The Rambling Irish Vagabond

Some snaps of the day

2012-01-07T22:56:00.000Z

Paradise Islands

Lone Swimmers @ Sun Set

Day Trip Boats

Cheese On The Beach

Ice Deliveries on a Jet Ski

Sun Sets

A snap of a snap

little Portuguese churches shot from a speeding car

Ilha Bela

2012-01-06T19:59:00.001Z

I'm now off the coast of Sao Paola at the eponymous Ihla Bela or "Beautiful Island". Interesting place and I'm enjoying investigating what it has to offer. To get here it took a 4 hour drive from Sao Paolo before we came to the ferry stop that took 30 minutes of waiting in line in our car and then 15 minutes to cross over to the island. Ihla Bela is about 6km by 3km wide, 5km of the coastline and has in the region of 30 tropical beaches all spread around a number of spiky mountain tops covered in forest and clouds. It is a place where the rich of the rich come from Brazil to vacate and it received millions of tourists each year, most coming from Sao Paolo, Rio and Buenos Aires.

Today, we took the car along the north side of the island passing by about 8 different beaches. We decided to descend down a forest path with a small river covered in stones to get down to a tiny beach about 500 meters wide that was situated by a very small farm. Down there was 5 people already and an old women selling beer, water, sun tan lotion and crisps. It was an idyllic hideaway and across the water ways you could see two cruise ships in the water, a man paddling effortless on a kayak and some threatening rain clouds in the town of Sao Sebastian which was in the distance.

I immediately jumped in the warm water when I got the beach. On entry there was no cold sting just warm water. I stayed in there for 20 minutes flapping around in the brown green water with a few waves occassionally disturbing my mediation on the coconut trees and forest slopes that were all around.

After I came out of the water the guy who was kayaking had come ashore and was talking to Camila. He had rowed about 6km to get to the beach and was spear fishing for some local fist to eat. He too was from Sao Paolo, he ended up telling us all about the island, the types of dangerous snakes and spiders that exist in the centre of the island but no where near the beaches. He explained to us that a wind coming down from Rio was causing a certain type of small frequent bumpy wave that was hitting the west of the island today. He went into a lot of detail why Ihla Bela is famous all over the world for kite surfing and wind surfing due to its unique winds that are a regular feature of life on the island. From his colourful and passionate discriptions it was clear to see why so many people come here and it explained why we were seeing so many marinas with a huge variety of paddle boats and all types of powerful jet boats that were anchored in nearly every beach we saw. He went on to offer to catch some fish and cook for us and he gave us his address on the island where he has a house of his own. He gave me his flippers and snorkeling mask and insists I take them to explore some of the dives to the east of the island which I hope to do Monday. Nice guy.

Today we are also trying to book a boat ride to two of Ihla Bela's most famous beaches. We'll get up at 9am and come back at about 5pm. We'll go by boat but come back by jeep through the forest with a couple of dives in between. So far the best quote we got is about 150 reis which is about 60 euros which ain't too bad so we'll go with that. The jeep ride is supposedly worth all the money alone with a number of water fall stops also taking place where we can dip our toes. Only problem is that the weather is forecasted for rain which may scupper our plans.

One thing I noticed today as well is that a lot of Brazilians now have smart phones. This wasn't the case two years ago. The prices are still ridiculous. It is more costly for me to call Camila's mum's mobile from a Brazilian mobile phone then it is to call her from an Irish one. The prices are really high, and inter state additional charges exist. A lot of Brazilians have been travelling abroad in the last couple of years, especially to the US, and you now also see a lot of the latest iPads knocking around in beaches and in airports. The prices for normal day thinks have also gone up. I reckon about 15% since last I came here. That's a big jump. The economy is still doing well, and reminds me of 2005 back in Ireland. They've also this month officially surpassed Britan as the 6th biggest economy in the world.

Some of the other highlights so far:

-Watching a young man yesterday, maybe 20 years of age, playing Vivalidi on his violin for 20 minutes on rua de meio with tons of kids staring at him in awe like I was

-Visting the Irish bar on the island that was the first Irish bar i've visited abroad with no Guinnesss

-Climbing a mud hill to get up from a secluded beach and meeting a goat half way up who seemed to be kneeling down and watching beetles go by

-Looking at a man standing on a surf boat, fully upright, paddling out to his jet boat about 150 meters off coast.

-Drinking a fresh water melon smoothie with a plate of calebresa and incebola onions fried with some golden sizzlingly olive oil

-Eating freshly baked potato crisps on the side of the road with a coconut ice cream

-Listening to Brazil's answer to Christy Moore, Jorge Ben Jorge, singing "Moro em pais tropical" - I live in a tropical county, says it all really!

-Met the owner of the hotel we're staying in, 6ft -7 German man who worked from General Motors, didn't like it, when he met a Brazilian woman on holidays decided to come down here and live for good!

Buzios and Dune Surfing

2011-12-26T22:18:00.001Z

I'm back in Brazil the state of Rio De Janeiro in Buzios and I'm very happy to be here! I'm spending 3 weeks with my Brazilian family and once again enjoying all that this amazing country has to offer. As normal, like clockwork, despite my best efforts, I'm getting a little burnt despite using factor 50 and a Panama hat. The short sleeve t-shirts are on and flip flops and swimming togs are the order of the day. Scarfs and gloves and such items are non existent and if you showed them to the locals they probably wouldn't know what to do with them.

Buzios is a very special place. It's rare to hear non Brazilian's talk about it and I have a funny feeling the locals are trying to keep it as much of a secret as possible and rightly so. It is a lush peninsula eight kilometers long with 23 beaches of all different shapes and sizes. Yes, you heard it right. 23. It is about a 2.5 hour drive from the city of Rio and it's well worth the effort to get here. It's one of those local gems that most tourists either don't know about or decide to ignore because they want to focus on the city of Rio.

So far I've been to 3 of the beaches and what stands out to me are some of the dunes they have, which they rent skiing equipment to skillfully slide down and also the fact that the water is kind of cold and fresh water rather than very salty and warm like I'm used to when swimming here.

For me swimming in Waterford conjures up names such as the Guillemene, Newtown Cove, Dunmore East, etc, down here the names of the beaches or completely different: Geribá, John Fernandes, Horseshoe, Ferradurinha and Manguinhos. Beach life is central to being Brazilian and central to the Christmas and New Year holidays. The Brazilians in their droves leave their cities and head for their coastline which is a massive 7000 kilometres long. Buzios is one of the country's favourite destinations, especially since Bridget Bardot the famous French actress came here in 1964 and revealed to the world the beauties the then small sleepy tropical fishing village had which is now a booming tourist destination which has 28,000 annual inhabitants that swell to 200,000 this time of the year with tons of jeeps, buggies and bicycles criss crossing around the peninsula from beach to beach.

Click here to see some images of what's on offer to get a better sense what I'm talking about.

Like many of the urban Brazilians I left the city to come to the beach. In my case Camila's family and I left the chaotic ugly metropolis of Sao Paolo's and its 20 million + inhabitants to get to Rio. We took a one hour plane ride from Sao Paolo to Rio and then got a private bus to bring us here. I'm travelling with Fausto, Camila's brother and his son Victor Gabriel, Carolina, Camila's sister and her fiancee Rodrigeo and we also are with the energetic Cidinha who is Camila's gregarious mother. My brain has switched into Portuguese mode and with the exception of Cidinha who has no English, we are also chatting in English as rest of the group are very eager to practice while I'm here.

Like all my other visits to Brazil the trip has been a continuous education and adventure rolled into one. These days i've coined a new term for it "Edu-ventures". It started with Christmas preparations as we arrived on the 23rd of December. The trip to get here wasn't the best. We were hit with a security guard strike in Paris which meant we had a 12 hour delay in our flight. When we got here, my sister in law's car broke down in the busiest road in Sao Paolo, and when I mean busy think of a 5 lane motorway that is 30 km's long and which has huge heavy lorries laden down with oranges, tiles, piping, electronics, etc and thousands of cars and motor bikes zipping by belching out smoke from exhausts and constantly beeping as they jockey for position. Carolina's car broke down in the middle of all this and it sat still bang in the middle lane for 5 minutes before we got some help from some of the other drivers on the road who helped us push it to the side before we got it going again. It was interesting to see the truck drivers were the ones who helped and with military position started to direct the traffic behind us as some of the others who had stopped help push the car.

Christmas is celebrated at midnight Christmas eve in Brazil. Christmas day is not like ours in Ireland and is mostly for the first half used to recover from the night before. They have a meal at about 10.30pm and for us consisted of Turkey, Pork, carrots, salad, rice and potatoes and an assortment of fruit for starters and desert. Presents are given out at midnight and then cousins, aunts, uncles and friends start visiting from 12.30am to around 2.30am. Most people are in bed in Ireland when the Brazilians are only getting going. As normal, a lot happens in Brazil in what they call the "madrugada" hours which are from 12 to 4am.

It was great to experience Christmas in hot weather, this is only the 2nd time I've been away from home. The last one being in 2004 when I was in Thailand when the infamous tsunami hit. It was great to be in shorts and t-shirt and getting a chance to get away from the Irish weather for a short time to get some heat and light. For me the light is as probably more important in terms of satisfaction rather then the heat. Like Ireland there is something magical about a blue sky, a wide azure blue sky, that makes people smile, sing and dance. We didn't have it all our own way, but the times when the sky was blue and the sun bombarded us with its rays of golden sunshine and shot darting shadows all around us when the odd cloud in the sky blocked its view were delightful to watch. As ever I was very appreciative of it having come from a rainy few days in Waterford and Dublin. It was worth the airfare alone.

It's the 1st of Jan and I'm being called to go to lunch so I better go. Let's see what 2012 has to throw up, I hope it goes well for you and yours. I'm going to get a glass of pineapple juice or"abacaxi" as they call it by their local indian translation and ponder on what lessons 2011 had to reveal which I will bring with me into 2012 as we look to some new objectives and goals I hope to reach.

Feliz Ano Novo! Happy New Year.

On the hunt for gout!

2011-08-10T15:57:00.005+01:00

Last week was such a great week. It was a sojourn to Porto to explore the wonderful maritime historical city and its enchanting river Douro where the finest port in the world is produced. For many years I like a hot port in the winter with my newspapers on Sunday. Typically, it was a glass of Sandyman but over the years I've enjoyed quite a number of other brands: Fonseca, Grahams and Foleys. I was spoiled when I saw the variety in Porto. I typically drink red but after a friend of mine gave me some white, Lagrimas (translated to "tears" appertivo port) I was also converted to it!

Our first stay was Hotel Palacio which a Portugese native who works with Camila, a lovely guy called Daniel, recommended. I booked it for 99 euros a night on hotels.com and while a small 10 minute ride out of the city it was worth it. The welcome we received was as good as any I've had in other hotels, with a couple of free glasses of port and an enjoyable 20 minutes being given by the women booking us in with a map of porto and the region and telling us what to see, do and eat.

After a couple of days checking out some of the local river haunts including a decent churrascaria where I got my fill of picanha and Camila also got some bacalchua, we took a two hour train to Regua in the heart of the douro to another recommended hotel, Acaporou which was excellent but expensive at 220 at night. Unlike others I've been in this was deep inside a vineyard and hugged the river Doruo itselt with an excellent view. We stayed for 3 relaxing days and toured around the local "quintas" or farms tasting all types of wines and cheeses. The trip was made even better in that we had a chance to meet our French/Portugese friens Liza and Al who spend a night hanging out with us!

We'll be back, I'd recommend mid Sept, as that is when the fun is to be had with the harvest of greats being prepared.

San Fran, Sydney, Mumbai and Rome

2011-03-19T20:40:00.000Z

The last few months since joining LinkedIn have been a whirl wind. Very long hours coupled by the steepest learning curve I've encountered.

Random highlights from recent trips:

Bumping into an old work colleague on George Street, Sydney as I went for a 7am run. Small world.
Meeting a blind man in Mumbai with 10% vision who was bursting with excitement after marrying a beautiful women who has 30% vision. The humblness in which he told his story will also stay with me.
Street children begging at your taxi window
Experiencing the mania of cricket world cup in Mumbai, only comparable to the soccer world cup in Brazil. Thousands and thousands of Indian kids bringing cricket bats with them everywhere.
Lawless, fearless, 3 wheeled, rickshaw drivers in India
Rome with Joe and Dad. Priceless. We should have done it years ago.

San Francisco

2010-07-19T11:56:00.006+01:00

I'm recently back from my first visit to the wonderful city of San Fran. On this occasion I was over for a two day off-site (internal meeting) with my US colleagues to plan for next year. I recently came back from another visit to Hyderabad in India via Dubai and I've been piling up the miles on the road. In recognition of being away from home a lot my manager allowed me to change my usual business class flight status to two economy flights to allow my wife to come with me. So on this occasion it was the two of us! This was Camila's first visit to the US and she needed to go through a lengthy, absurdly bureaucratic process (and I mean absurd) including an interview before she got a ten year visa to visit the US. Eventually all was sorted out and we both found ourselves in SF for the first time. I spend two days at the internal conference and then we both took another 4 days off to the check out the city. We stayed in the highly recommendable W hotel, on 3rd avenue and Howard (the pancakes are a must). Which is a very modern boutique hotel which caters for the young at heart? It's location was perfect and it took us no time to get to Union Square as well as down to the port area.

Highlights on the trip:
1. Seeing what an Apple conference looks like. When arrived the launch of the new iPhone was in full swing and you could feel the buzz in the city
2. We checked out a baseball game and were lucky enough to be with the Microsoft team in our own corporate suite which was an experience
3. We visited Alcatraz which was a fantastic audio tour that I would highly recommend. You need to book a day in advance as it is almost impossible to buy tickets on the day.
4. We checked out the famous Fisherman's Wharf with its whining and belching seals which loiter around the front of the harbouring smelling badly in their hundreds.
5. We rented some bikes from Blazing Saddles (which brought back some memories when we were taking out the bikes as I met some young lads from Limerick who were on their J1 student visa for the summer [reminded me of when I did the same in New York, Long island]), from there we paid 32 dollars each, which i thought was a little steep, and spent a lovely hour cycling along the cost and over the famous Golden Gate Bridge and on to Sollenous before we got the 30 minute ferry back to leave the bikes back. Great views from the bridge and well worth the effort
6. We went to a very nice Brazilian churracaria and stocked up on some of Camila and I's favourite food: fejoada, manioc and of course picanha.

On the home we also hit it lucky as we got upgraded to business class, which we were delighted with, not sure why, but it helped a lot getting a few hours sleep before arriving in London. San Fran left a big impression on me. It is clean, there is a lot of green living taking place with lots of people recycling and cycling, the restaurants and bars are great, and there is loads of people using technology which is no surprise considering the HQs of Google, Apple, Facebook, Oracle and scores of startups are nearby and dotted across Silicon Valley. I'm really looking forward to coming back and maybe next time making a detour to Las Vegas!

Caracus Clouds and Corruption

2010-04-11T23:47:00.007+01:00

High above the sprawling metropolis of Caracas, 2150 meters up by cable car you will find the wonder Avila Magico. It is here that I caught my first majestic view of Caracas’s sprawling skyline etched into the rolling jungle hills all around. The cable ride to the top costs 18 bolivars or approximately 3.50 euros (using the official exchange rate), and it take a glorious 18 minutes to get to the summit. For me this funicular ride was made all the more special as I entered a great big bulbous grey cloud half way up. As it enveloped the tiny cable car I was in, visibility dropped to no more than 3 meters. I was alone, moving at a 45 degree angle with a sheer drop below and wild canopy vegetation all around. It felt like I had my own personal cloud to move me forward gliding gracefully over a thriving green tree ceiling. It lasted for almost 5 minutes. I didn’t want it to stop. I felt I had been physically transported inside my own grey matter. Occasionally, another cable car, always empty, ghosted past me and evaporated into thin air. I was suspended in the air but moving forward. 360 degree cloud all around me and only the sound of the cable car wire sliding me along reminding me that it was reality - not a dream. It was surreal. A moment like no other.

At the top you can see the coast line and tower jungle below carved into the valley. While at the top I went hunting for a Venezuela magnet for my collection back home and wasn’t disappointed. With broken Spanish I chatted to a very nice shop attendant and I managed to get a lovely piece of polished wood with the city vista on it. With hunger setting it I decided to eat some more delicious Arepas that I had been introduced to the day before. These are delicious corn bread pancake like breads that the locals stuff with all kinds of things: vegetables, sauces and meats. Easy on the palette I think the folk back home in Ireland would enjoy them and I’d encourage them to seek them out where you can. Unfortunately, we don’t have Venezuelan restaurants that I know of back home but I’ll be looking for some Arepa ingredients in the Brazilian shop in Dublin when i get back. At the top of the mountain is a half kilometre stretch of well laid out path with some small and large restaurants. Also, at the top is the famous Hogert hotel which was created by...

I joined a tour of local Venezuelan’s as they toured the hotel but left half way so I could get down early and make my way to the airport. On the way down I hit the cloud patch again and this time as I glided I thought about Aruba and how far it was from here. I also thought of home and looked forward to getting back there which is always the double bonus when travelling.

Unfortunately, I need to report that security is a huge issue in Venezuela and as I was to learn in the airport corruption is rife under the despotic rule of Hugo Chavez. While in Caracas my colleagues in work informed me of the difficulties of living in Venezuela at present. 40% deflation in the currency in the last 12 months; two dual currencies in operation with the locals having little or no ability to buy dollars or Euros unless using the black market; minus 2 GDP growth, 35% unemployment, a huge reliance on oil revenue to keep the country afloat; 95% food importation; mass emigration; constant electricity and water breakdowns; a border dispute with Colombia and horrible violence on the increase. Venezuela is not a safe place at the moment. It feels as if it is also going to get worse listening to the locals. Maybe it will become Burma or worse Zimbabwe? Chavez has a seemingly iron grip on the country and he has already changed the constitution - al la Putin style - to allow himself serve well beyond the normal two four year terms usually allowed.

While going to the airport I made the mistake of not asking the taxi man to escort me to my check in. This is something you really don’t need to think about in other countries, at least the ones I have visited. Normally when you go to the airport you step inside the door, you are greeted by a monitor showing what check in gate you go to and then you make your way there hassle free. In Caracas this was not the case. Anti-drug police where everywhere. Like spiders setting a web very quickly an English man working for Cisco and I where asked to go into a room where our bags were carefully checked for drugs. We then both had to enter a machine to do a body scan. We were told we needed to pay a 40 euro tax for exiting the country which was normal in Venezuela and I knew from talking to my colleagues I had to pay. When I went to the counter to pay it the security people asked if I would trade my dollars with them for the local Bolivar dollar. This was a way for them to make a little more money for themselves as the US dollar or Euro on the black market was worth at least 40% more than the official exchange rate pegging. I explained I didn’t have any of either which was the case and that I would use my credit card. Then out of the blue the officials started asking me for a “propina” which is a tip in Spanish! I refused to give them anything. At which time a young officer started to heckle me. I understood enough Spanish to know that the words he was using were not nice. At this point I had my passport back and was in the public area where you pay for your exit tax. He followed me and asked me again for a “propina” and I refused. As I made my way to the Air France check in but he was again giving out! Luckily, nothing else happened. Looking back, I learnt that I should have got my taxi man to escort me to the gate and possibly this wouldn’t have happened. At the time in this situation you are not sure if they are going to plant drugs in your bag or for how long they may detain you. Everyone is speaking in colloquial Spanish and your passport quite often gets distributed amongst 6 or 7 people and sometime one of them enters a room alone and you’re not sure what they are doing with it. An uncomfortable situation and one I hope I don’t have to go through again. It helped showing my Microsoft ID and I count myself lucky no further complications arose.

When through the gate the Cisco gentleman in front of me bounced into me again and we went for a beer together. He was very annoyed by the whole experience he went through and vowed never to come back again. I could see why. For me it’s sad when officials like this are so blatantly corrupt with foreigners. This is obviously only the tip of the iceberg of the type of full-scale corruption in place, at this time, in Venezuela. For the locals who have to live with this type of quality of life on a daily basis my thoughts are with you all and I hope that brighter days are soon to come. Seanie Fitzpatrick and his raspacious mob and our struggling slow-drip government seem like knights in shining armour compared to the crew down here on the streets of Caracas. I’d take Cowen and co any day of the week compared to Hugo Chavez. Make up your own mind, but in doing so, check out this excellent documentary: War on Democracy.

Colombia, Bogota

2010-04-11T22:56:00.005+01:00

Having made the flight from Seattle to Atlanta I had less than 72 hours to visit Bogota. The classic in and out so not a lot to report. I was here to work to evangelise and explain a new global social media recruitment strategy that the team I work for is deploying around the world. I was also here to talk about some direct sourcing techniques using Boolean logic to pin point information using search engines and databases. A training that helps our recruiters around the world source more passive candidates on the internet. I stayed in a boutique hotel called Hotel Casa Medina, which was very comfortable and very close to the office. I’d highly recommend it if you come here.

What strikes you straight away when you arrive is the security protocols. Fingers prints needed to change money. Finger prints needed to enter the office. Guards and sniffer dogs checking our cars as we enter into shopping malls. Like a lot of south American countries you have to pay attention to where you are going, when, what you wear, etc. One of the girls in the office kindly brought me and one of my other colleagues from the US to the famous T junction one of the nights which is a big shopping mall beside a T street full of modern western mostly restaurants. While there we stopped off at the local Irish bar where on a Wednesday night I got the chance to watch a packed pub of Colombian’s sit back and have a few beers after work. While there Claudia our host from the office told me a little about the FARC guerillas and how they are almost completely wiped out by the present government even though they still manage to detonate occasional bombs with devastating effect in the country. We also heard about stories about how beautiful Cartagena on the coast and the capital of flowers Meddelin. While, only paying a quick visit to Colombia I’d definitely like to come back. While the traffic was bad in the city and the security is high, I felt safe, the people we met were very nice and the government seems to be stable and moving its economy in the right direction.

Mauritius

2010-04-10T21:43:00.003+01:00

About a 5 hour flight from the east of South Africa is an island nation off the coast of the African continent in the southwest Indian Ocean, about 500 miles east of Madagascar. In addition to the island of Mauritius, the Republic includes the islands of Cargados Carajos, Rodrigues and the Agalega Islands.

The island is most famous for an extinct bird: the dodo. Uninhabited until the 17th century, the island was ruled first by the Dutch and then the French after the Dutch had abandoned it. The British took control during the Napoleonic Wars and Mauritius became independent from the UK in 1968. Now the country is a very proud republic full of sugar cane and tea plantations with the symbol of the mythical bird everywhere you look. The people are kind and generous and look more Indian than African. Similarly the culture is closely pegged to the Indian markets and Hindu temples are everywhere.

Nowadays the island is also well know for the speed and ingenuity by which it has tapped into the world tourism market. It was for its proximity to South Africa and the lure of a relaxing week on the beach and in a nice hotel is what would we were looking for. It was what we got.

The Heritage Golf Spa is on the south side of the island and one of the new breed of hotels. They care for your total needs while there and at 300 euros a night is a little pricey but worth it all. Events like water skiing, kayaking, cloud surfing, archery, giant chess, bikes, hills walks, tennis, massage, aquarobic sessions, and much much more are often. For us we went for a treatment a day of massages and then we both took a water skiing lesson a day. The entire experience was completely relaxing and exactly what we wanted and needed after 4 weeks on the road and the especially in the knowledge that "back to work" was looming.

One of the best experiences we had was a stroke of luck. The day we were due to leave to go home ir flight got delayed. It was 8am when we were in the airport and we learned that we wouldn't be leaving until 8pm that night. Something that made our heads hang for 30 minutes as we were trying to learn about when and how they were going to get us home our heads dropped a little. They then said they'd be sending us to a nearby 5 star hotel, we could have free golf, as much free food as we wanted, free internet and go snorkeling if we wanted. Now that's what I call looking after your displaced customers. I got 18 holes in and Camila relaxed on the beach getting some sun rays. We then went on the most amazing hour of snorkeling I have ever been on. What was happening under the water blew us away. School of fish everywhere racing around the famous Azul Blu lagoon, with hundreds of them surrounding us with some cheeky ones even kissing us! There was animals under it that I never knew existed. Hand in hand we snorkeled together for 30 minutes in about 3 meters of water with about 15 other people in a huge lagoon and then we went exploring a bit. It was brilliant - I really really loved that snorkel - the very best I have ever done. The 12 hour flight home after that was a breeze.

Safari - the big 5

2010-04-08T15:51:00.005+01:00

We decided to try out look seeing them in Shamwari Game reserve in Port Elizabeth a two hour flight from Cape Town.

The big 5 was coined by big-game hunters and refers to the five most difficult animals in Africa to hunt on foot: the lion, the African elephant, the Cape Buffalo, the leopard and the rhinoceros, either the black rhinoceros or the white rhinoceros.

Unfortunately, the big five are among the most dangerous animals on the planet so as such they have been hunted aggressively with huge reductions in their numbers of late.

For those of you that don't know alot about them as I didn't before the trip here's a small animal lesson on each:

The Lion (Panthera leo) is a large carnivorous feline of Africa and northwest India, having a short tawny coat, a tufted tail, and, in the male, a heavy mane around the neck and shoulders.

The African elephant (Loxodonta Africana) is a very large herbivore having thick, almost hairless skin, a long, flexible, prehensile trunk, upper incisors forming long curved tusks of ivory, and large, fan-shaped ears. There are two distinct species of African elephant: African Forest Elephant (Loxodonta cyclotis) and the African Bush Elephant (Loxodonta africana).

The African Buffalo or Cape Buffalo (Syncerus caffer) is a large horned bovid. It is the most dangerous of the Big Five, reportedly causing the most hunter deaths.

The Leopard (Panthera pardus) is a large, carnivorous feline having either tawny fur with dark rosette-like markings or black fur. Leopards are the most difficult to acquire hunting licenses for and are often difficult to hunt due to their behavior and their nocturnal feeding habits. Leopard hunting usually overlaps several weeks of baiting.

The Rhinoceros is a large, thick-skinned herbivore having one or two upright horns on the snout. In Africa, there are two distinct species of rhinoceros; the Black Rhinoceros (Diceros bicornis) and the White Rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum). Both of these species have two upright horns on the snout.

This was the first time we had gone game driving at it certainly is exciting the first time you start to head out into the bush in a small jeep with a fully loaded gun on the bonnet of the car just in case you have any difficulties. Our first ride started at 4.30pm just after we arrived from an hour's taxi from the local airport. It was lashing out of the heavens but we were determined to see what we could find...

more to come...

South Africam, Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope

2010-04-02T16:46:00.005+01:00

I’ve always wanted to visit and always knew I would. Landing in Cape Town was with mixed emotions. I could feel the sense of history around. If ever a fascinating country be, this I knew from my pre-study was one of the best from which I could further my education.

It was the land of two oceans: Atlantic and Indian. It was at the very southern tip of the massive continent with neighbours such as Namibia and its famous jagged dunes, Bostwana with the incredible rich diversity of the world famous Okavango Delta. . Zimbabwe and a batter and bruised people with one of the world’s longest reigning despots, to the east Mozambique and its beautiful coastline and last but not least tribalism personified in the mountain men of Lesotho with their incredible Drakensberg Range and the brave Zulu tribes of Swaziland. It was the land where the Dutch and Portuguese set up early colonies. With the Dutch deciding that the Cape should be set up as a farm for its Dutch East India Company exploits to offer its sailors a resting point and an opportunity to search for hidden gold and diamonds. Then in 1806 the British had their time as overlords and encourages its expansion by soliciting the Boers (Dutch, Flemish, German and French settlers) to take plots of lands and build a thriving communities. Conflicts as we know ensued and with despicable Berlin conference of 1848 the crude lines that divide many tribes unfairly across the continent and which lead to the current map we have of Africa was unfairly drawn.

Going from the airport to the Cape was a sad moment. The famous “Cape Flats”shanty towns where tens of thousands of disadvantages black south African’s were hoarded into stuck out like a sore thumb on the horizon. They gnawed at me and insulted everything good in the world. As our taxi speeded by they reminded me of the other such camps of deprivation I had seen before: the slums of Rio and the horrible disease ridden sardine like shacks of Mumbai. This time a different country, but the same old story. I had seen it before and knew it well: inequality, rapaciousness and apathy of the grossest form. All 7 deadly sins were visceral and very much alive. However, as a i studied an old women holding a small dusty dog beside her shack I reminded myself tha this was not the time for introspection. I was conscious while acknowledging the indigenous peoples’ plight and the tremendous social, economical and racially fueled fight they still had on their hands and the false dawns once promised after Mandel’s reign, I was on my honeymoon. There would be another time to think of such issues and I would have time to see my own interpretation of the balance truth of how things for the different demographics in this complex society actually was.

As we passed the towns, and I started to stare at the beautiful Table Mountain one last thought entered my minds as we left the poor behind so quickly. It was that of one of my hero’s ( Professor Muhammad Yunus) dreams - that maybe some day my childrens children’s children would only have to see such poverty in a museum - museum’s of poverty. No longer real in the world. Just relics of a past brutal immature time when man had shrieked some of its essential responsibilities to look after the planet and each other. No more slums, shanty towns or favellas. World Peace. The eradication of poverty as we know it on the earth. (You can learn more about Professor Yunus, his pioneering work on micro-banks and why this eminent Bangledeshi received his Nobel prize, here). As I stared at the unusually beautiful chunk of rock that gives Cape Town such a dramatic setting I quietly smiled to myself, and was content, that with men like Muhammed Yunus and the mighty Mandela, life was beautiful, and I thanked God I was now about to explore one of the world's most beautiful cities with my equally beautiful new wife!

More to come...

The Wedding

2010-03-30T16:48:00.006+01:00

It's kind of hard to describe the happiest day of your life so far.I'm not even going to try. I hope this video here and these small section of photos give you a feel for what it was all about.

The Fitzgerald's meet Christ and the Big Pig

2010-03-21T01:10:00.005Z

As we sat in the Jury’s hotel reception room 5 minutes away from Dublin airport munching on some chips, crisps and chicken sandwiches the night before the 9.20am flight the next day to London and onto Paraty, Rio the scene was set and the protagonists with varying degrees of travel experience insitu in high spirits. I love that feeling just before you are about to go travelling. It was here again. After receiving a warm heartfelt best wishes phone call from my godmother who finished with a “look after your mother” I sat back and took a moment to ponder on the momentous journey that was about to unfold and the loved ones who were coming along for the ride. For me the journey would consist of: Dublin-London-Rio-Paraty-Ilha Grande-Rio-Buenos Aires-Cape Town-Port Elizabeth-Johannesburg-Port Louis- Paris-Dublin. A generous 5 weeks off work and 6 countries to traverse. For the others 1 week which would consist of Waterford-Dublin-London-Rio-Paraty-Rio-London-Dublin and the final leg back down the road to Waterford.

Munching into a well cooked chicken breast with some chips was my beautiful mother. Omnipresent in my life and forever with me where ever I go. This time she was coming with me. With two flights in her life, on both occasions to England ( to visit her sister and her sister’s family) this was the biggest trip of her life, bar none, and probably always would be. She was nervous but excited. My father had never flown before. Eventhough he would argue that he flies in the cold waters of Tramore everyday of the week as he dives, floats and breast strokes in the cold south eastery waters of Ireland. A great man about to go on (at least physically) a great journey: an turas fada. Calm, collected but also excited I enjoyed knowing that he was about to experience a wonderful trip that I hoped would give him many new colours to dip into when painting pictures of the soul. Normally one to travel inside. He was about to go outside. I knew, more than anyone else, he would probably be the main benefactor from the experience. Having got lost already using the lift in Jury’s to find his room I smiled to myself knowing that this was going to be unforgettable for my Dad and for all of us.

My brother Joseph, his wife Eleanor and their beautiful all singing all dancing daughter Ellen were next. All experienced veteran’s of the air with countless miles racked up after numerous trips to the US and Europe. However, this trip would be completely different to any they had been on before. It would be late 30’s in temperature. They would have to manage a country where not a lot of English was in use and also the food would be a lot more different than probably anything they had experienced before. Whether they would enjoy it or not I wasn’t full sure.

Then to make up the final elements of the travelling party was my childhood friend Bryan Walsh and his lovely wife Gillian. Both had been to Brazil with me before for the carnival and both where making a big sacrifice of leaving their two children for a week to come and be present at my wedding. Something I will always be grateful to them for. The Walsh’s a bit like Joseph come from the modern Irish travelling generation, as I did, that had been blessed to see the world. This trip for both of them would be a walk in the park. With a couple of books and a glass of wine once we left London they’d drift off to sleep on the plane as if they had caught the train from Plunket station in Waterford to Heuston station in Dublin.

At the table with the usual sounds of a busy hotel in the air I took a moment to think to myself as myriad images came to the fore. I grabbed at them and help to one. It was gratitude. Gratitude for getting to this stage in my life with so many loved ones beside me. Gratitude for being lucky enough to be marrying such a wonderful women: Camila Montilha de Morales, soon to be Fitzgerald. Gratitude to be so privileged in life to be able to do the things I was about to do while Hait’s castrophe still roared and the plights of so many people’s silent and unheard cries rose to the heavens with no one to hear with no one to hear nor defenders in sight. Here I was muching chips, crips and chicken with the most important people in my life getting ready to go to Rio. I felt extreme contentment and happiness.

Approximately 24 hours later we were outside our hotel the Rio Othan, on Copacobana, listening to the waves, sipping on some agua de coco and caipirinha’s and saying hello to my good friend Robbie Griffin who had made his way down alone the day before from Dublin. To my surprise, everything had gone smoothly and there was no issues. My mother’s asthma had not played up and neither was the heat causing her any problems. My dad had enjoyed the trip and was enjoying the foreign surroundings of the beach and all the little peculiarities that the new local had to offer.

Like an expedition to the Himalayas Mam and Eleanor had planned well. At least a years planning went into their bags. And I’m sure my mother had gone on many trip to Clonmel and Kilkenny with my wonderful Aunt Una (who I’m sure had her part to play in making all plans were double checked). My brother had walkie talkies ready for all to use. My father bought his first pair of prescription shades and half a pharmacy and half a swimming pool was with us. Thankfully, the flights went well, and we all got to the beautiful Atlantico Avenue, Copacobana, and our lovely hotel the Rio Othan, with enough time to spare to have some tasty steak and onions washed down by a coconut water. We all sat there taking in the beautiful beach and happy that we had arrived. There was a lot to do the following day and Rio as all who have been there know has much to offer.

Christ the Redeember or as the locals call it O Cristo Redentor is the iconic statue of Christ that towers over the city. It stands 39.6 metres (130 ft) tall and 30 metres (98 ft) wide. It weighs 635 tons , and is located at the peak of the 700 metres (2,300 ft) Corcovado mountain in the Tijuca Forest National Park overlooking the city. It is one of the tallest of its kind in the world and the Fitzgerald family was very impressed when we paid it a visit.

Besides the beauty of the vista from the top, which is one of the best I have ever sceen we also got a chance to visit the tiny tiny church at the heel of the statue. Most visitors don't even know it is there. I pointed it out to my father who promintly gathered the trops in probably the smallest church any of us had been in to say a decade of the rosary in Irish. I’m pretty certain it was probably the only decade of the rosary ever said there in Irish. It was a forever moment to remember. Afterwards we gently descended down the newly created escalators and then made our way to do some shopping and try find my Dad a pair of sandels.

That night we all went to a churrascaria or Brazilian steakhouse. Churrasco is the cooking style, which translates roughly from the Portuguese for 'barbecue'. Camila and I had planned carefully and we were all booked into the best one in Rio: Porcao, or the big pig! The word barbeque for Irish people conjurs up an image of back gardens, spits, charcoal, burgers, sausages and chicken wings. For the more adventurous it might mean marinated chicken breasts, scallops, monk fish, squid and some quickly flipped mackerel. For the Brazilian’s it’s very very different. Picture a huge salad and sushi table 4/5 meters in circumference with lots of exotic cheeses, pastas and vegetables with a generous offering of Japanese style foods and cheese breads. This is the starters offered with local Gurana drink, coconut juice, soft drinks and wines. Next you get a picture of a cow divided into over 13 cuts. You also get 2/3 waiters, per person! On your table, like a beer matt, you have a green piece of cardboard on the front and red on the back. When you flip it to green, you are giving a signal to the waiters to come at you as quick as possible with as many meets as possible for you to eat. When the signal in red, it mean’s leave us alone, to try digest what we had eaten. And so on and on it goes. Plate after plate. Dish after dish. Drink after drink. But the cow is only half the story! Then comes the chicken, all sorts of fishes and they don’t call it the Big Pig for nothing. Lot’s of bacon on offer and lot’s of fillers like melted mozarella cheese, empanadas, onion rings, fried banana fritters and chips all a mere nod and a wink to a waiter away. Churrascaria’s are built for international rugby teams that haven’t ate for days. They are built for gormandisers of meat who delight on salty, perfectly cooked, slivers of tender rump or picanaha steak that’s juices are just as nice as the meet itself. They are unforgettable food and drink marathons. If ever I was on death row and a I was asked what would be my last meal. A churrascaria standard all inclusive menu in the Big Pig, Rio, would be my unanimous choice.

It was a food education the Fitzgerald family won't forget and for and all in 50 euros for 2 hours and and as much food as you could eat great value. I can’t wait to go back… From Porcao it was a taxi back to the Othan Palace, early to bed, to get ready to catch the bus the next day for the beautiful sleepy town of Paraty!

It's so cold even the Brass Monkey's are having a meeting about it

2010-01-09T10:45:00.003Z

Scenes from my apartment balcony in snowy Dublin.

Las Rambles - Barcelona

2010-01-03T15:30:00.002Z

While going back through some of my old posts I found a draft I had half written on Las Rambles when I lived in Barcelona. Here is is with a few snaps.

Las Rambles is by far Barcelona's most famous street. It's a bit like Grafton street come Moore street on speed. Imagine a road twice as long and twice as wide as Dublin's premier shopping street with the local fervor and edge of Moore street. Think of the countless processions of people along Istanbul's Istiklal Caddesi and all the colour and life of Copenhagen's Strøget. Colour abides, noise envelops and movement is as constant as the waves that hit Tramore bay in my home town on a cold blustery day in December.

There are two ways to access this street. One is from the impressively rejuvenated port area to the south of the city and the other is to the north off Praca Catalunya. I study in a school close to Passeig De Gracia, just off Catalyuna and often find myseld walkng down the street that way before I get the turn off for Barrio Gothica, El Borne, and home in Vila Olmpica beside the fantastic Arc De Triomf and Parc Ciuadella Vila.

The moment you stand outside Cafe Zurich, the eponymous Swiss drinking hole that faces Ramblas you can feel you are about to enter a living breathing pulsating capital thorough fair. At the top of the street is a metro stop and lots of youth loitering around the entrance waiting for friends or loved ones, or selling cheap cans of Estrella beer for 2 euros a can if they can get it or more than often 1 euro if you laugh at their original overture. Once you get past the first few meters the fun begins. On any given days as you walk down the 3km you get to see local tourism paraphernalia sellers a bit like Connolly's back home. You then get a large number of "Hola" magazine and book sellers and more than a fair share of small restaurants and beer sellers.

Fun to walk down but BEWARE it is infamous for pick pockets and DANGEROUS at night.

Night-Time Bosperous

2009-11-08T09:21:00.022Z

There is nothing quite like having a nice meal, in a really hip restaurant, 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 reflecting pin pricks in the river, dancing in competition with the pall of stars over a jet black Turkish sky. Especially, if the restaurant 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 John who works for Microsoft 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. John, 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 girl.

John told us all about the kamikaze 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 earthquake 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. John, was a colourful character full of interesting facts and stories. 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 adolescents dotted on the grass in the local park, playing guitars, dancing and kissing. It was easy to see why John loves Istanbuls so much and why he is proud to now call it his "home".

Staring at the eyes of Tutankhamen

2009-11-05T20:40:00.009Z

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. My taxi driver had 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

2009-11-03T21:30:00.009Z

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

2009-07-15T14:34:00.006+01:00

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

2009-06-30T16:46:00.013+01:00

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

2009-03-05T20:15:00.027Z

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

2009-02-23T00:42:00.008Z

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

2009-02-15T03:33:00.020Z

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

2009-01-19T20:09:00.027Z

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 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

2009-01-08T19:41:00.021Z

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

2008-10-27T20:25:00.002Z

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

2008-10-20T13:01:00.023+01:00

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.

Duck tongue and dodgy mobiles

2008-10-12T14:43:00.010+01:00

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

2008-10-01T22:33:00.012+01:00

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

2008-05-25T20:41:00.010+01:00

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

2008-04-23T16:10:00.009+01:00

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

2008-04-18T19:07:00.003+01:00

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

2008-03-17T11:50:00.005Z

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

2008-01-13T17:04:00.006Z

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

2008-01-05T21:37:00.003Z

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

2007-12-28T09:22:00.001Z

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

2007-11-23T11:01:00.001Z

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.

Also some more snaps of Barcelona life.

Garlic in Amsterdam

2007-11-16T09:40:00.001Z

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

2007-10-22T11:22:00.001+01:00

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

2007-09-27T11:11:00.003+01:00

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 funny dude in the video!

More photos from BCN.

Bicing in Barcelona

2007-09-12T15:56:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-16T16:57:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-07T22:08:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-07T22:04:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-07T21:48:00.001+01:00

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

2007-06-12T20:01:00.000+01:00

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

2007-05-13T11:05:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-29T21:59:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-28T20:00:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-15T12:47:00.000+01:00

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

2007-02-12T02:26:00.004Z

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

2007-01-16T22:54:00.001Z

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

2006-09-06T11:18:00.000+01:00

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

2006-05-14T22:30:00.000+01:00

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

2005-02-13T08:40:00.000Z

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

2005-02-05T02:51:00.001Z

“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

2005-01-30T08:05:00.000Z

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

2005-01-27T08:38:00.000Z

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

2005-01-24T13:22:00.000Z

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

2005-01-20T14:00:00.002Z

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

2005-01-12T14:49:00.003Z

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 and Cambodia

2005-01-09T07:34:00.005Z

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!

2004-12-31T08:50:00.001Z

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

2004-12-27T13:38:00.000Z

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

2004-12-22T01:43:00.000Z

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

2004-12-19T01:21:00.000Z

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

2004-12-06T07:46:00.000Z

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

2004-12-03T01:49:00.000Z

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

2004-11-30T01:32:00.000Z

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

2004-11-27T01:04:00.001Z

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

2004-11-26T09:22:00.000Z

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

2004-11-26T09:21:00.000Z

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

2004-11-26T09:20:00.001Z

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

2004-11-06T19:37:00.000Z

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

2004-11-06T01:20:00.000Z

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

2004-11-01T20:46:00.000Z

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

2004-10-30T18:51:00.000+01:00

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

2004-10-21T16:11:00.000+01:00

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

2004-10-21T16:09:00.000+01:00

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

2004-09-16T16:46:00.000+01:00

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'

2004-09-12T16:25:00.000+01:00

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