local soldiers
i rocked
was joined up with a suisse couple who spent ages in oz and had slight oz accents
and 2 groovy german dottoresse
one in particular had the most amazing blue eyes and other fab quals as well
cheeky slightly mad laugh
it seemed i spent the whole trip seated behind her staring at the nape of her neck
i think i have become a nape fan
and to think that before i found the most sensuous part of a woman to be the boobies...
also joined a middle aged english couple who vote tory
start boat trip in long skinny motorised canoe
see some cool waterfalls
then walk it to a v cool big one
which we walked under
and for about 10 seconds straight thru the torrent
nearly blasts your head off and probs most dangerous
but very very invigoratin
back on boat for an eternity up the river something
sorest of butts from sitting on stupid plank of wood
and sorest of backs from sitting on stupid plank of wood
stay at dodgy camp
cant find bloody torch
surprisingly dont get eaten by mosquitos
next day up early and back on bastard boat
poor back
fab scenery of jungle but no animals
big tepui mountains make most dramatic scenery
back sucks
butt sucks
finally get to isla raton-mouse island
the 2nd camp where we have decided not to stay
the falls look only okayish from there
decided to risk the walk up up and through the jungle
quite a bit is steepish and problematic
its not too easy and i stop a few times for a rest
one hour later and the falls look brilliant from about 500 metres away
then we go nearer to the bottom
there is a cool pool where we flap about and chill
as its soooo hot and humid
extremely impressive
as is her bottom
back down speaking a strange mix of italian and spanish with the native guide dude
knackered on return scoffing huge amounts of chicken from the sput
a groovy little anteatery thing with a huge nose shows up and hangs around the campsite being cute for bits of chicken and photo ops
back in damn boat
blooody shit arse bollocks my back and butt hurt
2 hours later back at original site
my brain is in a frightening state of falling out
so little sleep for so long
over dinner and not drinks learn about lots of tourist destinations in venezuela
decide against orinocco delta trip
my butt couldnt take any more time in a bastard canoe
sleep in a hamaca
sort of
back on boatage next morn to go back to canaima
feeling kind grooved out
try to scam my way into a flight all the way back to ciudad bolivar
its fails
decide to not stay the extra night and get saucy plane bus combo back to ciudad bolivar
with great new german friends who teach all kinds of good words in german
colours, prostitute, good, bad, sky, try, i had sex with your mother behind a tree and my all time time favourite, arseloch....
back in cd
go for a wander nearby posada...
very pretty colonial architecture but too tired to care too much
just want some fags to accompany impending beerfest at the bar here at don carlos
wander down by the main street by the orinocco delta
but everybody speaks some kinda greek about fags
buggered if i know
plenty beers on return
finally meet some italians in hostel
sadly they are a middle aged couple who are sailing around the world
da milano e hanno una barca vela a rapallo
plus glaswegians, dutch, israeli miamese, french, french and spanish...
it seems i will be going to the bleach somewhere 5 hours up the road before going to merida and then to los llanos for animal looking at
if my brain doesnt fall out first
coz im v v v v v v v v v tired

youve got to go

perhaps my coach will look like this.... or perhaps the best value in the graveyard today

Salto Angel-the highest waterfall on this particular world... I hope to see this in a couple of days, Steve Inshallah

in a few moments i shall be leafffing to go to the rodavias bus station

to get the bus to ciudad bolivar

man they love him in these parts

not to mention portfolio bolivar

serpiente bolivar

pescado bolivar

thankyoudrivethru bolivar

how now brown bolivar

should be ciudad pollo

where adventure, big water, some jungle, small water, some people, the forgotten world or something and perhaps an itchy arse awaits

not sure when i shall blog again

probs not too many internerds available ooootttay thar

hasta la proxima

socialism at work

WARNING-THIS MAN IS A TWAT

what a conio of a day...

up around 7am and pfaffing around trying to sort crap out

big hurry going on so im power walking in the wake of vanessa
pobrecita angelica vanessa and i get a bus to the centre of town (or two)

because she was told that the ministry of health was the place to get anti malaria pills

so we get there

and mr army man says 'you cant' come in

fuck off

coz im wearing shorts

you cant enter government buildings with shorts on

what a bag o shite

so i decide to buy some trousers

coz i cant be farked going all the way back to get changed

i buy them in a nearby market and plan to put them on then and there

vanessa says its not correct

so we go off trying to find a toilet

first one is closed

2nd one is closed

3rd one is closed

im already v tired and becoming v cranky

i put them on over my shorts and we get in

we are directed to the something floor where we go

eventually some socialist party crony shows up and speaks a whole load of communist bollocks and takes us to another room

tell vanessa that she can sign the document

because she 'is the people'

we wait... nothing happens

eventually 5 people come back from some kind of break

they are truly doing fuck all

the office manager sits about looking all important banging on about nothing

but he clearly hasnt got a clue what hes talking about and hes trying to hide it

there is no anti malaria pill

there is no inocculation

there is no malaria

there is no earth

there is no me or you

there is just rubbish that he's making up....

go here

try there

go there

try here

coz he too most likely is a party crony

eventually the secretary takes us aside and suggests 15 things

each less plausible than the last

its pretty clear here that nobody has any idea what is going on

if the whole govt is run like this the country is in BIG trub

we go back to the original place but give up when nobody will help us

a ridiculous kids show comes on the monitor

we head off across town to another option

some kind of clinic where they do anti stuff

we get there and wait

people faff around incessantly

eventually vanessa butts in and we get to see this lady

who them claims that malaria medication is only for people who go to the jungle for 3 months or more

which is obvious shit

she says i can have a yellow fever booster

why not? i figure

so we go off and get stabbed for that

whilst stabbing was going on i asked the nurse about the anti malaria stuff

and she claims its the same innoculation!

which is shit, coz there is no innoculation for malaria...

im frazzled and confused and vanessa says it is all a mierda

we get the bus back to the flat

and head off again

i ring the agencie de viaje and the bird says i dont need where im going

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?

I give up, we get the bus to the banks

get some bolIvares and go shopping

get some anti mosquito stuff, sunglasses, mob phone credit, long sleeve shirts, thongs and some kind of grape flavoured soft drink which is way too sweet

we then get another bus up the road a bit more so vanessa can get some books for university

how many buses? how many ridiculous stories? how much incompetence?