There is nothing quite like having a nice meal, in a really nice restaurent, on the 13th floor of a hotel looking down on the busy Bosperous as you watch boats of all shapes and sizes, their lights, like pin pricks in the river in competition with the pall of stars over night. Especially, if the restaurent is as cool as, Vogue.

What I like about the Bosperous at night is the sheer business of the river. There seems like a constant parade of ships up down and across. Then you have the beautiful minarets on the horizon announcing Islams presence all around and then you have the thousands of local fishermen on bridges and on the river's side chatting to each other and swishing their hooks overhead. 

Last night I met a very nice gentleman called Michael Sullivan who works for Microsoft as out competitive lead for the Middle East and African region (MEA). He told me a little about his fascinating life and what it's like to live in Istanbul for 3 years. Michael, has 5 children, 2 from a previous relationship from his ex-wife, two that his current Turkish wife had from a previous relationship and one that they had together, a 3 year old named Deirdre.

Michael told us all about the kamakazie culture of the car drivers here; the calmness and tranquility that the Bosperous gives to so many locals at night, the fear that the country is going to experience another earhquake soon, the fact that there is little or no Irish community in Istanbul for him to hang out with, the huge appetite that Turkey has at a grass roots level to join Europe, while the current political leadership seems to be slowly steering itself to the Arab world.

When asked about Ireland. He dreams of living in West Cork, Baltimore but feels that the economic recovery in the country will probably take a decade if not longer to reaslise itself. Michael, was a colourful character full of interesting facts and strories. He kindly brought Camila and I to the water's front after our meal where we walked at midnight along the coast as we visited smoking tea shops, bought popcorn and candy floss, and tried our best to converse with the locals. We watched the fishermen laughing and chatting incessantly as the water bounce and flicker as the moon sent it's beams crashing off the top of a giant mosque beside. Young adloscents dotted on the grass in the local park, playing guitars, dancing and kissing. It was easy to see why Michael loves Istanbuls so much and why he is proud to now call it his "home".

Staring at the eyes of Tutankhamen

I’ve just come from Cairo were I was staying two days to do some work with the local recruitment team. The traffic was as bad as ever (the worst I’ve ever seen, bar India). The pyramids majestic and imperial as I glanced at them through a slow moving taxi. The crimson alabaster horizon descending on the water of the Nile as it twinkled and shimmered beside Cairo tower. White soldiers in their black berry hats as ubiquitous as I remembered.

On this occasion I had the good fortune to have a lovely dinner with 4 of my Muslim colleagues from Egypt. The trip will be memorable for the open and candid conversations on far ranging topics and one very interesting conversation in particular where I learned some interesting facts about Islamic faith:

1. Muslims refrain from eating meat where the animal has not been slaughtered with all the blood removed from its body. They believe the cleansing of the blood from the carcass removes unhealthy toxins that should be avoided for a longer life.
2. When getting up at 4am for the first prayer of the day, which normally last 3 minutes, they get extra “credits” if they wash their face in cold water before they return to sleep.
3. A Muslim man can have many wives. Sometimes as many as 4.
4. A Muslim man can marry a Christian woman. However, a Muslim woman can only marry a Christian if he agrees to convert to Islam. She is forbidden from converting to Christianity.
5. Muslims in Egypt think that the Libyan accent is very swave and sexy.
6. Muslims vehemently believe that God is God; Mohammed is his prophet, they should travel to Mecca once in their life time and also they should be generous to the poor.
7. The wearing of traditional head garments is optional but often influenced by parents and grandparents.
8. There is little or no Sunni Muslims in Egypt.

These people were the perfect hosts and introduced me to a treasure throve of foods from Lebanon, Turkey and Egypt, the most of which I have forgotten the name of. They bought me sugar cane drinks and beer and told me all about the local music behemoths and latest up and comers. A great night out and I look forward to more like that in the future.

On this occasion I got the chance again to go face-to-face with the inimitable Tutankhamen mask. This time like the last time there wasn’t as many tourists around and I had a very good informative local guide to myself that I paid a very well worth 10 euros for one hour. After looking at Tutankhamen’s beguiling chairs, urns, weapons, jewellery and pottery (and despite a guard shouting “stop that photo” to a tourist beside me who had tried to take a photo of the mask with his iPhone) the time I spent looking at the riches of the young King’s tomb, in his sarcophagus chamber, was quite and tranquil with only a few others around. As I studied the mask and stared unflinchingly into its eyes a calmness and happiness entered me. I felt as if I could have stayed there happily for hours, days or even eons. Calmness pervaded the air, as if the air itself was leaving off some noble scent that allowed me magically time travel. I have been very lucky to travel as far and as wide as I have. For the minute or two I stood silent looking at the mask I transported myself to other locations I have been and that have imprinted themselves in my mind as clear as a deep inscription in an Ohm stone that has stood the tests of time. I looked deep inside and what came out were memories of the Pantheon when the air from the main chamber hit my eye as I peered through the main door at night. The first approach to Machu Pichau early in the morning as the condor flied overhead; the women and their fragile silk sewing machines of Luang Prabang; the dancing with local Chinese on a cold Friday night in Beijing in a small remote square beside the Shangri-La hotel. Many of these moments came back to me while looking at the mask. Like the treasure all around I couldn’t help but feel that like Tutankhamen and I had something in common that words could not express - and, written not in hieroglyphics, Greek, Latin, English or Arabic but with the ink of the rambling vagabond spirit.

Dubai

When Adidas marketing executives came up with their “Impossible is Nothing” campaign they must have got their inspiration from this sun blasted rich state of glamour and glitz on the Arabian peninsula. The local incumbent ruling tribe spear headed by its leader Sheik Mohammad’s imagination has gone into over drive. Where his brother and father have finished he has boldly taken up the baton and on behalf of the United Arab Emirates nationals propelled his new country onto the map of the world with incredible speed and ostentation.

The world’s only 7 star hotel, Burj Al Arab

The world’s largest shopping mall, Dubai Mall

The world’s tallest building, Burj Dubai

There are lists of lists of world’s firsts in Dubai and the Sheik has no plan in stopping any time soon with the world’s largest playground: Dubailand and the “world” project well under way.

However, on the flipside, Dubai has grown fast and furiously and from what I can see it is experience its fair share of growing pains with Abu Dabi and its hegemony of power beginning to question the speed and manner in which its sister city has grown so quickly. The recession has come in many ways at a good time for the city and the over inflated economy has begun to come back to some sense of reality and normality of late.

Arab culture is rich and fascinating and I have enjoyed my time here immensely. It has been interesting to study the local Emirati people from the lens of tourist and to wonder about how life for these people who  constitute only 20% of Dubai’s 1.4 million people must be. There wealth is obvious and their desire to be modern and innovative is carefully woven with their strong beliefs in their faith and their desire to delicately preserve their nomadic desert heritage and religious Islamic fervour and devoutness.

A bit like Shanghai there is a palpable taste of opportunity in the air and the hot sun that beats down with oppression at mid day at well over 35 degrees seems to remind that with hard work and inspiration man can conquer the desert and that fortunes are to be made for the bold and the brave.  As with all emerging markets that hold such cities of opportunity its culture is evolving quickly and tradition and modernity are getting to know each other in many clashes and embraces.  Rich business men each day are seizing countless opportunities, spreading the word of capitalism and getting rich. While the drum beats of inequality and culture divides is silently but steadily heard with every brick  that is laid by an underpaid, overworked, construction worker from Pakistan, India or Bangledesh that toils in well over 45 degrees of heat at mid day.

Acknowledging what is happening across all the social strata in the city ads to the alluring complexity of the city that demands understanding and questioning and also repect. Since coming here I find myself constantly quizzing taxi men and waiters that I have had the chance to meet about their interpretation of Dubai life. The replies have been wide and varied. With most being appreciative of the opportunities they have received compared to working in their home countries and others counting the days until they leave.  A lot have mentioned the fact they can earn good money and the fact that the country as being “secure” as being some of the main motivations for being here. Others complain about strict traffic penalties, high rental costs and “apartheid” like tendencies from the local Arabs on the negative side.

I am here on a trip with Microsoft to the region which includes a whistle stop tour of Cairo and Istanbul. Of late I have been asked to take some sourcing project management responsibilities for Middle East and Africa (MEA) and I am down here to learn from the local recruitment and HR teams and get to know them and the market they operate in.. The region comprises of all the African continent, the Gulf as well as eastern Mediterranean.  Our main hubs of activity are in Dubai, Israel, Cairo, Nairobi and Johannesburg and spreading out from these locations are teams that look after a lot more of the smaller markets that constitute all the other countries in the region. It will take years to understand the region to the level of detail I would like and to build the relationships I need. This trip is a good start.

Luckily, I have had the opportunity to fly in and spend the weekend here before doing my meetings on Monday and Tuesday.  Taking the excellent on-off city “Big Bus” tour guide has been my introduction to the city and it represents very good value for 20 euros for 24 hours with a lot of free admission and a boat ride across the creek at Deira all thrown in for good measure. I’ve also had a chance to visit the “Lost Chambers” and the “Aqua Adventure” park in the newly opened Atlantis hotel which sits imperious at the top of the first Palm island situated in close proximity to the world famous Burj Al Arab. I’ve also visited some amazing hotels for lunch and dinner. I have never in all my travels seen so many incredible, lavish hotels.  5 stars are the norm here.  My taxi driver informed me that on the trunk of the Palm alone that they are planning thirty three 5 star hotels all in the space of a couple of kilometres! For those who  enjoy luxury and pampering this city, by far, offers the best range of hotels the world has to offer in such high concentration. So far the stand out ones I have had a chance to visit have been: Jumeriah Beach and Dubai Marine.

I’m looking forward to coming back again. Who knows what “world’s firsts” will be added to the Sheik’s list by the time I get here. With Abu Dhabi successfully launching the first F1 race and having announced the coming of the Louvre and Guggenheim museums their brotherly rivalry seems to have only started!

Cuenca, Spain

Just back from a very enjoyable stag party just outside Madrid in a very cool little town called Cuena! A friend of mine Conaill was gamely dressed up by a matador and did his country proud by going through two days of full on drinking and dancing. Great "craic" and looking forward to going back for his and his beautiful Spanish fiancee, Arancha's wedding, in August in Toledo!

What I particularly liked about this little town was the hanging buildings over the top edge of the city and the really long wobbly bridge over its very cool little valley!

Swiss Weddings and Canyoning in Interlaken

Over the course of the last two weeks I have been fortunate to go on two different trips to Switerland (that's 3 times this year already) The first was a wedding in Brig, where my Swiss friends Domi and Gabi tied the knot. Camila and I became very friendly with them after we rented our apartment in Trader's Wharf to them when both of us went to live in Barcelona. Ever since we have been good friends and when they invited us to their wedding we were delighted to go. On this occassion, we decided to fly to Milan so that we could take in the famous Dumo catheral that lived up to it's world renowned beauty and we gaulked and stared in the famous shopping centre of the rich and famous at Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. An extraordinary homage to the most famous clothes brands in the world. The arcade itself and spectacular glass ceiling were the best part of it all for me. As far the flash bags and dandy brogs! - not really the vagabond way! From Milan the train ride to Visp and then close by Brig is excellent. Rolling valleys abound and the stunning Lake Maggiore kept calling out to me to stop the train and go explore it but alas we didn't have the time and like a child in a candy shop been told they could only take one sweet it was frustrating seeing so much and not been able to go out and get to it.

Then to the main wedding. Brig is a tiny town in the south of Switzerland and one of the smaller cantons. The wedding itself was in a very small church and the ceremony was very intimate with only a handful of foreigners. Unlike Irish weddings Domi gave a speech in Swiss German and English at the start of wedding thanking everyone for coming. Also, he and his wife arrived together and sat at the top of the alter facing outwards. The priest was a young energetic man with amazing communication skills. His eyes were ablaze and he engaged with his crowd constantly asking them to answer some of his questions and regularly cracking jokes. Eventhough he spoke 99% of the time in German his sincerity was amazing and eventhough the spoken word was lost on the visitors I felt it was the most beautiful wedding I have ever been at, bar none, because of how family orientated the atmosphere was and the sincerity and passionate delivery of the priest to a very engaged and interactive audience. I hope I can capture some of the magic of Domi and Gabi's wedding at my own this February.

The rain fell soon afer the ceremony but we quickly made our way to shelter and some beautiful white wine that Gabi's father had cultivated and prepared himself from his own vineyard. We then went back to a cosy hotel where a single electronic keyboard man played a marathon 4 hour session, we did the follow your partner around the room snake dance at least 7 times, Gabi's mother played the accordian and deliverd a one man comedy act on a stage in front of the crowd for 20 minutes and Domi's father also performed a rap song with Dami's mates. All mixed in with more of Gabi's father delicious wine and a non stop flow of excellent food. A wonderful experience.

The next day we got the opportunity to see the world famous Matterhorm Mountain from the beautiful touristic village of Zermatt and later that night we visited Gabi's parent for my firt ever tasting off Raclette cheese all prepared homemade and with tender loving expert care. It was truely delicious and with a helping of lovely boiled potatoes Camila had five seatings and I only bet her by one to six.

The this weekend I decided to travel by myself while Camila was in Brazil to visit my good friend "Maddog" McKeever who is an interest trader for USB in Zurich.  It was back to Switerland again!  We went down to the amzing town of Interlaken to spend a couple of nights in the famous Balmer youth hostel while we explored all that the best adventure sports city of Europe had to offer. This was my first time to Interlaken it won't be my last. The nearest thing I have seen to it is Queenstown in New Zealand. Interlaken means "between lakes" and that is exactly what it is - two beautiful massive glacial lakes.  It is surrounded by majestic peaks with a beautifl little city on level ground. It's obvious when you get to the city from all the activity taking place in the park in the centre of the city that it's all about the outdoor sports in this part of the world. Handgliders dotted the skies regularly and paragliders were everywhere. Countless scores of people wizzed around on their bikes and tourists hung out in huge numbers from all the local hip cafes and bars that are tucked away nicely on the wdge of the main square and pretty back streets.

Jim and I decided for a 40km cycle on day one with a visit to my first ever Cowboy and Monster trucks festival, you heard me right, line dancing, Harley Davison, cowboy festival, that just happened to be in Interlaken when we were there and had the best handle bar moustache wearing air guitar players I have ever seen going crazy to Garret Brook songs. "Nice job" Maddog!

Second day was all about canyoying and repelling (check out some photos here to see what it's all about). Basically, going down a glacial vally with a wet suit and helmet and over the course of a two to three hours in a group of ten jumping and diving in to various type of pools and currents. Great fun that reminded me of sledging when in Queenstown.

Interlaken was an excellent find and one never really on my rader before until this week. I look forward to getting back and next time getting to visit Schillthorn which I'd love to see on a beautiful sky blue pristine day.

The Monster of Engelberg and Embarrassment

I got a chance this weekend to spend some time on the slopes with family and friends. This time it was Switzerland and the beautiful sleepy town of Engelberg which is a 50 minute drive outside of Zurich. Embarrassment was everywhere! But before we go there... a little about the trip.

This was a first for me to eat fondue! It was my first time to enter a church that was completely made with ice and had a ice pub and toilet also build in the same giant igloo. My first time to see an impressive ski jump Eddie the Eagle style and also a first to watch a choir of angelic like singers chanting in a tiny, cosy, echoey monastery church at the edge of a glorious mountain range.

We stayed in the Ramada hotel which claims to be 4 star but for me was very much 3 star. At a cost of 220 euros a night it was pricey for what was on offer but having said that it seemed to be in the top 3 hotels in the picturesque town. A chalet could be a much better option if you want to stay for a week and would be worth checking out. The Alpen Club restaurant is very cool and highly recommended for some local grub and don't forget to get the table car up to the Titlis range which is well worth the effort with an excellent cable ride and excellent ski runs for the intermediate and upper level skier that I someday am determined to ski on!

And to the monster of Engelberg! :) If I catch those little kids I'll strangle them!

Around the world in one day and the amazing botanical gardens of Singapore

I distinctly remember it was a close humid night in the summer of 1992 when I first set foot in Singapore. Part of a very young and energetic UCD soccer team I had just recovered from breaking my left tibia and with butterflies in my stomach, beads of sweat congregating on my brow I remember taking to the field at 7.30pm in 37 degrees hoping I wouldn't encounter any testing tackles. All turned out well I was accredited a goal in the local press which i didn't score and I came through the last 20 minutes of the game unscaved and had myself some Tiger beer that night with the boys to celebrate and a plush meal at the cricket club with our hosts!

Now I was back 17 years later. The beads of sweat quickly congregated again and I tasted the same cocktail of excitement knowing this time unlike the last I had build into my visit an entire day from which I could do what I pleased to check out this beautiful city state.

Singapore is an island microstate located at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula. It lies 137 kilometres (85 mi) north of the equator, south of the Malaysian state of Johor and north of Indonesia's Riau Islands. Singapore is only one of four remaining true city-states in the world. It is the smallest nation in Southeast Asia and after two days of training the South Eastern Microsoft team I was looking forward to inserting my trusty 5 giant learning sponges into my 5 senses and then hit the road to harvest some new experiences to add to the database :)

The adventure for me started with the world famous night Safari. I'm not a big fan of zoo's but I decided to give this a go. It was big, very big and it holds over 1,040 animals of 120 species, of which 29% are threatened species. You can walk the park which I was told takes about 3 hours to peruse or you can take the train that sees it all in 45 minutes. I went for the latter and with the aid of an excellent guide got to see and hear about the lives of some animals I had never seen before. The mighty lion and tiger. The scavenging ant eater and the greedy hyena just to name a few. I enjoyed the trip and it would be perfect for my niece Ellen. I could see her being captivated by the clever design of the zoo and the huge variety of specimens for me though I wouldn't really write home about it! Zoos are innately sad for me and no matter what excitement I felt seeing the magnanimous animals my excitement was dampened my knowledge that they were living outside their natural habitat, despite the obvious ingenuity with the comfortability on show. It was voted as one of the top ten family experiences in the world in 2006 so it might be something you want to explore.

After 8 hours sleep I then checked out the little city. The targets I circled with the concierge in the Intercontinental hotel were: little India, little China and Arab street. Then the final destination and the one I was looking forward to the most the famous botanical gardens and the famous orchid collection.


Arab street was nearest to the hotel so after a hearty breakfast including guava juice and croissants I took my map, put on my shorts and Brazilian haviannas and went searching. Sprinkled with little shops of all sorts the area consists of 3 or 4 streets all close to the very busy Sultan's mosque which was a hive of activity when i was there. I took a few quick snaps bought a magnet for my fridge collection of Singapore flag and white glow in the dark white target and then sat it out during a down pour to take in some of the local activity over a can of coke.  From there it was off to India town at a fruit and vegetable shop that was enveloped by the classic gold jewelery stores that are everywhere in India. This really was a microcosm and mirror image of the real thing. Serais abounded in their multitude of colours. The colours walked around and were spotted by thick, curley proud moustache wearing men proudly selling all kinds of nicks and nacks that included the latest Indian news and film magazines to ornate furniture shops that sold giant wodden statues of their elephant god. After another mnsson like down pour that cleared up after 5 minutes I headed for China town. I landed outside the impressive Sri Mariamman Temple which is Singapore's oldest Hindu temple and right in the middle of the Chinese district. The front entrance door with it's numerous bells and then giant centre piece cradles of hundreds of small statues was worth the visit alone. After that it was "take me down to China town" and the shopping began. Unlike me, I bought like crazy. Mostly, gorgeous Chinese wodden boxes and silk pillow cases! It was a great day and it wasn't over.

We all know about orchids. Delicate, sublimely formed and cradles of awe and admiration. What most of us probably don't know is there are between 25,000 to 30,000 species. I remember encountering my first wild orchid in Brazil when I hiked in the Champada Dimentia national park in Bahia, Brazil. After one and a half days of walking I remember turning a mountain track and seeing two yellow orchids standing tall and proud bobbing and oscillating in the gentle frigid wind. It flowers could warble. This was the nearest thing to it. If they could smile these were beaming. Two tall slender twinkles of joy. As I jad my photo taken by some kind Korean tourists at the placard entering the botanical gardens I remembered the Brazilian orchids and I was very much looking forward to now seeing some of the best examples of them the world had to offer. The rest is in the pictures, here.

Beijing and the curious incident of the teacher in the square

I’ve been in Beijing for 2 days and soaking it all in. I’m here to train 30 recruiters from Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzen and Taiwan how to use internet technologies to source but have arrived here 3 days early to check out the city and get on the same time zone.

So far I’ve revisited the Forbidden City of the Ming and Qing dynasties, see photos here, and this time it was not being renovated for the Olympics so I got to see the inner and outer area, the house of harmony and the amazing gardens with a little bit of extra high definition.

After the city I joined the crowd in Tenemana Square to watch the removal of the flag at 6pm in front of the huge bright world famous portrait of Chairman Mao. In a group of well over 1,000 people myself and Cristine my Microsoft colleague stuck out like soar thumbs and garnished a lot of attention. Photos were taken with babies and a very inquisitve older women who had very broken English and claimed to be an English teacher, which I’m sure she was, despite her 5 year old English standard, politely and very humbly asked us some questions:

“Where are you from?” To my surprise, she knew Ireland was beside England and small. Nothing else.

“What is your name?”

“How big is your family?”

“Why are you here?”

“What is the differences between Ireland and China?”

“Would you like to meet my son? He is my only child and studying law in Beijing University?” She then beckoned over a 6 foot tall, duffle coat wearing, muscular young man, who bowed his head courteousfully with a huge smile peering out of his round rimmed skinny spectacles.

The genuine inquistiveness continued...

“What do you eat?”

“When are you going home?” When I told her a week. She burst into laughing.

"What is your name?"

"Welcome to China!"

The brief interlude lasted about 6 or 7 minutes but it gave me a stark but clear small insight into the hunger for knowledge and self introspection that we take for granted in Ireland and we reciprocate ourselves. This women was warm and kind and wanted to know about my world. She was loving and caring and wanted to make me feel secure and at home. She wanted to share and to learn and with a beautiful smile and wonderful head bowing gesture explained to me with an invisible loud speaker the sacred words that I have learnt on all my global voygerism... my Ying for her Yang... my Harmony for her Harmony.... "You" and "I" are the same. For reminding me of that which I already knew from my travels but had departmentalised a little deeper than it should have been of late which always happens when you slip back into familarity in Ireland, I said "Bye", "Xui - Xui" and I saluted her as I left. She had reminded of that which I had forever learned in 2004 travelling the world and tatooed on my soul. She and I were the same. For her kind words and bright infectuous smile that nearly knocked Chairman Mao off his red wall I loved her as if she was one of my own.

After a walk around the beautiful square and some quick introspection and then inspection of the guarded Obelisk, the famous workers statues and a gaulk at the outside of the Chinese history museum and government buildings we headed for home which turned out to be an ordeal as if was really hard to flag any taxis down. Before we got one we passed a huge building called the “Book Building”... think of Eason’s on O’Connel street multipled by 4 in size. It was colossal and interestingly at the front of the shop was all communist rhetoric books and the best seller list which interestingly had Barack Obama’s “The Audacity of Hope” and also Warren Buffet’s autobiography. Books very cheap. 3 euros for a book that would cost us 15 at home. The sections were long and diverse. Similar than we had back home but calligraphy, philosophy and the childrens section were noteably much deeper. I had a quick look around and saw a Harry Potter book and a Lonely Planet like travel section but very Chinese like in print and design. I didn’t get a chance to find anything on Ireland but would have loved to. We were in a hurry to catch a meal so we didn’t stay long. As I left we both started a debate about how books get censored in China before they land on the shelf. It must be a rigorous process and something I can try find out today on my travels, especially if I bump into more teachers in squares.

Itacare, Prinha and the Coconut Ring

I could tell the story of Adriano our 18 year old starey-eyed tour guide and the most skillful soccer player I have had the chance to play against. The delicious mangostina fruit that is a cousin of the lychee and is famed for the Queen of England's comments as being the most beautiful fruit she has ever eaten. What about the 250 metre free fall rappelling act over a packed beach of hippies and Rasteferians. My new friend whom I had many interesting conversations about Brazilian politics and soccer, and whom I got to know at our hotel pool bar the Brazilian famous sports journalist Vlair Lemos that is currently working on a new book about the world cup and Corinthians soccer legend Socrates who studied medicine in Ireland before his professional soccer career blossemed (you can check his blog out at: blogdovladir.blogspot.com). Then again, maybe I should talk about the inspirational Dublin doctor who is setting up a charity to help poor favela children in Itacare. We could even chat over an ice cold beer about the 7 coloured exotic bird the name of which escapes me but whom I caught a glorious photo of eating bananas that I'm sure would bring a smile to Gerald Manley Hopkins face as he coined his famous "pantheism" description of God in nature. Or what about the coconut ring that I gave on a gentle breeze overlooking a tourquise sea where the rivers of Chapada Dimentinia converage with the Atlantic ocean showing a steady phalanx of hypnotic ghostly horse waves that constantly form and crash silently in the middle of the ocean.

I think instead I will tell you about the story of Itacare itself and Prinha or "The Tiny Beach" the best beach I have ever seen.

Itacare is one of Brazil's foremost surfing destinations which exists in the state of Bahia a mere two hours drive from Brazil's old capital Salvador and 2 hours flight from Sao Paulo, the latter being the route myself and Camila opted for. After an excellent week in Parathy we had booked a fairly expensive week in a top beach hotel in Itacare through the number one Brazilian toursim company CVC that prepare everthing for you. My style has been mostly doing things myself. Organising my own flights. Arriving in airports taking buses and trains into city centres. Walking around with a Lonely Planet book checking out hostels and cheap hotels. This was the opposite. Buses waiting to pick you up at the airport. Knowledage guides with deep dark choclete skin and flourescent yellow shirts and smiles that would rival any parents' when seeing their childs first steps. All laid out, well prepared and on hand.

What I really liked about Itacare and the CVC company was the variety of excursions or "passeios" on offer for visiting tourists. Our guides were the gregarious Adriano and Samuel. The night we arrived, after a 3 hour powercut which forced us to eat in the restaurent by candle light, they explanined to us for one and a half hours in person with no use of any brochures or laptops, simply colourful stories and loads of laughings all the types of "passeios" on offer. First was a one day canoeing trip by a local fisherman, 6 to a long canoe, along river banks infested with blue and red crabs to a deserted 20 metre waterfall and natural pool. Secondly, was a grade 3 rafting trip which lasted the entire day. Thirdly, was a full morning of -Arvorism- or Tree rappelling which involves walking through a maze of tasks 20 metres high on the tree tops of the local tropical forest that looks over the deep blue coastline. Next on offer was the peninsula jeep ride to the tip of Itacare which involved a 7.30am kick off and an inredibly bumpy 4 * 4 Land Rover ride, the stopping off at a bar of a man who has 34 children and sells coconuts, which ended up in some diving and snorkelling if you wanted it and a dip in a local lagoon lake which had water that was 28 degrees hot. The final two trips on offer was a trip to the famous islands of Morro De Sao Paulo and a visit to the famous "Prinhia" beach. For an amazing 415 reis or 140 euros for both of us. We went for the canoe ride, the jerky jeep ride, the rapelling and the secluded beach. For this unbelievable price, including wake up call, guide and transport, this was phenomenal value. While simple and involving a cheap bus, a lot of walking and our own paddling on canoes the cost alone would have been enough for the detailed history and descriptions we got from the guides about the local flora and fauana nevermind all the other stuff thrown in. This was very much an insider Brazilan trip. We met no other "gringos" or foreigners on our "passeios" and everything was delivered in Portugese or the local dialect Baihanese. While mapping it more difficult to understand it made it all the more authentic and special and I loads of new vocabulary to use back in Dublin with my Brazilian friends or the next time I come back.

For me the highlight was the 30 minute walk through a hilly "fazendo"or farm to the downwards sandslopes that lead you to the beautiful blue, brown and green of Prinhias ocean, sand and coconut and palm
trees. Prinha has been voted consistently by Veja, Brazilians leading political and social magazine as one of the top ten beaches in all Brazil which is saying something. It has never reached the lofty heights of Jericacacoa which is found in the north of the country and seems to be only rivalled by Fernando Del Noronha's famous islands beaches to the east. But for me, it bettered anything I saw in Brazil to date or anything I have seen on my travels anywhere else. Maybe it was the 30 minute hike to get to the beach or the jutting peninsulas on each side of the beach that added to my impression of the place but I think more than anything else it was the ununsual beautiful stand alone cococunt trees, beautifully flat sandy beach and the countless smiles on the super cool surfers who dotted the mains of the white horse waves that crashed with regular batches of 2 to 3 metres waves in the safe warm waters of the 1 kilometre beach that won me over. Im already looking forward to the day where I write about a beach that leaves a deeper impression on me than this one for it will have to be one hell of a beach to win my title for "Best Beach Visited- Ever".

Prinha has thankfully not falled subjugate to the trappings of the mass tousism industry. There is one kiosk that sells water, beer, pineapples, coconuts and soft drinks but there is no other. Unlike countless other beaches that have thousands of yellow umbrellas and yellow chairs dotted along Brazil's 7,200kms of coastline this one has refreshingly none. A few picnic tablets or provided for to sit down on, there is a set of tiolets with some showers to wash off the salt of the sea and the "maresis" salty windy, but that's it. After that you have to try find a cococut tree shade to plop down your towel, you stay in the water to cool off, you join the local guides and surfers on the beach for a game of football which is what I did first, or you take on the sun with it all its shimmering rays and penetrating glistening heat. Either options you can't loose.

I would highly recommend a visit to Prinha and to Itacare. Unlike a lot of surfer beaches I have been to this one has not yet been infested with all the trappings of tourism. It seems to be to be delicately balanced at the moment and could easily turn into a tourist trap like countless others in the near future. While you'll find
plenty of restaurents and bars serving Italian, Japanese and Brazilian dishes thankfully there is no Irish bar or golden arches yet. I would say go here sooner rather than later and keep away from it the week after the Carnival fisnishes as that is when the worlds carnival partiers from foreigners lands envelop the city for a solid week. From New Years to mid Feb is probably the best time to go and make sure to book well in advance as this time is high season holiday time for all of Brazil. Also, don't be afraid to give CVC a go. There cheap, reliable, action packed and great fun. And youll get by even if you dont have the local lingo. For a well organised, easy sit back adventure holidays these guys have it down to a tee.

PS: It was at the convergence of the river and the ocean that I asked the beautiful Camila Monthila De Morales for her hand. With a bended knee and a local coconut ring I found on the beach I closed many chapters of 34 years of colourful rich single life and set out on a set of new adventures which I hope will make me a better man, husband and Rambling Irish Vagabond for many decades and years to come. For that perfect moment Itacare will always remain one of the most special of special places for the Vagabond.

The BR101 to inspiring Paraty

Gems

*Drinking Calda the Cana sugar cane juice for the first time
*Waterfall surfing with local acrobats
*Playing hand claps with a 4 year old Sao Caetano girl and getting a big sloppy wet kiss off her in the end
*Eating in the Brazilian-famous Marseille creperia in Paraty
*Crab hunting in Trindade
*Visting the amazing Kontiki island restaurent and getting to know a baby peacock
Books
*Dreams from my father, Barack Obama
*Off the Beaten Track, Kathryn Thomas
Accomadation
*Vistamar, 200 R$ per night - 3 star location with 5 star service. Nice spot and highly recommended but a little far at 20 minutes walk to the city centre.

It was a cold, chrome skyed, windy river Liffey that I waited by as I hailed a taxi down for the airport. The night before I had been to Alex Martins infamous UCD, D4, culchie here-and-there annual Christmas reunion and now it was 3pm on the 27th of December 2008 and it was time to get away from recessions, pints of Guinness and wolly jumpers and make the 14 hour round trip down to my second home, Brazil.

BR 101 from Rio to Santos has to be one of the most under-rated car trips in the world. A mixture of the Almalfi coast mixed in with Highway 1 it has dramatic sea views and archipelgo sightings mixed in with hundreds of beachs and miles upon miles of "seras tortuosa", windy roads that cut through the numerous small mountain tops that dapple the entire coast and move steadily inland on their way to Sao Paulo and Rio De Janeiro. The eponymous Rio-Santos takes about 9 full hours of travel and about 400kms of driving from start to finish alond the coast. After a stomach full of picanha and some cold "Original" beers Camila and I set off on the 29th along BR101 making our way to Paraty, an old colonial town that acted as the end point for the Portugese to transport their gold from the slave mines of Ouro Preto some 800kms away in the state of Minis Gerais just before they set sail to Lisbon with their bounty. Instead of taking the normal road Im used to from Sao Paulo to the coast: Santos Guaruja and Maresis we instead made our way towards Rio and then cut our way down the "seras" to Paraty.

In my minds eye I was expecting a small colonial, neat cobblestoned town centre with maybe 3 or 4 beaches close by that we could lay back and catch some of Brazil's famous rays but instead what I found was a far bigger town centre than expected rich with a very interesting Bohemian culture which had been many years ago found out by some of the most prominent musicians, artists, film directors, adventures and celebrities that Brazil has to offer. The town was inflated due to the on coming New Years Eve celebrations, but despite the activity, it still maintained its charm and intamacy and somehow manages to circumvent the all to often crazy crowds that descend on the small and big costline towns all along BR 101 at this time of year.

After an adventurous first night walking with Havianns along the beautiful cobblestoned interior of the city and tasting some very nice Pizza in an excellent restaurent called Margaretia (that housed a talented long nailed eye squinting Spanish guitar musician al vivo) the next few days we got stuck into the activities all around us. All with Camilas mum Cidinha Chaparau and her sister Carolina and her very erudite curious lawyer boyfriend Rodrigo. First was a boat trip to Ilha Sonos and the smallest fresh fish restaurent you may ever come across on a tropical island. I had a plate full of Dourado and a can of the famous Guarana soft drink for about 10 euros and left with a big smile on my face and a worringly expanding out of control waist line. Secondly, was a trip to Paulo Branco waterfalls where for the first time I saw waterall skiing and got a chance to try it with some of the local acrobatic teenagers which had learned to ski the jutting rick faces with consumate artistery and grace. Thirdly, was a visit to one of Brazil´s hippy and rasta famous beaches which is famous for dope smoking and moonlight beach parties, Trindade. Here we took in some of the amazing views and also went hunting for the very shy siri crabs that live inland in the light forest and at night scurry around the sand on their way to the sea. Next we visited a pinga and cancha distillery and then an old colonial farm that has been preserved in excellent conditions and was a very clear insight into the mining and slavery industries that existed in the 18th century.

While I felt we packed a huge amount in there was loads left we could have done but ran out of time to do. Tree adventure eco-tourism is very popular here and I will have to slide and scale amongst the tree tops next time I am here. The diving is excellent and with nearby Ihla Grande and its famous crashed helicopter dive which I did before in 2004 the location with its over 300 different islands is a serious winnder for novice and series diver alike. Then there is the jeep trips into the jungle and the countless trail bike adventures to mountain tops where you can do some para-sailing at the top.

I´m now back in Sao Paulo resting and getting ready for the next trip - 8 days in sunny Bahia and the surf beaches off Itacare!

Some of the photos can be checked out here.

Where the Hell is Matt

If you haven't heard of Matt and his amazing travels already shame on you? This guy is one of my heros... check out one of his powerful videos!

I love the Indian slide and keep a close eye out for St Stephen's Green in Dublin!

Zhouzhuang town and the temple of two religions

Location: Regal International, Shanghai

Stars: 5
Cost: $140 pernight
Note: Best breakfast ever and excellent Butterfly massage parlour around the corner, excellent 1 hour foot massage for 6 euros!

Just as I remembered from my recent last visit just over a year ago Shanghai was as pacy as the pulsating neon lights that dappled the impressive skyline. The skyscrapers looked taller and prouder than ever and the illuminating light shows were somehow even more sophisticated and far reaching than my minds eye had recalled. A little like meeting a cousin who just sprouted a few inches Shanghai felt as if it had done the same. It was good to be back. It felt like I had landed my natural Asian home. I'm not sure why I felt so comfortable in this massive city! Maybe it’s because I now have a few friends here or perhaps it's because it feels a bit like a racier frontier mixture of Sao Paulo and Hong Kong with a dash of the wild west San Francisco gold rush thrown in for good measure which appeals to me. I'm not sure - for whatever reason it felt great.

In Shanghai the immersion tour took off into another gear and we started by visiting our new 5,000 seater offices which are currently under construction and will be ready next May. Once finished they will be the most modern offices that Microsoft has in its portfolio anywhere in the world. Next was updates from the business from our general managers of our servers and tools division and our MSN Online services. Then lovely and soft spoken twinkled eyed Sophie Xu, a very young local in her mid twenties just promoted to Staffing Manager gave us a very interesting recruitment update on how the recruitment challenges where unfolding on the ground. Overall an excellent update and I now feel a little more assured of my understanding of how Chinese culture and Microsoft’s business is operating in this amazing country. Needless to say words such as “harmony”, “sustainability”, “face” are as important here as “success”, “profit” and “confidence” are in Western society.

On Friday morning we got a chance to  get out of the city an hour and a half from Shanghai and visit the famous “Venice of China”. An old city of canals and waterways quite similar to the real thing in Italy but with much more dilapidated building and far far more less tourism crap that you get all to often everywhere else.  The town itself was called Zhouzhuang and it was famous for its pearl selling, both ocean and river, and also for its fertile farming land mass which spread for many many miles almost as far in as the metropolises borders. While there I picked up 6 single pearls which I had authenticated by one of the local Microsoft staff who seemed to know all there needed to be known about these little beauties and I also picked up a three tubed local bell top flute which I really like.

Probably the highlight of the visit though was a visit to one of the few temples we saw on the entire trip which practiced Taoism and Confucianism. While there I got my fortune told which you can check out in the video.

Great trip and definitely worth a gander if you get to Shanghai.

Publish Post

Duck tongue and dodgy mobiles

Hotel: Shangri-La, Beijing
Rating: 5 star
Note: Excellent joint rooms with a fantastic Chinese garden setting surrounding the back of the hotel.

After a 2 hour delay in Dublin and a 2 hour delay on the runway at terminal 5 in Heathrow I was finally off and on my 9 hour flight to Peking. The reason I’m here is business. Microsoft is having a HR summit in China where it brings a large number of its HR and Recruitment Managers to China for an Immersion tour to learn about China’s culture and business environment and to also absorb as much information as possible about Microsoft’s operations in Peking, Shanghai and Shenzhen on the Hong Kong boarder.

Once landing in China I was met by one of the Shangri-la’s concierge staff who brought me to get my bag and then showed me to my driver who in a quick 40 minutes got me to my hotel. With the delays on route it was 12.40 by the time I had signed in. After a quick shower I then tried to call Patrick Sullivan the Recruitment Director in China, to see where the 35 other MS people were in Beijing. Before I called I looked up the detailed itinerary we had which told me they’d be on a boat ride on the way to the summer gardens. Tired from only getting a couple of hours sleep on route and ready for the bed I tried to find a network on my iPhone to dial for coordinates but to my annoyance the phone while picking up China Mobile wouldn’t allow me dial out. I checked my credit online and I had plenty to make calls for the week but still no dial tone. I tried texting home to say I had arrived safe and sound but “failed transmission” is all I got. So, the wily traveller that I am (or thought I was), and the doubting Thomas I've learnt to be when concerning iPhones I tried by trusty old Nokia and again no luck. Next stop was reception. Not even the super helpful army of receptionists could get through but at least they could call my iPhone so I at least had incoming call ability. I then tried Patrick and home on Skype and that didn’t work either. Weird...  Eventually, I decided enough was enough and hit the bed and decided to give the Summer gardens a miss. Thankfully, I had seen them the last time I was here so no sweat.

I wasn’t going to miss Da Dong’s world famous duck restaurant and I knew from my brilliantly detailed agenda that everyone would be in reception at 7pm and low and behold there they all were. After a few hugs and kisses I was on track again and we were all whisked away to one of the most famous restaurants in the capital. I had recently been to Thorthons on the Green in Dublin and saw how the other half lived and this again was another one of those experiences with a huge variety of care and technique mixed it with consummate professional staff and amazingly fresh ingredients.  There was no set menu simply 15 people around a round table with a spinning white glass in the centre which was laden with oriental riches. To start we had some duck liver enclosed in brown jelly, some asparagus with chilli dips on a bed of crushed ice, chopped bamboo with soya and ginger, gelatine truffles with mango toppings and then some duck tongue with black raisin looking olive type things which I don’t have the faintest idea what they were. Washed down with plenty of local beer I moved onto some of the main course meals which was assortment of fish delicately cooked with a surrounding of peppers, unrecognisable vegetable and some colourful condiments. Then, the army of slicer and dicer duck carving expert cooks came out and in front of us all weaved their steel and blade magic and placed succulent plates of tender pink duck flesh with it fantastic caramelised skin on our spinning glass. I was instructed to dip some in sugar which I did happily and closed my eyes and the lovely taste hit my palette and I remembered eating sugar paper back home in Waterford in the early 80s. We all then, just like fajitas in Mexico were given wraps to put some of the duck meat into and we mixed it with a variety of new condiments ranging from heavy black rich soya sauce to garlic paste, leak and cucumber. Top notch fodder very much appreciated. Finally then came an assortment of fruit and before you could say the “Birds Nest” we were off again on the bus and back in the luxurious Shangri-la. Looking forward to better mobile phone coverage tomorrow and a trip to the local subsidiary to learn about some of the HR and Recruitment challenges Microsoft China has which should be very interesting.

Tuscany

Taking a side step from the world's economic meltdown and a bounce away from my new job responsibilities to fantastic Tuscany was perfectly timed and thoroughly enjoyed. A few days away from keyboard and phone in mainland Europe is always a nice one and this time the trip started off the way I liked - by taking in a curve ball - and going to the coastal retreat of Vilareggio a short 70 euro taxi ride from Pisa that only took 20 minutes. Camila, Fernanda, Carolina, Stephen and I were the travelling cohort and we stayed in a quaint family hotel that had modest 3 star facilities but 5 star friendliness, value and personality.  "Hotel Katy" had an amazingly gregarious and warm hearted older couple running the show with a hilarious Spanish gay chef who wouldn't stop talking to us every time he saw us. It's a long time since I visited a hotel where the breakfast was closed at 10.30am but when we arrived at 11am they simply opened it up again and set the tables! A breath of fresh air - maybe, just maybe the customer service industry is still alive! The town itself was nothing to write home about but it had a cool beach with sun which was more than satisfactory for perfecting the art of lazing about and soaking up some vitamin C. The promenade, dodgy pubs and clubs didn't peak my interest much but some  of the ice cream parlours were cool and I enjoyed a few scoops while the sun did its job. [Would I go back though? Probably not.]

From there we moved onto to the walled town of Lucca,  a place I know well as I buy every its famous olive oil and balsamic oil from Lidl which I like to sprinkle generously on my bruschetta and mozzarella dishes. The city is a old medieval town that has a huge walled fortress surrounding it from all sides forming an uneven but formidable protection against would be invaders of old. The town itself was very small and while thankfully flat was easily walked in 30 minutes. It’s buildings were obviously well taken care of over the centuries and the amazing Piazza Del Mercato in the hear of the town and San Martino cathedral with with its fascinating gabled facade wit three tiers of ornate columns all of which were individually carved demand careful concentration when studying it.

After two nights in Viareggio and the day trip to Lucca it was next to the enchanting town of Florence (or Fianze) as the locals like to call it in their own tongue. There with grammar book firmly in hand and tongue in cheek i tried my hand at plenty of hand gesticulations and dodgy Waterford accent ridden, Portuguese froth, Italian. Surprisingly, the man I asked for directions understood me and I even managed to ask for a recommendation for a nice restaurant for the night which in hindsight turned out to be just what he promised: “Belisimmo”. Unsurprisingly, Italian is hugely similar to Brazilian and Castilliano. The “ch” sounds and the “g” are different but with plenty use of “are’s”; “ere’s” and “ire’s” instead of the more familiar “ar’s”, “er’s” and “ir’s” of Brazilan and Castillano I could form some simple sentences. It may be time to spend some extra lunch time with the Italian’s in work to see if I can pick up some more basic phrases for my next trip to this beautiful country.

We stayed only 1 night in Florence in a strange 3 star hotel where we slept in one hotel and had to have our breakfast in another 5 minutes walk away. Never again. We won’t have taken it only for it was late in the day when we arrived and we had plenty to see before we left early for Siena. The highlights for me was seeing the Duuomo, Campanile and Baptistry in the city center, the Piazza della Signoria with its brilliant collection of huge statutes and of course the Ponte Vecchio or old bridge that was built in 1345 and the only bridge to stay up in WW11. Plenty to see here that I didn’t have to visit and will need another visit.

Next, the beautiful setting of Siena which we arrived into by train as unbelievably all 3 car rental locations we visited in Florence where flat out of cars. Siena, with its vast networks of windy streets is on a steep set of hills and is set off by the fantastically elliptical hollow cobblestones of the Piazza del campo and the over lording presence of the massive Torre del Managia. While there we drank, ate, walked, shopped, ate, drank and watched a beautiful local knight in armor and flag bearing soldier parade. Well worth a trip for those aficionados and gourmets of the palette who want to sample some of the best Italian food and Chinati wine on the planet.

The trip ended with the leaning tower. A weird looking protuberant white snooker table leg type thing that looks like something the cat brought in after a few towers decided to go out on the town and get sloshed. We stayed 10 minutes on the way to the airport and if you ask me while worth a look at 10 to 20 minutes would be enough for me.

And so back in Dublin greeted by the news of the US failing to ratify their 700 billion get out of jail clause for the rich and the Irish government running round frantically to stop the flood waters that once like Florence when the waters of the Arno cruelly burst its banks threatening to destroy all around. As someone quiet rightly put it today “privitisation of the profits and the socialisation of the losses”. One has to wonder how "might" ever became "right" and how capitalism unfettered is as dangerous as a pitfall left in a room with a new born babe.

Next stop China 2 weeks time.

Africa Day in Dublin

I'm just back after a flying 4 day visit to Seattle where I was working with a new central sourcing team I will be joining in mid-June. As ever i got a chance to visit Ipanema Grill, my favourite Brazilian chuasscaria outside of Brazil and completely pigged out on picanha and Guarana. I got back on Friday and now it's Sunday and a lot has happened in between...

Yesterday, was the last day's training of a documentary course i've been doing over 4 Saturday's, and 8 mid week Wednesday sessions in The Irish Filmbase. I've shot a documentary called "The Bikeman of Phoenix Park", my first, which is about a guy called Paul McQuiad who was an ex-professional cyclist who is now renting bikes in the park. Yesterday was all the final edit where I was fortunate enough, with the crew, to spend time with Loopline's famous Irish editor Se Merry Doyle slicing and splicing the final reels to produce the 6 minute piece. Hopefully, in about two to three weeks time i will be able to get it up on YouTube for you to check out.

Today, was all about Africa Day in Dublin Castle and it turned out to be a great affair with Kila rockin'the cosmopolitan crowd with uileann pipe, thin whistle, base rifts and bohrain beats to beat the band. At the gig I took this photo of a very cool onlooker who looked like he could smashing open a bottle of JD with a flick of his fag and knock it down in one without a hint of a wobble or the slightest betrayal in coolness. Big Jim! There's a new dog in town.

A taste of Venice

This week I got the chance to check out if I could find the bloke that sung "Just one corneto" and I did. He seems to be everywhere in Venice doing his thing in the choppy gondola infested canals and him and his mates are delighted banging out tunes for the in awe tourists. But times have moved on and now he's reinvented himself into a floating 3 piece band, songs in tact, costumes in place but ice-cream no where to be seen! At least not when i was there while the clouds ruled the sky and the rain raised the water levels over the islands many banks.

This time it was work and not pleasure. Well kind of! You can see from the video and a lot of fun was duly had. Monster, the biggest job board in the world were having their European annual conference and I was forunate enough to be asked to attend on behalf of Microsoft in a small group of 40 clients who attended from some of Europe's bigger IT companies like Google, Symantec, Ebay, etc. The event was about watching some presentations, the clients providing some positive and constructive feedback and celebrating a good year and having some fun. It turned out to be a great two days where I met with some fellow recruiters and had a chance to discuss some of our issues and get to know each others businesses a little more. All very generously on Monster's tab.

I didn't get too much of a time to ramble although I couldn't resist taking a taxi boat at 11pm at night with the Google representative, a fellow Irish man, called Dara, leaving our fancy 4 star highly recommended Molino Stucky Hilton hotel and venturing on to the almost deserted main island. My first impression was it's Sevilla or Barrio Gothico in Barcelona except the roads or rivers and their is cool bridges all over the place. The highlights for me where watching some people eating on the rivers flooded banks with water up to their ankles and waiters delivering food in wellies, the Rialto bridge and the impressive Piazzo San Marco. I didn't get a chance to pick up a fridge magnet for my collection but hope to go back again some time, maybe for the mask carnival in March!

Cote D'Azur and beyond

3 weeks ago I decided a break from work was in order and thankfully with short notice my manager gave me a green light to take some time off. After flirting with the idea of visiting Tunisia, Algeria or Syria I finally decided a trip to the famous Cote D'Azur was in order. And on reflection, what a good idea that turned out to be.

It always amazes me what you can see and do in a week. In our case we took an excellent 1 day cook course in Chateau De Berne in Lourges, which was 120 euros per person for 3 hours with an amazing Michelin chef who thought 6 of us how to prepare an an excellent fish soup called Bouillabaise accompanied by floating island marangues for desert. I now know how to gut and fillet Saint Peter's fish which the French love and Dourada. Learning from a Michelin star chef was a definite experience I want to do again. In the space of a few short hours you can learn so much from someone who knows what there talking about and gets you to do the things yourself. Also packed in was a Ros[e] wine tour and a Fraganard perfumery tour both in the Var region. I now at last know the differences of eau de toillete and eau de cologne and also why Rose white wines from the south of France are the best from around the world.

This trip started with a flight to Nice with Aer Lingus at a very early conjunctivitis 6.30am that was the same time as RyanAir but 50 euros more expensive. Im always happy to cough an extra few bob in AE which usually pays off when i come back with bags over the weight limit which i did on this occassion again and got away with with AE but wouldn't with O'Leary's crew. As I said we packed in more action than a sardine manufacture would pack into a can of the little rippers for their Christmas special edition. Condensed into the week was a visit to Monaco's port, Monte Carol's famous casion, DolceAgua's famous bridge (in Italy's beautiful north west), Eze's famous mountain chateau and famous cactus garden laden with amazing statues looking out to sea, Saint Raphael's wonderful artist and writers cobblestoned mountain village retreat (the perfect place for my mates Ben and Murph to hang out in), Gourdan's cascading roadways and amazing little church, Nice's famous boulevard de Angleais and WW1 and WW2 memorial site, Canne's slick walkway and old men basking at the seas front and Agay's quiet and serene get away port off the beaten path down near the Estreal mountains where I hung out for 3 full days.

All done in a 240 euro a week Peugeot that cost us an additonal 70 on diesal.

What I liked about this trip was the excellent food at quite often affordable prices, the 15 to 21 degrees weather and the amalgam of countless amazing beautiful portrait images everywhere you go. Everywhere you look on the cost there are a potpourri of tiny little boats in a port or on the horizon, beaches dot the cost line everywhere and their is an obvious fecundity of herbs, flowers, vegetables and grapes which gives a very rustic feel to the countryside as you drive by. In particular lavender seems to be everywhere. For me the must see place was Eze. And with 4 restaurents in the village one that has a Michelen star and its neighbour having two you wouldn't be dissapointed with the food if you're prepared to dive into the pockets a little!

What I didn't like about the trip was the signals for driving were quite bad especially in Nice. It is easy to get lost and get into trouble especially with the occasional bizar French traffic sign that an Egyptian hyrographic specialist would have trouble translating. Also, a pain in the ass was the 24 euro for 10 hours are more parking in Nice which was day light robbery. While restricting your flexibility a little the train system is really good in the south of France so most of what we did could probably been easily done. Also, a little unnerving even for that time of year was the amount of tourists in the region. I'd say stay well clear of the main sites in June, July and August unless you want to dive straight into large numbers. Instead try check out the more inland offerings and just hit a town on the map that no one knows and see what you find.

A bientot

Skiing in Switzerland

Skiing is to the Swiss as GAA is to the Irish. Both are synonymous with the intrinsic fabric of each other’s rich cultures and when you think of one you almost automatically think of the other. I love sport and watching skiing as a kid in Waterford typically evolved some snippets on Grandstand early Saturday morning before Saint and Greevies. It typically consisted of strange looking men in space like children clothing with fancy helmets and goggles anxiously waiting on the top of a mountain in a cable car looking contraption. Then suddenly you could hear a clock beeping down and with three or four frantic pushes of their skis and duck like waggling of their feet, from a shoulder hugging TV angle, the athlete shot down like a rocket along a mountain, which looked like a devilishly tilted white dotted needle cushion. The foreign crowd always cheered and roared. I remained bamboozled in appreciation of an art and technique I knew little of. The nearest I had ever got to skiing was hanging off the back bumper of a truck driving on ice down Paddy Brown’s road. The next angle was always a side on shot with the skier who a few seconds early was waiting anxiously to start now bulleting along his white icy undulating pin cushion at 120km or more desperately and skillfully holding his trajectory with incredible balance and dexterity. Respect.

On the way to Zurich to see “Maddog”, a good friend working hard as a stockbroker in UBS and with the beautiful Camila and friends from home “Horse” and Caroline also taking part in the adventure the images of Grandstand, fondue and Lindt chocolate were weaving and bobbing in my brain like a down slop lunatic. The sense of anticipation was fabulous. Not for a long time, a very long time, probably since I was in Dublin airport the 22nd of March 2004, saying goodbye to my family, on my 30th birthday, as I was just about to embark on my trip of a lifetime around the world did anticipation and excitement mix and swirl so potently in my veins. A nice uplifting sensation of adrenaline flowed as I looked out of the window and stared beguilingly as usual at the snow hugging the mountaintop over a beautiful French Alps backdrop.

Lots of people talk about how brilliant a holiday skiing is and now that I have tried it for myself I can safely say they all undersold it. It’s like a lot of things in life in that until you actually try it for yourself and sense the weight on your feet that ensues with getting into the strange ski boots and sense the awkwardness of being restricted to heavy long duck like hip trusting quads and calf pushing lunges to walk you can’t understand fully what people are talking about. Then you have the weird and wacky opening steps when you have to get used to your new “body” with all its additional limbs and muscular movements. You must relearn how to walk and run to ski. No longer the traditional foot after foot followed by arm after arm. The old repetition of decades of movement flies out the window and now you are forced to reevaluate all basic movement functions to exist in this new world. Gripping sticks tightly and pole pushing now become the norm. As does pushing your leg ever so slightly out and forward on both sides in a waggling movement to move forward. Also the hints and pelvis reinvent themselves and take centre stage and act as your guidance system for left and right weaving turns down the slopes This is your new method of walking.

Learning to ski for me was like a pregnant woman carrying twins trying to approach a gentle slope in Phoenix Park with two planks of semi-sold laminate flooring strapped to her already heavy feet. You don’t have a single iota when you are going to figure the damn thing out and you feel like a complete eejit stumbling around albeit with a big pink rosy smile with carbon dioxide flying around everywhere.
But slowly and surely with a little patience and perseverance and the help of a few basic techniques from an instructor, a fleeting rainbow in the background, and a few go’s on the beginners slopes you’re skiing. And the feeling is magical. Fun, fun 5 star fun.

We skied in Flumserborg 30 minutes outside of Zurich by car. Beautiful location and perfect for beginners. Now I’m hooked and now I have a new reason to look forward to January and February.

La Dolce Vita and the Vagabond

Rome. What a wonderful wonderful city. I’ve just come back after 3 days from the Eternal City and I can’t get it out of my veins. I keep thinking of the magical images that I encountered as I strolled lazily around the ancient streets. Rome has always been high on my list of places to visit but for a combination of reasons I have decided not to until now. The prime reasons for not visiting have been:proximity and prioritising other places first. I now believe that this thinking was an error. I should have went earlier so I could have used it as yard stick to judge other cities architecture,food, fashion and overall spirit and personality.

I’ve always felt a special connection with Italy and now after this trip I know why. Ever since I worked in Zomax I was surrounded by Italians on a daily basis and we got on really well. People like the ever smiling Benedetta and constantly laughing Anna had infectious personalities. There stories about growing up, football, food and family were brilliant to listen to. If you collected all the stories through them in a meat dispenser they’d always come out with with strings of minced meat labeled: art, history, laziness, motor racing, cars and soccer, love, fashion, pasta, ice cream, giant sun glasses, furry coats and vespas. And pretty much I got a bit of all of that in the small amount of time I had there.

The trip started with a 120 euro flight (all in) with Ryanair to Campino airport which is about 25 minutes from the city center and a 30 euro taxi ride. I was going over to see the beautiful Camila as she journeys around Europe with her Mum. We all stayed in a small cosey 3 star hotel called Edera a 5 minutes walk away from the Coliseum.

I arrived 5pm on the first night and we quickly made our greetings and started a walking tour around the main sites in the city center. In the space of a few hours we saw the outstanding and unforgettable exterior of the outside of the Pantheon. Big and proud it stands formidable and commands attention. It must have been awesome in its prime laden with gold and bronze with all of it Corinthian columns in tact. When we visited it’s massive entrance doors were closed but I inquisitively went to them anyway and tried to peek though the small gap near the lock. Suprisingly it was a vent. A gentle cold breeze greeted me from within and tickled my right pupil. My natural reaction was to pull back immediately but i didn't. A strange but enjoyable sensation like someone blowing into your eye. I also was able to see the alter on the for side of the room which looked ornate and beautiful. The inner circular chamber seemed wide, vast and tall. We then made ou way past Largo de Torre Argentina and towards Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II. What I loved about this stop was there was a cacophony of noise overhead beside the monument where there was some very tall trees that housed thousands of small excited birds that looked like robin red breasts except they were brown and a little bit bigger. For 10 minutes we stood in amazement with a small crowd of smiling people watching the birds take turns darting from one tree to the other in small battalions of one or two hundred at a time. The distance between the trees was about 20 meters and the birds playfully chirped at each other as they flew from one tree to the other in a set of very skillful mesmerizing creative dives, ascents and curves. I really enjoyed it. They were definitely communicating and acting out some kind of ritual or exercise that the humans below couldn’t decode. I couldn’t help but try imagine what they were doing. Maybe it was a dance of appreciation for the joy of being allowed live in the eternal city. It was like to break dance groups meeting and egging each other on to out do each other with a new more creative and daring flight show. Brilliant entertainment. Just how I imagine birds play on some far away pond, doused with trees on the plains of Kenya or Tanzania when they sense the rain season upon them After that it was a glimpse of the lengthy Forum and a quick hello to Cesar’s statue on our way to the Coliseum. I never thought my introduction to Rome would be on a late Wednesday evening but it was and it was perfect. Hardly anyone in the city center! The weather a very pleasing 14 degrees for January and the buildings beautifully lit up by light with a beautiful purple and blue sky dotted by some straggling grey and white fluffy fast moving clouds whispering to the birds as they went on there way.

The next day was the tour bus. It cost 19 euros, included a guide book and a free headphones that you were allowed take with you after the tour. The idea was like most others in big cities. Get on and get off and set of preordained sites with buses coming every 30 minutes to whiz you away. The buses took off right beside the Coliseum right behind Constantine’s arch so we went there first and decided to have a look inside before we got on the bus. The history of the Coliseum is well know and is barbaric. It was fascinating how cruel the Romans were to Christians, criminals, deserters and prisoners of war. Very little mercy was dispensed to these poor soles that were quite often sreaded to little pieces by very hungry predators denied food except the flesh of man. A big cross is erect inside on the west side as a sign of respect for those slane. Next we went around the city on a winding sinuous route through mainly cobblestone streets with Smart cars and vespas roaring about us. Each street seems to have a spectacle in it. Either a fantastic old baroque building, a statue, a monument, a fountain, an obelisk or an arch. Churches abound. If people say Dublin is full of churches well then the same could be said for Rome in relation to churches. I wasn't prepared for the number of churches the city had. They are everywhere and there simply is too many to visit. My advice would be to take your chances and pop in to one or two randomly and take a little break in a urban oasis to contemplate life and the cornucopia of spectacles surrounding you.

Our destination was Peter’s Basilica and center piece of the Vatican. After about 45 minutes we got there and were presently surprised by the small number of tourists. Bernini was a magician when he designed the entrance to the Basilica and its almost complete circle of columns stretched out like welcoming arms given all those who come in and embrace Christianity a tender hug. The fist thing I noticed was the 140 saints that are all around the arch on the columns above then the huge statue of St Peter on the way to the basilica. After passing some Swiss guards and then going through the airport like security we were allowed in the church. It is massive. The biggest church in the world. Inside there is all kinds of beautiful art including masterpieces from Raphael, Bernini and Michael Angelo. We received a free tour by one of the studying priests in the Vatican and if you can do the same I would recommend it.

We spent a lot of time in the church and in the square itself and then went for some food in a restaurant on the main road to the Vatican which turned out to be a scam. 6 euros for a can of coke and 14 euros for a small plate of pasta. What ever you do no matter what religion you are go and marvel at the Saint Peter’s but do not eat in any of the nearby restaurants. Next stop was the Pantheon again this time to see its inside which wasn’t half as impressive as its outside and then we went to one of the more famous gelaterias or ice cream parlors beside the stunning Trevi fountain. I got a very nice scoop of coconut and vanilla and proceeded to toss some coins in the water ensuring that as the tradition goes I am guaranteed to visit the city again.

The third day I was due to fly home on a 4.55pm flight which gave me enough time to see the catacombs or the Vatican museum and the Sistine Chapel. I decided for the latter and for a fairly valued 14 euros we went in to see one of the most huge museums in the world. Massive does not do the collection justice. They say that if you looked at every piece of art in the Louvre in Paris it would take 7 years of your life. It would take 12 years of your life in The Vatican. A few hours wasn’t enough to see the museums so I saw what I could in an hour and a half and then headed straight for the Sistine Chapel. After corridor upon corridor laden from top to bottom in gold including the roofs with all kinds of maps, statues and frecos I eventually got to the chapel and it was worth all the effort. Mistakenly I thought that Michael Angelo’s masterpiece depicting the start of the world was at the top of the arch in St Peter’s. For those that like me make the same mistake let me explain. St Peter’s and the Sistine chapel are two different places. The first very huge and overbearing at the front of the Vatican the second very small and petit a little like a small county church you’d find in the Irish countryside at the back of the Vatican. The Sistine if covered like the corridors from top to bottom with art with the famous almost touching fingers in the center of the roof over head. What was most impressive to me of all the art was Michael Angelo’s amazing painting of the apocalypse at the back wall beside the alter. I listened twice to the audio guide explaining what it meant. For me the finest painting I have ever seen bar none!

Rome. La dolce vita. For those who haven’t gone yet. On your bike and Go.

Hunting Taranchalas and Rats

Over Christmas I got the chance to edit some of the video footage I shot when travelling aorund the world in 2004/2005.

The first video is my good friend Chief getting over his fear of spiders in the Amazon. The second the famous day I went hunting joint rats in Bebadora in the middle of Brazil 400km west of Sao Paulo.

The Christmas Swim

The Christmas swim is something I look forward to and something I dread about this time of the year, every year. It's mind over matter. 40 degree water. Some times lower! Screams. Shaking limbs. See your breath air. Shouts of encouragement. Camera stills and flashes. Mpeg recordings and avi files. Lounges, dives and panicking strokes. Pink, smacked skin faces and bright glowing smiles of satisfaction.

In Waterford, we have a very small beautiful cove off Tramore beach where hundreds of people go between 9.30am and 12.30pm every Christmas day to have their annual dip before they let themselves go for a day of gormandizing on meat, crisps, chocolate, wine, beer, Coca-Cola and the rest. It's great and fun and well worth a try?

Crepes and Cocktails in El Borne

One think I really love about Barcelona is the hallow cobblestoned streets of the El Borne district. I've been spending a lot of time there with my girlfriend and all the friends and relatives that have been visiting while I live here. There are two places I want to call out in El Borne for a quick bite and drink. The first is the amzing Taller de Tapas with their mouth watering fillet steak and perfectly cooked patata de bravas, at about 25 euros per head for very filling high quality meal you won't go wrong. But don't have desert there. Not that they don't have nice desert but just around the corner, beside the catheral and close to the eternal flame that lights up the entrance street into the square is a beautiful, quaint, but super-fly creperia called "Crepes and Cocktails". There are two waiters inside one Brazilian and the other Mexican and there is a charming French women. All love life and are full of chat when they are not crazy busy. The menu is a mixture of crepes, teas, beers and cocktails. For me the must have is the cinnimon crepe for most of my friends its the nutella. For 4.50 euros its great value and with a caipirinha going for 6.50 euro everyones a winner.

What a pity Ireland is stook in a time warp when it comes to embracing these type of small trendy niche eateries and bars. Are we doomed to be driven by a the super-pub culture or will this change in the future. In my opinon it will defintiely change of that I am convinced. My only wish is that in my life time I get to see it.

Garlic in Amsterdam

The last 3 days have been in Amsterdam attending a recruitment conference run by ERE exchange. The conference itself has been a bit of a let down with very little interesting content being presented so far. However, the city and the restaurents I've had a chance to visit have lived up to expectations as ever. This time I got to visit the highly interesting Ann Franks house again. The first time I visited it was in 1990 on my first ever trip outside Ireland with my primary school. It's changed a lot since then but I had some deja vu moments one in particular when I was climbing the stairs to the hidden loft. It's hard to believe its 17 years later.

Two tips I have from the gastronmical side of this trip has been the finding of two very cool eateries that I highly recommend: Five Flies and Garlic. The first a 5 star up-market posh dutch/french excellently decorated set of restored dutch canal houses the second an explosion of very interesting garlic based dishes targeted at the mid house range.

Hotel: Hilton hotel * - possibly the worst hotelling experience I have had. And for 350 euros a night with no internet or breakfast included I'd keep very much away.

Gaudi's Le Pedrera

There are many many many buildings to gaze at wonder at in stylish Barcelona. Gaudi's Le Pedrera off Passeig De Gracia is just one. A very unusual mansion with no straight lines symbolising Gaudi's belief that in nature there are very few straight lines but more sinuy bends and curves line the vain structure of a leaf. Inside the building is an interesting introduction to the architect's work but the best part is the roof where you get a wonderful vista including some of the cities most prominent land marks. Check out the video for an idea of what I mean. My wonderful apartment is 15 minutes walk from Le Segrada and 7 minutes walk from the Mapre tower and the amazing 4km of beach fronts.

The Vagabond and learnin' Spanish

Month 1 is down of 4 in Barcelona and I'm having very interesting times... part of which is getting the old brain around understanding the language. I'm at about the same level as this dude!

Bicing in Barcelona

There is a very cool new environmental project in full swing in Barcelona that I like a lot which is helping people get healthy while helping the environment breath. It’s called Bicing. Residents of Barcelona can for €6 a year purchase a card which allows them rent a bike for no more than 30 minutes at a go. During this 30 minutes the individual pays 1 cent a minute for the amount of time they use the bike. The idea behind the program is you borrow the bike for no more than 30 minutes which should be enough time to get you from A to B on a short trip. The system is based on multiple ‘pick n drop’ sites where you take and leave your bike a little like a car park. The whole idea is to get people using bikes for short distance travel a lot more thus helping to alleviate the amount of traffic in the city. It works beautifully and the people in Barcelona love.

Let’s take an Irish example for illustration purposes. Let’s say all the Dunnes and Lidl stores in the Dublin are bike ‘pick n drop’ sites that can hold at least 50 bikes at any one time. Now let’s say there is a long rack at each site on which a bike can be hoisted onto and electronically locked or lifted from. Now put a device that looks like a car metre beside each rack that you can swipe an identity card in. That’s how it works! Cool isn’t it! The idea is short journeys. You can’t use the bikes for the day or for a 3 hour ride to Dun Laoighre for a swim. If you do that for every minute you go over 30 minutes your card gets a hefty fine and ultimately your credit card takes the hit.

The bike is the cross between a High Nelly and a cool Chopper. It has a beautiful red frame, with back pedal breaks, chrome handle bars, a very nice spacious space for a carrier bag and very cool white mudguards.

To find out more go to www.bicing.com

Golan Heights and Tiberius

Today started really badly and almost finished in the same way. It was one of those days that was easily two days in one. I arrived in Tel Aviv on a business class from Paris Charles De Gaulle after missing my flight from Dublin to Paris but fortunately had been able to get on another 3 hours later which allowed me catch my connection to Israel. The worst think about the whole thing was the fact that I had to dash for the gate and missed it which left me sweating with no change of clothes which meant a visit to the men’s room to try cool down. The flight itself was great in the sense that I read the whole way through the thoroughly enjoyable ‘Long Way Round’ featuring Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman and also partly due to the very nice Bordeaux wine and fillet of steak consumed on route! When I arrived in Ben Gurion airport it was 12.40am and that’s when the fun started. Surprisingly, this time, unlike the last I swept past the immigration very quickly. But 2 hours later I was still waiting for my bags – which never came. Eventually after watching the local airport staff running around like blue arse flies trying to troubleshoot a broken carousel and an angry mob of tired people hunting their bags I resigned myself to the fact that I had to go to ‘Lost and Found’ where I was given some paperwork to prove I lost my bags and was told I’d get my bag sent to my hotel at 4pm. Haifa were I was staying was 1 hour away. I fortunately got a decent taxi man who charged me face value at 465 shekils to get to the Meridian hotel (75 euros approx). On the way I asked some very direct questions about why the Palestine’s were treated so bad and how the Jews could prove they were the first people in these lands thousands of years ago. I received in a very nice way but very firml response the history of Abraham, Sole and David. I was told all about Sala Kaheem and his destroying of the temple of Jews and its replacement by the Rome of the Rock. I was also told about how the Palestine’s just sponge off the Israeli state and do very little for themselves and constantly plan war. While thankful for the contorted one-way diatribe and slushy history lesson by the time I got to the hotel I was very glad to get into bed.

6 hours later I was up and in the local shopping mall buying some clothes which I fully intend claiming back on my travel insurance. I got a pair of Nike runners, some flip flocks, a pair of shorts and a few t-shirts. The guy selling me the clothes was about 27 and asked me was I Irish because of my accent. I told him I was and we went on talking for about 20 minutes. He asked me about the North of Ireland I explained very quickly where we were with it and he explained that he hoped Israel and Palestine could be at peace some day but he feared it would never happen. He volunteered that he was in the army for 4 years and he said he had been fed hate everyday but he admitted he did not know the full-story and sympathised with the terrible conditions the Palestine’s lived in. I admired his objectively and the sincere way he told his opinion. As I left the shop I shook his hand and wondered to myself how many more were there of him in the country.

An hour later I was on the road with one of my work colleagues on the road to Tiberius with a taxi driver than had hardly any English and kept ringing his taxi office when we asked him questions and they duly translated for him. The journey consisted of taking in Tiberius, Capernam, a wine tasting treat and visited Badem Mountain and an old vacated watch tower looking out of the Golan Valley.
Tiberius is situated on the sea of Galilee and is in close proximity to a large number of sites were Jesus conducted his miracles. The walking on the water, the wedding in Caina, etc and was also the place he gave the ‘Blessed’ sermon on the mountain of Beatitudes. Nowadays it’s a little city which modern western life has consumed with pubs, McDonalds, cafes and shops. The first stop was Capernam which is where Jesus went to live after he left Nazareth and where he recruited Peter and some of the other disciplines. Luckily, when I was there I saw a local priest giving a sermon to a very well English spoken group of Japanese tourists. I learned all about Jesus curing Peter’s stepmother and all about Peter’s church and the old temple. The sun was beating down at 34 degrees as I listened to the beautiful positive words coming out of the priests heart and it filled me with joy. It was a very peaceful reflective experience and one I look forwarding to telling my Dad more about who I think would really have enjoyed it.

Next was a real brucy bonus and a visit to the Golan Heights Winery www.yardenwines.com. We got a chance to try three wines and by a bottle before we left. We tried a semi-dry Gewurztraminer white for starters, a Carbernet Sauvigon for dinner and my favourite a beautiful smelling floral, fruity, sweet Muscat dinner wine. I ended up buying a bottle for my cabinet back in my apartment it was so nice. I also bought a contraption for taking the air out of half wine bottle you haven’t finished so you can keep it in the fridge for 3 or 4 weeks without going off.
After this it was the amazing tower on the Golan Heights. For me it was a very educational visit, with amazingly beautiful scenery that looked like Tuscany meeting El Calafate in Patagonia. From the empty patrol bunker which was 1,100 metres above sea level I saw Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. To the left was Mount Hermon were the Israeli’s ski in winter. Also on our left but more in the foreground was a kabutz and The Valley of Tears where a raging tank war took place in 1973 during the Syrian invasion. In front of us was the UN town that protected the one entry point into Syria between the two countries and to the right and back was wide sweeping vineyards, a massive army control tower that has some serious antennas and satellite bubbles and dishes, some wind generators and a mountain in the distance which was a part of Jordan. What I like about it was the beauty. Golan is a very very beautiful one where the numbers of soldiers almost match the number of grapes. While surrounded by such beauty which was magnified by an extravagant sunset. The place screamed of pathetic fallacy.

The Golan Heights in a clear reminder that man is still very much at war and has a lot to learn before it can walk in the light of our Lord who preached in this beautiful land. It wil be very interesting to see the reaction of the Israeli people who love this land when they have to give it back to Syria which probably will happen sooner rather than later.

So my day started shitty, was great in the middle and then went to shitty again when I arrived back to my room at 10pm and there was no lost bag sitting beside my bed like i hoped. I went down to the reception in the hotel and tried to ring the airport to find out where my bag was but no response. I then drafted and sent a fax to Air France so they could get my disgruntled feedback the next day. At 11.30 I got a phone call and the bags had arrived!

A very interesting day indeed!

Co Clare

I love county Clare. It's where my grandmother was born and bread and it's the recent location on the vagabond's travels. It's famous for The Burren, The Cliffs of Mohar and surf at Lahinch but to say that's all it has to offer is doing it a gross injustice. The journey was spread in two. The first half was in Killaloe where I visited my good old Viking friend Morten from Norway and old Vordel work colleague,and, then Bunratty Castle and a visit to the Cliffs of Mohar with my family to celebrate my parents 40th wedding anniversary.

Location: Killaloe
Days: Friday, Saturday
Hotel: Hotel Morten 5*
Cost: Nada

I really enjoyed my visit to my good old friend Morten and his fiancee Ciara's Limerick get away palace. It was a no-brainer for Morten and Ciara to get out of the city life in Dublin and the wide rustic forest laden and river speckled landscape is perfect for them. The trip started with a hitch on the back of Morten's 650cc demon roadster and it finished on the same way. In between was brilliant hospitality, beautiful country walks (where I took the above photo of a horsing rolling in the mud)an encounter with two newly shaven lambas from Peru and a visit to the ancient nombstone in an old church in the centre of the village. An excellent time had by all with plenty of great food, conversation and fun. I really looking forward to going back.

Location: Bunratty Castle Hotel: 3*
Cost: 145 euros a night, in the executive suite

You know what? I love Ireland and no matter how much travelling the vagabond does he loves returning home. This trip was again bomb dropping opaque affirmation of all the reasons I love this country. There simply is no other place like it. What was very special about this trip was I was with my entire family to celebrate my parents 40th wedding anniversary. The last time I went on a holiday with my entire family was 1979 Kerry.

The first night we watched the Deise hurlers topple their great foe from Cork to reach the last 4 in the hurling and then we visited the excellent "Corn Barn" Bunratty Folk Night. This was all about watching traditional Irish music and dance while eating a good old plate full of Irish stew with gallons of free wine, meade (honey whiskey) and baileys. It cost a mere 45 euros per person, lasted 2 hours and had the greatest mountains of spuds served up by the tray load covered in melted butter bliss and fresh herbs from the local garden.

The next day we took in the small but impressive swimming and sauna facilities before we paid a visit to the Bunratty Folk Park. This is a theme park dedicated to what life in Ireland looked like 100 years ago. It consists of a visit to the castle itself and then a stroll past reconstructed farmhouses, cottages and shops,pubs, schools, post offices and bakeries. The best thing about the park is it is a living museum where you can see animals being tended to, apple tarts and bread being baked, milk being churned and live music being played with the instruments of the time. You can also if your lucky see a blacksmith at work, a weaving demonstration from an old spinster and a few scones being cooked in a hanging black pot by the side of turf fire. A really step back in time and while a little expensive at 14 euros entry an adult its was worth every cent for the images it evoked in my mind as a carefree child in the late 70s and early 80s.

In the evening my brother and his family relaxed in the hotel while my Mum, Dad, Camila and I tried out my brothers new GPS system to navigate us to the Cliffs of Mohar. On the way I encountered the worst downpour of rain i have ever seen anywhere in the world. For at least 3 seconds while driving on a motorway the drops of rain were so violently falling on the car visibility was zero. When we could see again all the cares ahead had the hazard lights on and were going at snails pace. Ironically, and kind of to be expected the sun was shining when we got there. What was nice about it was it was a rainy sun divided by heavy grey clouds on one side and azure blue and white with 2 rainbows on the other side. The cliffs were as magnanimous as ever however the abuse of tourists by having to pay a 4 euro entry cost was a little Irish for my liking. Board Failte need to get there act together and stop the rip of culture which seems to be pervading the country's touristic soul.

The next day before a trip back to Dublin on the Limerick train was a visit to Craggunowen theme park. This was another step back in time this time to the farmhouses, hunting sites and cranogs of the Iron Age. I wasn't sure what to expect from this visit but I was pleasantly surprised. I got to see how woollen taken off sheep is patiently transformed into wool reels, we got to visit a reconstructed cranog with underground food holds and had the opportunity to study some dolmens and a reconstructed version of the boat that St Brendan used to supposedly travel to the US 1,000 year before Columbus.

TIP: If you want to feel your Irishness flowing through your veins or if you are with some visitors and want to give them a real quickdraw emersion of Irish culture pay a visit to Bunratty castle and make sure you go to either the Mediveal Banquet or the Corn Barn night. It's well worth the effort of getting their and the dancing and singing are priceless.

The biggest slum in the world - Mumbai

I'm just back from a brillant week in India. My first of hopefully many visits. The first 2 days were business in Hyderabad. Next 4 days consists of pleasure. 3 in Goa and 1 in Mumbai. When I ge some spare time I'll write more about it. But for the moment here is one of the videos I shot in Mumbai outside the biggest slumb in the world!

The Great Wall and the Forbidden City

I'm on a whistle stop tour of China for work reasons and I'm throwing up these two videos very quickly. The first is a visit to the Great Wall which was by and large very disappointing and the second was shot in the spectacular Forbidden city.

The Temple of Heaven and the Peking Duck

Location: Beijing, China
Hotel: Shangra-La - 4 star:big and spacious with a wonderful self-catering breakfast
Weather - A very smoggy 26 degrees at midday

After getting off a BA business class flight, the first for me, you are fighting fit to take on Marvelous Marvlin Hagler in a come back fight or in this case check out what Beijing has to offer in a couple of days before a whistle stop tour of Microsoft's Beijing office to find out what the company is doing in China and how I might be able to help make the core-tech recruitment team improve our processes and communications globally. The thing I liked most about BAs business class was their reclining chairs and the myriad gadgets it had on offer. Not to mention the constant pampering from the inflight attendants and the huge variety of digital entertainment on hand the chair was something special. Fully reclining, vibrating, and long it combined space with style all at 11,000 metres and worked well with a glass of tasty wine.



Taxis are incredibly cheap in China. Our first ride was 30 minutes long and it cost about 4 euros. We started witht he Temple of Heaven which called Tian Tian and is the largest temple complex in China. I had never heard about it before until I bought by DK book but I won't forget it now that I have seen it. The video gives you an idea of what it looks like. What the video doesn't show you is the perfectly formed circle format in which he complex is built around lush green grass with lots of myriadering walk paths and lots of beautiful flower beds with lush cedar trees all around them. Throughout the park was lots of tourists and lots of older people flying their colouful kites languidly with an ingenious mouse wheel that freely allowed the kite to soar to the heavesns reeling out as much string as the wind demanded. The is where the emperor made his sacrifice and prayed to heaven and his ancestors for a fortuous harvest for his people. What caught my eye the most was the golden inscribed beams on the outer side of the building that showed lots of dragons curled up and breathing fire. Beautiful artistry. I gave myself an hour their and it was more than enough. There was a small museum in the complex but it wasn't too impresive and if you visit I'd spend no more than 15 minutes in the inner circle with maybe 5 minutes in the museam. Also keep away from the audi guide as it doesn't contain a lot of information, you're better off using your travel book which will provide with sufficent information to let you know what is happening. If I went back again i'd defintely visit the temple again but I'd spend the most of my time watching the folk practiing tai chi, reciting Chinease opera and flying their beautiful kites o gracefully in the gently flowing wind.

After the Temple of Heaven we went to the nearby Pearl market which I thought wouldn't be up to much. I am becoming highly cyncial of markets after all my travelling. Most are rip off, 3rd class quality with sowed on labels on the clothes and rip off copies of artistery with very poor quality souenvirs. You also get enveloped by vendors screeching and touching. My intution: bang on!

After the market we went in search of some of Beijing's famous Bejing duck. I'm not normally a duck fan but when in Rome! A bot like the Brazilian's see football and the Irish see Guinness the Chinese see the cooking, cutting and presentation of duck as art. The restaurent we went to had a lot of pig's lips, cow's tongues and a plate of scorpions to top it off. We decided to go for the full gloden bronzed duck. What I like most about this experience was I expected to get the duck on a nice bed of rice with some soya sauce and salt. Instead a chef came out with a top hat, surgical mask and a set of frightening knifes. He proceeded to slice the duck expertly with a screeching crush of the duck's skull at the end to reveal its brain. With the brain we also got the golden caramilsed peff-pastry like in texture sweet duck's skin, which is a delicacy. The combination of both for me was a sensation my palette won't forget for a while. The brain was a little like you'd imagine by dropping your pencil and chweing on your erasure. The skin was much better and melted like eating paper in your mouth followed by a donut like sweetness.

While I won't rush to my nearest Chinese take-away for the duck I would recommend you try it if you want to dive head first into the crazy world of Chinese gastronomy.

The Lion of Lucerne

Recently while in Lucerne, Switzerland I saw the amazing world famous bridges of Lucerne which are argueably the most famous of all Swiss tourism sites. However, thankfully, I decided to spend an hour in the rain going looking for the Lion of Lucerne which had a small reference in my guide book. I wasn't sure what to expect but I was delighted when I got there despite having to wheel my suitcase up a hill and hoist an umbrella for most of the expedition. When I got their I took a few snaps and stared at it for 5 minutes if not more. One of the finest pieces of art I have ever seen.

The history behind this mighty artisitic feat goes back to the Swiss having a long tradition of supplying mercenaries to foreign governments. Because the Swiss have been politically neutral for centuries and have long enjoyed a reputation for honoring their agreements, a pope or emperor could be confident that his Swiss Guards wouldn't turn on him when the political winds shifted direction.

The Swiss Guards' honor was put to the test in 1792, when--after trying to escape the French Revolution--King Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, and their children were hauled back to the Tuileries Palace in Paris. A mob of working-class Parisians stormed the palace in search of aristocratic blood. More than 700 Swiss officers and soldiers died while defending the palace, without knowing that their royal employers--like Elvis--had left the building.

In the early 1800s, the Danish artist Bertel Thorvaldsen was hired to sculpt a monument to the fallen Swiss Guards. The sculpture was carved in a sandstone cliff above the city center, near Lucerne's Glacier Garden and the Panorama, and it has attracted countless visitors since its dedication in 1821.

Tips: Give yourself at least an overnight stay in the city and try stay down town in the old centre were a double bed for the night will cost anything from 150-300 Swiss francs. Make sure you give yourself and hour to see the two famous bridges and also have a look at the Art Centre near the train station. Myself and Camila had a fine meal for a reasonable price at a restaurent right on the river bank, on the train station side called "Opus" that I would recommend.

The Holy Land

Unlike my visit to Egypt I spent a lot of time researching my trip to Israel by buying the ever useful Lonely Planet on Israel and the Palestinian Territories (which I eventually found in Hodges Figgies on Dawson Street, Dublin 2), and, the excellent Culture Shock! : A guide to Customs and Etiquette in Israel by Dick Winter. I read, underlined and studied both books heavily before I left for the Holy Land and as a result felt much more comfortable in the knowledge that I had a basic understanding of the geography and politics of this contentious region. I would recommend you do something similar if you go. Also worth a little bit of time is surfing YouTube under the keyword ‘Israel’. While laden with propaganda videos from both the Israelites and Palestine’s there are a few videos that provide a quick primer on some of the must see sites in this tiny land.

The reason for this trip was to visit our Microsoft work colleagues in Haifa in the north beside the Lebanon border and Herzoliah just outside of Tel Aviv. On both site visits we were there on a listening tour to understand how we could assist them rise to the challenge of recruiting 150 engineers for our new telecom and security offerings in very tight timeframes which is a tall order considering they have to concentrate on sourcing Jews predominately from their own country.

Similarly to Cairo we thankfully built in a day to see some of the rich sites of the country and ordered ourselves an ex-tank commander tourist guide to explain to us what we were seeing. Israel if unusual in that it is very small at approx 250 miles north to east and 50 miles west east but it packs a heavy weight punch in terms of history, geography and politics. You really need to understand some of the basics to try assimilate what is going on their so you can make some conclusions of your own. It has a population of 6.4 million (the Gaza Strip and West Banking adding another 3.4 million), it has a GDP per capital of $24,600, its economy is strong and getting stronger with major exports being: military hardware, machinery, computer software, cut diamonds and phosphates. Religious it is a hot pot of secularism with 76% of the population being Jews, 16% Muslim, 2% Christian, 1.6% Druze and 3.9% unspecified, visa via, 95% Muslim and 5% Christian in the Palestine Territories. It is one of the most beautiful countries in the world with many varied geographies dispersed over very little distances. In the Golan Heights there is excellent snow capped mountains with ski runs. All along the west of the cost the Mediterranean throws up many beautiful beaches with fine grained sand and hot waters. The Negev desert offers cactus farms, adventure sport paradises and the world’s three largest craters at Mitzpe Ramon. You have the beautiful Sea of Galilee to the north with the mighty Jordan running to it and from it into the Dead Sea and then on towards the Red Sea and the amazing diving sites of Eilat. Then there are some of the oldest cities in the world most of which evoke very clearly defined teaching and stories indoctrinated in the Christian faith: Jericho, Nazareth, Hebron, Bethlehem, Tel Aviv and the unforgettable Holy City of Jerusalem. It is the home of many different occupiers including: Muslims, Arabs, Crusaders, Turks, British and Zionists and it very controversially became an independent state in 1948 after the British government grew tired of the violence of Palestine and turned the problem over to the UN.

When arriving into Tel Aviv from Amman in Jordan by plane the night was filled up with fireworks that marked the 24th of April and Israel’s Independence Day. Like any nation the Israelites were celebrating their nation’s birthday which happened to be its 59th. As we were going from our taxi to our hotel there were Israeli blue and white flags with the prominent star of David flying everywhere. What struck me most though was how many there was. It seemed like every second car, house, and person had some type of blue and white on them. It was a bit like being in the middle of a frenzied crowd of Deise hurling supports in Walsh Park, Waterford, except spread out over many miles.

To trace Israel’s history takes some reading and understanding to explain how it has got to where it is today. I would suggest you go to the following Wiki for a brief but thorough understanding of the history where you can learn more about the 1967 Six Day War, the fatal 1972 attack on Israeli athelestes in the Olympic village in Munich the 1st and 2nd Intifadas.

For my visit the day’s site seeing consisted of a visit to Mountain of Olives, Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to see the fortress ruins of Masada which we had hoped for but all an all it was a packed day. The day started at Mountain of Olives which provided us a clear site of the Garden of Gethsemane were Jesus was betrayed by a kiss, and the Dome of the Rock with its impressive golden top were Abraham almost sacrificed his son and Mohammed ascended to heaven on a white horse, the massive outer wall of King Herod surrounding the city with its eight gates and the plateau terraced Jewish graves which the Jews believe will be the place where the first dead will rise when Jesus decides to return to the Earth in the sacred temple to judge mankind on the Day of Judgement. Inside the city walls there was literally too much to see. We started with visiting the site of the last supper and then we quickly moved onto the tomb of David and the resting place of the 10 commandments. Next was the most revered site of the Jews, the Wailing Wall and then the unforgettable church of the Holy Sepulchre which was built on Calvary where Jesus was crucified. It also holds the stone of unction were Jesus’s body was anointment before he was placed in his tomb which he rose from only a few feet away.

If that wasn’t enough we got back into our car and made our way into the West Bank on a protected Israeli highway on our way to the Dead Sea. As we travelled we saw the sad diving walls of the two peoples, Bedouin tents, the site of the Good Samaritan and the so called oldest city in the world Jericho. Hailed by the local PR companies as the biggest ‘natural spa’ in the world the Dead Sea is certainly a completely different experience then your run of the mill spas. The water contains 20 times as much bromine, 15 times as much magnesium and 10 times as much iodine – it is in effect 33% substance. This amazing array of minerals caused the unusual buoyancy levels that make you float as if you are gliding on the top of the water. You almost feel like a balloon that when pushed under the water immediately wants to come shooting back up. The part I loved the most was covering myself head to toe in mud and kicking back on the top of the water and lying their motionless for minutes staring at the sun, looking at Moses burial site on the far away mountain tops of Jericho and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life when I retired.

I enjoyed Israel a lot and despite the fact that while there the Palestines were launching rockets from the Gaza strip into nearby Israeli towns I felt safe. The security is amazing. Having said that I was happy to leave Israel safe in the knowledge that I did not have to live in such a complex world as there’s living on high alert 24x7. It’s good to be home in my apartment sipping orange juice and staring at the river Liffey. I hope one day the Holy Land acts as calm and peaceful as the famous Dublin river and provides bridges of peace were once only rivers of hate flowed.

King Khufu, Jasmin essential oil and ancient golden masks

The world’s fascination with Egypt has echoed through many centuries like the sonic boom of an overhead jet. Like the cracking thunder first heard its grandeur once seen is permanently impressed on the mind’s eye forever. On this occasion my rambling brought me to Cairo for work not play. Microsoft’s Cairo Microsoft Innovation Centre (CMIC) is expanding and we are searching for research software engineers to help us prototype some new products in the Search and Health verticals. My job was to visit them with two of my American colleagues to hear what they are doing and discuss how we can help them recruit. So for any of you out there who have a doctorate in applied research and have strong object orientated development skills, and, can speak Egyptian, let me know and I might have you a job!

Thankfully while there we all built in a day into our trip to see the sites. We decided the best way to do it was to get the amazing Four Season’s concierge service to order us transport and a guide. While expensive at 700 US dollars our approach paid off handsomely when we were introduced to Mohammed our 7 series black BMW driver who knew every back street in the city and Leila our local Cairo guide who possessed a Masters in Egyptology from Cairo University and was a fountain of knowledge.

First stop were the magnanimous towering enigmatic pyramids of Giza. The only remaining standing Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. When I was boy of eleven years of age my mother asked me what I would like for my birthday. I answered ‘a Celtic jersey, please’. She hunted high and low but wasn’t able to get it for me in time. It was only months later that the jersey was in stock and I was able to get its beautiful cotton on my body. It thought be patience and the joys of finally getting something you desire. I can still remember how excited I was when I received it, quickly put it on and peered at the mirror in my bedroom as if I was a professional soccer player. The episode reminds me of Cairo. For a long time I have also wanted to come to Giza but it seemed to always elude me for one reason or another. But I’ve always remained patient knowing that someday I would visit. A bit like the eleven year old flicking his legs at a mirror and an imaginary ball in his bedroom my first site of the pyramids doused and soaked my thoughts in a well of wonder. As I turned a side street in our car and saw the sky almost filled to the top with a brown imperious triangle with a massive hanging shadow I can remember thinking, “the great pyramids of Egypt, hello old friend. Finally I get the chance to introduce myself”.

Nearly 5,000 years ago Giza became the royal burial ground (the necropolis) for Memphis, the then capital of Egypt. Within 100 years the Egyptians built three towering pyramids complexes to serve as the resting places for their dead kings. Surrounding these tombs were smaller satellite pyramids and a sprinkle of modest structures called masrtaba, for the king’s family and royal court. The tallest and most famous of the three pyramids belongs to King Khufu. It is estimated to contain over 2 million blocks of stone weighting an average of 2.5 tonnes with some stones reaching up to 15 tonnes. In the centre of the pyramid deep inside its walls is the king’s chamber holding his sarcophagus. This is where I went a bee line for when I visited. For a small fee I was told to leave my camera behind and to enter a small slit near the base of the rocks and to start my ascent. For those who are claustrophobic I would not advise taking this on. The walls are very thin and there is a lot of back bending crawling up a small shaft that is at a 51 degree angle. It took about 7 minutes to get to the epicenter and see the empty lidless tomb that had been stolen of its treasures 600 years after its creation. The tomb itself is roughly 20 paced feet long by 12 feet wide. It’s height approximately 20 feet. I shall never forget the peace inside once I entered and the cool air that drafted in from the ingenious built in vents at the top of the chamber. Time stood still. Knowing that 100,000 people spent 50+ years not as slaves but as willing citizens of Cairo to honour their king and bring him to this small chamber and to finally see it was a bit like getting smacked on your frontal lobes with a big wet fish. 30 minutes later while on my camel and posing for some photos with Khufu’s amazing pyramid in the background I kept thinking to myself “I‘m one lucky bast*rd to have just been inside there.”



No, no, no, but that wasn’t enough. After Giza we headed into the city centre to buy some of the world famous Egyptian essential oils. A real nose sniffing treat and highly recommended for those tired of the usual aftershave brands that cost an arm and a leg in high sobriety. This stuff was the real deal with 20,000 petals being crushed and distilled to produce a single 500ml bottle of pure essential oil that if you choose could be mixed with distilled water and pure alcohol to provide an amazing smell. I ended up coming away 250 Euros out of my pocket with 5 bottle of a mixture of Jasmin, Eucalyptus, Violet, Lavender, Gardinia, Lemon and Carnation oils. I also both some pipette like oil holders with built in dobber that you can dip an swab across your neck. Great presents that should last decades. A bit like Jamie Oliver’s teaching in Cook with Jamie explaining what proportions of oils and vinegar to use when making a salad dressing I now have a better understanding of what proportions of water, alcohol and essential oil to use to make a well balanced perfume.

Smelling literally like a perfume shop we next went to the Egyptian museum. The highlight for me being the mighty Ramesses II and also the boy king Tutankhamen’s life sized golden mask. An excellent dreamy evocative tour especially after visiting the pyramids.

Visiting Cairo and Giza makes you feel like downloading Raiders of the Lost Arch, jumping on a chariot and trail blazing the dusty roads of Cairo on your way to the Luxor templates and the Valley of the Kings. I’m definitely coming back here and would recommend anyone interested in history to get here to soak up the atmosphere. Next time unlike this time I’ll be better read on the sites so I understand just a little more the countless wonders this enchanting land has to offer. I have a lot of rambling that needs to be done in the red soiled sun drenched land of the pharaoh kings. On the list are: The Theban Hills, the tomb of Tuthmosis 111, the tomb of Ramses VI, the Hatshepsut temple, the Ramesseum, Sharm el-Sheikh, Alexandria and the Aswan damn. And next time I'll be bringing my Celtic jersey for good measure.

Istanbul and the Blue Mosque

Call it what you will but Constantinople, Byzantium or Istanbul is like no other city I have visited in my life. It is a city immersed in a deep sleepy history that frequently comes alive with a visit to one of its many wonderful mosques, churches, synagogues, palaces, bazaars, museums, baths and harems. What impresses me most about Istanbul is the manner in which it provides the west with a clear example of how ‘warts and all’ secularism can work. Respect is everywhere and so is a picture of Mustafa Kemal, or "Ataturk" who was the soldier turned politician that halted the invasion of the Greeks in 1922 and brought democracy, and western values to a new created Turkish republic. In Turkey he is a demi-god. It is he who cleverly took religion out of politics and who galvanized the Muslims, Christians, Arabs, Turks, and Kurds to name but a few to stop their bickering over internal feuds and push as a nation cohesively towards a brighter future. To do this he changed the alphabetic to a Latin based system and made religiously sensitive sites like the Hagia Sophia and Topkai Palace into museums rather than dividing them between Muslims or Christians who have their history deeply intertwined in both after many changes of power over the generations.

While Istanbul still has its problems with the PKK or Kurdish freedom fighter movement, the occupation of Cyprus, and the Armenian genocide issue halting its application into the European Europe the respect I saw for multiple cultures, the slow deep patience towards progression and the optimism of the people for a better future is clealry evident in the mist and fog that hovers like a white blanket over the mighty Bospherous in the early morning. Turkey will more than likely join the rest of Europe and they are prepared to wait whatever the time is necessary to sort out their own problems in the eyes of Europe before that happens. It will be very interesting to see how this unfolds for in the coming years. I for one will be paying special attention to the subject as the months roll by.

I stayed 4 days in Istanbul which was a really nice amount of time to allow me soak in the beautiful sites and charms of this amazing city. There were many but here are some of the highlights.

1.The Blue Mosque which takes its name from its blue tile work decorating its internals is one of the most famous religious buildings in the world. Serene and magical it is best visited during one of the 5 prayers times in the day that Muslims worship Allah. It was commissioned between 1609 and 1616 by Sultan Ahmet 1st and it is very easy to imagine the throngs of people using it then as they do now. Its six minarets or towers pierce the Istanbul skyline impressive during day and especially night. I had the fortune of seeing it from the lounge bar on the 6th floor of the Richmond hotel in the famous Taxim area on the packed musical winding Istikal Caddesi (the Grafton street of Istanbul). Before you enter spend some time at the water wall on the outside of the building where the Muslims wash their feet, hands and face before they enter. Also, when inside also go to the back of the church to see the very discreet women praying section which marks the line from which men and women can pray.

2.Hagia Sophia or the “church of the holy wisdom” is among the world’s greatest architectural achievements. More than 1,400 years old it is still standing the tests of time and is a reminder of how sophisticated the world of the 6th century Byzantine capital was. The building was the most revered Christian church for over 1,000 years anywhere in the world but was converted to a mosque by the Ottomans in the 15th century. For me the tattered mosaic depicting the archangel Gabriel adorning the lower wall of the apse along with the mihrab pointing to Mecca are its most impressive features.

3.No visit to the capital is complete without a visit to the Spice Bazaar. Unlike the hugely unimpressive Grand Bazaar that mostly sells low quality classic touristic memorabilia that Spice Bazaar delivers on its promise. It is an explosion of color and smell. I really enjoyed it and went back twice in my visit just so I could soak up its atmosphere again before I left. Pictures and video footage can probably do this place much more justice than I ever could with words. I came away with a kilo of mouth wateringly fresh Turkish delight, 2 vacuum packed packets of Love Tea and Chamomile Buds Tea as well as a healthy packed of fresh curry and ginger powders which are now proudly sitting in small jars in my kitchen waiting to be used.



4.Between 1459 and 1465, shortly after his conquest of Constantinople Mehmet 11 built the Topkapi Palace. Rather than a single stand alone palace it was designed with 4 enormous courtyards with huge surrounding walls. Nowadays it is a magnificent museum which consists of the Sultans harem, the archeological museum and the treasury which holds the Topkapi dagger, the forearm of John the Baptist and a strand of hair which belonged to the prophet Mohammed. All are worth visiting. My advice would be to go to Topkapi early in the morning. Go to bed early the night before and get up first thing in the morning to be there for 9m. Your efforts will be rewarded by allowing you circumventing annoying long queues to get into each section of the palace. You will also receive a Brucie Bonus by being allowed stare longer at the amazing Topkapi dagger and impressive Sulatan’s harem quarters if you are not being rushed on by lines of people coming behind you. PS – Pay the extra entry price for a guide of the site. While expensive at 10 euros per person with a little haggling you should be able to get the price lowered. At a minimum buy one of the audio handset guides!

5.The Bosperous River is a beautiful silver veiled wedge that cuts West from East and the Golden horn from the Galata Tower and Beyoglu. What I loved about it was the countless boats of all different sizes that can be seen on its busy waters and the huge number of fishermen that link the bridge all day chatting and joking while they drop a line to see if they can catch a tasty mackerel. What is well worth doing is going to one of the restaurants under the Galata Bridge. Soak up the view, grab a tea and watch life go by for a few hours.

6.And finally, there is Istikal Caddesi which is the busy street I have ever been on. It kicks 6th avenue in New York and Grafton street, both of which I love, into touch. It is really long about the same size of the bottom of O’Connell Street to the top off Grafton Street. It is a lot like both the aforementioned with western shops and lots of pubs and restaurants. It also has its fair share of buskers and shoe shiners. What I liked about it was the sheer number of people on the street wearing so many different types of clothes and smiles. It was amazing to hear all the different languages in full flow like one giant bumble bee hovering over the city and taking a break to look at the little specs below. Noteworthy, also was the countless winding backstreets which held lots of little pubs and meeting places where older men drank tea and played backgammon and where the liberal Turks partied hard into the early hours of the morning.

Also worth experiencing are a good scrub down and massage in a Turkish bath and dabbling in one of the many varieties of kebabs or kebaps as they call them in the capital. Be prepared for a little aching after both. The baths involved being contorted, twisted and stepped on where as the kebabs on numerous occasions want to get in and get out of your body as quick as as one of the jet boats want to get up the Bosphorous. Last but not least make sure to have a shave in one of the barbers. It is heavenly and an experience you won't ever forget especially when they set your ears on fire to get rid of unwanted hairs :)



This blog would not be complete without me mentioning the huge drops of unremitting hospitality that rained down on me from everywhere I went. The people are amazingly friendly. I would put them on a par with my Brazilian experiences. The Irish still have a thing or two to learn on this front. We need to break out of the all to often "convenience" hospitality mode we sometimes find ourselves coasting in and need to truely make an effort to make our guests feel like part of our families like the Kurdish and Turkish muslims did for me.

Pike Market - Seattle

Hotel: Marriott (Waterfront) $199 pp per night. ****
Temp: 6-11 rainy and windy
Must sees: Pike Market and Space Needle.


City of grunge? North Western American high-tech old frontier town? Jewel of the Sound? Home of Mount Rainer and Peugeot Sound? Sparkling? Meandering? Hilly? Charming? Rebellious? Complex yet easy going? Suprising yet contradictory? Yes.Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. And home of the eccentric Pike market. Oh yes indeed.

I'm here in Seattle and have been slowly reeled in and captivated by its charming complexity. While still showing all the tell tail signs of one of the US's biggest cities with its yellow taxi parade, phalanx of homeless people and billowing Chevies, Humvees and Uts Seattle seems to have a lot more to offer than meets the eye. While famous for Microsoft and Starbucks, Eddie Vedder and Kurt Cobain it also is home to Pike Market which is the oldest continuous market in the nation. It was set up in 1907 to give fishmongers the opportunity to bypass middle men and sell straight to the public but quickly grew and attracted a home for bakers, florists, farmers, butchers and cheese makers. Nowadays it also includes book shops, cafes, arts and crafts sellers, buskers and artists. Each day approximately 40,000 visitors travel to this haven of colour and noise on the downtown waterfront of Seattle's city centre and soak in the atmosphere of the lively and infectiously happy demeanor of the stall owners and artists. It's very hard not to leave without a healthy injection of positivism pulsating in the veins. Touching a little on the art deco of Greenwich village, the cramped but colourful feel of Meeting House Square of Temple Bar on a bright Saturday afternoon and the madness of Thailand's Chengmai's midnight markets its buzzing with activity and theming with loads of great bargains. I ate some wild Peugeot Sound raw crab and a cinnamon and apple crep on my first visit and also bought some Albert Camus, Alphonse Mucha, Peter Tchaikovsky and George Carver postcards for my apartment back in Dublin. If left to my own devices and with a small pocket full of change and an hour to kill I'm sure my bag would have been heavier and the souls of my feet lighter.

Portugal and Sevilla

HI there... it's been a while. I promise I'll post more in the future. I'm just back from 11 days touring around the Iberian peninsula. I started the trip on the 28th of December flying into Faro in the Algarve and finished on the 8th of January flying out of Faro. But did I simply just stay in Faro. Yeah right. Alberfueira, Lagos, Lisboa, Sintra, Estoril, Evora, Monserat and Sevilla sat nicely in between. Next stop Seattle in February and Hanover in March.

Captivating Vienna

I've been terribly impressed with Vienna. The sense of learning is impressive. The culture is palpable. Yesterday I rambled through it's quaint streets and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I came across an experimental musical duo: a DJ playing slow house beats and an ecentric scientist looking muscian banging out some slow notes on a trumpet. In front of them was a simple sign on a piece of cloth on the road saying - Mozart you don't have to have a bad childhood. Then I met a tenor is a side street collaseum. He was the most woderful singer I have ever seen live. While being hear for work and not having too much time to take it in the sites. The stuff I have seen have left we wanting more.

61 flights in 26 months

It has been 15 months since I have returned from my trip around the world. It is 26 months since I set off on my rambling around the world. Since then my blog has been dormant but my travels have not. I have been to Seattle, Paris, New York, Lisbon, Madrid, Barcelona, Rio, Salvador and spent 4 months living in Sao Paulo. I have made many new friends and seen many new wonders. I have learned many new things about languages and cultures and fed myself and the dogs on various new delights. Now I am back to write some more. The journey has just begun...

Taking in the Rooster and Going Home

Myself, Brutos and Eusebius had some difficult decisions to make a few days ago. We had intended in taking a flight connecting Hong Kong to Bangkok and Bangkok to Bombay, from there, catch a train to the city of Cochin in the south of India to visit our friend JK and his family. I had first met JK four years earlier in Ireland when I hired him in the company I had been working for. When he learned that I had decided to go hunting around the world he had graciously offered me to visit his family in India. An offer I fully intended taking up. And one made even sweeter when I found he and his new wife would be there until the 11th of Feb until they flew home.

When we found out at the airport that there was a problem with the visa which would mean having to wait 5 days in Hong Kong, thereby, missing our friend in India -we had some very tough decisions to make about the rest of our trip.

We decided to take in the wonderful Chinese New Year’s celebrations to give us time to make a decision what our next step would be. The festivities were amazing. It was if Halloween, Christmas, everybody’s birthday and New Year’s were all rolled into one. Colliding with a musical, colourful, week long arts and crafts extravaganza.

When we sat down to talk about our options Brutos went for staying on course, applying for the visa , checking out some more things in Hong Kong and then going on and exploring India. I wanted to go north and check out the loud whispers of the sleeping giant and his wall and Eusebius said that after much moiling and toiling and diving right to the bottom of his introspection ocean he had decided that enough rich hunting for one expedition had been had and that a return to Ireland to chronicle his events, write down his thoughts, and meet friends and family was in order. As ever, we are a democracy and with a divided house like this I always had the casting vote to make final decision. When I finally made the decision I brought Brutos for a walk to the zoo and botanical gardens in the centre of skyscraper mania in downtown. We both stood in front of the jaguar’s cage and watched his nimble powerful tale stab playfully at a fly that seemed to be hell bent on attacking one of his whiskers. As we watched I told Brutos that after 28 flights, 10 countries, 30 passport stamps, 24 hostels, 14 hotels, 7 apartments, 3 bungy jumps, 1 sky dive, zero doses of serious illness, 1 dose of sun burn, 1 dose of diarrhoea, 2 lost cameras, 4 pairs of flip-flops, 6 parcels sent home, 5000 emails, 4 tsunamis missed, 1 laptop’s miraculous survival (albeit seriously injured), 1200 photos and the longing for Tayto crisps and a proper pint of Guinness, that it was time to go home! To his credit and my surprise ( I was expecting a cogent argument about how while on this side of the planet we should go forward, multiple questions like: when would be here again? Will anything have changed at home? Why not just keep on course? Let’s lie on the beaches of Goa and explore the back streets of Mangalore and Bangalore. Let’s meditate with the Dali Lama and learn how to make a proper Indian curry paste? None of these came forward. ) He simply stabbed his tail in unison with the joyful Jaguar and said, “I agree master. Let’s go home. Hunting has been good. There will be plenty more.”

So here I am writing this final blog of this expedition from my bedroom, in my parent’s house, in windy Waterford, in the beautiful south of Ireland. Having given my mother an almighty shock in the hallway, raided the fridge and had a nap in my bed I am glad to report that it feels good to be home. The next month will be all about recharging, relaxation and rejuvenation. I'm going into hibernation and will see you all in March or sometime soon in the not too distant future.

The last 11 months have been unforgettable. My eyes feel opened and they seem to be able to see a little wider and in a little more detail; the dogs are talking again and I got that education i set off for from the very begining. I am looking forward already to my next adventures and the next chronicles of The Irish Rambling Vagabond - so stay tuned into this channel - I still don't know where or when they will be, but, i do know that they're only a whisker around the corner.

Thanks to everyone who stayed in contact with me and particularly those who sent me mails or tried to call me during the tsunami devastation. It meant a lot. I look forward to getting in contact with you all to hear how life has been treating you. Talk to you post-hibernation. Tchau. Ate Logo, Au Revoir agus Slan go Foill. The I.R.V., Eusebius and Brutos

Vogue

“A budget tells us what we can’t afford but it doesn’t keep us from buying it” William Feather


“Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness simply didn’t know where to shop” Bo Derek


Hong Kong is the most fashion conscious city I have ever visited. The people are impeccably dressed. Each hair on their head is exquisitely styled. Every lick of make-up is flawlessly applied. Every knot and bow precisely tied. Hong Kong is style, tone, trend and etiquette in constant motion. I found it very hard to keep up with. I tried for a day but quickly went into a head-spin. Put it this way. My fashion is a tiny pond. Hong Kong's fashion is a giant ocean...my friends will queue around the corner, like they do over here for the cute little animal toys they give away with McDonalds, to testify to that. The vagabond has a lot to learn when it comes to vogue.

If you ever get to Hong Kong and want to satisfy your fashion appetite just pop down to the International Financial Mall (IFC), or stroll around Queens road Central or far that matter just go anywhere in Central and you will be bombarded with colours, blasted with a variety of fabrics and bamboozled with the names of long list of brands. They've got the lot. Pashmina fine-silk scarfs, Kate Spader exorbitantly priced hangbags, golf-ball sized Tiffany diamonds and very interesting TagHeur astronaut watches. They have Patrizia Pepe, Firenze, Armani, Mango, Praerie, the very cool Ozoc, Robert Cavall, Valentino and Kenzo’s menswear. They have a giant de Grisogono store, Royce Nama chocolate shops with expensive cube collections, a selection as long as your arm of weird and wonderful, but always pricy, Montblanc pens and the widest range of Burberry this narrator has ever seen. And that’s only sticking your toe in the ocean. Hong Kong has the flair to keep up with the boutiques in Paris. The id inspirati to match the some of the most famous catwalks in Milan and the fantasia to rival some New York’s most talented fashion designers.

Have I mentioned technology yet? They love technology over here, to the extent where it is obsessional. Technology is more advanced, comes in a wider selection, is cheaper and is more fashion conscious than in Ireland. There are countless numbers of Mpeg players. Apples standard, mini and shuffle players are popular. So are iRivers rich in functionality classy set of products and the tiny, keenly priced and cleverly designed Oregon Scientific range. Everyone has a phone and only the best will do. Nokia, Ecrisson, Sony and Motorola billboards are plastered everywhere and constantly in your face. A large number of the business community seem to be opting for pocket pcs. Most of the younger and more image conscious section seem to go for whatever is the latest product, that is small, sends photos, and they can hang from a chain around their neck that will bounce nicely, clicking gently, along side there even smaller mpeg player. It’s amazing to watch. You could spend, easily, an entire day just sitting in a side street restaurant eating a seaweed dumpling, downing some snake blood, gormandising a few rice cakes and clumsily prodding a few chicken feet knuckles on a bed of rice, watching everyone strut around competing in their daily fashion war.

There is so much fashion in Hong Kong I was upset when I couldn't see a brand on the ever-present ubiquitous face masks the Hong Kongians wear to protect themselves from the low lying smog and pollution that create a murky bulbous arm of funny coloured clouds that drape from the skyscrapers like a cheap dress. But I believe that this is set to change… I heard a Chinese whisper the other day that somewhere in the serpentine backstreets and winding alleyways of this fascinating city that Nokia, Nike, Sony and Apple are rushing to get their brands first in line. That Toshiba, Adidas, McDonalds and Calvin Klein are working on miniature logos and that Dragon Eye Beer and Hong Kong Bank are going to have a strategic alliance to switch from cotton to Egyptian silk fabrics!!! Just like the real estate that soars and pierces the sky it seems that every inch of space on the Hong Kongians body is worth its weight in fashion gold.

Hong Kong

I love Hong Kong. It's so different to anything i've experienced in my life. So how does someone describe a place that shouldn't be, but is. How does someone describe the world's largest Cantonese city. How does someone describe such a unique cosmopoltion area that holds a massive 7 million people in a territiry of just 1100 sq km's? I'm not going to even try. You need to come here and see it for yourself, however, i will point out some of my observations to date:

[1] NUMBERS
Number 8 is the magic number over here. Everyone tries to get number 8 on their car regs, on their telephone or as the number of their apartment. They will pay substantial increases in money to do so. Each year the Hong Kong government draws in millions of dollars for charity by auctioning licence plates that feature the lucky number. August is also by far the most important month for marriages.



[2] FOODS
Some foods are considered to bring luck. Noodles equals a long life. Sea moss, and oysters bring wealth. Peach juice is seen as an elixir. Other foods are bad luck. If a woman eats eggplant she may have sterility problems. If a man eats pig's brains he may become impotent.

[3] ZODIAC
Like the Western system of astrology there are 12 signs, but in China they are all animals. Your sign is based on the year of your birth. It is said that the chart comes from when Budda summoned all the creatures of the world to come and visit him. Only 12 turned up. Budda decided to call each month after one of them. The first was the rat, then the ox, tiger, rabbit and so on. Being born in the year of the tiger is seen to ve very lucky, the year of the pig, the opposite. In a weeks time it is New Years over here. It will be the year of the rouster.

[4] FENG SHUI
They take this deadly serious over here. A geomancer, or expert in this code is a highly sought after individual. If you are trying to buy a new apartment or a grave. Or if the governent is laying down new lights on the road or a railway track these gurus are brought in to say exactly which way things should be pointing or placed or if the project should go ahead in the first place. Some trees are said to house spirits. As a result, for this reason, some villages and temples in the New Territories still have feng shui woods for the good spirits to live in. Businesses will often call in a geomancer if they are not being profitable or struggling with hitting their targets. Often moving a door or window to a new place or introducing a fish tank can establish the lost energy flows in the air and change the corporations fortunes.

[5] TECHNOLOGY
I went by ferry to a district yesterday called Mongkong to see if i could buy some gadgets. The place was three times as packed as Grafton street on Christmas eve and they had technology hanging out of the shops. I have never seen anything like it. The smallest mpeg players imaginable that hang from your ear of neck. Mobile phones that could make your dinner and cameras that took pictures almost of themselves. It's frightening to see the insatiable demand for new technology by the people here. They simply have to have the lastest version of everything as soon as possible. And they will commonly quee overnight to have.

Will report some more in the coming days.

Wily Tuk Tuks and Furitive Taxi Antics

Yesterday I experienced the famous conniving and crooked wheeling-dealing of Bangkok taxi drivers.

It startred with the Eastin Bangkok hotel (a very nice one at that) just outside the centre of the city. We asked a bell boy could he get us a taxi to go to Kao San rd. It should have cost 75 batt he quoted us 350. We laughed and went outside the road. Within a wag of a dog's tail a blue taxi pulled up. We asked how much. This time he said "10 batt with one stop myster". Again trying to do us. This time instead of the obvious price inflation trick he was going for the infamous tour of all the tailor shops trick that takes half the day. The driver making commission for everyone we set foot on. We laughed and moved on. The third guy we asked would he put on the meter for us. He claimed it was broken. These guys obviously hung out with Paul Daniels. All this in the space of 3 to 4 minutes. We decided to get away from the hotel and make our way to one of the main road. On the way a Tuk Tuk (three wheeled motorbike) quoted us 200 batt and another showed us a book of young girls that he said would massage us and give us a good time. Five minutes later we got an older man who agreed to put on the meter and actually knew where we wanted to go. Happy days. We ended up giving him a sizeable tip for his honesty and integrity. But he wasn't perfect. Half way through the ride he asked us if we wanted him to arrange ladies. We declined. And amazingly, half way through the fare he fell asleep at a red light and started snoring. He burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughin when we shouted at it him and he woke up. It was hilarious.

We have to get a taxi tonight to the tailor shop to pick up some clothes we are having tailor made and then to the airport tomorrow. Will be interesting to see if we get there on alive, on time with any money!

Volunteers for Lazy Man's Yoga

Day: 308
Location: Northern Thailand, Chang Mai
Weather: 29c
Book: The Plague, Albert Camus

After a 7hr jet ride up the Mekong from Luang Prabang to Chang Mai (wearing a dodgey go-cart helmet on a canoe with a farrei engine), a one day cook course which involved learning how to lash together a divine Thai green curry, how to tell the difference between Jasmine rice and sticky rice, a dunedin and a jack fruit and the three different forms of Basil, i've found myself exhausted after just finishing a 3 day intensive traditional Thai massage course (or lazy man's yoga as they call it in Thailand) which focused on pulling, rubbing, kneading, smacking, squeezing, poking, walking, and kicking, in one form or other almost every part of the body.

This last week there's been more wonderful experiences as there are words in the opening sentence of this blog!

From here i'll be catching the night train down to Bangkok were i've decided to put myself up for a couple of days in a nice hotel with a pool and breakfast, as a treat, for a few days before i head do a little rambling with the dogs over in Hong Kong.

When i get home around the end of March i'll be looking for some brave volunteers with the constitution of a horse and high pain thresholds for me to perfect my new skills!

BTW: Have uploaded a few photos from Laos. More to come. Check out their equivalent to Toni and Guy!

The Magic River

There is a 3km long mystical river in Vang Vieng northern Laos that has magic flowing through its currents and sorcery running through its tide.

A few days ago i had one of the best days of my life. In the past the funniest thing i had ever saw was my good friend "Chief" O'Hara, running in an international selection 1500m race, TVs rolling, with a balaclava on his head. He sprinted to the front line after 100m race and was at the bottom of the pack by 200m waving to the crowd and the cameras. From that day on he was banned from ever running again.

Our hat was a tiny little sleepy village that consists no more than two roads interconnecting and a few restaurants, guesthouses and the odd petrol stations to keep the Honda 50s going. After two days of lazing and recovering after traveling myself and companion, Philly Griffin, decided to go on the famous tubing one day event. This consists of renting a black inflatable round tube, being brought 3km upstream away from the village and then literally dumping your ass in the middle of the tube and beginning to float fown the river at a snail pace - and by a snail's pace i mean a snail's pace. It felt as if we're moving at all. As if time had come to a halt.

While on the river we immediately fell under its withcraft and behest. Why? Simple. It was the river of opium, the river of grass and the river of Lao beer. Not to mention a flood of wildlife that went about its daily life as if you never existed.

The journey started with tiny frogs jumping on a mud bath as we tried to clumsily lower our tubes into the water. I still don't their name but there were thousands of them everywhere scampering around as if on some huge hunting spree. They were like tadpoles that had learned to jump prematurely. I gawked and oogled at them for a couple of minutes and then headed down current. We kicked off at 11.05am. 200m down the river and 15 minutes later we arrived at our first bar. Well not really a bar. It was a few bamboos stuck together for a gangway, a small fire in a mud bank and one crate of beer under a tree. The owners of the proud establishment were an old couple in their 70s. After sticking out a 5 metre bamboo and hauling us in they politely gave us a seat at their fire and started to smile at us. After the exchange of a few plesantries we both a beer from them and the old man rolled us a joint. To decline trying it would have been an insult to their hospitality so we took a few puffs. Strong strong stuff. I don't smoke so i basically was coughing my head off for about 5 minuts after trying it. We also had the opportunity to by grade A opium but declined. It was a surreal setting. Two tubes docked on a bit of bamboo, sitting beside a fire, with a beer, and a spifter, at 11am in the morning, trying to converse in Lao to two old people that looked like their next breath would be there last.

After about 20 minutes we set down the river again waving to the lovely couple we left behind. Again, the currents were hardily existant so we didn't move to quick. You have to picture the scenario. When you are sitting in a big tube your legs stick up in the air, your bum hits the water and painfully the odd rock and you can barely get your arms over the rim to touch the water. As such the only thing that has any semblence to a propeller is your two wrists. Not even your arms can get you momentum. As such you can try patter your wrists in the water as your only means of getting yourself into a current to get you down stream. Another 200 metres down the river was the second pub. This time it was manned by a solitary soul that was selling the same wears as the last pub with the added commodity of a visit to a local cave which was a 100m behind the mud bank, over jagged limestone rocks and bamboo bridges. Also on sale were 2 candle packets for a euro. After having the same as the previous establishment we took on the cave in a fit of giggles. It was a massive adventure and I completely felt like Indian Jones seeking out treasure and peril. On more than one occassion Philly shouted at me to be careful and asked if we could abandon the expedition. It was petrifing. At one point we came to a small passage about 40 metres into the cave. We had to descend really really slowly down two tiny ladders to get to it. Both of us weren't sure what the passages footing was made of so we had to stop and have a debate whether we should go on. It looked and kind of felt like quick sand to me, Philly thought it might be deep mud. After cleverly throwing something into it we quickly found out it was neither and was more stone and granite than anything else. It kind of scared both of us and while wanting to go further into the mysterious cave that seemed to have no end we called it a day and headed back to the light, thankful that we had dodged injury or whatever kind of man eating beast resided in there.

After saluting the barman and accepting a helping prod from his long bamboo stick we set off again. This time we went for about 1km. On the way we saw a huge variety of river wildlife, especialy birds. On more than one occasion, as if playing with us, some dove tailed cheeky purple and yellow little nimble warbling feathered friends darted towards us as if they were hell bent on committing wildlife suicide. But just at the final moment they'd always gracefully pulled up and advert disaster by a whisker. Precision flying at its best. As we were under attack, we couldn't but help notice the towering mountains all around us, the hanging trees gently dipping their branches and leafs into the water and a multitude of little rapids and protruberant rocks jutting out of the side and middle of the river like some sort of Kripton factor gauntlet.

About an hour and a half later we came to our final stop. While there were 8 or 9 bars on the river, this was all we could manage for one day. This time instead of old publicans their were two young teenagers as proprietors. The same menu including cave was on offer. There waa no fire but when we pointed to the sun, the grass and made an explosion signal they got the drift and went about quickly making one for us. This was the first bar where their was music. Laos pop music. A bit like the worst possible entry allowed into the Eurovision. But i loved it. Within 10 minutes, after docking the tubes and eating a pack of tasty crisps we were all dancing on the grass banks laughing loudly at i don't know what. We stayed with the boys for about 30 minutes until 15 canoes suddenly came down the river and stopped in the same pub. The boys nearly had heart attacks they had so much business but they managed to handle it.

On the rest of the trip there were many more adventures. A tube flapping race, a drop of rain, some ripcurls, some bashing into rocks and many many weird and wacky experiences. Finally, and unusually, it got to cold at about 4pm and we got out of the river at about 2.5km. We couldn't even get it sorted to finish! We got ourselves a tuck-tuck three-wheel taxi to the crossroads, led down in one of the bars, ordered some water and slept for an hour. Great day.

If you ever get to Laos you got to try the river in Vien Vang. It will spread its magic all over you for the rest of your days.

Laos

Location: Bangkokish, Thailand
Day: 292
Temp: a humid 27 degrees

Known thousands of years ago as the land of a million elephants (Lan Xang) Laos’s small farming based population after 300 years of war with the USA, France, Siam, China, Annam and Myanmar (Burma), is finally enjoying peace and opening up its many wonders to tourists like me from all over the globe. Synonymous as being the most underdeveloped and most mysterious of all three former French Indochina states, Laos has transformed itself in the last two decades both economically and politically. Since 1989 free markets and private investment have been the norm. While Vietnam is quickly industrialising to support its expanding workforce, Cambodia stabilises itself after its Pol Pot nightmare and Thailand darts into the 21st century with a limping tourism trade. Laos seems happy enough to remain in the shadows of its neighbours while slowly developing one of the most stable, low-profile economic and political systems in the region.

Laos’s landmass is marginally bigger than that of former Great Britan and is dominated by rivers and mountains. The highlight of the country is probably the famous Mekong River that bisects the land. Starting 4350km from the sea, 5000m up on the Tibetean Plateau, the Mekong River is known as Lancang Jiang (Turbulent River) in China, Mae Nam Khong in Thailand, Mynamer and Laos, Tonle Thom (Great Water) in Cambodia and Cuu Long (Nine Dragons) in Vietnam. The Mekong River valley and its fertile floodplains form the country’s primary agricultural zones as well, including virtually all the country’s wet-rice lands. The two largest valley sections surround Vientiane and Savannaket, the two major population centres. The Mekong and its tributaries are also an important source of fish, one of the staple foods of the nation. Mountains cover over 70% of the country. The main range is the Annamite Chain, a rugged mountain range with peaks averaging 1500m to 2500m in height. The large, northern half of Laos is made up almost entirely of broken, steep-sloped mountainous ranges. The highest being found in Xieng Khuang Province, including Phu Bia, the country’s highest peak at 2820m.

So here I am in a cabin-bed on a night train from Bangkok to the Laos border with a modest amount of research done. The train is basic but comfortable. It kicked off at 8pm and should get me there by 6am and cost one-way 5500 real or approx. 550 bat which is 10 euros.

The dogs are sleeping soundly by the looks of them and are all packed up on mosquito repellent and clean water, and last but not least, have their winter woollies ready for the cold and wind in the highlands. So far we are not sure of what way we are going hunting in Laos. Playing as we see, crossing as we come is playing a blinder so we’ll sail straight down that mantra river once more and pray to the God’s for their blessings. Getting a 30US, 1 month visa at the border shouldn’t be too difficult. So far from everyone we have talked to that has been there they have said that the city of Luang Prabang (all unanimously say to omit the capital Vientiane) with its famous night market, high concentration of wat temples heavily populated by the expanding monk populace, roaring waterfalls and floating pubs is the place to relax and soak up the atmosphere of this special country. One told us of a story of a place were you can hire a black blow-up ring tube and float slowly down a brown water tributary. On either side of the river stretching over a 10km period at 1km intervals are pubs that shout at you while you’re floating languidly by sticking out a huge bamboo cane at you into an attempt to get you to grab onto it and get pulled onto land. Ingenious advertisement. Once inside their elevated humble tin can pub you can buy a reputedly excellent Laos beer, watch the river serpentine and haphazardly meander by, park your black tube free of charge and seemingly very cheaply, with a toothless smile, order an excellent grass and/or opium joint rolled for you to smoke on your way down the river to the next stop. Sounds interesting and will have to look into when we get there. Brutos started running around in circles, attracting (in the middle of Khao San street in Bangkok) a lot of attention barking when he heard the story. God knows what he’ll do when he gets up there.

Night Train to Laos

The last few days have been action packed and some of the best of my adventure. Unfortunately due to slow internet connections, constant moving from city to city and a dodgy keyboard on my laptop I haven't been able to blog as much as I'd like to but I'm hoping that will change when I get to Laos and start to chill out for a few days. Here are a few bullet points of what's been happening:

-I'm presently traveling with Philly Griffin ( a friend from Waterford), for Xmas we went to the islands of Kao Phanyang to catch some sun, hit the full moon parties, and have a monster New Years. The island was a bit like Ibiza but more chilled out and far better scenery. Life was mostly all about sleeping in a log cabin beside the beach, driving around on our Honda 50s on the most dangerous roads I have ever seen, drinking coconuts, avoiding 40 ft, 500km an hour tidal waves and having a daily "dream package" massage :)
-Three days were had in Cambodia. Without doubt some of the most enjoyable days of my life. Firstly, we went to the capital Phnom Penh, a dust ridden, unorganised jungle where everyone rides a bike and chaos manages the traffic rules. With literally no traffic lights and no names on the roads anything goes. It was not unusual to see 4 or 5 people on the back of small bikes beeping horns, zig zagging and jockeying for position, wearing a face mask to protect against dust and a baseball cap to protect themselves from the belting sun. Also got the chance to visit the harrowing Killing Fields of Choeung Ek and the Toul Sleng Genocide Musuem. One of the highlights was being brought to a army base by my taxi bike rider. A menu was put on the table and i had the chance to fire a varierty of weapons in a ravine or shotting range. I toyed with the idea of firing an M16 and a rocket launcher for 200 dollars but decided that i'd leave it to Chuck Norris, Rambo and the more than willing Israeli boys that were there!!! After a crazy night in the dodgiest hotel I ever stayed with we got two taxi bikes to the train station and then made our way painfully slow to Siem Reap and the amazing temples of Anker Wat. Anker Wat is the biggest religious construction in the worlds history, it spreads out over 77km of land and has a wide variety of temples, causeways, towers and underground chambers. Fascinating. I'd need a few hours to catalogue the experience. I'd strongly recommend a visit if in the vicinity. Will try write more about it later.
-After a tortuous 10 hour bus journey we landed in Bangkok and hit the central back pack streets. This place is seriously sleazy and anything goes from what I can see. Plenty of dart throwing and ping-pong shooting shows on hand for little or no cover charge. Crazy. After an early night in and the watching of a few FA cup matches myself and Philly called it a night. Today so far has been all about arranging our overnight train to Laos and getting fitted out by one of the famous tailors that are everywhere. Today I put in an order for 7 Kashmir pants and 9 cotton shirts. Have a fitting in a few hours. Total cost after receiving a free Pepsi and spending 10 minutes haggling - 200 euros. Time will tell if it was good valuable.

Lots of photos uploaded on the blog. Here's a link to the Cambodia section.

The New Year is upon us - let's be thankful!

It's still difficult to comprehend the wreckage and destruction the earthquake has reaked...it's still hard to predict the full extent of the damage... some of the facts and figures are flaggergasting:

-500 miles an hour waves
-40ft high
-quakes the equivalent to 1000 atom bombs
-120,000 dead

If you want to find out more information about this week's tsunami of biblical proportions and how you can help the victims, the best place to go is a new blog in the Indian Ocean region that's compiling everything from requests by organizations seeking donations to victim lists. It's called the South-East Asia Earthquake and Tsunami blog. It seems that the bloggers are getting out for more information than any of the networks so check it out.

If you can get the chance to make a donation - do so. The devastated really need the world to unite to bring them out of this nightmare as quickly as possible.

On a lighter note, the show does go on, and its heartening to see people bravely resuming life as best they can. Tonight is New Year's Eve and while the people of Thailand like those of the other affected country are in shock they are determined to celebrate the coming of the New Year the best they can...

I know i am going to follow their brave example. Tonight will be a beach party - the likes of which has never been seen before.

Have a good one whereever you are and be thankful to be given the gift of seeing a new year.

Happy to be still Rambling...Tsunami dodging

By now you've all heard of the earthquake disaster that has hit so many heavily populated coastlines in Asia. Thankfully, I wasn't affected, but, many were not so fortunate. The death tool so far as accurately as I can get is:

Sri Lanka: 10,800 dead
Indonesia: 4,500 dead
India: 2,958 dead
Thailand: 839 dead
Malaysia: 44 dead
Maldives: 32 dead
Burma: 30 dead
Bangladesh: 2 dead

The first I heard of it was an email from my brother. I quickly asked some of the natives of the situation and they outlined the magnitude of the quake and the path of destruction that was being carved out as we spoke. At that stage some of the aftershocks were still sending 40ft waves out into sea. After a quick email home to explain that we were safe we went about finding out as much information as we could. First we were told that 1,000 had died. Later 2,000...So on and so on and now the count is approx. 20,000. Some of the stories that we heard were terrible as the situation unfolded. We met one guy who told us that he was talking to his girlfriend who was stuck in the island of Phuckat (one of the worst hit), she was on top of a mountain with some others who dashed to the summit and she didn't know what to do. They had received a 2 hour warning to reach high ground. Another told a story of how his friend was deep sea diving off the same island when the first wave hit. Both were saved. Others were less fortunate. Up to 20 tourist boats through out all the countries were missing. Many fishermen were lost and even the grandson of the kingdom of Thailand, a 21 year old boy, lost his life while out jet skiing. And its still not over for these areas. Talk has now swung to the disease that will spread due to poor sanitation and lack of clean water. Unfortunately, the death toll is going to be higher. More individual eye accounts can be found on http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4125945.stm

Life on the island is going on as if it hasn't happened. Literally, everyone is going about the business. Fortunately, Koa Phanyang is in the gulf and protected by the mainland. As such, we did not experience anything at all. Just huge volumes of emails, phone calls and TV images of the devastation.

I count myself lucky. Back in June I made a decision to stay in Brasil an extra month. If I had not done that I would presently, according to my original itinery be on the east coast of Sri Lanka and would have been in one of the regions that was hit the hardest. I now won't be going there and must contact Quantas to see what my options are of a different flight. Maybe it will be an extra couple of weeks in China or India. I'll have to check it out.

Anyway, thanks for the emails. They were much appreciated.

We all need a bit of haiku for Xmas

subway woman asleep
picked daisies
in her hand

The blind musician
extending an old tin cup
collects a snowflake

little butterfly
floating over the flowers
christmas is beginning

Sydney

Day: 272
Location: YHA Hostel (Central Station)
Temp: 34

After some hell-raising with my good old mate, Mick Cluskey, I now find myself in Sydney. It's hot here. Very hot.

Tonight i go with a Japanese boxer, called Rocky, for a meal on the harbour. I'm going to get my 2nd Japanese lesson. Always fun trying to communicate with someone from the other side of the globe with a few clicks, winks ans arm swings.

Becuase of the potential situation with booked flights of not getting to Thailand for New Years Eve i had to make a tough decision to knock New Caledonia and the biggest Lagoon in the world on its head. It will have to be done another time. So much for practicing my French which i've been learning with the help of my new mini Ipod (a God sent for any vagabond).

As it stands i fly on the 24th of December. I stay in Thailand until the 28th Jan. I'm planning to take in the islands a week in the north, a week in Laos and a few days in Cambodia to check out the temples. On the 28th i make my way to Hong Kong to do some gambling ni Macaw and practice the Portugese again. From there one more day in Bangkok and then 2 weeks in Sri Lanka and a month in India.

I'd imagine the Christmas festivities are well and truely on the way. Same on this side of the world. Only difference being Santa has a barby, puts factor 60 on the snowmens' noses and Rudolf is wearing Speedos.

Melbourne

Yesterday i landed in Melbourne and had a long overdue meeting with my good friend Mick Cluskey (the first ever person i met in college). It was great to see him. He had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his step. Not suprised. Considering the fact that he was driving me around in his convertible MG. The boys enjoying life and catching his fair share of rays which are in abundance down here. A very warm 28 degrees today and serious beach weather.

I forgot how beautiful Melbourne is and how big. Well over 3 million people in looks like a very well run city and very safe city. We could take a lesson or two from the way they live down here.

Next few days will be chilling out in the city and visiting the beach. The weekend will be a trip along the famous coast line and a spot of camping.

Oh yeah, as you probabaly guessed Brutos got my password for the blog and has been throwing up some spurious, counterfactual rants. He has been rempremanded.

Hope your all enjoyin' the run in to Xmas.

An altrustic Maroi

I was reborn yesterday. The world looks anew now. Things have changed in my mind. I have crossed a Roubicon. It was the very ne plus ultra of excitment.

I was in a bar in Queenstown a couple of nights ago having a few drinks with two Swedish girls when an oldish Maroi dude sat besdie me with his sagacious looking wife. One thing lead to another and we started trading interesting stories about our respective cultures. The topic quickly moved onto how I was enjoying New Zealand, and in particular, Queenstown. I explained to the sage looking man and his gentle wife that I was having a wonderful time. He told me he could see it in my auro before i even spoke. He knew i was happy. He asked me what adventure sports i had done, what i thought of them and what ones did i still want to do. Over a very enjoyable pint of local DB brew i told him in colourful detail my thoughts and observations. I also explained to him that while having done my fair share, i was low on time and money and as such couldn't get it all in in this visit. As i explained to him the iterinary i was and would be leading and the budgetary mechanics involved he excused himself politely and asked could he talk to his wife. Both talked in whispers and then smiled, shook their heads in affirmation and then returned to my company. The eagle featured man then asked me if i had anything planned for the next day. I told him no. He then asked me would i be interested in a once off, never to be repeated sports thrill of a life time. Was i what... He then over the course of 30 minutes explained to me how he and his family and sisters had come from nothing and through a combination of fortune and hard work he was now a multi-millionaire through a portfolio of investments mainly split into property and adventure sports companies. He told me that i reminded him of his son that was living in London, then with a smile he offered me a free package of adventure sports starting at 9am the next day. He explained to me vaguely what was involoved and guaranteed me it would be the best day of my life. A bold statement. After asking a few questions about the practicalities involved and consultating with my brother i agreed.

At 9am i was collected on a hot-rod motor bike from Queenstown Lodge where i was staying. From there I was drove to the local airport and qucikly strapped up and placed in a 4 man microplane that ascended to 15,000 ft. In the plane i was introduced to my tandem instrcutor, a cool, hip hop clothes wearing dude called Rodge. In the plane he placed some more clips on my harness and produced out of a cloth bag a bungy cord. I was worried. I wasn't going for the world record highest bungy jump by any chance? He laughed at me loudly as one of his colleagues came over and doubled checked everything. He calmed me down a little by explaining that there would be no world record attempts but there would be a bungy jump. I was to free fall for 60 seconds, after that he would release a parachute that would bring us gently towards the river below and at 300meters he would release the bungy cord and he said i could then make a jump. He explained that the man i had talked to in the bar had developed the jump and that it was perfectly safe, to trust him and that someone would be waiting for me below. At this stage i had little or no choice and went along with it. It was amazing. I nearly sh*t my pants. The best part was the bungy jump. It was so weird, for someone even to think up the concept and to go ahead wIth building a special double sized parachute was poco loco.

When i gently met the river a large white pole was extended to me from two other guys in a yellow raft. They undid my harness placed a life jacket on me, a pink helmet and gave me and oar. Then, they made me repeat a prayer with them in Maroi and one of them asked me to go to the front with him and help paddle down the ravine. After about 15 minutes of hard paddling we landed ourself in the fercouisly wild rapids. The guide at the back fell out at one stage but got back in. The ride lasted an hour but it went by like the blinking of a river swill on the horizon. If that wasn't enough at the end I was met by a young red headed Australian called, Bruce. He took a photo of me and asked me to remove my clothes. He handed me a towel and told me to change back into a new set of clothes which he gave me. After this he gave me a lunch box and told me to sit with him and eat. I had a chicken sandwich, a drink and a bit of fruit. He told me a little about his home looked at his watch, 12.30pm, and then said right lets go. He brought me through a forest and ahead of us was a chopper. We got on the helicopter and he fired up the engines. After lift off, he lashed on a banging techno number that i could hear in the headphones and we headed for Mount Cook and the massive Tasman Glacier. We landed after 30 minutes and we were both greeted by a very attractive teenage girl called, Jade. She had a snow board waiting for me and asked me if was ready to rock. I simply nodded and got strapped up. The descent was amazing. It was also really cool the way the helicopter pilot hovered above us for about 10 minutes before he left. I could visualise him nodding and shaking his head to his tunes as he smiled and watched me cresting the snow dunes and skimming off the ice.

Within 40 minutes it was finsihed. On the way down i kept thinking, what the f*ck is going to be next. I hoped there would be more. There was. Another dude, this time a much older man, Mr Robert P Philip - well, when i say old, older then the ones before - i'd say mid-40s, handed me a mountain bike and pointed to a dense forest path. We went over, and started a gentle descent a long the meandering path. This lasted about 30 minutes and was the least strenuous of all the trips. When he got off his bike we had arrived at a small jungle hut. He brought me inside and in there i was greeted by the man in the pub in the face and his wife. We all laughed when we met. He asked me if i was enjoyng myself. I smiled and just laughted out loud. He told me he'd take that as a Yes. Then he handed me the keys to a 4x4 quad and told me that the both of us would have a little ride along the ledge road, which is this tight hair pin, rubble road on the side of a gorge. The scenary was spectaular the weather was playing a blinder and hitting the river below to throw up a variety of reflecting lights from the stones in the river bed.

After an hour we arrived at a thermal bath and inside were the two Swedish girls that i had seen in the bar the night before. I was ushered to a changing room. Given the smallest pair of speedos you have ever seen and was told that for the next hour i was to be the the Irish ham in a Swedish love sandwich. I was fed grapes, kiwi slices and told that i would receive a pair of Koala slippers after their bubble bath show!! Oh the rest, lets just say its not for public consumption...

I was reborn yesterday. The world looks anew now.

If you don't beleive me you can send a mail to the girls and they'll tell you Their addresses are:

metofat@yahoo.se and elizabethlongnose@hotmail.com

Killing Experiences

Hi, Brutos here,

The Master is asleep and so is Eusebius so I have decided to write this blog. Why should he be the one that gets to write everything?

We are in Queenstown now. And the master’s brother is here, Joseph. We’ve all been feeding on extremely rich hunting grounds. I’d be hard pushed to recall a time when so many kills have been made in such a short amount of time. Preys are everywhere and are easy to, pin, wrestle and bite your mental morals into!

Queenstown is Kerry on steroids. It’s green, really green, one hundred greens, with massive multi coloured, multi-sculptured, mountains, clear, blue, round, oval, egg-like, splatted paint-shaped pristine lakes and forever skies with mesmerising cloud formations and memorable multi-coloured horizons that seem to whisper at you some kind of secret song that only mother nature knows how to sing. The song is everywhere down here. Dogs can here it sometimes but humans can’t. In this part of the world the euphony is all around the land. I have heard it on more than one occasion. Eusebius told me that he did too. It is unique and special.

Something Queenstown has that Kerry doesn’t have is glaciers and massive ranges of snow peaked mountains, long, wide, deep gorges and ravines with acres of ripe, fertile, rich soil speckled in carefully manicured lush vineyards of Pinot Noir. Eusebius is more of a Melbec dog and the Master is into Merlot. But no sweat, each dog to his own tail, each dog makes his own whale. We dogs only can register three tastes unlike a human tongue, but, I’m happy with my lot. You can only imagine the smells we can get with our big wet sensitive noses that you humans can’t. Let’s say we’re even.

In the adventure capital of the world there is too many activities to choose from. If you were here for two months you could do a different activity every day. And have loads left over for a return visit. On offer is: the famous AJ Hackett bungy jump, the biggest being the mighty Nevis leap which is 143meters high, there are 3 jumps in total; sky-diving, heli-hijking, heli-rides with drop off mountain bike descents, parachuting, hang gliding, speed boats, glow worm cave explorations, plane flights to the nearby famous Milford Sound fiord lands, world class fishing, rally driving, 6x6 and 4x4 mountain tours, clay pigeon shooting, a variety of horse riding extravaganzas, white water rafting grade 5 rapids, awesome body board sledging and oodles more. The place is made for adventure. And doesn’t fail on delivery. It is the first city in the world that I have ever been to that seems to be dominated by sports. It’s great… I love it here.

Let me give you an example why. Today was sledging with the aptly called Serious Fun Company. A crowd of lu-la, crazy, cool, thrill seekers. This is white water rafting without the rafts. Instead you use a body board… sound strange, it is… The way it works is you lash on a helmet, kind of like one of the ones that you’d see in an inter- county hurling match. Next, is a thick 5mm wet suit, flippers, shoes and gloves. After that comes the shiny board. The trip I went on was in total about 12km, a two run, one and a half hour riot down grade 3 rapids. Grade 3 mightn’t sound like much when you are in a raft but let me tell you, first hand, that when you are in the water without the protection of a raft, when you are at the mercy of dangerous whirl pools, jagged rocks, rips, curls, waves, rushing foam, branches, other boarders, sharp flippers and strong currents, travelling at up to 40km an hour it’s a big fat, crusty based adrenalin pizza your taking a few slices from. For me one of the highlights of this brilliant trip was getting a chance to take on some whirl pools. When you a hit a whirl pool its very easy to go into one, and if not to strong to catch an eddie (a nearby current, usually in the centre of the river) and kick your way out. However, if you lift your board vertical, instead of horizontal, place both hands on the top of the seam and hold it close, parallel to your body in a standing position you catch the whirlpool and spin around super quick and then eventually get spitted out. I caught two really good ones with three full spins inside. I also caught a good wave, paddling against the current and also threw a few mouth filling 360 pipes.

At one point in the second run, it started to rain. It was a beautiful site. 12 people rushing down a roaring river, multi coloured helmets bobbing in the water, boards tossing and turning, legs kicking hard, teeth clenched in wonderful smiles, shouts for joy filling the air, high-fives and index fingers pointing for the heavens and a thousands exploding drops smacking the river’s surface forming thousands of miniature bouncing hollows followed by a thousand more .

A serious work out, serious sport, serious fun, serious hunting.

The Cloud Piecer

Today I took my first helicopter ride. My brother and I and the dogs flew around the 70,000 hectares, Mount Cook National Park. For the last three weeks there has been bad weather here. Again, like te sky dive we were blessed with azure blue skies, sparse cloud cover, a high sun and minimum wind. The park consists of 140 peaks over 2,100m, 22 over 3,000 and the centre piece: an impressive 3695 Aoraki Mount Cook. The direct translation in Mauroi being "Cloud Piercer". Fortunately, we also got to see very clearly 3 captivating glaciers: (1) Franz Joseph (2) Foxes and (3)the 29km long largest glacier outside the Artic, Tasman Glacier.

The helicopter ride was a maganimous 40 minutes long. We all had to wear headphones to drown out the deafening propeller sounds but also to listen to some facts from the informative pilot. Half way through the flight we had a landing on Tasman Mountain, and a photo opportunity. Jospeh was like a gunslinger on the photo draw and ample time was given us to get some mighty snaps. Little diamonds. Also on show was a one man hiker. I don't know what he was donig up there but he was pulling his slay along industriously on his way to somewhere. Would have liked a night or two there with a good book, a log fire and a hot port.

Tomorrow is an 8 hour drive to the adventure capital of the world: Queenstown.

Hurtling at 200km

Today I took my first ever sky dive. One of the best experiences of my life. At first we didn’t think that we would get the chance to do it as the forcast the night before was threatening all day rains which would have prevented the plane from taking off. But thankfully when we woke up, the sun was out and the jump was on. The jump was in Toupon, half way down the north island, on the mainland, over the spectacular lake Toupon (the biggest lake in the country). It was a 12,000 tandem drop with a 15 second free fall and a 4 minute whirling parachute descent. The way it worked was you turned up on the day and got measured up very quickly and then put on your Beasty Boy jump fit. You got a Biggles hat with goggles and got introduced to the instructor you would be tied on to. Unexpectedly, that was it before we got into the microplane. I thought we would be told what to do when jumping out of the plane and what to do when landing, but none of this happened. All of this either took place in the tiny plane or in the air when the parachute was opened. Overall, there was little to do, the instructors almost had total control of everything. All we had to do was bend our knees back and lift them up to our chest and then start running when we landed.

The moments before the jump were good viewing. Its amazing seeing peoples reactions before leaping out of a plane: fear, trepidation, excitment. The free fall was the peak. All I can remember is a sense a joy and excitement mixed in with a cold sensation on my face and hands and the rushing of air all over my body. A bit like when you stick ypur face out the window of a car going 100miles an hour. Try it if you want to know what a free fall feels like. I shouted all the way down before the parachute exploded open and made its ways to the stars. At 200km an hour you feel like you are being shot out of a gun. The force is tremendous.The skin on your face lifts and you clearly sense that you are hurtling to the ground in a surreal situation. For me there was also a moment of smiles when I thought of what I was doing. Flying. It was a feeling of happiness. A feeling of appreciation and respect. Man through ingenuity and creativity has learned to defy its environment and learned to conquer it in many ways. Some day we will live on another planet. Of that i have no doubts.

After the jump we all made our way on a six hour car ride to Wellington. Next stop is all about ferry rides to the south island and making our way down to the Franz Joseph Glacier and the formidable and striking Mount Cook. If it is anything like the last two days on the north island it will be heaps of fun.

Clouds, Legs and Baaahs

Getting to Auckland involved watching Spiderman 2, The Terminal, knocking back a few Chilean beers and 13 hours. I didn’t sleep. I tried but simply couldn’t. I left on the 17th of November but arrived on the 19th. The date line is guaranteed to throw your biological clock in a head spin. The first two days in Auckland were all about chilling out and acclimatising. The jetlag was the roughest I have ever experienced. I might try the tablets the next time. Home was one of the biggest backpacking hostels on the planet - the massive, 600 bed, recruitment agency, travel agency consisting Auckland Central Backpackers. The place was so big it even had its own massive backpacking bar. For those that go beware of the elevators. They are nearest thing I have ever seen to a mechanical Venus fly trap. I almost lost a leg and an ear. You have two seconds to get in when the doors open if you want to avoid injury. Weird. The staff thought it was hilarious. In Auckland I hooked up with Lisa and Ann, my friends from Sweden, Jason and Yvonne my Scottish mates from Dublin and my bro, Joseph, who decided to pay his little brother a two week flying visit from the Emerald Isle.

Like any big brother should do he is splashing put a little on his little bro and the life of the Irish Rambling Vagabond and his hairy hounds has gone up more levels of comfort then there is stairs in the classy Auckland Sky Tower. Alas, it has all been top hotels, Sky TV, big booted, rented, fast cars with U2s new album banging a tune or two (like tracks 1,2,3, and 8).

Today was all about grade 5 water rafting. An excellent, high octane, adrenalin water roller coaster. Highly recommended. We went for a tour company called Kaituna Adventures. A serious crew of guides, all looking like something out of Point Break. Dreads, mochicans, six packs and tattoos everywhere. And all with cool names like: Clunk, Wade, Knarl and Fang. One of the guides was a massive 16 stone, body building, blond mochican wearing, hulk-like giant Mauri. Absolutely huge. I can only imagine was John Alomo and Jake the Muck looks like in the flesh.

The rafting expedition we went for was the deepest immersion rafting experience in the world. 1 hour, 3 waterfalls (one of which was a massive 7 meter drop) and 14 rapids over steep, narrow, canyons of brown water. We started off with a Mauri prayer asking the ancient warriors that were buried in the river’s banks for safe passage. In each raft was two guides and six or seven others. To start with we passed the tree of death successfully, we then had to clunk oars off the lucky tree and then after learning a few life saving techniques headed out into the rapids. I was at point with one of the instructors which was great fun. It meant a little more paddling and a little bit more water in the face. But to hell it with it, I was up for it. The highlight of the trip was a massive 7 metre drop which immersed the entire raft. Check out the photos to see how difficult it was. The raft directly in front of us capsized when they went over but fortunately we got through it upright. Amazing feeling going over the top knowing that you're definitely going to be submerged and not knowing if the boat is going to land on you. It was one of the quickest hours of my life. Really enjoyable and well worth the sixty odd euros we coughed up to do it. The vagabond recommends it..

Mecca Mendoza

Mendoza is one of Argentina’s biggest and most elegant cities. It is inhabited by over one million Argentines, is located half way down the country, on the western border, almost touching Chile and is closely linked to Santa in the north, Cordoba in the east and Bariloche in the south.

Mendoza is a backpackers Mecca. The city is interesting, expertly planned out and adorned with a very low sky line with a mixture of modern and colonial architecture. Prices are extremely low and tour, food, transport and accommodation quality is high. The people are friendly. Smiles are as obvious as the clouds in the sky, they're the common currency of welcome everywhere you go and are high and wide as the massive 7000m Aconcagua only a few hours bus journey away. I fell in love with the place. Sometimes you just get a feeling! After making my windy way through the multitude of serpentine hair pins from Santiago and across the Andes I got that feeling when entering the city: wide side walks, tree-lined streets with hanging branches and oodles of cool restaurants, bars and Internet cafes. Also on show was a healthy selection of markets selling all types of handmade objects: blankets, hats, key rings, dolls, dog belts, hacky sacks, stones, face masks, the lot. The parks were very cool. Inside were soccer pitches, steam boats, marble statues and excellently tendered flower formations. And let’s not forget the cities justified reputation as having some of the most beautiful people in the world!!!

Mendoza also equals wine. Fine wine. World acclaimed wine. Melbec. I’ve decided I won’t tell you about the vineyards and the excellent conditions and techniques that they have for producing their world famous produce. To do so properly would take many hours. All I shall say is for those that like their wine I can assure you that for a strong, full bodied, oak tinted bottle of red that would do justice to a good spag bolo or a nice medium rare fillet of steak try one of Argentina’s Melbec range. I personally can recommend some of the bottles from the excellent Lopez vineyards.

Home for the 10 days in Mecca was Campo Base. The cheapest hostel I have been in on my rambling at an embarrassingly cheap 2.50 euros a night. Also the only hostel I have ever been where the have triple beds. Forget bunk beds. On these things you climb up that ladder another notch. Fortunately, I got the second bunk so the climb wasn’t too high and just about manageable at 4am in the morning after a day’s hike and a bottle of top notch vino. The place had great staff, a cool lounge and a more than adequate kitchen. Beside its mixture of tranquillity and ostensible beauty, Mendoza also offers a wide variety of adventure sports. In Campo Base they had an activity organised for everyday. On offer was (1) trekking rappelling and hot springs (2) the high mountain hike (which was a vast to Aconcagua Park and the old town bridge) (3) mountain biking and hot springs (4) vineyards tour (5) rafting (grade 3) (6) hitting the town and get absolutely hammered on Melbec wine and vodka, and (7) hitting the town and getting absolutely ossified on Melbec wine and whiskey. I tried them all with the exception of rafting as it was only a baby grade 2/3, and the mountain biking, which I had done my far share of in Bariloche.

On the sports front the best day for me was the day that myself and a very cool Australian dude called Patrick went bare hand sheer-cliff rock climbing. The type of rock climbing where you see a wiry, brave semi-clad soul setting off at the end of a mountain, harness on, hands free and a pouch of white chalk hanging from his hip. I’ve never tried it before. It was exhausting and physically very demanding but I loved it. The climbing was a grade 5-10 which s basically a mid range cliff face with average difficulty. The pros I believe do up to a grade 7 and novices like me should usually start in the 4s.

The face we attempted was a 30 metre high granite wall that ranged from between 80 degrees to 120 degrees in curvature. It had sparse hand grips and only a modicum of foots rests. It had little are no vegetation and was quite slippery. Patrick went first. He had done it before in Canada and had all his own equipment so it was a great help for me watching how he approached the cliff. We were not alone and our guide for the day was there to hold the fall rope and offer us advice in broken English and Spanish.

Climbing is a mixture of flexibility, power and cunning. It lends itself highly to problem solving, something I never appreciated until I was facing a foot-hand grip conundrum at 20 meters up. You literally have to think on your fingers not your feet! When hanging on your fingers you quickly learn how to access possible routes up or down. There s always the knowledge in the back of your head that you can at anytime give up and sit back at your ease in your harness and either have another go at a certain grip or swing to another side of the face to try another route. But there is also the knowledge that to do so is failure. While comforting knowing that the safety harness is always there, the primal animal in me, resigned itself not to use it unless absolutely necessary. The challenge for me was going as high as I could as efficiently as I could, slowly if necessary - but without assistance. To do so I visualised that I was alone, without equipment, without anyone, completely on my tod, in a must find out situation. What proved to be very helpful was I imagined that at every impasse I met, Brutos and Eusebius had been kidnapped by a heinous fiend who had taken them away from me, muzzled them, and was dangling them menacingly over the cliff head above me. Just about to throw them to their doom unless I could get to the top to rescue them. This nightmare image drove me forward and pumped the necessary adrenalin into my arteries to make thinking on my fingers a little crisper and sharper than thinking in my feet. It also gave me superhuman strength. After about 30 dogged minutes of climbing, multiple hand and foot grips and tons of contortions, screeches and reaches I met a stubborn cliff face with an impossible one hand grip to far to my left and a foot grip that a Anakin Skywalker would find hard to get to. I thought of the dogs and used all my powers to try figure out a solution. Nothing. I called on the force. Nothing. I asked the Gods for divine intervention. Nothing. After thinking for a minute or two and after careful recollecting of months of Brasilian meat and beer and a far share of Argentina wines I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t do it. In that resignation there was a kind of strange calm, serenity. Almost 20 metres up I felt peace on the side of a Argentinean granite face. I had tried, and tried well. But no biscuit. Not even a dog bone. I decided enough was enough. If it was my destiny not to see the dogs again until I saw them in the big white puffy kennels in the sky, so be it.

After the sheer face climbing our guide brought us to a 8 metre high suspension bridge that looked something straight out of an Indian Jones movies. Dodgy rods holding it together on each side. Really shaky and squeaky planks of wood for footing and a big copper wire to place hands. For about 10 minutes we got the chance to hang from the bridge and jump into the ice water before. We gathered quite a bit of attention from some of the passer bys. Some of which couldn’t resist taking a few snaps of us in action. It was great fun and reminded me of jumping off the rocks in the Guillemene cove, near Tramore back in Waterford, Ireland. Happy days.

Santiago

Got in and got out as quick as i could. Don´t go there. Reminded me of the smog ridden, claminess and disorganisation of Lima. Spent a couple of nights and then made my way over the amazing valleys of the Andes and into the diametrically oppossed, breath of fresh air -Mendoza. Will be here for a week.

Volcanoes and Vineyards

Last few days have been marked by many new experiences.Ive learned a hell of a lot about the Andes, volcanoes, ice climbing, wine cultivating techniques, french and U.S. oak barrel making and how to spot a good wine from an imposter.

Last week in Bariloche Argentina was all about checking out lakes. Their beauty exceeds their reputation. From there a Fiat Puma was rented and I drove across the Andes and into Chile. The day had all four seasons: gentle but lenghty snow falls to stone splitting sun rays and rainbows.

Chile has the straightest and best roads i have ever seen. You literally could fall asleep at the wheel and keep driving for 10 minutes,at 100 miles an hour, without worrying about hitting anything or anyone(a motorbike enthusiasts heaven). The lansdcape is head swinging and window rolling. Similar verdant greens to Ireland, deep and light browns in the mountains and regularly exposed soils on the ubiquitos farms, vineyards and forests that hug the famous route 5 from south to north, and, also a wealth of lakes with a spectrum of blues that a professional oil painter would have difficulty naming.

After receiving some advice in the hostel patagonia we decided to head for Poucan, a famous sking and hiking village. While 450km away, the road trip paid dividends. Sleepy little fairy town, infested with log cabins, huts and 4x4s bringing ski boards, canoes and hiking equipment around its narrow streets and mountain passes. The show piece of the town for me was not the geothermic in and outdoor hot springs but Volcano Villarrica.

Here´s the conversation and sales pitch that made me climb her:

"Ola, como esta...entra, sentar aquai"
"Ola, que tal?"
"Tudo azul"
"Speak English, iºm still working on the Spanish."
"Sure."
"Cool.Thanks, right, im here about the volcano, can you give me some information about it, can i climb it tomorrow, how much does it cost, equipment? etc."
"Sure, the last four days its been called off due to bad weather but tomorrow we go. Let me tell you a little bit about her. Villarrica is an open system basaltic volcano with a long historic record that includes four fatal eruptions. Its 2847m high and always covered in snow and ice. The first historic eruption was recorded in 1558. Since then, there have been at least 54 small to moderate eruptions. There have been two moderate-large eruptions in 1640 and 1948. Mudfows, associated with eruptions, killed a total of at least 73 people in 1949, 1963, 1964, and 1971. The mudflows of 1971 were caused by lava flows that melted ice. Many homes and agricultural installations were destroyed in the Chaillupen and Turbio Valleys. Concrete bridges across major bridges were also cut. About 350 people were killed in Villarrica village by a tectonic earthquake in 1575. Takes 6 hours to get up in full alpine equipment, and an hour to get down sliding on your ass. We kick off at 7am, and....."
"Hold your pick there boss, is it safe these days.."
"Im holding my what?"
"Forget it. Is it safe to climb now. 2004. Safe. No accidents. No problemmass"
"Sure. No problemmmaaaas. Its active but nothing is going to happen. We have all the necessary scientific equipment to tell if anythig is going to happen. Let me continue, you pay the national park entry fee of....where you from?"
"Ireland."
"Ireand, i love that place. Guinness. U2."
"Yeah."
"That would be euros than?"
"Yeah."
"You pay 30 euros for the tour, 5 euros in, another 3 euros for the 10 minute cable car, and then take the climb..... Are you a big soppy-woppy-fluffy-bunny and [OUT] or you a green, white and gold lion and [IN]?"
"Ill give you 25 for the tour."
"Ha ha ha ha"
"Ok, ill give you 26, right now and im in, cash"
"29"
"26.5"
"Ha ha ha ha... 29"
"27"
"28.5"
"Im a green white and gold, and very cold, 12 pack, supersonic celtic fox, and........ [In]!"
"What?"
"Ask your ice pick"
"Pablo, we have another crazy Irish man going up the volcano."

The climb took 5 hours and was tuff. We put on the spikes on our boots half way up, and dug into the ice and ascended in zig zag fashion. Very physically demanding but exhilorting. Quite a few turned around and decided not to do it. Visibility was poor and goggels were essential. On more than one occassion visibility dropped to 5 meters when the wind picked up, and changed direction and blew the top layer of granular snow in our path. The top was impressive. Big crater with snow running down into its heart and white bellowing sulpher clouds rushing up with huge shouts and belchs of lava thundering into the air from the lava rivers below. The view from the top was non existant; too much sulpher. Very uncomfortable to be honest. After lots of coughing and a few singed faces we quickly headed back 100m from the apex and then headed down, literally sliding all the way on our ass watching the snow baords and skiers doing their stuff. Good fun and a great experience.

After the volcano, jumped in the panda, let out a few obscenities on hearing 56million Americans let Bush get in for a 2nd term and headed another 400km north to Corico and the vineyards. After a very heavy baby-like sleep went to two vineyards. The first was San Pedro and the second was the Torres Estate. My first true education in fine wines. Learned loads and sampled loads while marvelling at the amazing Andes panaramoic background and throwing my eyes across miles and miles of military precision rows of vines. Ended up buying a bottle of Motlin 2002, from Sao Pedro, which i think i will go and open now. Actually, i think thats a splendid idea. Stop the keyboard tapping and start the wine swirling, tongue curling, colour and nose hurling.

The Lake District

Location: Bariloche
Temp: 5 degrees, cold and windy.

I’m writing this blog from the Hotel-Inn Hostel in Bariloche, Patagonia. It consists of a log cabin, 10km away from the nearest city and civilisation, a small pebbled beach (that leads onto one of the coldest lakes I have ever had the pleasure to swim in) and there are two young labradors looking after the giant garden to the rear. One of which has an injured paw and keeps following me every time I set foot outside.

The dogs are loving it here and have bonded immediately with the two incumbent hounds. We are booked in to stay here until Tuesday, but Eusebius has begged me to stay longer. He can’t get enough of the open air, crystal water, snow tinted mountain valleys and the rich variety of flora. I think they both must be communicating freely again ‘cause Brutos came up and asked if we could also extend our stay. I’m travelling with a cool English girl called Claire and we have agreed to rent a car on Tuesday to do the 7 lakes tour, hit Chile for 4 days and then drop the car off in Mendoza, so it might be difficult pushing the boat out for another day. I told them we’ll see. As ever there just isn’t enough time to do everything. It’s one of the rambling conundrums that ramblers have. You get somewhere, start learning about it, want to check it out, and realise there simply isn’t enough time, so you do what you can. It’s usually hit the main attractions and then if you’re lucky pick off one or two of the others. I might be able to wrangle an extra day here. It will be worth it if I can. There is so much to see: hand gliding, canoeing, diving, serious bike riding and a huge choice of hikes of varying difficultly.

Yesterday was different. I set off to conquer one of the local mountains, mount Frey. It is a 2000m high peak with a small lake on top and a very small hostel with a one man cook-electrician-ski boarding-handyman McGuiver-like Argentina legend called Marcus looking after the place. Not only did he bake a lovely fresh loaf when I was there but he also whipped up magical spag bol for 2euros. Getting to the hostel was demanding. 10km up and 10km down. The terrain varied in difficulty and constitution. It started with your normal forest like scenario that you would get back home. After about 2km it changed dramatically into a flat plain with sporadic streams flowing down from the ice cap above. All around the plain was old grey dead trees. Trees that looked as if they had been hit my a merciless pesticide. Very strange when you turned the corner and went from a fecundity of fertile bright green and brown colours to be hit with weak straw grass and grey dead bark. After about 5km the trail started its ascent. It consisted of some wooden bridges over some small but aggressive rivers and waterfalls and then a lot of bramble and open earthed roots from big giant trees. It was difficult to climb but not as difficult as what lay ahead the last 2k. Mostly rock, mud, bog and finally ankle height snow. Because the trail wasn’t marked too well I got lost on the wrong path for half an hour but I eventually got back on track and made it up to the top after a few handfuls of snow to eat.

The night I thought was going to be calm and relaxed as there was only one Italian man and two English girls in the hut. But I was wrong. At about 9pm 50. Yes 50 Argentian students between the age of 12 and 14 popped out of the snow or beamed themselves from an orbiting spaceship onto the top of the mountain. All of a sudden paradise on the top of mount Frey turned into a tent infested school room where yours truly was interviwed by at least 15 curious oogling kids giving me the Spanish inquisition in broken English and teaching me how to name all the utensils on a kitchen table in Spanish. Not exactly what I expected but a good laugh and a strange place and strange way to learn how to say knife, fork, spoon and butter in Spainish.

On the Spanish front, it is pleasantly very similar to Portuguese. Thankfully I didn’t have to start from scratch to learn a new language. I can confidently say that Portuguese is a much more difficult to learn. The phonetics are far more complex and the use of nasal sounds are more prevalent. Having said that Spanish pronunciations are also difficult. So far I’ve learned that the “v” sounds like a “b” and the “j” sounds like a “h” and the unusual double L “ll” sounds like “ya”. While attempting to speak Spanish it has been difficult resisting throwing in the odd Portuguese word. I more than often do and fortunately usually they understand what I am trying to say. I’d love another two months here. I reckon with 3 months here I’d have strong conversational skills.

So there you have, the south Americal leg is almost over.

The Moreno Glacier

Unfortunately some of the eys on my laptop ( the ones besde u and j especially and the comma and full stop) or broen as such ths mumbo-jumbo word-mountan that loos amazingly le the jagged roughed landscape ve just been captivated and nspred by.

35m long 1 m wide 60m high a majestical pantng that nature rarely produces and often takes away in the blinking of an eye the masterpiece s still here and unbelievably s still being panted everyday a frosty slap in the iris a blue punch n the pupil a shotgun sound n the ear the falling ice chunks small tidal waves eye tnted mountans small nimble birds with spiky heads and attitudes thousands of jagged undulating bumps with a ten types of blue and a hundreds types of white dd you now that the esmos have 300 names for snow down here the ce must have the same nearby El Chatlen and the magnanimous Fitzroy range climbing paradise the powerful towers of pain huge stone masses shooting ominously into the sy nqustve condors 4 hour horse track innumerable meandering rivers a nice Swedish couple a 4th generaton rshman called Marcos avanagh hs stores of attacng puma on the prares the world famously cold bone chilling winds three coats two pants were not enough almost nhumanable conditions beautiful wld horses that are traded for 125 euros turquoise lae Argentna tender lomo meat durng ther toughest economc tmes of late n one wee the country had unbelievably 5 presdents no longer one to one wth the dollar the people are slowly readjustng the widest variety of snow capped moutons have ever seen that run on for ever laugng at the stars and talng wth the cluds the cheapest but slowest nternet access yet hostl el calafate almost loosng my camera a dash bac to get before the bus left the coolest customer servcce rep ever altruism n full swng repad hm wth a bottle of melbec fnshng the edtng of the 3rd boo starng out a bg clear wndow the lazest dogs n the world that go around n bg pacs shaelton lounge and lyng star shaped on the ground loong at the heavens drun on wne and beer havng to fly to Buenos to get to Barloche fryng up my own tender steas n the hostel the 7 laes tour on the way and holeween n the lae dstrct. John Culnan wherever you are you’d love t down here ths place was made for you.

Ive copied and pasted a little but enough is enough.

Iiiiiii….hey ‘I’ is miraciously back in action and so is kkkkkkk

….

;,,,,

im back…..life on the road for a beaten, bounced and walloped laptop.

The Land of Fire

Day: 210
Location: Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina
Temp: 5c

Tierra Del Fuego, or the “The Land of Fire” is located at the tip of South America, down from the Falkland Islands, past the straits of Magellan and a mere two day freight boat away from the penguins in Antarctica. It earns its name from distant shoreline campfires the indigenous Yagan people tended to. These infernos were ogled at by mesmerised explorers sailing the surrounding, channels and straits in years gone by. These days almost all the Yahgan`s are gone and the archipelago is owned mostly by neighbouring Chile, though the biggest cities of Rio Grande and where the dogs and I are, Ushuaia, belong to Argentina. The last few days have consisted of cable rides to Glaciers and climbing mountains in the country’s first coastline National Park. But hold the husky ride for a moment. Let me back pack (I`m getting so used to that name now), I mean back slay a bit for a moment. Let’s tie up the dogs and let me tell you what’s been happening since my last blog.

Here is the abbreviated and censored version:

My good friend Alex Martin decided to pay me a whirl wind, “high-rolling” week long visit after learning that he had been accepted to do his MBA in Sydney. For a period of 10 days we went mad. First in Sao Paulo, at my farewell Brasilian party which was a hell raising, drunken, hugs, kisses and champagne affair that became very messy at about 8am in the morning. And let’s not forget emotional. I now consider a part of my heart Brasilian. I love the people. I love the culture. And I love picanha, Corinthians and Guarana! After my Sao Paulo exit we headed to Buenos Aires where Alex was swiftly introduced to my ever smiling Scotish friend Yvonne and her ultra sound and ultra cool boyfriend Jason. Over the space of a few blurry days we hit some of the nightclubs: Club 69, Pasha, BA News and the 8am to 3pm Kaix club which is the craziest club I have ever went to in my life. You got to check this place out. It’s situated on the River Plate, which gives it a dramatic watery affect, and at 8am the sun makes its way gently into the sky and hits the small circular dance floor with some of its dappled yellow and golden rays. The club holds about 2,000 people. About 2,500 people were there when we made our introduction, 95% on drugs, 99% out from the night before, all taking part in a clubbing marathon. When we arrived ther were 5 bodybuilder gay lords commanding the dance floor with flamboyant multi-coloured spiked haircuts, squeezing their pecks and tensing their biceps to every beat in the excellent uplifting house tunes and 80s rifts. Beside them were two 6ft 2 or 6ft 3 giant transvestites that danced languidly with the lissom grace of one of the incoming waves in the bay. Speckled all around them were a corpulence of banging ravers jumping, shouting, whistling, biting, hugging, jaw chewing, index finger firing, pill dropping, sneaker wearing dancers all seemingly having the time of their life. Alex and I got home at about 11am. Eusebius never saw anything like it in his life and spent most of his time jumping up and down and taking mental notes of everything he saw. He mostly stood on the periphery. Brutos on the other paw got stuck in there in the middle of the dance floor and gave as good as he got. As the morning progressed and the tunes kept spinning he introduced himselfs to loads of people. By the end of the day he must have shook tails and barked friendly at least half the people there. He slept for 24 hours afterwards.

Unbelievably, after 3 days, Alex decided a visit back to Brasil was in order, this time the River of January. And in a scene reminiscent of Snatch, our passports flashed by us, were quickly stamped and our metal bird hit the sky and before you could say “Polar Bears are actually very dangerous and not to be petted” we were taking snaps of Christ the Redeemer, body boarding in Ipanema, and knocking back more champagne then you can imagine (on one occasion 10 bottles in one night).

After all that madness Alex headed back to London in a heap and I was sent in individual parcels down to Buenos Aires and put back together by the beautiful Meire and Beatchie, friends from Brasil, who decided to visit me.

One of the highlights of my entire trip was a wonderful meal we had at an amazing Tango show called “Senhor Tango”. A two hour, amazing extravaganza with the best dancing I have ever seen, and, a rendition of “Don’t Cry for me Argentina” at the end which had Eusebius in tears. Fantastic and highly highly recommended. A must see in my books if you get to Buenos Aires. And at US$50 for the show and a top notch meal well worth pushing out the budget. The next few days were spent lazily strolling around the highly sophisticated, beautifully adorned, cosmopolitan capital. A wonderful city. A cross between the old town in Stockholm and Paris. The city seemed to be a never ending pall of thousands and thousands of chic and classy indoor and outdoor cafes and restaurants all surrounded and intertwined with a variety of elegant older buildings. In our short trip we got a chance to visit the beautiful district of Rocoleta with its unforgettable cemetery, take in some weird and wacky markets in Boca, on the port (the home of the famous Boca Juniors team, where Diego Maradona applied his trade and is revered as a demigod) and loiter around the widest main street in any capital in the world, Av 9 del Julio (and impressive 8 lanes, 56m wide).

After their whirlwind visit the Brazilians returned to their homeland and I hung out for a few days with Yvonne and Jason. This was complete chill out time. With plenty of rest and plenty of good food. They’re now in Mendoza and more than likely slugging back some fancy red wine, that came from a fancy rare grape variety that was stored in a fancy oak barrel wine. I’m looking forward to swirling, spitting and downing some of it myself in a few weeks.

Okay, where was I… Oh yes, glaciers and national parks… I am presently leaning on the keyboards of my laptop in a cool hostel called Torre al Sur looking out into the heavily snow capped mountain surrounded bay in Ushuaia. There are two English women and an Irish woman across the table from me debating whether or not they have the time, money or equipment to take on the 10 day trip to the Antarctica (so far I’ve gleaned it costs 2,000 US dollars for 10 days [more expensive in high season Dec-Jan], it takes the big freight boat 2 days to get over and 2 days to get back and that its cold), and I`m loading some of the photos from the last two days` excursions on to my hard drive. The first trip was a cable car ride to the Martial Glacier, which took about 2 hours and boasts one of the most spectacular views of the city and bay. Truly beautiful. Today was a visit to Parque Nacional Tierra Del Fuego which consists of numerous hikes, the most southerly operating train in the world, cascading rivers, giant lakes, tall dense forests, blue pink glaciers and sporadic beaches. I decided to take on the hardest trail which was an 8km hike up and down to the very steep Cerro Guanaco through a heavily meandering, forest path, which took me a demanding 4 hours to wrestle and conquer. The site from the top was even better than the Martial Glacier. Luckily enough I got back to my base station and a warm fire just before a huge downpour of snow, sleet and rain hit the park. I`m tired now but enthused. I`m sleepy but ready and waiting for tomorrow’s adventure. Hopefully I’ll be clapping flippers with seals, studying the foxes and beavers and staring at Andean condors and black-browed albatrosses.

Obrigado Brasil

Acabo de sair das viagias que passei em Brasil. Foi super-legal. Fiquei com meu muito generoso pai Marcel. O tempo estava cheio com: adventura, diabrura and sorrisos. Fui visitar muitos lugares interessantes, e vi as cascatas em Chapada Dimentina e Falls de Iguacu, e dansei em Fortaleza e Salvador, e nadei com tubarao e golfinhos em Fornando de Naronha. E muito outra coisas……Ouvi muita musica Brasiliana, comei carne spectacular e gritei par Tiamao em Pacanbeau.

Foi uma tempo especial no meu vida que nunca esquecer. Eu sento quasi Brasilian ahora. Eu ansisoso que uma dia eu vou voltar.

To all my friends, of which there are too many to mention, I say a big Thank You. There will always be a special part of your amazing country in my heart of hearts. So let`s not say goodbye. Let`s say “ate logo”.

And to all of you Brasilian rambling vagabond who are thinking of visiting the other side of the world always know that you have a place to stay with me in Ireland.

Cornelius and a strange game of ball

For those of you that know the rambler, you will know that soocer has been an integral part of my lifeforce for a long time. Maybe not as much now as it used to be, but, still it plays a big part. Ever since i can rememebr i`ve been kicking a ball. I have 25 years plus football pumping in my vains, i have played with many teams, in many countries, and in many cities. I`ve competed in myriad leagaues and cups , in almost every position on the pitch and in almost every weather condition. At this stage i must have played thousands and thousands of games. So many it`s impossible to count... I want to tell you about a game of football i played that was nothing like i`ve ever experienced, or come close to experiencing in my life of football ever before!

The story starts when I met a group of blokes last weekend, friends of friends. We exchanged handshakes and salutations, and as you do, then got speaking over a few beers on a variety of topics: Cornelius as usual got an appearence, and i got slagged again for the 10,000nt time, if there still was a war in Ireland, how Bush is such a prick, and then, pleasantly we drifted onto a conversation on soccer. We discussed the finer details of the Spanish league, we argued about the demise of the Italian and French national teams and we clonked glasses on how great it would be if Ireland could play Brasil in one of the opening games of the next world cup in Germany (with the man of the moment down here Cornelius making an appearence in the middle of the park with Keano). At the end of the conversation one of the guys said that they played every Wednesday at midnight on an astro turf pitch, with electronic scoreboards, usually 5 a-side. To their credit, as i`m becoming accustomed to down here, they immediately stuck out the hand of friendship and asked me did i want a game. It has been a few months since i played a proper 5 a-side game and if i was to be honest would have to admit that i was a little suspicious that my new found friends were about to vent the fury and built up anger of a nation towards the Irish and Cornelius by subjecting me to a barrage of dirty tackles and a healthy portion elbows for the duration of the game. But, i`m used to that so after a fleeting moment of thought and a quick mouthful of beer I accepted. IT WAS COMPLETELY NUTS for various different reasons that i couldn`t have expected and will never forget.

My nameless friend picked me up in his car at 10.30 with his girlfriend and dropped her off, winked at me, and headed for the pitch. When we got there it was actually a complex with about 4 similar pitches, each roughly half the size of a standard pitch, with big nets and a small dug out. The complex had a club house that served food and drink. Straight away i was brought to meet the players in the bar and we all had 2 or 3 beers before the game kicked off. Strange preperation i thought to myself! At ten to twelve we went to the pitch with about 10 people from the bar who acted as a semi interested crowd. Just before we kicked off, one of the guys in the stand lit up the first of many joints and half the players took huge mouthfuls of the drug into their system in what i can only guess was a substitute for a warm up çause none was done. That is with the exception of a rather large goal keeper on the oppositions team that shook his head around twice, and scratched his eyes as if he had just woke up after 2 days of non stop sleep.

The game of ball was nothing like i had, in error, prepared myself for. I thought it would be a little rough and tumble with a healthy proportion of traditional Brasilian flare and dexterity. It turned out to be all flare and dexterity and no rough and tumble. Pure football. All passing and movement. It was great. I relaxed took up a role in the middle of the park and in a 19-14 titantic battle played my part in slaying a disgruntled and highly excited opposition. But that`s not where this game ended as some of the players explained to me over a few final-whistle handshakes. The real game was about to begin. After a quick shower i sat down on some steps beside the bar with the other players. My driver and talented centre half duely collected 2.50 euros from us all and went into the bar and came back with a black dustin full of ice and beer. Then, as if on q, every week, a big fat japanese dude pulled up in a dusty beaten down car and handed over a big bag of favala cocaine to our goal keeper. After a few bottles of beer each, half the team started rolling joints and the others started taking their turn going back towards the pitch to take a line of coke. So there i was in the middle of a beer soccer sandwich with a group of brasilians clapping me on my back congratulating me on my soccer performance, saying that Cornelius was actually alright, and probably had his own problems that no one knew about, and that their marathon runner should be thankful as he is now world famous and a Brasilian TV channel are already talking about making a film of his life, and seemingly all the girls now think he`s really handsome and want to bed him. For the next hour and a half I dug into the bottle of beers and the boys dug into a variety of other substances. The subject varied from what type of drugs there is in Ireland, are all the women tall, with blond hair, blue eyes, long legs and can drink 10 pints of Guinness, to, how Brasil has been corrupted by the politicians and how that someday they wished that it could grow and flourish and change from a 3rd world country full of economic and social disparities to a 1st world with a more balanced culture and economy that bridges the gap between poor and rich.

The debates were lively, interesting, intelligent and often elegantly and cogently discussed. It was a strange game of footall. And as i laid in bed at night pondering on what happened i couldn`t help but think once again how football (or any team sport for that matter) had been such a wonderfully weird teacher of life. To the boys, of last night, who i may never see again, to the nameless soccer warriors i will probably never cross shins and elbows with, drink a beer with or discuss life again... the vagabond salutes you.

Chillin'

Last few weeks have been all about hangin' out in Sao Paulo and chillin' after the last few hectic weeks of traveling. I needed it after 15 plane flights and 2 months on the road. Back in SP, I've been brushing up on my Portuguese, doing a lot of reading and writing, hangin' out in Angelica Grill stuffing delicious picanha and cheese bread into my gob, watching the mighty Corinthians soar up the football table, and have been learning how to dance Forro with the beautiful Dany (I've already hit her an elbow and stood on her toes at least three times)!

With a tear in my eye I'll be leaving Sao Paulo at the end of the month. Que Pena! But, on the upside will be two-foot tackling, my first Argentian stop, the sophisticated, cultured and intriguing capital of Buenos Aires. I hope to spend five weeks in total in Argentina. So far I'm thinking of spending a week in the capital and after that I'm undecided? Brutos wants to head straight down south ( on an over-night bus), to Tierra del Fuego, via a quick stop in the beaxh resort of Mar-Del-Plata. Eusebius wants to kick off our rambling by heading for the north to sample the tasty criolla chica and cereza grapes in Mendoza, San Juan, La Rioja and Salta . He's more interested in educating his mid pallete then getting rough and tumble with a few fiords, rolling mountain chains and active volcanoes in the Lake District. We've all aggreed that a quick visit to, Punta Arenas, a quick hike through The Frency Valley and Lake Grey to check out the impressive scarped peakes of the Torres del Paine (or Towers of Pain) is a must.

Next, being hotly debated is in which order to prioritise other areas to ramble to? So far the list is looking like, in first place the massive, gorgantuian, mountain:

Aconcagua
2. a visit to Cortoba
3. an extended stay back in the capital if it proves to be a hit and
4. a cheeky two day trop to neignbouring Uruguay and Montevideo which is only a one-hour boat trop away from Buenos, before flying onwards to Santiago.

Some strategic and tactical decisions will have to be made very soon. Anyone out there in cyber-space got any advice or recommendations or even contacts I could use, drop a dog a bone.the

i.r.v, eus & bru

The Lungs of the World & The Scary Candiru

Location: Jungle
Day: 148
Weather: 37
Tour Operator: Green Planet Tours , cost: 75 euros for the entire trip! Hotels: Hotel Monoco *** and The Tropical Hotel ****

The Amazon houses and possess a mountain of interesting facts figures and statistics that are hard to digest- here are a few openers that you might be interested in: it touches nine of the thirteen countries in south America, it covers 42% of Brazilian land mass, it is the world’s largest concentration of flora and fauna, it is home to the world’s largest river in terms of volume constituting 30% of the world’s river water. Some local academics also contend that it is also the world’s longest river currently attributed to the Nile and at this time are researching that its source is further up in the Peruvian Andes. I could go on forever but I won`t. If you want to know more buy a book or get down here on your next holiday.

Chief and I started our brief exploration of the Amazon in the capital of the state of Amazonian: Manuas. Manuas is situated on the Rio Negro seven miles upstream from the impressive convergence of the Solomines and Negro rivers, which join to form the birthplace of the Amazon River. Manuas is a strange city. There is a huge population of over 2 million and it is juxtaposition of a high tech urban economy, reminiscent of a colonial past and a present day struggling lower class that predominantly come from a poor Indian heritage. It houses some of the biggest manufacturing, research & development, petrol, telecommunication and computer internationals on the planet but at the same time has a very poor infrastructure and has widespread prostitution and unskilled labour. My recommendation would be to come into Manuas and get out to the jungle as quick as possible to utilise all the precious days of your trip to the Amazon. There’s not a lot to see in the city except for the ornate opera house which is a symbol of the opulence that once thrived in the region due to the rubber industry boom that happened two hundred years ago.

A bit like the mosquitoes in the area the tour operators and jungle lodge owners in the Amazon swarm around tourists the minute they step through arrivals. They sell their journeys when you queue for the taxi, they peddle their goods when you are trying to go to the toilet, they tip you on the shoulder when you are shopping in the local supermarket or when you are having a maracuja fruit juice. There buzzing can be heard in the streets. And like their two winged friends they are dangerous. If they bite you your experience of the Amazon could be a disaster. Poor sleeping facilities, slow boats, poor food, non-English speaking guides, etc. I wish their were a Larium, Malarone or Doxiciclina that you could take to prevent their bites but unfortunately our best minds haven’t come up with a repellent yet! Maybe the answer is somewhere deep in the jungle !When picking a tour it is recommended that extreme caution and forward planning be used. Its worth doing your research before you get here as the tourist office in the town is a disaster with little or no literature and staff that can only speak Portuguese. It is as if the there is a tour operating cartel in operation! After a stressful day of shooting around in a taxi trying to find information to compare on tours Chief and I decided after, some debate and haggling with a local weird and wacky Portuguese German eccentric Irish looking tour operator called Nelson to take a two night three day tour with a company called Green planet. And boy was it some experience. It was about as strange as a Daddy Long Legs being put in the heart of an invested jungle lake and told “There you go boy , you’re home, you’re back in the wild, go forth and multiply”. It’s new territory. It’s an unfamiliar world. Having said that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and we rose to the challenge.

Home was a floating lodge 30 feet wide by 50 foot long. Bit like a floating school gym with a tin can roof. Sleeping facilities consisted of several low maintenance rooms consisting of beds and ripped mosquito nets. On the front deck were twelve hammocks. Food was dished up by a one armed chef and consisted primarily of pasta, rice, fried bananas, white fish I don’t know the name of, the smallest and sweetest bananas you’ve ever seen and orange juice, hot milk and water. Sanitary conditions were modest but effective and the seating area to the front was spacious and comfortable and provided a good area to watch the local boats occasionally go by.

Day one of our trip into the unknown consisted of taking a boat from the dock in Manuas to the meeting of the waters. This is a strange phenomenon where the black water of the Rio Negro from Colombia merges with the Solimoes river of Peru. Brought me back to one of my science glasses when I was a kid. If my memory serves me right it was the same effect when you mixed water with oil. Anyone know the technical term send me a mail. Can`t recall it. Anyway they don’t mix so the effect is like a crack in the water where on the left of the boat you have black water which is 5 degrees hotter than the brown water which is on your right. After the meetings we went to our floating camp and within the space of a few hours headed out piranha fishing and crocodile hunting at night. Myself, Chief, Eusebius, Brutos, four friendly Spanish, two beautiful Italian women, a stoic Japanese axe-murder looking man, Flavio our 16 year old ship captain and coconut tree climber, and last but not least, our excellent multi-linguist, ex-army, avid flora and fauna hunter and guide Naronha set off up one of the plenitude of tributaries of the Rio Negro (which is one of the main supplies of cocaine from Colombia in the world) to see what the Amazon would throw at us. After experiencing piranha fishing in the Panthanal, the fishing on the day was a little less fruitful. However what we lacked in luck and skill with our fishing we made up with verve. It was great fun hearing all the members of the boast shouting obscenities at the fish in Japanese, Irish, Spanish, Catalan, Italian, Portuguese and English. On more than one occasion, Chief almost had a catch, but, mischievously, they kept nipping at his bate and cheekily stealing it from under his nose. He wasn`t happy. Same held through for Eusebius, no luck; and Brutos was getting so upset, at one stage I had to restrain him from throwing himself into the water to hunt with his paws and teeth! To date he’s still zero for zero on the fishing front!

After a quick bite of grub we went out again, this time at night, wearing full length clothes and with flash lamps to hunt for crocs. It tooks us hours but we eventually caught a little baby male which we all got a chance to handle. It was only two or three feet long (but will grow to about twenty foot when an adult). Felt like holding a scaly snake! The best part of the trip for me was the experience of listening to the boat glide through the river and dodge the various tall towering trees that sprung up from the river forest. It was a constant feat of dexterity on the part of Flavio the navigator at the back of the boat from keeping us from crashing into a giant tree and capsizing. The beauty was in the symphionic choruses, blurbs, oinks, chirps, whistles, squeeks and sounds that surrounded us from all the various wild animals. There night talks and screams were like a beautiful orchestral performance. Most impressing on my mind was the very clear picture of the heavens dotted with an uncountable amount of starts and clouds, all reflecting off the water below. The water was so clear it acted like a mirror and gave a surreal effect of two night skies. To make things even better. Fire flies kept shooting past the boat in the night making it look as if there were shooting stars in the water and only a mere hand grasp away. A beautiful experience. And one which I hope comes out some what well on the cam corder so I can relive it again.

On another Amazon high pitch note I need to explain something to you!!! You’ve all heard of your fair share of frightening animals that exist in the Amazon? Permit me a minute to remind you of a few. You have Malaria carrying mosquitoes, stinging ant armies that march in huge phalanxes, a wide variety of frightening spiders- tarantulas and black widows- and a hoard of other spiders that hunt with webs that they throw at their prey, spiders that hunt in packs for snakes and birds and others that create webs that are the size of big fishing nets. Then there are the cats: the majestic but deadly Puma, the noble but lethal Jaguar, the slender but cunning Oclet, and much more. And let’s not forget the birds of prey, the hawks and eagles that patrol the skies. And unfogetably we have the snakes, which are world famous: lightening quick vipers, strangulating pythons and bone crushing anacondas and a multitude of highly toxic brightly coloured snakes, frogs and insects that vary in length and girth that you simply don`t want to get into an argument with................. I haven’t even touched on what lives in the waters......... Creatures, which in my opinion, are some of the most frightening animals in the world. Razor sharp piranhas, snapping and wrestling caymens and up to 13 stone clandestine man eating ugly looking pucajuras ….but let’s forget them for a moment. There is one that you might have never heard of which for me is the most frightening of them all. One of the most fearsome animals of the human race anywhere on the planet. Let a 25 foot crocodile attack me and bring me to the bottom of a lake, let a 30 foot aconaconda digest me over a month, let the razor sharp claw of a jaguar rip at my back and tare at my neck before letting me be taken by this abomination. His name is the "CANDIRU" and he frightens the living day lights out of everyone I know. I need to tell you a little about this merciless, bringer of EXCRUCIATING pain, mother f*c*er, enemy of the human race. There are actually two distinct groups of fish known as candiru in Brazil. The so called “whale catfish” famous for the rapaciousness with which they attack hooked fish much like piranhas and bathers alike, and the smaller, gill dwelling catfish that have become legendary for swimming into unlikely human orifices (including the vagina, anus, nose and ears). These needle shaped fish are adapted to dwell in the gills of large catfishes where they extract muscus and blood. Traditionally, menstruating women avoid candiru infested waters for fear their blood may attract these water demons. According to native folklore these fish are also attracted to urine and they are reputed to be able to enter the penis of a man urinating by the side of a river by swimming up the urine stream. Reports are no doubt apocryphal. Candiru do on occasion however enter the urethra by both male and female bathers more than likely attracted by the urine. However remote the likelihood of this unpleasant event the mere prospect is sufficient to cause even the most avid bather of thinking twice before he enters the water and has made Chief develop an unusual technique of diving into the water with one hand protecting his grind and the other guarding his back passage!

Day two consisted of trekking into the jungle for a class on flora and a spot of torantical hunting . It only lasted a few hours but it was action packed. The guides were brilliant. They showed plants that produce sap that make anti-cancer remedies. Trees that produce rubber, and produce the primary ingredients for bubble gum, and others which branches act like filters to retain water for the locals to cut down and drink from when trekking through the jungle for days on end. Very educational. And straight out of a Michael Pallin documentary. I really enjoyed it. Later in the day we did a little canoeing up the creeks to see some more flora and then went to a local woman`s house which in the space of half an hour turned into a pub come, smallest night-club you`ve ever seen. Strangest, but one of the coolest bars i`ve ever been in: the pool table had a 20 degree slant on its left hand side, you had to go through the old woman`s sitting room to get to the one tiolet and the locals pooled up in thin long stick baots to oggle at the gringoes and hit the odd tree on their way home full of petrol tasting vodka and canchasa. Great fun.

Third day was a quick trip to a local indian home where we had a chance to see some of the local farming crops and buy some of the local jewelery. Chief and I got on well with a 6 and 11 year old kid and spent most of our time being thought how to play football by them on a small beach. By the end of the day it was a full scale 5 on 5 international soccer match with a dip in the river, a refreshing fruit juice and a slow boat back to the camp to chill out. A great end rto a great trip.

Recommendations:-Bring anti-malaria tablets with you before you come they are surprisingly desperately hard to buy when you get here.-A pair of night vision glasses like the military have would be like a dream come through-high power head torch a must-Camcorder is a must as well as heaps of memory on your digital camera-Get anti-mosquito spray that has in its ingredients DEET 100%. The mossies hate this stuff.-Bring some of your own food with you into the jungle: any of the sugar based products will give you a daily boost in case the food is not agreeing with you.

Some more observations

[1] The north is far poorer and cheaper than the south. Having been here 4 months my opinion to date is that Brazil is not only a Continent due to its colossal size but it is a dichotomy between a first world economy in the South East ( Rio, Sao Paulo, Florianopolis, Porto Alegre) and then the third world which is the rest of the country.
[2] Most internet cafes don’t have a 2.0 USB port. Especially, outside the 1st world and prices vary between 1.5 euro and 4 euros an hour and between a 56 and 512 speed. Fastest speed I experienced was a T1 in Sao Paulo airport.
[3] In Brazil the country is littered with public phones with the number 31 on it. Basically if you want to make a call within the country you have to type 031 + prefix (e.g. 11 SP) and then number.
[4] Reception frequencies can be very wobbly if not non-existent in parts of the north.
[5] Agua de Cocas can be bought for R$ 50c in the north i.e 12/13 cents back home.
[6] Internal flights in Brazil are exorbitant. Already mentioned in a previous blog but worth commenting on again. If possible, if travelling extensively in Brazil, more than likely best by and air bus ticket from home with one of the star alliance members before you come.
[7] There are little or no train services in the country. It’s primarily buses, then flights and next cars. Outside of the 1st world regions and outside the main cities around the country the roads are poor. Doing a highway 1 or a route 66 is not a real runner. However you could rent a buggy and take on the distance going from beach to beach if you had the time.
[8] There are a huge variety of fruits and vegetables. But I haven’t seen a turnip, cabbage or goose berries on my travels. Not yet.
[9] In the few youth hostels that I was in it is well worth having an international youth hostel one year membership card. You can nearly always get 10% off the price.
[10] Some bus rides for example Porto Alegre to Manuas can take up to 4 days. As such they have some of the most comfortable buses you can imagine. Fully reclining chairs, TVs, videos, chefs, shower facilities. Basically, close to 1st class service on a plane.
[11] Was enquiring about a 3 bedroom, 65m, 5th floor apartment, in a good area, 3km away from the beach resort of Ponta Negre in Natal. The cost was approximately 29k euros. Not a bad little investment considering the city is becoming recognised as Brazil’s surf city and is constantly beginning to swell in numbers.
[12] When getting a taxi you can take your standard car taxi or take a ride on the back of a motor bike for a little cheaper. Felt strange the first time seeing it and taking one but now its par for the course.

In Manuas, in the centre of Brazil It`s hot, real hot. And it's humid, real humid. Taxi man told us that it hit 40c at midday. I`d believe him. Hottest ,most humid weather i have experiemced in Brazil since i`ve been here. Actually,probably the hottest place i have ever been to, ever. Tomorrow will be field research. We need to hunt down the best 4 or 5 jungle tour we can get our hands on with hight quality conditoins, a good English speaking guide, high octane food and a reasonable price. So far we have been hounded by tour operators peddling their goods. Some are complete chancers that promise you a wrestle with an amacondo, a dance with a snake and a slap up meal with an indigenous tribe that haven`t seen gringoes ever before! Others offer you a trip to a five star jungle hotel that will bring you on multiple one day excursions down rivers, into national parks frought with a wide range of monkeys, snakes and spiders, piranha fishing and a jungle tour that will teach you about the municipal wonders of the magical Amazon vegetation. Others off you a bit of both which we are trying to get our hands on.

Will let you know how it pans out when I get back. Hopefully, i don`t make too many friends with the mosquitoes or creepy crawlies!

Carnival

I’m in the two million plus beach city Fortaleza to the north of Brazil. I’m basking in 29 degrees of sunshine, tapping away on my laptop, wearing my speedos, drinking a refreshing glass of iced Guarana and watching bronzed people dipping into and relaxing by the pool. It’s now day three of the winter carnival. The first two days have been unforgettable. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. And both my partners, hounds and masters in anarchy and hedonisms: Chief and Maddog, agree, the Brazilians know how to party in a way that none of us have ever dreamed of before in Ireland, and, in a way we all agree would be hard to match anywhere in the world. We’ve all done our fair share of travelling over the years, but none of us can remember having such a non-stop, rollercoaster, run of fun like we’ve had these last few days. And the beauty of it all is there is more to come! Nossa!

I’m sure you’ve heard how the old saying goes: sometimes words are simply not enough to explain the true meaning or feeling of a place or experience. Sometimes words allow you sketch or charcoal an image or concept. But that’s it. There often circumscribed. Sometimes you need more than letters and numbers to paint a true picture. You need other tools. You need more senses, more mediums; more methods. You need different brushes, inks and papers. This is such a time. This is the carnival. You have to see the colours, smell and taste the food, you have to let the music shoot into your ears and reverberate through and envelope your heart and soul, you have to shake your booty like you’re a big giant African Momma, you got to jump as high as you can clapping, shouting and roaring with the people to your front, back, left and right. You have to take on the persona of the Brazilians on their home turf doing their world famous home thing. You have to come to Brazil. No video, no DVD, no TV program, no book, no blog can come close to describing how much fun it is. You got to haul your ass down here and shake it if you want to know what the carnival is all about.

This is how the last two days have panned out. Oh yeah, before I go on let me explain one fundamental thing about the carnival. The carnival can be the one they have in Rio were you see flamboyant floats with dancing, smiling people on top dressed in bright, exotic over the top costumes. Or in some cases not dressed at all except for a few bits of string and the odd pin here and there. This is more of a pageant then a carnival. Bit like Paddy’s day. You don’t really take part, its more a spectator spectacle. Then you have the other type of carnival which is: get it there, get dirty, sweaty, take a major part in carnival. This type of carnival is the Salvador type carnival where the majority of the music played is by the famous musicians of Salvador. I prefer the interactive, hands on, ears in, hips gyrating approach.

Carnival takes place on the streets. In this case a 4km strip of road parallel to a beach front. Stands are erected on the side of the street and tall hotels and apartment blocks full of colourful people line the streets and fill the air. To get access to the main areas of the carnival we had to pay 50 euros per day. For that you get a sleeveless pink, yellow or orange t-shirt, depending on what day you want to attend. To start everybody meets on a street and stands just behind a large open double decker bus. Then hundreds of stewards get a rope and squadron off the immediate street area beside the bus. Leaving only the curb areas free for those who have not paid for their t-shirt. At about 9pm, or 9.30 the band kick off and the mayhem begins. In our case we went for the famous Chicolete com Banana band. The U2 of Samba. I already saw them once before and once again they didn’t let me down. Their instruments threw sparks into the smiles, hips and feet of the people and lit the place on fire. Everyone loves these guys. If you can get your hands on one of their CDs, do so. I plan on bringing home at least three or four of their albums before I leave Brazil. Anyway, so there you are, behind the bus. There are thousands of people wearing ridiculous t-shirts, everyone is wearing shorts, drinking beer, whiskey or vodka, and non stop, dancing, bouncing and kissing.

The kissing ethic is worth a note. Basically, anything goes in between the ropes. What you have is a load of people out for a good time. You simply have to dance beside a person, try make eye contact, grab a hip, cheekily pinch a bum, stroke a hand or throw a kiss, and that’s it. You know pretty quickly if you are going to get a red card or a green card. Chief on the first night chalked up 45 red cards and 5 green cards. Maddog 23 red cards and 3 green cards. The vagabond, well, let’s just say that the vagabond, like a gentleman, never gives away his antics. That said, Eusebius chalked up 4 reds and a green; Brutos got 68 reds and 3 greens. And that was only the first night. When we all got the swing of it the following night was even more chaotic.

The carnival is like the tour de France. You`ve had one tough day climbing the Pyrenees and need a well earned rest when the alarm clock goes off at 2pm in the evening and you have to get yourself ready again for the physical onslaught. Quick wash, few hours’ sun, a few coconuts and a speedy plate of grub and off again. It’s only day two and Chief is begging for a lip transplant, Jim has a dodgy ankle and my legs could do with a good massage. We have to keep reminding ourselves that we have trained for this type of thing long into the night in the pubs of Dublin, Waterford and abroad for over 15 years and we have to plough on no matter what the physical or emotion consequences. By the end of tomorrow I can see us sleeping a full day to catch up.

Last night we went to the carnival with some two foot tall Irish hats and my camcorder. We got a very warm reception. Chief kept saying that we were conducting a documentary for a local TV channel in Ireland and that he needed a kiss on the camera to show the people back home how Brazilian women kiss. Amazingly it worked. It’s amazing when you a put a camera in some peoples faces what they’ll do. Jim had a different approach, 50 press ups and 10 chins ups on the beach on the way to the carnival, to inflate his biceps, a few stretches of the legs and hips to get ready for the dancing, and loads of “Hey, hey….how are you, one kiss please”. Amazingly it worked. The dogs had a different approach. Eusebius just danced slowly and methodically and waited for the odd Brazilian dog to throw him a glance. He did alright out of it. And surprisingly was very confident with himself when the opportunities arose. Eusebius was like a gattlin gun, anything that moved in his range, he tried to shoot. Considering the amount of red cards and nasty looks he got, it was amazing his ego wasn’t deflated. Paradoxically, he seemed to thrive on it.

I hear some of you out there already ask about quality. To describe this I don`t have to write too much. The simple fact of the matter is that Brazilian women are beautiful as a rule of thumb. They really know how to look after themselves. No pint drinking or major food binges. More like buckets of dancing, exercising and sun bathing. The quality was high with the odd lapse here and there.

Unfortunately, I can’t produce any photos for you as I lost my camera in Rio and in the process of trying to retrieve it. However there is a few snaps up on the blog from some of my recent antics in Sao Paulo with the boys.

Gotta run. blessings to all.

Salvador

Location: Salvador (Pelourinha), Bahia and Pria De Forte
Temp: 27-30c mostly cloudy with outbreaks of sun and showers
Hostel: Albergue das Laranjerias  (R$66 for two bed –toilet + breakfast)
Links: http://www.bahia-online.net/  http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~sergiok/brasil/salvador.html
 
Salvador is all about constant thundering drumbeats; acrobatic capoeira dancers; huge stretches of white, brown and pebbled beaches; Africana-Brazilians wearing resplendent bright colours, skilful beach soccer players and head shaking, body swaying, smoke blowing reggae, afoxe and samba music. I’ve never seen so many dreadlocks or drums in my life! Everywhere you look someone is dancing to or making music, kicking a ball or trying to put a multicoloured “welcome to Bahia ribbon” on your wrist. The place is a live with positive energy. I know now why the majority of Brazilians I’ve met unanimously agree that it is the number one city to experience the world famous February carnival. Forget Rio, Salvador is wear it’s at for carnival if you want to get stuck in and take part.
 
To appreciate the city, its culture and its people you need to know a little about its history. According to legend the city was founded by an Italian navigator, Amerigo Vespucci, in 1501. In 1549 it became Brazil’s first capital. Salvador remained the most important city for two centuries growing rich on exports of sugar cane, gold and diamonds, tobacco, imports of African slaves and cattle ranching in the inland (sertao) regions. It was also world famous for its sensuality and decadence-until 1763 when the sugar cane industry began to faulter and Rio usurped pole position. The city experienced economic problems in the 19th century but nowadays with growing petroleum, chemicals and –helped by a face lift of the beautiful historical centre-tourism. However, for all its development and progression it ostensibly suffers chronic social problems with homeless people, street crime and prostitution rife.
 
The adventure started in Salvador the minute we left the airport. I took the very reasonable airport bus (2 euro, one way) to get to the port area Pelourinha which is situated bang in the cultural-centre of the city. The bus ride was one of the best I ever took. It was one and a half hours in length and rich in spectacles. I gladly would have paid double the price and stayed on double as long. Before getting to Salvador I had never realises there was so many beaches. And I never, for once, thought the city was by and large so intrinsically based on an ocean lifestyle. You learn quickly how to adapt when travelling. And before I knew it I was swinging my hips and banging my fingers to a mysterious beat on the seat in front of me. The dogs couldn’t stop wagging their tails and even the young surf board carrying 12 year old beside me was humming an Ivete Sangalo tune as we cruzed along.
 
My estimate is that the beaches run for about 15 miles. I’ll have to check up a book to confirm it but either way I’d say I’m not too far off the mark. I’ve never seen such a long stretch of beaches in a city before. And all the people seem to be on them. Half the population seems to be skating, cycling, running, walking, catching buses or selling pop corn, sweet corn or coconuts in little palm tree kiosks beside the beach. The other half are playing soccer, pumping weights, body boarding, surfing and snorkelling on the beach. It’s amazing to take it in from the slow moving window of a bus. When I arrived it was about 6pm and the light was fading, the sun was beginning to hide behind an ominous looking grey pall of puffy clouds and a gentle wind had starred to stir, but despite the atypical weather elements it didn’t seem to stop the people coming out in their throngs and thongs. There were thousands of bikinis, sarongs, Bermudas and Havianas on show. And amazingly, like a dream come true, there was almost a soccer match on every beach we passed. One thing that struck me about these games was the variety of pitches and balls that were in use: asphalt, grass, sand and mud; tennis balls, melons, coconuts and real deal footballs. Very cool. More affirmations for why they dominate soccer. The place was banging and hop-bobbing-throbbing with fun. And I couldn’t stop dreaming I was out there. I could see myself with the Irish number three “Deco” jersey the boys from work gave me before I left. I’d be out there strutting my Irish stuff against the Brazilian artists. Big punt up the middle Big Jack style, a shout for Ireland, a few sliding tackles, dirty elbows and an eye gauge, a cross from Brutos at the by line, a knock down from Eusebius, and as sweet as a ripe coconut a left footed half-volley from yours truly into the top right hand corner of the net. Boom! Bang! Keeper covered in dust. Brazilian boys’ mouths open. Ref pointing to the half way line. Nice one. 1-0 to the Gringo! Put that in your straw pipe and smoke it J……….. No need to laugh……… I`m serious………… It’s going to happen one of these days.  Mark my words.
 
Monday was a quiet night due to transit tiredness but with the cells recharged 24 hours later we were ready to take on the town. Tuesday night in Salvador is a big night. Very big. I’ve never known such an atmosphere surrounding a Tuesday night in any other part of the world I’ve visited or read about.  I had previously reported that Monday night can be a big night in Sao Paulo. But while a Monday night in Sao Paulo is like a normal Thursday night with its fair share of life leading up to a weekend. Tuesday night in Salvador is like a full on action packed Saturday night. Let me explain. It starts in the square in the cultural centre of the city. At about 6pm a huge stage is set up for some of the local bands and about 50 stalls are set up surrounding the square mostly selling chilled cans of Skol or Bohemia beer, skewers of a wide variety of meats, sweet cakes, big and small, exotic smoothies with fruits you’ve never heard the name of and don’t want to try pronounce and capoeira and samba paraphernalia. In addition, there is a huge number of individuals, children mostly, constantly asking you if you want your shoes shined, want to buy some cashew nuts, want some grilled mozzarella cheese or want to buy a drum. One punter even offered me a big bottle of Teacher’s whiskey for 10 euros. Declined on that one but I took one little boy up on a shoe shine and another on the delectable, mouth watering, addictively chewy grilled cheese skewer. Sex for the stomach.
 
On the night the Brazilian famous “Olodum” samba band were playing at Largo de Tereza Batista on Rua Gregorio de Matos 53. It`s the main attraction. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see them but luckily enough I got to hear some of them. Basically, by the time I arrived to see them the doors were closed. I’ll be going back in three weeks time so I don’t intend to make the same mistake again. Having said that we were very fortunate to see some of the countries most talented capoeria dancers in action.
 
Capoeira is a martial art that was devised by the Brazilian slaves in the eighteenth century. For centuries that slaves were not allowed to practice martial arts of any description so they cunningly devised an art of their owned that looked like an acrobatic dance but it used in the right manner in combat was lethal. The dance consists of between 4-10 people standing around in a semi-arc. One or two are playing precussion instruments  and singing and one by one the performers get a chance to throw themselves around. The best way I can describe it is as a mix of astanga yoga, kung fu and gymnastics all rolled into one. Mostly, the participants spend 30 seconds on stage and then someone else comes in. Sometimes you will see two of the dancers joust together but most the performances I saw consisted of one person back flipping, bouncing on their hands in a hand stand position, cart wheeling into a double flip, high kicking or free flipping from the ground without the use of hands into the air. I had seen it once or twice in Ireland but it was nothing compared to the Bahia performers. Much more athletic, much more flamboyant and much much more technical. Amazing. Their skill and fitness blew me away. Brutos wants to give it a go next time we go back. He’s so serious about it he bought some of the caopeira pants. I hope he doesn’t break his neck when he gives it ago. He always injures himself when he tries to mimic professional athletics. I’ll try get a snap of it when it happens.
 
The third and last day in Salvador consisted of a two and a half hour bus ride, 80km north, to the highly recommended Pria de Forte. Pria de Forte is a beach resort with a ruined fortress and famous turtle sanctuary.  When there I got an Indian hena-ink tattoo of a scorpion moving to a Chinese peace symbol on my bicep ( you can check it out in the photos), I got some acupuncture on my right ear and I took in an excellent massage. I also managed to cram in some of the Brazil v Paraguay copa de America qualifier and get a little sun.
 
I’m now back in Sao Paulo and with two other dogs from Ireland: the polymath-circumnavigator Chief O’Hara and the fearsome-merciless-man mountain, rip your head off with his bare hands (and worse dancer that I know!!!) Maddog McKeever. The hunting is about to get very interesting. Already one of them has found a bone. Amazing considering their only here two days!
 
I’ve managed to finally compress some of my photos from a variety of my recent trips. There up in the new Brazilian photo folder. Hope you enjoy them.

Praia De Pipa

Day: 117
Location: Pria de Pipa (North East) 
Temp: A hot 31c
Hostel: Posada Piranha (R$40 per night plus breakfast) and Posuada Veriea (R$50 per night + breakfast)
Links: www.natal-brazil.com www.pipa.com.br www.praiadapip.com.br
Books: reading the excellent Pearl again by Steinbeck.
 
Am now chilling it out after the last few hectic weeks in a beach resort 90km south of Natal. The place is buggy heaven with colossal sand dunes surrounding a sea bay. Pipa is very lively and theirs loads of young people hanging out on the beaches, in the bars and restaurants and on the streets. Its got one main street with loads of interesting jewellery, clothes and paint shops. Its also got its fair share of international restaurants and street vendors. Interestingly, it has two very popular bars, right across from each other, called the Blue Bar and the Yellow Bar. Everyone goes to these bars up to 2am and then they very quickly close down and everyone makes the five minutes walk up the hill to the one open-air disco that they have. Last night was mostly techno music and some local Brazilian tunes. I enjoyed it and ended up staying there until the sun came up.
 
The entire resort has a very mellow feel to it. It seems as if the hands on the clock move slower here; maybe something to do with the beaming sun.  People generally are very haphazard with everything they do: getting to the beach, eating, drinking, talking. It’s just what the doctor ordered and I’m now tucking into a few books, working on the tan, studying a little more Portuguese (which is coming on in leaps and bounds) and drinking a few “agua de cocas”, which I can’t get enough of for 20 euro cents a pop.
 
Getting here was fun! First the plane in Noronha was broken so we had a 5 hour delay. The plane company, after busing us all to a restaurant for free food and drinks got us on a plane which they had to rent in from Manaus. Luckily we hitched a free ride with a crazy codeine taking Dutch doctor and a Dutch Soap Opera writer down to Pipa for free. Fun guys.  Since then we’ve hitched to all the beaches or took the 1 real bus everywhere. The people here are very friendly and everyone hitches. Bizarrely the place only has one taxi driver. A deaf dude that drives around a 70s banged up Volkswagen. Seen him twice now and he seems to be doing a roaring trade. For the life of me I can’t understand why there isn’t any competition.  
 
Overall Pipa was well worth the visit. Some of the most spectacular beaches i`ve ever seen. There is a lovely feel to the small town, the people are very friendly, the food is good and at a reasonable price and the quick trip to Dolphin Bay to see the daily appearance of the somersaulting dolphins is unforgettable. Definitely worth making the effort to get here from Natal for at least two or three days.  

Fernando de Noronha

Day: 110
Location: Fernando de Norohna
Tour Guides: Atlantis Diving Centre
Temperature: 27

Fernando de Noronha is a hidden gem. It is a volcanic island that shoots up from the ocean floor. Not many people know of its existence. And I’m glad that it’s that way. Noronha is 26 sq km and 360km off the north east of Brazil. It is nearer to Liberia in Africa than it is to Sao Paulo! It is inhabited by approximately 2,000 Brazilians and at any given one time no more than 420 tourists are allowed on it. To get there you have to take a jet plane for an hour. You can’t get there any other way. On entry you have to pay a hefty enough tax for each day you spend there. I ended up paying 30 euros in total. The island has some unique characteristics in its culture which you can detect straight away when you arrive: the taxis are sand buggies, the police hang out in burmudas and ray-bans on beaches speckled with coconuts and most of the locals have one form or other of a sea animal tattooed on their body. The main attractions are the multitude of gorgeous beaches, the ultra friendly natives and the wild life that hog its coastlines. The island has changed hands on more than one occasion. At first it was owned by the Portuguese explorers of the sixteenth century. It then exchanged hands from the Spanish, to the English to the French and then back to Brazil. It was a hide away for pirates, a penal colony, a navy base for the US during world war two and as of the late 1980s it was officially made a protected marine national park. Now diving is the fruitful waters is the primary attraction. People come from all over the world to experience it and very few go home disappointed. It’s commonly accepted that Noronha has the best diving in Brazil and some say if you didn’t dive there on your visit you really didn’t visit the island. I agree.

When I arrived I checked out as quickly as I could what marine activities I could do. After a couple of hours sussing out the local tour operators, the prices and the content and location of some of the tours on offer I decided that this was the ideal place for me to try get my basic diving (PADI, www.padi.com) certificate. PADI is a certificate that allows you dive to a maximum of 18 meters in all the most popular dive sites in the world. The course takes in 3 theory classes, four dives and a written test. I was very fortunate to come across an excellent tour company called Atlantis and more importantly a brilliant guide. A beautiful young Korean/Brazilain instructor called Sandra. Not only was she very competent and knowledgeable about the myriad details involved in diving she was patient and made me feel assured at all times. And she always had the most beautiful smile on her face. The vagabond salutes her. The course started with getting to know the equipment: first stage, regulator, octopus, equaliser, weight belt, purge button, buoyancy control device (BCD) backpack, cylinder, din-valves, fins, pressure gauge, wet suit, face mask, and much more. Next was a trip into low water to get used to breathing and exhaling into the mouth piece. As part of the course you have to learn how to control your buoyancy which sounds easy but its not. The basic concept is to be able to descend, ascend and hover in the water in a controlled relaxed fashion. The primary way of doing this is by pressing one button on your BCD which inflates your jacket with air to bring you up, another button, which deflates it and helps bring you down and then by exhaling or inhaling air in your lungs to make them increase or decrease the air volume in your body. It takes a little while to master this and at the start you keep pressing the two buttons on your BCD but after a few hours you start to get the hang of it. After learning some of the basics on the first day I got a chance to take my first dive at about 12m which was on a 25m ship wreck just off the port. I thoroughly enjoyed inspecting the massive anchor and looking at the disassembled rusting hull of the boat. Fortunately, on my first dive I got to see a turtle. Unfortunately, he had been spiked by a local fisherman’s hook. It was caught in his mouth and in his back stream the line hung in the water like the tail of a barracuda. My instructor went down and tried to help him but he was a little nervous and instead of accepting her help decided to swim off into the blue. On my second day I did some emergency exercises: learning how to exchange oxygen, emergency ascents, putting on the weight belt in water and putting on the BCD while on the surface. Little tricky but I managed to master it fairly quickly. At the end of the exercise I took my second dive down along a coral reef. It was my first time coming across a multitude of sting rays and the first time that I have come in contact with a wild shark. On this occasion it was a mid sized 1.5 meter reef shark. Innocuous enough but believe me when they start swimming towards your hard jumps a beat. A magnanimous creature. The water was an explosion off colours. I saw flat fish that had silver bodies and pink fins. I saw big fat green and brown speckled fish with razor sharp teeth. There was one cool little fish which was one of my personal favourites that looked like he had a squashed rainbow on his tiny back. Then there were dangerous looking guys, one that looked like a samurai sword with various sized sharp teeth in his mouth. I kept away from him as much as I could. When I told the dogs about him later Brutos reassured me that if he had attacked that he would have leapt from the dive boat, as quick as you can say I’ve found Nemo, and come to my safety. When I prodded Eusebius about it he said he would have let one of the instructors know that I was in difficulty and a professional would have come to my assistance. In the end I didn’t need any help and I simply continued the 45 minute dive studying reef, being mesmerised by fish and hovering through, over and in algae. That night I had a class on breathing at depth. It took in modules on: air, contaminated air, oxygen, nitrogen narcosis, decompression air, redissolution, etc. Diving is a highly technical sport. And the main things I’ve learned about it is always be Eusebi-esqe: conservative, take your time, anal about detail and be prepared. The last dive the following day was magnificent. Sandra kept the best to last and brought me deeper into about 17m water. We explored black caves, undulating caverns filled with fish and tiny tunnel, vents and holes that left little or no margin of error for entry. Very different to the other dives I had done and much more technical. My favourite part was floating through the dark valleys, brushing aside some of the fish and seeing the deep blue abyss in front of you. The whole experience had a massive salty taste of more. I was instantly addicted. Unfortunately, my flight was the next day and one of the golden rules of diving is never dive 12 hours before a flight, so that was sadly the end of the diving on Noronha. That night I say my theory test. And I’m glad to report I passed. I now have my basic PADI certificate. I went out that night and celebrated with a little dancing and a few beers. It now means that when I get to the barrier reef, New Caledonia and some of the beautiful dive sites in Thailand, Sri-Lanka and India I can be captivated and mesmerised once again by the beauty of the many mysterious, tantalizing and truly beautiful animals that inhabit our wonderful oceans.

Note: We met the king of the island. A 40 year old drunk called Lombra. Everybody knew him. His day consisted of drinking tins of Skol beer the minute he got up, copious amounts of rock diving, marijuana smoking, snorkelling pissed, jumping, skipping and dancing. One of the best entertainers I have ever met. He’d make a surly mother superior with a heart, throat, foot, and tooth problem laugh. A special person. Brutos loved him and took a few snaps for the archives.

The Pantanal

Day: 109
Location: Capo Grande, Mato Grosso Do Sul
Temp: 28
Tour Company: Ecological Expedition, 4 stars
Hostel: Campo Grande Youth Hostel, 3 stars
Price: $R320 for guide, tour, accommodation and food, also managed to negotiate 2 free nights in hostel and 1 hour internet access
Tour Duration: 3 nights, 4 days
Links: www.pantanaltrekking.com www.aguasdopantanal.com.br

I’m just finished 3 days of trekking in the southern regions of the Pantanal. The Panthanl is 3 times as big as the Netherlands and as such very hard to take it in its entirety. I concentrated on one of the more popular wetland camps between Corumba and Campo Grande. For those of you that don`t know anything about the Panthanl just think of the Amazon with all its wildness and ferocity and you`re not to far off the mark. The major difference being that the Panthanl is wetlands (marsh, forest and lakes) were as the Amazon is more jungle and river based. My main base was Campo Grande. One of the three primary gateways in the marshlands. It has a population of 700,000, is heavily dependant on pastoral farming and tourism is the home of a very strong Brazilian military presence due to its proximity to the Paraguain and Aargentinain borders. As such it was pretty common to see fighter jets wizzing by in groups of two or threes.

When we arrived in the airport from the Falls we made our way to the bus stop to catch a ride into town and the local tour office to find out what type and with whom we were going to take a tour. But, we never got on the bus in the end and I`m glad we didn`t. A local tour guide called Owl stopped us and asked us did we want a ride to the city: no strings attached. We agreed. Within half an hour we had agreed to take his tour. One of the best salesmen I have ever come across. This bloke could sell an Argentinean soccer jersey to a Brazilian.

To get into the depths of the wetlands and into our camp we had to travel by open-top truck for seven hours. A long time in the heat, but despite the countless ubiquitous royal-pain-in-the-ass mosquitoes that were munching on us, and, despite of the industrial strength cream we had on, it was an enjoyable journey as we got to see a variety of birds, the odd mammal and had blessing to see a juxtaposed crimson purple sun set.

Day one was a simple meal, a visit to our hammocks which were inside a wooden shelter- home for the next few days-and the organisation of a wake up call for 7.30am the next day. When we arose we went on one of two three hour walks (I regrettably this time did the bare foot thing again) into high grass prairies, bogs, pools and forests. Our guide was constantly on the watch out for animals and would stop us if he saw anything. On show was armadillos, basically funny looking supped-up, armour plated mouses as far as I could tell; multi coloured parrots; huge blue friendly macaws, venomous snakes and ugly crocodiles. Also a huge variety of big, small, skinny, round and tall birds, speckled, dappled and spotted butterflies, green, black, red and brown ants and loud, quiet, benign, poisonous, down right ugly and down right funny looking frogs. Also more commonly spotted were zebu cows which the local farms tended to and herds of shy deers. Day two for me was more exciting. We started with some piranha fishing in a lake that was an hour away from the camp. We used steak meat as bate and amazingly the little predators kept chomping on the hooks for hours and hours as if their lives depended on being hooked to a flashing spike. By the end of the day the group of people we were with had amassed at least ten catches. Most of which were thrown to the alligators on the bank that were studying our every move. The rest were brought back to the camp to be cooked. For me the highlight was watching the guide demonstrate how the piranha bites. He simply placed some grass in its mouth and it snapped into action with its razor sharp teeth. Luckily enough they didn’t cause us too much problems in the water while we fished. Instead of coming for our legs and hips they seemed more interested in the bate. However, that said the water was dangerous, an Irish girl who was in the camp the day before we arrived wasn’t as lucky as we were. Our guide told us that while she was fishing a giant five foot otter (there almost instinct) attacked her and bit her on both legs. Believe me when I say that these things. Even scared Brutos who is not easily scared. She ended up going to hospital and the guide told us that it will probably be two weeks before she walks properly again.

After the fishing we spent the evening riding horses through the prairies. We spent about two and a half hours going through a variety of terrains. It had been years since I was horse riding so I really enjoyed it. Galloping, trotting and bucking brought a constant necklace of smiles, laughs and screams around my face. I had a little mare called White Silver. A curious little bullet of a beast with a hint of an attitude problem. On one occasion he just lay down on the ground and refused to move. Almost crushed my right leg but fortunately I was able to get out of my stirrup in time. He eventually got up after getting one or two gentle whips from my guide.

That night in the camp Una organised a Panto-vision ( cross between the Euro vision and some of the local Brazilian samba music) It was fun and everyone joined in. All the nationalities were lined up in horse shoe formation around a huge log fire. The Brazilians kicked it off with banging of multiple drums and a serious of soccer tunes, the English went next followed by Polish, French, Canadian, Scottish, Slovakian, Israelis, Australian and Irish. There was also a competition at the interval to see who could down a can of beer the fastest. The Irish contestant was a joke and got more beer on his chest then in his mouth, the Israel contender forgot to put his finished can on his head, the French contestant cheated by opening his can before he started. Surprisingly, completely against the bookies favourites, the dark horse winner was a shy quiet Austrian. A titan of a beer drinker. And the best fisher of the day I might add. Obviously a man with many talents. Great fun. And captured on film.

Overall, the Panthanl was a wonderful experience. I’ve never been so close to so many exotic animals outside a cage. I never seen howler monkeys screech continuously into the night as they run from branch to branch; I’ve never seen alligators chump on fish and scurry into lakes; I’ve never had a macaw perch itself on top of my arm or steal my shampoo; I’ve never been bitten by green ants that produce a sting like a wasp; I’ve never made jewellery out of cactuses; I’ve never got a tattoo from a fruit that lasts for supposedly three weeks and I’ve never ate piranha teeth and flesh. Hopefully, I’ll get to do it all again and more when we get to Manuas and the Amazon in a month’s time.

Note: Before I went trekking I was walking down the street in Campo Grande when I happened on something I had always seen on TV but never directly experienced. There was an open gate on the side of the street that revealed a sermon taking place. It was one of those ones like you see in America where a preacher is eulogising and showering down homilies and diatribes at the seemingly possesses crowd as if the apocalypse was upon us. People were roaring crying, some were holding their heads in their hands and sobbing and weeping and others were on the ground crouched down on walls shaking and gently hitting there hands off the ground. Strange. It was if the orator had cast a spell and everyone was puppets on a string acting out his every whim. At the end the crowd handed up envelopes of money up on the alter queued for a CD of the sermon!

Fact: Mosquitoes live for approximately 7 hours and come out to feed and die at dusk and dawn. I hate them. Eusebius couldn’t stop itching his bites.

Vagabond Tip: A piece of equipment that would be worth buying would be a super light, super small, super strong monocular. It would help looking at various different things at long distance. It would have been cool to inspect some of the shyer animals that kept at a distance and were harder to study.

The Iguaçu Falls

Day: 98
Temp: 21
Location: Argentina, Puerto Iguacu

As Catararas do Iguacu (Iguazu in Spanish) are the most overwhelming and spectacular waterfalls in South America. They consist of a sub tropical rainforest park covering 170,000 ha, 275 separate falls, a 28-km gorge and bridges connecting the Brazilian city of Foz de Iguaçu with the Argentine town of Puerto Iguacu and the Paraguayan city of Ciudad del Este. And if that doesn't wet your taste buds enough. There's plenty more on offer :a daily deluge of international snap-happy tourists, camouflaged ornithologists, ground breaking scientists, friendly raccoons, white ear opossums and poisonous red and black heliconius butterflies, five members of the toucan family, black-capped screech owls, shy jaguars and fearsome pumas, yellow-billed cardinals, red-crested finches and a whole load of other land, water and air creatures which would probably need a National Geographic, Lonely Planet or British Encyclopedia to name.

The Falls are a fifteen hour bus journey or a one and a half hour flight from Sao Paulo. Myself and my recently arrived good friend Una Kearns went for the latter and more comfortable option. The flight landed us on the Brazilian side of the falls (around 80% of the falls lie in Argentina, but there are national parks on both sides). We decided to make our way straight to the park at 4pm in the evening to take in as much of the park as we could before it closed at 6pm. Fortunately, it was more than enough time to take the 2km trek to see the sites. Afterwards, we got out passports stamped and went across the border to the highly recommended Holiday Inn hostel. Without doubt, the coolest hostel i`ve ever been in. Huge. With really friendly, informative staff, excellent food and a brilliantly designed reception area including pool tables, hanging chair hammocks, countless books, giant couches and unsually carved towering wooden chairs(watched Zidane and co drop a few tears in their European Cup and had a couple of the local beers while there).

Day 2 was a full day which started off at 12am with the excellent safaris adventuras tour company and a 8km jungle tour which brought us along the edge of the park and into the rain forest. The excellent trilingual guide warned us to take care not to be stung by the giant acidic innocuous looking netal leafs that cover the forest floor and hypnotised us when teaching us about the very tasty heart of the palm fruit tree, which takes six years to ripen before being ready to be eaten (the plant is a protected specious in Argentina but not in Brazil, were it grows more freely). Next we caught a speed boat with twenty others tourists taking a 2km ride along the Iguazu river and into the rapids. The boat journey was fast and furious and brought us through a valley with scores of various sized waterfalls on each side of us which seemed to playfully join in the singing of the boats engines and peoples screams. The river then split into a fork and we got a glimpse from the river base of the awesome Guarganta del Diablo (Devil`s Throat, have a look at the link above and snaps). This is a jaw drop, must see, spectacle. Viewed from below, the rolling, thundering, crashing water is truly beautiful in a setting of orchids, ferns and palms. And incredibly, above the impact of the water, upon basalt rock formations hangs a 30m pall of clouds and mist which makes it impossible to see the base of the falls. In comparison, the Niagara Falls look like a piddle Eusebius or Brutos would take on the side of the road. A true beast of nature. To be respected, revered and marvelled at. Extremely aggressive, frighteningly powerful. There was no chance of going up to see it by boat. Far too dangerous. The only way to look at in the face was afterwards from the top of the park. On the other side of the fork in the river was a paradisiacal enclave spectacle with a colasseum of over twenty waterfalls and one other stand alone monster, the second most powerful fall in the park, called San Martin. This was the one accessible by boat. Thankfully, we were blessed to have a rainbow at the periphery of the plummeting water. And our captain was bold enough to take us into it and drench us. I've never been inside a rainbow before. It felt like I was being baptised for the second time. It is something I will not forget for a long time. Hopefully, the camcorder footage I managed to perilously sneak in will do it justice on screen. After a good old soaking we climbed a little up the side of a cliff and took a really small wodden train to the top of the park to get a better glimpse of the Devil. From the top, standing out on a man made platform, in my opinion, the view was better than from the base of the river. It's kind of funny when you see it. When you look to the right of the fall you have a pond like river with hardly a ripple in it. Looks like a place you could row a little one man boat, chill out, hang a line over board, take a nap and wait for your catch, a couple of hundred feet away is one of the most powerful waterfalls on the planet. If you go over the top of this one there simply is no coming back.We spent 6 hours on the Argentinean side. More than enough.

The experience in the park can be easily taken in one and a half days. For us we spent half a day on the Brazilian side of the falls and the second on the Argentinean. Overall, the Falls are very impressive and highly recommended. A quick in and out is definitely worth the trip.

Next stop the marsh wetlands of the Panthanel!

The Competition Has Begun: Daisy Chain Lost-Monday

Location: Sao Paulo
Temp: 28

Today Eusebius walked up to me, handed me a jar full of daisies and a piece of toilet paper with a big long web address on it in blue ink. Ì`ve put it up here for you to look at: Monday

http://us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/40578f0f_af21/bc/Daisy+Chain+Lost+Script/
Daisy+Chain+Lost+Monday.doc?bfvbK2AB5TZBS4CE

He then told me that he had by and large finished his script but needed a few more days before he handed up the whole thing. He needs the days to fine tune a few bits and pieces. Not sure what exactly, he didn’t say. He pointed to the crumpled piece of paper and said that what he had given me was simply the first instalment. He knows that I have never read a screenplay before so he gave me the quickest tutorial known to man on what to watch out for. As best I can remember it went something like this:

“First and foremost Master remember that reading a screenplay is completely different to reading a Keats poem, a Casey play, a Crichton book, Beano, Buster, Dandy or that awful Sunday Independent you seem to have time for. It’s all about the big screen. It’s TV. It’s film. Its popcorn and coke. Its wine gums and ice cream. You know what I mean? Stop me if you’re loosing me. It’s a form of writing designed specifically for the camera, the director, for the actor……. Why are you looking at me like that?........ Alright, you got me, i agree, the scriptwriter does part of the directing. I’ll give you that, fair enough, BUT, and don’t make this mistake, because it’s a common one, how the text comes to the screen is the job of the director: artistic responsibility. My job is: plot, character, dialogue, structure, exposition.

When reading bear this in mind please, it’s important. When you read it you are afforded the privilege of being all these people rolled into one. To a large degree you decide on the setting, the look, the feel. There’s more, I’m tired so I’ll keep this short, if you want me to elaborate or recommend some web sites or books send me a mail and I’ll sort you out. Right, lead on MacDuff and damn be him who first cry hold enough. Sorry about that, artistic license. Here are a few other things you have to know:

1.The industry standard is Courier, 10pt font. I’ve used it.
2.Scripts are in the active tense. You don’t say he went, he got, he will get, he used to get. It’s all about describing what you see in the NOW, THE PRESENT, e.g we see Mr x getting, Mr x lifts up an axe and swings it violently at the poodle, Mr x is wearing nothing but a ripped pair of Speedos two sizes to small for him. Get it! Good. It’s all about describing what is on the screen NOW. Want me to say that again. It’s all about describing what is on the screen………N…..
3.At the start of scenes you see in capitals INT. or EXT. This means the scene is being conducted internally, maybe inside a room or hallway. EXT. means that the scene is external, maybe in a field or on a road. Usually followed after these terms is a little more detail where the scene is happening and whether it is day or night. Or occasionally what time it is.
4.If you see in brackets letters like V.O that means voice over. Remember Mike Hammer, or that other detective that looked like Hammer, but had a flash wheels and lived on a cool beach, MAGNUM PI I think was his name, yeah; okay you should have it now.
5.The odd time you’ll come with camera terms like, FADE TO, CUT TO, DOLLY PASS, PAN THROUGH. These aren’t scientific notations on the guiding system for a Scud missile. There simple terms that are largely self explanatory. Just think of the camera moving slowly, focusing in, pulling back, or switching to a new scene.
6.There usually is a title sequence like you see in the flicks. I’ve gone for a montage or a serious of images. I think they work. But you can be the judge of that. I was going to select music as well but on this occasion decided not to. You can do that yourself if you want.
7.The first time a character appears in a script he is in capitals and then he usually goes to lower case. If words are in capitals it usually means the camera is zooming in on it. I do it most of the time. It's hard to keep track of sometimes. If I make the odd mistake, please let me know.

Okay, I think that’s it. I can’t remember anything else. I pulled a Kerouac on it i.e. without the stimulants. I’m tired, or as some of the other dogs down here would growl: eu estou com muinto sono. I’ve been at it now non stop for three weeks. I’m pretty slow at this thing but I’m nearly there. Will take a few days off and then get back to the last bits and pieces. On yeah, you’re supposed to finish the sentence of a passage of dialogue for an actor on the same page. If you need to continue on the next page you should write (cont’d). I haven’t bothered with it but that’s alright it’s not as if it’s going to be landing on an agents table or anything.”

That was kind of it. Before he left he simply said, “Okay, got to go get some kip in the kennel Master. You can kill the puppy now.” He looked really tired. I reckon he’s going to sleep for at least two days. He’s got my ears cocked though. That bulldog is smarter than Eusebius thought. Well, we’ll see. I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve read the full piece. Think I’ll have a little peak at it now though. My eyes are kind of itchy for some reason and my fingers feel a little twitchy!!!

Campos do Jordão

Just back in Sao Paulo after four action packed days in mountains of Campos do Jordão. The Paulistians do a strange thing this time of year. During the June bank holiday they converge in their thousands on a small mountain village 3 hours away by car ride. The village looks like something straight out of a Swiss ski resort. With the exceptions of snow and ski slopes they have the rest. Everyone goes around as if its Christmas eve. The trees are adorned in lights, everyone has a heavy coat on, and the majority of people are wearing scarfs and gloves. It`s kind of strange to see it in Brazil It`s not exactly something you hear a lot about. I had the pleasure of staying for 4 days with 20 lunatics in a lodge that was set beside a river on the side of a forested mountain. Most of the days were spent eating excellent food (stroganoof and the quintessential Brazilian, pacanha barbecue being my favourite); sitting out in a grassy expanse talking and relaxing, and, mostly, dancing, drinking and jumping up and down inside the big cabin to the eccletic beats of our resident DJ, NASDAQ (AKA Aconcanda). This was the longest period of time I`ve spend talking nearly completely Portuguese. It was a great help for me. After almost 3 months its now beginning to sink in a little. As ever I spoke much better with a healthy helping of cerveja in the stomach.

This week so far has been quiet, and presently working on my itinery for the next two months of traveling. As of this Wednesdaymy good friend Una is coming down to join the vagabond and the dogs for a spot of rambling. First stop will be the Falls the Iguacu, after checking them out from the Brazilian and Argentinean side we'll head to the swamp lands of The Panthanel to check out the wide variety of wild life and fauna. From there the one i`m looking forward to, a six hour flight to beach city of Natal in the extreme North East. Will spend a week there before taking another flight to Salvador and then a road trip, picking off little beaches before heading back to Rio, and then Sao Paulo, to meet my good mates Kevin and Jim who are coming down on the 15th of July. Will spend four days in Sao Paulo with them before we hit Rio for four days, probably Natal again and then onto Fortaleza for a week or so. Well that's the plan so far. I`m spending a lot of time at the moment checking out hotels, posadas (B&Bs) and hotels. Also i`m trying to get myself a Brazilian airpass for about 7/8 flights but its seems to be impossible. Everywhere i`ve tried has come up blank. It seems to be that you can only buy the tickets from abroad, but only when your not in Brazil. Strange system. They need a Ryan Air down here big time......

Gotta run, trying to keep an eye on the European Championships. Everyone down here keeps asking me why Ireland aren`t in them. I keep shaking my head and reciting the sleeping giants analogy.

I`ve put up some of the photos for you to check out. Also took a lot of camcorder footage but as of yet haven`t been able to find a free streaming server that can host the footage for me. Will keep working on it. If anyone else has any experience of this type of thing let me know.

Is Thor a bad influence on Eusebius?

Day: 76
Location: Sao Paulo
Temp: 24
Book: Sweet Thursday, John Steinbeck

I haven't mentioned the dogs for a while. Thankfully, the peace is still in tact. Despite the fact that I did see Brutos bark angrily a few times at Eusebius when he told him he had forgot to bring a torch and candles on the recent Diamond Highlands hike. Brutos forgot to bring toilet paper so Eusebius got the opportunity to do a little barking of his own. That was it. Evens. I asked Brutos how his writing has been going for the competition. Unsuprisingly, he didn't give much away. He told me that the Q;A;Z keys on his laptop were not working so he has being using the /;[;] symbols instead and then hitting edit>replace to sort it out. Bit of a pain but so be it. I know he's been working hard on it though. He's taking the thing very serious. I'm very surprised. Wonder what he's going to come up with?? I've never read a screenplay before so it will be interesting just looking at the format, even if the story isn't the best. Crazy dog, could be about anything!! Eusebius on the other hand doesn't seem to be doing any preparation for the competition. I'm sensing a small bit of arrogance coming from him. He's keeping his writing all on the Q.T. I'm constantly seeing Brutos reading or writing, but Eusebius, never. Maybe, he's been writing it at night. It's kind of ironic though, ever since they agreed to compete he's become more like Brutos. He's been hanging around with a pack of Brazilian dogs that have been taking him out drinking and partying constantly. One of his mates is a dog called "Thor", by all accounts he is absolutely bonkers and a great dog for the bitches. Supposedly, the complete party animal. A purported magician on the social scene. He seems to be Zinedine Zindane of fun, a nine dan black belt in love, with an unparalleled genius for conjuring up parties in the dullest of kennels. He's also got the special power to get other dogs to come to these gatherings at all hours of the night. Consequently, for the first time in years Eusebius seems to be lightening up. Paradoxically, while Brutos is still doing his fair share of going out. He's not doing as much as he did at the start. He seems to be reading loads, from a wide range of writers, and on a eclectic range of topics, in particular, he seems to be reading a lot of Kerouac and Bewskosky. He's also playing around with poetry; I caught him reading the Windhover by Gerald Manley Hopkins, but he's denying it, and he's constantly carrying around a jar of daisies with him. He won't let it out of his sight. Even when he's eating he has it around him. He also is buying pens off all the poor people selling them on the streets. I saw him bury some of them yesterday near a bus shelter. He's kind of becoming more like Eusebius with everyday. Not too sure when they are going to get me their respective pieces of work but I'm kind of looking forward to them now. I hope they explain their curios changes in personality these last few weeks.

On another note, had my friend Ben, his brother Dan and their traveling amigeo Forest in Sao Paulo for the last few days. To all, the vagabond salutes you and wishes you well on your travels.

Also the Vagabond has taken up new residence in a cool part of town called Perdizes, Rue Apiacas, 720, Apt 24. I'm sharing a two bedroom apartment with a lovely woman called Frida. Hopefully, the days there will be good. I think she doesn't mind the dogs. There on their best behaviour at the moment so all is well. A big thank you to the very warm and generous Marcel for putting up with us the last couple of months. With heads bowed, silent barks, v shaped fingers and paws in the air, and chest banging: we salute you.

Chapada Diamantina (The Diamond Highlands)

I’m just back from an action packed week of hiking in the National Park of Chapada Diamantina, or the Diamond Highlands as they are known in English. It was the best experience I’ve had on my travels to date.

The Diamond Highlands are located in the very centre of Bahia State, about four hundred kilometres from Salvador. They are famous for their raw beauty and for the huge reserves of diamonds and gold that they possessed (most mining has stopped now days). The park spreads for fifteen thousand squared miles, is larger than Holland or Belgium, and is more of a high plateau, averaging about thousand meters, than a true mountain range. It took a 2.5 hour flight from Sao Paulo to Salvador and then another one hour flight on a tiny jet plane to get to our pousada (or B&B), in the village of Lencois. The landscape in the area is one of rolling mountains (consisting of a variety of geologies but mainly limestone), deep valleys completely covered in trees, scrubs, flowers, open high plains and shady canyons. Intertwined with these sculptured rocks and grasslands are almost uncountable clean, cold, drinkable mountain streams, spectacular waterfalls, and deep natural swimming pools, two of which I had the pleasure of swimming in, in my birthday suit. To add to this you have a wide variety of animals that roam the landscape. Unfortunately, the number of species is smaller than it was before the miners came and started hunting but none the less it’s still impressive. The list ranges from black howler monkies, collared anteaters, yellow armadillos and vampire bats to caimans, rattlesnakes, boa constrictors and a wide variety of rodents, foxes and lizards. There are 250 species of birds and God knows how many different types of butterflies, snails, spiders and mosquitoes, some of which had the pleasure of feeding on mine and the dogs’ blood. And rumour has it that there is still the odd jaguar roaming the highlands and attacking some of the local farmer’s deers and cows. While on this trip I didn’t have the chance to see it I did however get to see some of the rare tiny, red, daisy, inconspicuous looking delicate flowers that are carnivorous.

To try describe in complete and utter detail the things I saw, did and experienced in Chapada would take too much time and would be absurd. Almost as absurd as two Nobel laureates meeting for the first time over lunch and having nothing to talk about. Or as absurd as being introduced to every grain of sand on a beach, by name, by the ocean, and then been asked to repeat their names in order. There is simply too much. As such, I’ll give you the truncated version.

The first day in Lencois was spent going to two caves that had blue lagoon water inside. It took a little bit of effort to descend into the caverns but it was worth it. Especially, the second one where we all had an opportunity to do a little snorkelling. Day 2 I set off with my good friend Carlos on a two night three day hike to the 360m free falling waterfall of Fumasa. The hike covered 24km of a wide variety of terrain and was very much like the experience I had a few years ago when trekking to Machu pichu. The group I set off with consisted of 5 people. Lucia, our excellent guide and cook. Myself and Carlos. And a Swiss couple, Bengy and Carolina. Great company. Most of the days consisted of walking and climbing with constant stops for short water breaks, food and photos. We woke at 7am and went to sleep at 8pm under a blanket of the brightest, clearest, most resplendent stars I have ever seen. On the hike we got an opportunity to see some wild fruit, a nest of bees that produce a rare wax like municipal substance called proion, wild orchids, five foot snakes the name of which I can’t remember and small nimble frightening looking spiders that design intricate web systems. Beautiful. Wild. Different. On the last day after tentatively peering over the edge of the cliff to see the waterfall’s cascading turret I descended bare foot down the mountain with my guide for 7km through, mud, water, forest, grass and rock. My knees were shaking when I got to the end and amazingly I managed not to cut or scrap myself. I’ve never felt the souls of my feet so alive in all my life. Highly recommended. Day 5 was spent taking another trek but this time it wasn’t on land. It was a 2.5 hour 4km trek into a cave system called, Torrinha, or little tower. Inside there was an exceptional collection of exotic limestone formations consisting of thousands and thousands of strange looking stalactites and stalagmites. Only 3 of us went inside. Myself, my friend Lincoln, and our guide. To see we had a gas lamp that shun about 8 feet, the rest was pitch black hole black. It was a strange experience. I’ve never gone for so long, so deep, under ground. It was a strange feeling. At one point the guide turned off the light and we stayed silent for a minute in a chamber 85 meters below the surface. It was a surreal sensation. Clostaphobic. Black. Silent. Cold. Alien. Also, during that day we got the chance to swim in a near by cave again. This time a dark cave pregnant with a multitude of fish. We had the use of underwater torches so we got the opportunity to startle a few fish and crabs with the lights as they tried to go about their everyday lives. The last day consisted of a trip to the famous Pai Inacio mountain to take in the crimson sun set beside the huge metal cross at the peak. The view from the top was majestic. And the vegetation on the rocky peak was a natural garden of orchids, bromeliads, cactus, and lots of other local beauties you’ve never seen or even heard of.

Overall a welcome break from the urban jungle and a brief but unforgettable glimpse into some of the beauty of the interior of Brazil.

PS:I've put some photos up in my Brazilian folder if you want to check them out.

Killing one bird and injuring the other

The vagabond is still daily routineless, wandering, constantly hunting with the hounds (who by now have blood on all paws), researching, reading, and eating way too much meat and drinking pools full of the irresistible Guarana.

News:
-Have reached my 30th Portuguese class. Gettin' there. Would say I can understand about 40% of what's in the newspaper. Speaking it and making the correct pronunciations is at about 20%, which encouragingly gives me enough to ask for and describe things in kinder garden argot. What's "super legal", or really cool, as they'd say down here is that Portuguese is a real back door into Spanish. I had a sneak preview of my Spanish material and talked to a few of the locals about it. To read and write, Spanish is about 75% identical, to speak about 50%. The Portuguese can understand Spanish but not visa versa. It's like killing one bird and injuring the other with the one stone. Will make it easier to converse with the Chileans and Argentians when we arrive.
-Looking at a lot of apartments. Will have moved out of Marcel's apartment by the start of June. 2 bedroom, close to the city and metro in a shared hotel, with front door security is the norm over here. I can stretch the budget to 1,200 real ( 350 euros), which should be enough. If lucky I may get access to a pool and gym, and, some cleaning services inclusive.
-Bought tickets with my friends: Lincoln and Carlos & Laura to go this Saturday morning to a "rugged, mountainous paradise", to the north of Brasil, Chamapa. We're going for a week. Will bring the camera and camcorder. The ticket to and from Salvador which is about 2,000km away cost 65 euros and the last 400km of the journey is either an 8 hour bus ride to and back, on a pot hole ridden, bumpy road that would justice to a mine field exhibition in Vietnam, for 65 euros, or, a flight for 225 euros (monopoly). We've gone for the flight. Should be great, pictures look a little like the interior of Crete (Samari Gorge) juxtaposed with something similar to the Andes. Should be plenty of cascading waterfalls, deep echoing caves, and chilly, windy, undulating mountain hikes. It should be a cerebral churning, intoxication, roller coaster, hypnotising, one-to-see, one-for-the-books, backs to your seat, hair pulled, skin pinching, eye pressing ride. Well that's what Eusebius reckons. Hope he's right. I've tried to tell him that there will be few if any other dogs there, no dicsos, no pubs to roar and bark in, ecetra, ecetra. He just turned his torso and wagged his tail nonchantly twice at me and bobbled off to bed under the table. Eusebius had a diametrical position, he'll settle for the "rugged, mountainous paradise" thing. He's looking forward to it more than Brutos. Told me he'll work on his writing there. Will give a detailed report when I get back.
-Going out with the Brazilians to see Brazil Vs France tonight. Should be a great game. It will be fun surrounded by the locals watching the World Champions.
-Gotta go get some pacanha, starving, tchau.

The Ace of Spades

Day: 50
Location: Sao Paulo
Weather: 21
Books: 'Nausea' by Jean-Paul Satre; 'Lonesome Traveler' by Jack Kerouac and nearly at the end of Ron, Hermonine and Harry's adventures in 'The Goblet of Fire'.


The last few days have seen some wonderful game. Many different kills, in many different places, in many differnet ways. We've all had a productive few days.

Brutos reported that he went to a bar last night with a pack of friends of his to get an ace of spades signed by Lemmy the lead singer of Motorhead (he's goin' to their concert this Friday). At it he bumped into an up and coming Brazilian "'dark' metal band" called "The Passangers of Darkness". Supposedly, the base player, a Paulista, called Louisa took a liking too him. He spent most of the night sitting around a table with her and 3 other semi-naked chics clad in leather and metal, and three blokes, that would all look quiet comfortable on the set of "Once were Warriors 3" or "The Crow 2". All, as you can now probably imagine were decked out in your quintessential, silver, leather and arse touching wavy mullets. He spent the night drinking whiskey, cold beers, making finger signs and studying tatoos of dark masses and Conan the Barrion. Subjects breached in torn English and crumpled Portugese, with tons of head shaking, hand flapping, and a variety of ingenious clicking and whistling nosies were: the preferred height at which a base guitar should be played? if a tequila and whiskey compound could be a new world beating product? and, if Megadeath have ever played in Ireland? Sounded like a good night. He said it was one of his best experiences yet. In only the way he knows how to offend, he claimed he was 'as happy as a paedophile, in a Barney suit, on a bouncy castle.' How his mind has become infected by a lifetime of warped observations and developed into the strange lump of grey matter, he still calls a brain, i'll probably never know. Sometimes i have to sympathise with Eusebius! How he has put up with Brutos for so long? It makes me kind of understand why he accepted the challenge!

Brutos is off hunting again, just went out the door, i hope the next time I see him he's not wearing a powder white Marlin Mason face on his wrinkled mug, or a tatoo of a blood ridden celtic cross or dead scarecrow on one of his hind legs or his tail!

Eusebius on the other hand continues to hunt and kill in a different way: more calculated, more premeditated and as has become his trademark, with tons more precision.

He pounced and killed at a chic and sophisticated Pizzeria. He was invited there by one of his friends. It was a belated happy mother's day celebration. All the family were there: sisters, fathers, grandmothers, the lot. On the course were a wide variety of pizzas, with some of the most sumptuous, throat and stomach tingling cheeses known to man. All expertly cooked by white mask wearing chefs in a massive open baked furnance. Also, on show, to add to the already mouth wateringly pleasing food, and may i add fine Chilean white wine, was a four piece jazz band with a flute player that would give James Galway a run for his golden rod any day of the week. The rest of his time he told me has been spent researching pens! Not sure what he was talking about but he said he has been doing a little research on the Net at the local library he has taken a liking to. He said i'll know more when I read his entry in the competiton. He went out the door shortlly after Brutos. He borrowed the only pen I had before he left. That's the third one this week and he hasn't returned any!

He and Eusebius seem to be talking to each other again. Not as openingly and as off-the-cuff as they use to be, but, vagabonds can't be choosers- i'm thankful their at least sitting at the same table for food. The silence was deafening when they weren't talking. Well, deafening to my ears anyway, maybe in dog ear, they were still arguing? I don't think so. Anyway, it's a start. I'll take it.

As for my hunting. Spent the last few days studying my Portugese. I'm not sure if it is getting harder or easier. Yesterday, I would have said harder, today, easier. I'm presently working in a combination of ways to improve: [1]by still using my trusty 'Teach yourself Brazilian Portugese' book which i bought in the motherland, yesterdays chapter was entitled: 'como foi a viagem?' 'how was the journey' [2] Still receiving one and a half hour private lessons. Currently working on translating very basic paragraphs that I write in English to Portugese, 3 year old, pre kinder garden stuff [3] Practicing with anyone that will listen and [4] reading advertisement signs everywhere i go.

Now it's my time to go out the door!

Some differences

Day: 42
Weather: 27c
Book: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Location: Sao Paulo (will be in neighbouring Bebedor tomorrow for 3 days)

Here's a few things that are different in Brasil:

[1] Just in case you didn't know already they drive on the other side of the road. The main brands of car are: Cheverlot, Voltzwagen and Fiat. Most of the cars are small. I've only seen a handful of BMWs, Jags or Mercedes. Bikes are prominent and the drive like something out of Mad Max. Complete lunatics. They also have an excellent Metro. Why Ireland hasn't got one, here and now in the '00s still defies all logic!
[2] They don't eat vinger with their chips. They actually find it offensive when you ask for it at a restaurant. Likewise, while they have milk, which kind of tastes like ours, they don't consume it often, in fact hardly at all, and usually only at breakfast. You get a similar look of perplexion if asking for it when dining. Butter comes in two categories, with or without salt. They've never heard of hot port. They don't serve hot drinks full stop. They rarely if ever use pint glasses with their beer instead opting for a water downed glass half the size of a half point glass. With a bishops collar three times the size of one you'd get on a Guinness. Let's call it a quarter glass!
[3] When going into bars they take your name and number on entry. Each table is given a menu and a waiter. Everytime you order they tick your card and then at the end of the night, you queue up at a till and pay your bill. Much better system. Everyone usually looks after themselves, and you don't have to fight your way through a frustrated mob to get the notice of the barman.
[4] They call text messages torpedos. They rarely send them though. The big operators down here are: Tim (my one), Claro and Vivo.
[5] Poverty is rife, and kids are constantly juggling balls in front of cars when there is a red light to try scrape a few coins together. Some of the acts vary from spinning fire sticks, doing handstands and all types of dancing. There is also a fair share of crippled begging.
[6] The police carry guns.
[7] School starts at 7am.
[8] Most of the films in the cinema are in English with Portugese subtiles. Saw Kill Bill 1 this week, understood half the Japanese dialogues.....Cost about 2 euros to go.
[9] Nearly everyhouse I know has a dog.
[10] Extremely hard to borrow money in the banks. About 15% interest. Can you imagine that rate with the amount of mortgages being spitted out each day in Ireland. It would very quickly topple the property market. Inversely, and unbelieveably you can get about 15% interest on your savings. Bascially, if you have money just chuck it in the bank and live off the intereset.
[11] Most of the houses have a maid that cleans and washes everything at least once a week.
[12] Nightclubs open at about 12 and finish at 7am. Monday night can be a big night.
[13] They have excellent non-crust, sliced white bread. Good ideas. I'm sure mother's feeding their young all over Ireland would appreciate it. Makes those toasted fingers a little easier to prepare.
[14] They have big problems with their energy generation. As such, as I guess we should all do, they often just have one or two lights on in an apartment at any given time.
[15] Fridges are twice the size of ours. So are ovens and grills.
[16] In Sao Paulo women nearly all have long hair. Mostly black or brunette. Brown eyes and brown skin is the staple look in the city. To the north dark black skin is more prominent. In the far south east, Porte Alegre, etc the European influence is more pronounced with blond hair and blue eyes widespread.
[17] Most people pay with check books when paying their bill.
[18] The cans of coke come in 350ml not 330.
[19] All the taxis are white.
[20] Unemployment in SP is running at 20.7 compared to 4.4 in our entire country. Not sure what the rate of "desemprego" across the country is.

Raining Blue and Pink Kisses

My good friend's sister, the beautiful Carolina, brought me and the dogs to a carnival gig recently. It cost about 25 euros for the day and we got to see the famous: Chiclete com Banana (Chewing Gum with Banana) play live in front of about 7,000 passionate fans all wearing, pink or blue tshirts and little or nothing else. On the day it rained very hard which created a surreal WoodStock like atmosphere. Everyone was covered in mud from the waste down and those drunk enough or maybe brave enough to dance or dive around the mud pits looked a little like semi-illuminous ministrels jumping up and down on the slippery rim of a good old fashioned cup of tea. The venue itself was very different to what I am used to when going to Slane or Landsdowne. It was in a big field, about the size of the RDS horse jumping arena. There were two stages. On one the warm up acts, on the other the main act. On either side instead of having your traditional seating arrangements, a bit like a stand at a soccer match, they had what looked to me dancing Louisiana steam boats. These areas were basically more expensive and had canopies over them. When you paid to get in there, maybe another 15 euros, you got some free drink and you got to stay dry. For me the best fun was to be had open air, getting dirty, and mudjumping to some chewing gum and Banana. The music was a bit like a combined Turskish and Spain Eurovision song entry with a cross between Johny Logan and Lenny Kravitz as the lead singer. On the night he was brillant. Great voice. Loads of passion.

Everyone was wearing either a blue or a pink sleeveless tshirt. I got in touch with my pink side. It was a great sight. As far as the eye could see people were jumping around crazyily. Shouting and roaring, punching the air and kissing each other. The constant kissing is the thing i think i will remember most. I thought when the heavens had cracked open and started to pour that it was raining heavily but it was nothing compared to the torrential downpour of kisses that seemed to be falling everywhere. Literally, people were just going up to each other, strangers, and asking for snogs. It went on all night. A man, if focused, slightly inebriated, and with a modium of gusto and a splinter of confidence could easy chalk up a snog-count in the double figures. When i quizzed some of the locals on it afterwards they said it's not untowards to kiss 20 women on the day. They also proudly told me that the real action is at the carnival in February. An occassion i am still berating myself for having missed this year and previous years. It's on my list of must do's (after a lot of biting at my laces, and running around me wildly, tail wagging at light speed I finally caved in and promised Brutos that i'll get him there some day in the future)!

Going home I wripped up the transparent raincoat i had bought for the start of the concert and dumped in my mud baked runners, socks and tshirt. When I got back to the apartment i threw them, the dogs and myself in the shower and proceeded to have one of the best showers i've had in years! And before i went to bed, on newly laid linen, cleaned up and feeling fresh I let a little smile form on my face, closed my eyes and thought once more of the excellent Chiclete com Banana and my own performance on the snogometer?????

The Competiton (Part 2)

Day: 38
Location: Sao Paulo
Weather: 20
# of Portugese classes: 14

I'm glad I talked to Brutos. It was important that I understand what was on his mind. It's rare to see him annoyed for such a long time. He usually can flick off with his tail, fairly quickly, anything that Eusebius throws at him. But this time he let it get at him. I know he was holding back on what Eusebius said to him. Knowing Eusebius when he wants to be, his words can be more vicious than any bite Brutos could ever produce. I decided to get his side of the story this morning. The last thing I wanted was a quasi-schizophrenic bulldog and an aristocratic sausage dog at war.

Me: Eusebius, can I interrupt your reading for the moment. I have some questions?
Eusebius: Yes ,master, of course. I was just reading the sports section about Palmerias and their recent draw and defeat in the league. There getting Corinthian-itis by the looks of it. I hope not.
Me: I'm sure they'll recover. Please sit with me by the table.
Eusebius: Yes, master.
Me: Eusebius, I want to know, no I said that wrong, let me say that again, I need to know, honestly, what has been going on between you and Brutos? You don't seem as close as you've always been.
Eusebius: Has he said something master?
Me: Yes. I made him. I picked up on it myself, but I asked him some questions, and to his credit he answered them honestly.
Eusebius: What were these questions and answers master?
Master: Well, I want to hear what you have to say first Eusebius before I tell you what Brutos said........what's your side of the story?
Eusebius: We're changing master. We're no longer pups. We're adults. We are developing heterodox ideologies and I have a predilection towards a different value system that he does. You know him and so do I. He likes to react to things, he goes for things off the cuff, he likes noisy, rough, unorthodox people....so on and so forth. Not that I don't like these things you know I do, but I don't OD on them; there are other things in life. He came home at 7am last Monday night and slept to 4 in the evening. For me he wasted a beautiful Tuesday morning. It's been one of the best since we've been here. I explored the city and learned how to use the metro? I just think I'm maturing a little quicker than him.
Me: But, my dear Eusebius, that's nothing to fight over. He should be allowed to do his thing once he is not interrupting your way of living. He should be able to stay out all night if he wants. He's hunting. Just like you?
Eusebius: I know master, but here lies the epicenter of his problem. He was suppose to put out his washing Sunday night and didn't, he was suppose to go with me for a meal with a mutual dog friend on Tuesday but he stayed in bed. He is saying things and doing other things. It's a long, consistent, over trodden road and i'm tried walking it with him.
Me: Okay, Eusebius, I know he can be difficult. Just be patient. I want you both to stay good friends. I 'll talk to him when the time is right. But don't be putting him down. He told me that you were insulting his intelligence. If you did I don't want you to do it again.
Eusebius: What did he say master?
Me: You don't have to know. What he said is not important?
Eusebius: You do know he has a penchant for ostentation and beautification?
Me: I know, but if my memory serves me right you've practiced the odd bit of hyperbole yourself. Remember the time you described your second love. She didn't really have long black, undulating fur, did she? It was more like 6 different coloured moles on her neck, two wheels for back legs, a glass eye, a baldy head and a tail that looked like an s-hook.
Eusebius: Yes master. You're right. We'll get on better. Will that be it master...?
Me: No. I hear he challenged you to a dual of sorts. Both of you have to write stories and get a judge on the piece. Measuring the length of your tails and by the look of it! You know you're more adept at this kind of thing; why did you accept Eusebius?
Eusebius: First, I know that Brutos can be laconic, but acts a lot, I also know that he is much brighter than he lets onto be. But he lacks discipline. I want to see if in his rage he can give birth to his true potentials and by doing so bring something beautiful into the world. Second, he told me drunk last month that he went to a screenplay writing class, I find that hard to beleive, we'll see if he has. Three, he asked me, I didn't ask him. I don't want to turn down such a challenge and as a result have to constantly listen to his jibes. Four, it will be fun. I've been working on a few things in my head of late and this challenge will give me some laser focus. It's sometimes hard to concentrate, as you indupitably know master, with all the amazing scenery everywhere. Wouldn't you agree?
Me: Yes, okay, what is the criteria or boundaries of this competiton- which i'm still alittle dubious of?
Eusebius: Not much to it. We've both agreed on fiction, we've both agreed to take human form. I'm probably going to write a novel. He said he's writing some kind of screenplay.
Me: Be careful Eusebius, I don't want you to hurt him.
Eusebius: I ensure you that this is not my intentions. And hopefully, you can read it first before he gets a chance to. I give you full editing priveleges. If you think it will cause him harm. You may erase it. Did he tell you that we want you to judge it?
Me: Yes, I accepted.
Eusebius: Thank you master. Will that be all?
Me: For the moment. Thank you Eusebius........i'll talk to you soon, I have to go out and by some batteries for my mpeg player, want to come?
Eusebius: Sure. Give me a minute.
Me: Okay, but don't be long, and ask Brutos does he want to come? We can get some food on the way...

The Competition

Eusebius and Brutos have not being seeing eye-to-eye of late. I see it at times but more importantly i sense it. They seem to have been arguing about something. I questioned Brutos about it last night before he went out on the town.

Me: Brutos, got a minute.
Brutos: Sure.
Me: Good, I won't hold you long I know your going out withe some of the Brazilian dogs tonight.
Brutos: No problem master, they're usually late so we can talk. What's on your mind?
Me: Would i be right in saying that you