SANTA BABY!

Santa baby, I've been a awful good girl. So I would like the following for Christmas. Well a girl can dream can't she!

I have a little collection of perfumes. With my favourite being Jo Malone orange blossom but I do believe this could be up there as a new contender, with its fruity smell mixed with Iris. Love it!



Do Son Eau De Toilette Diptyque £58 www.spacenk.co.uk

I do love my bags and I do love art deco, and this little number by Laura Bohinc combines the two wonderfully. Unfortunately the price is not so lovely.



The Tatiana clutch bag £675 www.larabohinc.com/start.html

I'm loving the sailor look at the moment and I have always loved the 1950's so when I saw this dress I just thought I have to have it. Unfortunately it has sold out. Dam it!




The Bettie Page Wiggle captain dress £65 www.pinup-parade.com

As its getting very cold I need some new gloves and these look very lady like.



Leather driving gloves around £30 http://leatherglovesonline.com

OBSERVATIONS

* I have very expensive tastes.

TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY?

It soon became apparent to me after I got back that I had returned to a very depressed house hold, it must have been bad as this was coming from an actually depressive. "I'm the only depressive in this house!" I thought. It would have been quite easy to join in but instead it had quite the reverse affect. I just couldn't bear it so I set on a course to spread Christmas cheer ( From now on then if I get depressed everyone has to be depressed too, to cure me of it, OK!). The first thing I did was go and get a Christmas tree, much to Jan disdain as it appears I am going out with Germany's answer to Ebenezer Scrooge! He says he doesn't like Christmas, to which I said "Well you won't like all those presents I got you either, so I will have to take them back!" He shut up after that. Well anyway, its amazing what a £30 tree from B&Q and some cheap Dec's from Asda can do to lift the spirits. Oli did most of the decorating of the tree in true prop man style: I threaded some popcorn which oli said looked like a bunch of bones: Sam came home to find the tree done, so just moved all the decorations round, so she felt like she did her bit and Jan just stayed on his computer! (Bar Hum bug!)



Later still caught up in the Christmas feel, me, Angus and Sam let off one of Angus's paper lanterns with a wish and saw it float high above the Hackney night sky (You so know Hackney police got loads of phone calls about a UFO being in the area that night).



To add to the merriness I have brought a festive CD with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby, which I will play at our house Xmas dinner on Thursday, which will probably just turn into a piss up as there will not be anything to eat as I will burn everything!

OBSERVATIONS

* I seem to be spending a lot of time just sat on the toilet, as the bathroom is the warmest room in the house. Bloody freezing!

* I am actually missing picking all the dirt out of my nails, like in India (Well it's something to do isn't it!)

* The best way to Christmas shop is just to get pissed! Me and the sister, Paula do it every year on our annual Christmas spree. Its amazing how presents look so brill when your drunk, instead of a pile of crap!

WHO'S THE DADDY!

Indians just love their mobile phones. Even though it is one of the poorest countries on earth everyone seems to have one, even the beggars on the street (they probably ring each other to see how business is doing!) This is why India has the quickest growing phone market in the world with 2.4 million new users every month! The biggest lovers of their phones though are the Indian men who seem to see it as some sort of penis extension. At every opportunity they can't wait to whack it out and show off their little handset, especially in front of the women. They parade all their phones capabilities by taking photos every second (Usually of me when I'm not looking, so they can show it to their mates and say I'm their girlfriend!) and playing some awful Bollywood music to the max when your trying to sleep on the bus. They must think, us westerners have never seen a phone before they way they carry on with theirs. I use to keep my phone hidden due to security and not wanting any attention, but with my recent annoyance with local men, I just couldn't resist pulling out the iPhone in front of them and seeing their facing drop at the sight of my penis extension. Who's the daddy now I thought.
It was only the phone stunt that gave me any sort of pleasure on my final train journey back to Delhi from Jaisalmer. The 19 hour journey, which turned into 24 hours due to delays, was so long long it felt like pulling teeth. Opposite me there was an American woman who instead of being fed up of Indian men's constant questioning, loved it, because it meant that she could about herself for hours on end (Being American she was very good at it!) I had to listen to how she had found her spiritual soul in India and about her meditation and all the Guru's she had met. All I could think of was I wonder how many of those Guru's she has probably slept. Then some strange half dead looking traveler guy (Some people stay in India to long!) appeared on the train and kept trying to talk to me. I think he was Irish but was not quite sure as I could not understand what he was saying half the time (To many drugs!)
After finally reaching Old Delhi train station, I then survived a Tuk Tuk drive from hell to Paharganj. The driver who had an extra thumb was the worst driver I have ever met in my life and believe me with all my time in Asia that is saying something. He bashed about 6 vehicles, knocked a old man off his bike, kept stopping to talk to his mates, and then dropped something under his seat and proceeded to look for it while still driving. Then at the end of it the cheeky bastard asked for a tip!, to which my response was: "Tip! Tip! You should be paying me for that journey. You have also added 10 years to me alone on one trip and as a woman reaching 30 next year I really don't need that now!" He smiled and laughed
"Yes madam! Tip madam!" I don't know why I bother sometimes!
I spent my last night in Delhi intending to do some shopping but after an encounter with a young jewellery designer who asked me to go and drink chai with him (He looked like my brothers best mate Adam, so I decided to trust him), I found myself with all his mates, (who were all young Kashmiri's,) and a group of Brits and Aussies drinking beer till midnight which is very hard core in India. So I got no shopping done and went out on a high on my last night which was needed after my negativity in Jaisalmer.
The flight home passed without much incident apart from the man next to me who kept doing smelly farts. Jan came to meet at the airport with a flower which I later left on the tube as we nearly missed our stop through gabbing. The flat was little changed apart from being more untidy and with more collected junk from the house mates taking up more space. The weather is like ice as predicted and I find myself not use to it anymore and have being wearing my sexy thermals under my clothes. I walked round the supermarket yesterday with the trolley in a daze not collecting anything and got myself in a bit of a tizz at the thought of having to select and cook a meal for the first time in over a month. So I had to ring Jan to come and help me much to his horror of having such a useless girlfriend. It's always the same when I get back from my travels: the readjustment to the cold, the orderliness of everyday life. it is everything that India is not. Yes India is dirty, poor, annoying and hard but I would not change it for the world. It is my favourite country out of all I have been to. It has a life and an unpredictability to it that makes it so exciting, like an adventure. I miss it already, well apart from the smell of urine.

FACTS OF INDIA

Yes no observations this time. I thought it would be nice to end my trip on something different!

* The largest employer in the world is the Indian railway system, employing over a million people !

* India has the most post offices in the world !

* The number of births that occur in India each year is higher than the entire population of Australia?

* The only country in the world that has a Bill of Rights for Cows is India?

* people below poverty line: about 260 million

* India's percentage of global car population
India's share of global car accidents: 10%

P.S This blog will be continuing. I know I said that last time, but this time I promise.

CONVERSATIONS WITH INDIA

I am going through a drought. A drought that is of interesting travellers! Since I left the Aussie boys, and apart from one day with an Irish girl I have met people of little interest to me. All there seems to be is couples who after months of traveling together cannot bear the sight of each other and would rather read ever inch of the Lonely Planet than partake in conversation with each other: The spiritual travellers who are trying so hard to be different they all end up looking the same and finally the older package groups who swarm round in clans. Instead I have found myself spending my time with the locals. The first of my interactions came at the lake in Udiapur with a young girl who's name I could not pronounce, who was doing the daily wash with her mother. It was probably not the best of conversations as she could not speak any English and me no Hindi. She also was very keen on taking my bracelets and my Ray Bands in exchange for a tatty piece of gum. So in fact if I think about it she was trying to fleece me! My next encounter was with the travel agent know as Mr A. I am normally very suspicious of agents but Mr A was quite different altogether. A short plump little man with a starched collar and prim and proper tie, Mr A as well as travel agent also seems to be an Agony Aunt (Or should I say Uncle) to the travellers of Udiapur. He will answer any questions: How do I get there? Which is the best place to eat? What is cheaper? And what shade do you think suits me best? I spent the evening hanging in his shop along with other travellers searching for words of wisdom and found that my faith was restored in the India people, especially the men, after meeting him. I told him that he was a very good man. To which he replied
"Yes madam. I think about it alot and yes I am very good man, I am the best man!" Well yes a good man but probably not the most modest.
The next day I proceeded to Jodphur on the bus booked by Mr A. For an Indian bus it was a quite high standard (That means it did not look like is was about to fall apart any second!) On that trip I met an old man who use to be a maths teacher. Unlike the last old man on my bus trip he did not try and sit on me. He decided he would teach me some Hindi instead. After a short but intense lesson I now know how to say "What is your name?" Which I use on the locals before they get a chance to use it on me, which proper throws them, and then I learnt to say can I have one Chai (Indian tea) without sugar, as the chai comes with enough of the stuff to rot your teeth. Actually I'm surprised Indian have any teeth at all as they put shit loads of sugar on everything and I can't stand it.
Armed with my Hindi and my new faith in India I arrived in Jodphur and attacked it with a new found confidence. The hassles, the stares, the constant battles to get anything done did not bother me anymore. I stayed in the heart of the old city (or blue city as it's called because it's painted blue!) where there are little tourists (Brilliant!) I went to the night market with the mission to get Deb's a bed spread and me, some of the amazing fabrics that India, especially Rajasthan has to offer. It was there that I met two brothers who owned a fabric shop. I became their very demanding but good customer and I spent most of the afternoon hanging out in their shop drinking chai, showing them the new wonders of the I-Phone, talking Bollywood and Harry Potter. I even got to meet the family which was a lot of them, a bloody lot of them!. I do believe that was my favourite day in India so far.
It's funny how one's faith can fade so fast though. All it takes is 24 hours of the shits and vomiting for you to become another person. I caught the night train to Jaisalmer and during that trip something in my body went very wrong. I spent most of my time running back and two to the toilet which is not that easy when your on the top berth in a carriage of pervy Indian men. When I did arrive at my destination I was met of with a swarm of men shouting
"You come with me madam!"
"My hotel is best madam."
"Cheap hotel madam."
"What is your name madam."
In my bad way I'm afraid to say Kevin was unleashed:
"Will you just piss off!" I screamed
After having my usually 5 minutes cool down, I went with one of them to a clean little guesthouse, where I have spent the last day vomiting and with the shits, only once leaving on a horrible trip to the chemist with the owners young son as carer. Its not very pleasant being sick in the street in front of the locals but don't feel too guilty as it will go very nicely with the smell of urine and cow shit that is everywhere.
Today I have managed the walk to the fort which is very beautiful but touristy, with people trying to sell you anything, to which my response is a bit like a Rottweiler on heat, especially to the men. I think I might head butt one of them soon. Oh well maybe my faith will return when my strength does or I'll be in jail for assault instead.

OBSERVATIONS
* I saw my first case of bride burning the other day. Down at the lake in Udiapur a woman was washing and I saw her skin was as white as mine but she was terribly disfigured. Bride burning happens when a daughter in law does not meet expectations:IE does not produce a son, so she is burnt and often outcast from the home. For every one case reported in India another 250 go unreported. Most women will say it was a cooking accident. I felt sad seeing this woman, and then angry for her hopeless situation.

* Indian men are very vain, especially the young. There always looking in the mirror and combing their gel caked hair. Their fashion is very dodgy as well: Lots of low buttoned shirts with chest hair and jeans so tight that I'm surprised India has such a high birth rate!

* After the Mumbai attacks everyone keeps asking what it's like here. Well I will tell you: Nothing! Its like it never happened, life goes on as normal. The media as always hypes the public into the belief that everywhere is unsafe these days. My view on the matter: you could get run over by a bus tomorrow. The only way you will ever be safe is stay in a box and I don't want to be in a box. Life is meant to lived.

YES MADAM!

I do believe it must be against the law or something to have a good nights sleep in India. I don't think I have a undisturbed night since I have been here! There is always some noise or another: your neighbours having loud sex, someone coughing up their insides or nosiy crap ringtones. I thought at least in Puskar I would get a good nights kip, it being the quietest place on my trip. Oh, but no! At five on the dot the music speakers come on full whack playing some Indian song that is sung by a woman who sounds like she is being impaled! This goes on for a least an hour on repeat and then they play another god awful song on repeat for another hour. Then the other night I was woken at about 2am to the sound of a dog yelpng in the yard below me, so I swing open my doors and go and look down off my balcony to find about five of the guesthouse boys whacking their dog with a stick!
"Hello" I shout "Do you think you could stop doing that!"
They all stop what their doing and look up at me with beaming smiles.
"Yes madam! Don't worry we don't kill it we just teach lesson." says the ringleader
"Well I think it is very cruel! Whats it done!"
"Yes madam. It kill duvet and my 950 ruppes jeans. Very expensive madam."
Its then I notice the left overs of a duvet and jeans scattered across the yard.
"Oh!" I say "Well can't you get it a muzzle."
"Yes madam. What is muzzle Madam."
Oh god! why did I start this coversation.
"It's a strap that you put round a dogs noise to stop it biting."
"Yes madam. We have."
Wait a second!
"Why did you ask me what a muzzle was if you already have one."
"Yes madam."
"You don't have one do you."
"Yes madam."
Then it clicks. I look down at these smiling faces and realise the whole time they have been getting a great view up my vest top, even the dog has stopped yelping and is sat looking, tounge out and panting. Oh my god! They are looking at my tits! I quickly fold my arms and run inside shouting, "Just tie it up then!"
The next morning as I check out the ring leader smiles and says he is sorry that I am leaving as he will miss my pretty face. Yeah mate! Its not my face your going to miss, I think! Its a good job I left as I do believe they would be quacking the poor dog with sticks every night, just so the English lady will come out and dangle her breasts for them again!
The Indians are very curious people, especially the men. It can get very tiring at times. I was sat round the lake in Puskar the other day doing some sketching when to young boys approached.
"Hello madam. Where are you from."
They always start a conversaton like this!
"England."
"What is your name."
"Carly."
"Carly. Like goddess."
Yes, like Goddess."
What is your job Madam."
"Teacher." I know this is a lie but being a teacher gets you huge respect over here.
"What do you earn."
"$300 a year." Another lie but I don't want them thinking I'm rich as they might start asking me to buy stuff.
"Are you married."
"No!"
"Oh! I am very sorry because you should be married at your age."
This is so the wrong thing to say to me.
"Well actually I am very glad I am not married and I have my freedom and I probably will never get married!" I rant. So begins the ravings of a mad woman. I start to lecture them on how I love being a western woman and having the same rights as men, that we all not sinners in the west, that just because I have blonde hair does mean you can feel my arse, that women are not a lesser human being, and that women are much more intelligent then men. They sit there a bit shell shocked and lost for words and then just leave. Note to ones self: Must do more feminist ranting when wanting to get rid of unwanted attention.
I am now in Udiapur which is where the James Bond movie "Octopussy" was filmed. Love Bond! I am going on a whole days horse tracking tomorrow which I'm very excited about. Don't worry I'm much better on a horse than on a moped. Apart from that time I fell off one eyed Spruce( actually only did have one eye!) I have never been to hospital.

OBSERVATIONS
* Old Indian people put henna in their hair, which makes it look like the worst sun in job you have ever seen in your life.

* The cities in India are so polluted that when you blow your noise your snot comes out black.

* I have realised that the most used hotels in India are the railway station platforms, and why not? They have all the facilities you could need: a bed (The bench), 24 hour room service (Street cleaner and food cart sellers) and showers (Actually the drinking water tap, but the locals use it as a shower and strip down to their underwear on the platform and get out the soap."

* Indians do not know how to say no!

RELIGION RULES

Did you know that Carly (Me!), is actually a goddess in India (you spell it Kali but it's pronounced the same). I would like to say that she is good and beautiful but if the truth is told she has eyes red with intoxication and in absolute rage (A Kevin), her hair is shown disheveled (Often the case with me!) , small fangs sometimes protrude out of her mouth (Before I had a brace) and her tongue is lolling (happens when drunk sometimes). She is often shown naked or just wearing a skirt made of human arms and a garland of human heads (Would wear if found in Topshop). So really she sums me up quite well. Religion rules life hear in India and I now I find myself in one of its its holy places, Puskar in Rajasthan. Its a chilled little town surrounding a lake which the Hindu's come to bathe in and worship. It all sounds so lovely and nice doesn't it apart from the lake is probably toxic with pollution and you would not get me to wash in it if you paid me a million quid as your skin would most likely melt off. The surrounding ghats are also covered in cow shit from the hundreds of free roaming terrors. There is also a lot of bird shit. To walk around the Ghats you have to take your shoes off so you spend your time not looking at the beautiful view of the lake but looking down at the ground to check you are not walking in shit. My feet as I type are encrusted with bird shit and god knows what (Nice!) All that said I really like Puskar. Its quiet and chilled after Delhi and Jaipur, which were full on. I have got myself a nice little room with a balcony and a view over the town to die for, so I will look at the lake from there (Nicer on the feet). I intend to be a lady of leisure here and sit and drink tea and sketch from balcony.
As said I have just come from Jaipur which was great fun as I met three Aussie guys (Ed, Nathan and Alex) on the bus on the way there. I love the Aussies their just chilled and so much fun. I was grateful for them on the bus as, it was a long journey and some old man tried to sit himself on my lap in a very un Grandad kind of way until Nathan pulled him off. Me and Alex have gone on to Puskar as the others have gone Tiger spotting somewhere or another. Have nothing more to say. Well I do but I feel a little tired so can't be arsed to write anymore. I'm not even go to observations!

SOME TIMES IT HARD TO BE A WOMAN....

Indian is not the easiest of countries to travel at the best of times, so being a single, white, blonde woman makes it ten times worse. Its the constant staring which is the most annoying thing and then there is the accidental brushing past which usually happens to be located in the breast or arse area. I just slap their hands now and shout "Your a very bad man!", really loud which embrassess them in front of everyone. I thought about dying my hair dark but remembered the last time I tried and it went green at the roots and there was also that time I literally dyed it red for the red ball at uni (I know how original) and it wouldn't wash out, just went pink, so I thought better about that idea. Instead I decided to buy myself a Salwar Kameez, which is the traditional dress like tunic and trouser combo with the dupatta (long scarfe). Yes I do look like a complete idiot and like one of those "I'm going to become just like the natives" type people, who I hate, but I really don't care as the percentage of "brushing" has reached zero when I wear it. Also they are actually really cool and comfortable and I have decided to make the tunic into a mini dress when I get home and will make the neck line lower too. So it will be a Slag Salwar Kameez. Brilliant!
Went to see the Taj Mahal today. I always worry when you go and see something you have wanted to see for a long time and its a real dissapointment (The Statue of Liberty was tiny and crap)! It was not so this time. It is more beautiful in reality than the pictures you see. It has a another worldly quality about it, something so perfect that it does not look real. Of course there were shit loads of tourists there doing the thing that they do best: taking photos of everything and anything. I joined in my striking my Princess Di pose in front of the Taj and let Faye and Eddie (a nice English couple I have been hanging around with) take the picture, much to to the amusement of the Indians who looked a bit bemused by it. Well a least it was a change from them perving at me.
I'm moving on to Jaipur tomorrow and into the state of Rajasthan which is full of history, so you can imagine how excited I am. I think I have to miss out Varanasi as I do not have enough time, which is a bit gutting. Never mind. Next time.

OBSERVATIONS

* I do not seem to have had, one decent nights sleep since I've been in Indian due to the fact there is always seems to be someone next door to me, yaking up something like there dying and some dogs barking and mauling each other to death outside.

* All the men keep asking me if I'm married, so I have started to tell them I'm engaged to get them off my backs. Then they ask when the wedding is. Jan better get working hard as I have told them its after christmas.

* Its official I have had a curse put on me, by Indians version of the lady boy (the Hijaras). They are eunchs that are believed to bring good luck. They go round asking for money for it. If you do not give them any, they curse you, as I found out when I refused to give them 10 ruppes so they pinched my cheek and cursed me. To which my response was "Am I bothered!" I am a little bit though as last time we were in India Becky B cursed the gods and got a noise and eye infection in return.

* I seem to have mice following me every where as one decided to invite itself into my room last night. I went to get the guesthouse owner who had a "I can't be arsed!" search while eating a samosa, then said "No mouse!" and just left. So I thought guess thats, that then! Off to bed.

HOLY COW!

Holy cow is exactly what I thought today when it actually occurred to me that I am walking round the most mental, busiest streets in Deli, completely on my own and on the other side of the world, without a soul I know within a good couple of thousand miles from me. What the hell am I doing! You see I scare myself sometimes, not just my family! I have calmed myself now. I Think I had a bit of cabin fever from the bloody 27 hour train journey I did from Goa. It was not too bad I did have a sleeper seat and it had food and air con. I also had a family opposite me with a matriarchal father who was conducting business on his phone the whole journey. It would have not been to bad if ring tone was not Brian Adams and the "Summer of 69", going off every 2 seconds. He also snored like a pig! I did start to get a dodgy stomach half way through the journey, which was not too bad until someone threw up in the western toilet and so had to use the crouching one instead which are never good for me with my giraffe legs.
When it came to getting off the train I was completely petrified! I was not quite sure where I was and being the only westerner around I got mobbed by everyone. The fear was short lived though as it only takes a taxi driver trying to rip me off, to get the girl going again and Kevin unleashed. Yes I'm back in business. In fact I feel more at home roaming around the streets of Deli than I ever did in Arambol. Stuart said before I left that he did not think it was my scene and he was right. I never feel comfortable on my own in these ideal western Hippie communities, there is always a feeling of wanting to belong but for me always feeling on the outside. I am happy to get lost among the crowds, lay no roots and be a nomad. That's just the way I am.
I am off to Agra tomorrow to see the Taj Mahal, something I have wanted to do for so long and it is also my first cross off on my, "places to see before you die" list (I know I'm sad!) Can't wait.

OBSERVATIONS

* most travelers dress so bad. I too am one. I would never wear what I am wearing now at home ie. those Ali Baba style pants that look like you have shat yourself (well not in public).

* The cows in Deli have the most ugly arse holes

* Most Indian men snore really loud. Before you start I am not sleeping around I was in the train sleeper carriage, remember?

* I am very brave as the whole time I have been writing this blog there has been a mouse running around my feet!

* Nobody ever play Brian Adams the "Summer of 69" around me again as I can be held responsible for my actions.

GOAN STAY!

First things first, a quick catch up with lady Warrington, over the last 6 months:
Got back from traveling, did not write blog as promised, worked loads, got very tired, got drunk a few times, brought some clothes, watched crap telly, finished job, went to Goa for a week with my sister, decided not to get on flight back, and wham bam, we are up to date which is me sat on a guest house balcony in Arombol north Goa writing you this blog. The reasons for staying are quite simple really: the sun, the sea, the sand, the food, the cheapness and because life is too bloody short! Anyway didn't fancy coming back to rain, no job and the thought of having to watch Loose Women up till Xmas is enough to put anyone off. Everyone who knows me well knows what a history geek I am and it has been my dream for some time now to go and see the north of India with its many palaces, the Taj Mahal, and Varanasi, (Also some are on the list of my BBC book “100 places to see before you die” and as I'm 30 next year I really need to get a move on!) As no one wanted to do it with me I thought I would do it on my own, which is good as I have always thought I was bloody good company!
As said I am now in Arambol, hanging out with Paula's friend Stuart, who is staying out here. Arambol is a cool place with a chilled atmosphere and an strange mix with ropey old hippies, happy clappers and the gap year students, mixed in with the locals. Not quite sure what category I fit into, for I have always liked the idea for of being a hippy, but I'm far to cynical and I'm definitely no gap year student anymore. I guess I'm in my own category which is, a Lady that travels (I like the sound of that!)
Off to Deli on the the sleeper train (For 25 hours!) on Wednesday, which is when I will become a single traveler. A bit nervous, but its good to be and I have now become use to the stares which follow you everywhere, besides it will be an adventure and every time I have bad moment I will just think of day time TV and I will be glad I am here.

Apology

I would like to apologize for any offense I caused in my last entry on my comments about air cabin crew. My sister is air cabin herself and I know how hard they work. Still think you all have false smiles though!

Observations

I think I have become the “Haggling Queen” taking my title from my former mentor Miss Rebbecca Brown!

I have never seen a fat nippy.

Now that I'm not hanging around with my sister and the air cabin anymore, my consumption of Alcohol is almost zero and my liver is functioning again.

I have to stop thinking I'm a good singer when I am drunk. Did Karaoke again! Did “Big Spender” again! Sang it with the pilot Captain Bob aka Mr T.

COME FLY WITH ME!

I hate flying. I have always said it was the landing and the take off that caused me the pains, but I have come to realise that its actually the whole experience. I use to like airports as a kid. They were the highlight of my holiday (I was a strange child!) I was fascinated by people from all different walks of life jetting off to all these glamorous places in the world, while I was left with the destination of Alicante (Not so glamorous!) I use to imagine what they did and where they were going. I still do. Even my mother gave us the sense of a flight being an special occasion by buying us all special travelling outfits, which would have to meet the criteria of being comfortable, have a hint of the exotic but with the practicality of keeping us warm in the unforgiving British weather. The hunt for these outfits would often take weeks and usually end up with me looking like Don Johnson's Miami Vice love child (It was the 80's).
Luckily now I have now reached an age where I can pick my own clothes, but that is the only thing that has improved when it comes to flying. The whole thing is just horrible and I my homeward flight from Hong Kong just highlighted why I hate it so much. So let me begin. First of all I always seem to have a flight at a shit time which means I have to get up at some god dam unearthly hour, to arrive at an airport still half asleep with no breakfast only to find every shop shut apart from bloody McDonald's, ( No wonder we have an obesity problem). Foreign airports also seem to think that just because it is hot outside that they have some justification to freeze you to death with overpowering air-con. Then you have to board the actual flight and the first thing you are faced with are the air hostesses or flight attendants as they like to be called these days. Now I have to be careful what I say here as my sister is a trolley dolly, but as a whole I don't like the creatures. For a start they greet you with those kind of Stepford wives smiles, which are so false, as underneath they are thinking how they can make this flight as miserable as possible for you, for the next 10 hours or so. This is done through a number of methods, with the temperature being their main weapon of choice. The bastards usually crank it down till you think your in Siberia and are sat there shivering to death. You then ask for a blanket, of which there are none left, so you ask if they could could turn the temp up and they give you that smile again and say "I'll see what I can do" (Which means NO!) I must admit though I do like seeing the Chav's freezing in their hot pants and strappy tops ( Serves you right for dressing like slags!) They then feed you something that looks like a dried turd in tin foil and you can only get a drink if you are quick enough to actually grab them as they speed by saying, "Tea! Coffee!" without any bloody intention of stopping.
Then there are the other passengers. I would not want to be left in a space the size of a shoe box, with my own family for 12 hours, never mind a group of annoying strangers. I always get the person in front of me who puts their chair right back, without asking, ( this time, a very loud, irritating American, who I thought I might kill). Then there is the person next to you who wants to go to toilet every two seconds, just as your finally falling to sleep. Then when you decide to go the toilet yourself, everyone else seems to go at the same time and you queue for ages being pushed out of the way the whole wait by the Dollies with some crap serving trolley. When you get to the toilet the person before you has had the smelliest shit in history which you have to endure until you have done your business. Then there is the freaky flusher which scares the hell out of me as I do believe every time that its going to suck me down with it. You get back to your seat in time for the baby behind you to start screaming for the next couple of hours. The air then starts to get stale with sweating feet and farts, which then gives you a headache. Then you get so dehydrated as there has been no drinks served for the last couple of hours. Then the Dollies come round wanting to sell you some crap Duty Free, ( I don't want a flying Biggles bear, I want a sodding glass of water!) You then come into land which buggers my ears (burst my ear drum when I was eight). Then fight your way out to exit, as everyone can't wait to leave this hell hole, with "Hope you enjoyed your flight!" ringing in your ears. One day when I'm not so out of it from the whole experience, I'm going to turn round and say, "Do you want to know where I'm going to stick my Duty Free Toblerone!" and see if there still smiling then!

OBSERVATIONS

* Only one this time. I don't think my sister will be talking to me after reading this!

P.S Just because I'm home, does not mean that my blog is stopping, so keep logging in. x

DON’T STEREOTYPE ME!

When your traveling you tend to stereotype lots, especially with nationalities. It makes things easy to put everyone in their own little cater gory box. It seems to alleviate some fear, if we have some knowledge of what is really unknown to us, no matter how wrong these assumptions maybe. So stereotypes are formed. For example Germans have no sense of humor, wear thongs and always are first with their beach towels. Americans are all fat, loud and think they know more than God himself. The Japanese take photos and do the peace sign all the time. The French eat frog legs all the time smell of Cheese and always refuse to speak English, and so I don’t seem like a racist, the British are alcoholic, sun burnt, fighting sluts. Stereotypes are not just towards nationalities, but on countries themselves and so this brings me to my now destination of Australia. If I am honest, Australia has never been on the top of my list for places to visit. I listened to the stereotypes you see: It full of drunken backpackers, its not that beautiful, the people are uncultured, it’s really expensive, and there is nothing really that much there! Well I have one thing to stay. They are wrong! Ok, granted its not the cheapest place, (especially with alcohol and bread?), there are drunken backpackers (there young, what can I say!), but overall I have fallen in love with Australia. It is a beautiful country, with some of the most amazing scenery, the people are so friendly and the cities are some of the most sophisticated and cultured I have seen.
We arrived in Sydney and with it not being Asian prices anymore had to stay in the dreaded mixed dorms at one of the backpacker hostels. I never liked hostels when I was traveling 3 years ago. They are kind of like the backpackers version of 18 to 30. Our roomy, a fat Kiwi called Andy who worked at the hostel, seemed only to be satisfied if he had downed 26 Jaeger bombs and passed out on the floor, which he did most nights, snoring like a trooper. Ruined nights of sleep did not mar our experience of Sydney though. Everyone raves about Melbourne but I do believe that Sydney is probably the most beautiful city I have ever seen, with its beautiful harbor and beaches. We then flew to Melbourne, one to get away from the hostel and two to stay with our friends Jess and Rach. In fact Melbourne was one big social gathering, meeting up with people who we knew everyday. It’s funny but we maybe the other side of the world but with all the drinking, and eating out with friends I felt like I was back in London (except the sun is shining and the food is a lot better.) We then went to Rach’s mum’s ranch (or as I like to call it animal farm) for the weekend in Wilson’s prom. Had a great time but must say I have never experienced a barbeque where dogs, miniature ponies and a goat attended.
Its all-very well staying in the cities and living it up, but the cities are such a tiny part of Australia. So Jan and me have hired a camper van for our last 2 weeks here (Jan has named it Adolph.) So far we have not done to bad apart from my bad map reading and travel sickness and Jan driving a camper van like it’s a Porsche and leaving the lights on so the battery when flat (We had to get a load of locals to help us push it, so embarrassing!). I’m sure we will be fine but if you don’t see us again just tell the police to look for 2 skeletons and camper van called Adolph in the Bush somewhere!

OBSERVATIONS

• Australians have chavs too, but they call them borgins.

• Its seems to be the fashion among some Australians to have spiky mullets. Interesting!

• I think Jan might be a little bit strange as he has a fascination of taking pictures of road kill.

• I think I might trade Jan in for an up grade, as some of the specimens of male Aussies are very fine indeed, especially on the beach.

• Australia as the coolest cafes and shops going.

BLOODY MARVELLOUS!

A couple of days ago I went to a funeral. I have never been so glad that someone had died in my life, well apart from Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, Chairman Mao and Barbara Cartland (It was wrong to let her go on looking like that!) I know it seems like a horrible thing to say, but I have my reasons. You see I was In Tana Toraja on the Island of Sulawesi which is famous for its traditional funerals. Its the whole reason people go there, so I guest I'm not the only person who has been there and was glad that someone died. In fact it was 2 peoples funeral, two brothers and actually they hadn't just died, they have been dead for two years. In Tana Toraja it is tradition to mummify the bodies and keep them in the family house until all the members of the family can be gathered together for the funeral. This means that bodies can lay in the house for a couple of years. I heard that one body was kept in the house for over 20 years until it could be buried ( I guest its a good way to get the kids to leave home early as no self respecting teenager is going to want to sleep next to their mummified Grandad!) So off we went, first to local market where you can pick up a live pig on a stick or a full grown buffalo to go and then to the local village where the houses are shaped like boats to see the funeral procession. It was unlike any other funeral I have ever been to. Yes people wear black but that's where thesimilarities end. Everyone is happy, singing and drinking palm wine. No one is sad. It is one big party, with free food like pork, spinach and chilli's instead of tea and crap sandwiches. To top it all off you get buffalo fighting as entertainment. I wish funerals were like this in Britain. Actually I might put it in my will to have my funeral, Tana Torja style, but without the mummified stuff and waiting around for years to be buried, as that's just creepy. The funerals usually last for 5 days with gifts being brought on day 2 and 3 and the actual burial on the 5Th day. We returned on the 4th day again as that was the day Jan most wanted to photograph. It was slaughter day! One of the most common gifts are buffalo's and pigs which are then slaughtered and given to the local villagers for a banquet. Yousef told us that 20 buffalo's were to be slaughtered that day. It was something that i was not really looking forward to seeing, but then I thought, I bloody eat meat and don't really think how it gets on to my plate, its not like the sodding fairies bring it. It was time to see reality, and not some prepackaged crap on a Tesco shelf. I will tell you now it was not for the faint hearted or vegetarians. There was more blood than a Tarantino movie, but instead of feeling repulsed or sick I was totally absorbed. Ever buffalo that came up and then had it's throat slit I watched with the interest until a strange disappointment came over me that there was no more, when it ended. I guest I must be quiet a bloodthirsty person inside.
Oh lord I have sinned, well I haven't, it was Jan but he also made me party to it. It all started when we were back in Makkasar and he received an email from a small company who needed promotion photo's of makkasar for holiday tours. Jan when off straight away taking photo's. He returned a few hours later with a big smile on his face. He proceeded to tell me that he had ended up at five star hotel and asked to photograph the pool for a magazine. The next thing he knew the manager was called down to speak to him. He asked him what magazine Jan was working for and the first thing that came into his head was "Travel Asia." (only the biggest bloody travel mag in Asia) The manager was delighted and showed him round the hotel himself and asked if he wanted to come back in the evening to photograph some more. He dragged me along this time and I cringed as Jan was giving out all this crap about his assignment. Then to make things worse the Manager invited us to a free, 3 course meal. I could of died! Jan of course maxed it and ordered fish and king prawns and drink after drink. I just felt like a fraud, but I ate the free meal all the same and drank the drinks. well it would be stupid not to. Whats that saying, "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."
We are now back in Bali, in Kuta or as I like to call it "shit hole." Its full of drunken teenagers and chav's, with locals who hound you all the time to buy some crap or another. We leave tomorrow for Oz and I can't wait, which is a shit way to end Indonesia as I have bloody loved it here, its just that Kuta is not the real Indonesia. I will be back, still got so much to see of the country, but that is for another adventure.

OBSERVATIONS

* Jan nearly got stoned to death by a local after he refused to buy what she was selling, so she threw a rock at him. He said she was just plain crazy but knowing him he probably said something offensive to her.

* Jan is better at lying than I thought. Should I be worried!

* All the locals say "Hello Mr" to you all the time. I have given up trying to tell them its "Miss!" as its just to dam tiring!

* The tan is fading as it has rained non stop for the last three days.

* I have found a cheap bottle of gin and got some tonic. It should take my mind off the weather.

ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY

Estee Lauder once said that "There are no ugly women in this world, just lazy ones!" Well Miss Lauder forgot to put into this equation a woman without amenities. For example a woman who has slept on a deck of a boat for 4 days, which has no shower, a hole into the ocean for a toilet, which makes all her clothes damp, then she takes a 12 hour journey on a crap local bus, on which she throws up a total of 4 times, to arrive at her destination in the rain, stays in a damp room, with no hot water, to takes another crap bus the next day, to a village that has no running water (All she wants is a sodding shower!), stays in a flea bit of a guest house, climbs another bloody volcano, gets back, still no water, catches another bus, arrives in a crap port town, gets a boat, its covered in cockroaches, sleeps on deck again (less cockroaches!), lots of locals spit on deck (Not nice), clothes now smell like someone died in them! This is a very ugly woman indeed, this is a woman without amenities, this woman was me! Luckily I haven't seen to many mirrors in the last 2 weeks and then you just get past the point of actually caring. You will be glad to know that we have arrived in the city of Makkasar in Sulawesi and have managed to have all our clothes cleaned and had a shower, so now feel human again, but the last 2 weeks have been quite tough. I'm not complaining though as I think I have seen this world at it most beautiful recently and the roughness is part of the enjoyment as well. As said went on a boat for a couple of days from Lombok to Flores. The leaflet that advertised the trip was very interesting with its spelling and description of our journey ahead, with such sentences as:
"Ficture of boat"
"Meet the daragoons" (means see the Komodo dragons)
And my favourite "Have meal together like one big happy family"
There were nine passengers in total, me, Jan, the two Swiss guys, Jurge and Daniel, who we met on Rinjani, a Danish girl called Tania (Scared of spiders), an American, Chris (Looked like Jesus), a Canadian, Jason (Rob Mayors twin), and a Dutch couple, Ninca and Staso (completely mad). Over the next 4 days through snorkeling to komodo Dragons (The dragons did not seem to do much!) we all seem to bond. When we arr ivied at our destination Tania and Chris left us and the rest of continued around Flores taking on bad Beamo drivers (Taxi's), rip off merchants and terrible guesthouses together. We travelled nearly 2 weeks together and in the end we became that "one big happy family", if not an unlikely one. When we went our separate ways it was a sad loss. We are still travelling with the Swiss guys and have hooked with a French girl called Alice who is cool. Tonight getting a night bus (Not again!) to Tana Toraja, 8 hours north, where they slaughter a lot of Buffalo's, have open graves and some other mad traditions. Can't wait!

OBSERVATIONS

* Jan has started telling the locals he is from South Africa and that it is a very poor country, because he thinks they will rip him off less. No comment!

*All Indonesia men seem to do, is spit and chain smoke.

* Indonesians live in very poor shack houses but still manage to afford a satellite Ariel for their TVs.

* Don't go to weight watches come to Asia. Me and Jan have both lost weight, which is good for Jan as I was worried that we could not afford the 2 seats for him on the plane.

SHIT HAPPENS!

I often ask myself, why do I go travelling? What is it, that I am looking for? What do I want to get out of it? I like to tell myself and others, that it is a sense of adventure, that I seek. So to prove this point I decided it would be good to climb the second highest volcano in Indonesia, Mount Rinjani in Lombok. Those of you who know me well, will remember that me and mountains don't really go together too well. I have enough trouble staying on my feet when I am on a flat surface, so anything other than horizontal becomes quite dangerous for me (I blame my balance on having small feet for my height!) This time though I was determined that it would not get the better of me. We started the 2 day hike at 7.00am after being picked up at 4.00am for a 2 hour drive there. Along for the ride were a Canadian couple Dave and Jenni who we had met on the ferry on the way over to Lombok and so this was a merry little troop. I was not best equipped in my crap converse trainers and linen trousers but I figured if the guide could climb in a pair of flip flops I had no excuse, and climb we did, 2,600ft of bloody climb! After marching through mud and rain and what seemed to be an ongoing asthma attack for me, we finally reached the base camp just before dark. I was cold and wet and had the luxury of sleeping on top of a mountain in a tent that smelt like those old people that piss themselves. We then proceeded to be attacked by monkeys while having dinner, who were after our food. Well a least we have a camp fire to warm and dry ourselves off, I thought. I took off my Converse and put them next to the fire to dry out. A couple of minutes later I felt smelt a strange smell and looked down. "Shit!" I had set my shoe on fire. I quickly picked it up and rubbed it in the mud only to find a huge hole in the side! I counted to ten and decided it was best to go to bed before anything else happened. After a sleepless night listening to people snore and a local who had been apparently taken over by a demon and was chanting all night, we were woken by our guide a 4.00am again to continue the track to the top in the dark to see sunrise. Oh my god I thought I was going to die it was so hard. After being the last one to the top and missing sunrise as I was so slow I was still proud that I had made it to the summit and that the worst must be over with. How wrong I was! What goes up must come down, but I wish coming down was not so painful. The crap converse which now had a hole in the side the size of the Titantic's were staring to fall apart and so was I. Every 2 seconds I kept falling down getting more bruised and cut each time. Jan and the guide had to hold each of my hands and guide me down only for me to fall still, into a ditch with only my legs sticking up in the air. I eventually made it down and could see base camp in sight and thought I was home free until I lost my balance again and put my hand down into a bush to steady myself. It just so happens that was also the place where somone had decided to relieve themselves in the night! Yes thats right! I put my hand down right into a human shit! I laughed, then Jan was laughing, then I told him to piss right off and stormed off. I sat crying for a minute and told myself that wasn't this what I had come looking for, adventure? I laughed. Then I thought about it again and cried!
After the horror of the volcano we find ourselves in the Gilli islands, which are paradise. White sand, turquoise sea and great chill out bars. There are no police here so people just seem to be on magic mushrooms and stoned all the time. Its very funny. Now that I can walk again and the cuts are healing we are off tomorrow on a boat for 4 days(Which we are sleeping on the deck of to save money!), to Komodo Island to see the famous dragons. Lets just hope they don't shit near me!

OBSERVATIONS

* I think I am cursed as well as the cuts, shit and setting shoes on fire I have also been stung my jelly fish and broke my sunglasses in the last couple of days.

* My hair seems to be going afro.

* Jan has become obsessed with monkeys after to we went to Monkey Forest in Ubud, Bali. He has now lots of dirty Monkey pictures after they just kept humping in front of us.

* All my clothes, smell really bad!

NO MONEY, NO HONEY!

We have had a change of plan. In fact we have had a lot of changes of plan. I do believe we might be on plan Z now, due to the fact that Jan and me have suddenly become so indecisive. We have finally decided to stick to our original flight, after realizing, changing it would cost £50 each and that Indonesia was way too big to do all of it in a month. So we are going to concentrate our efforts in the centre of the country and do the islands of Bali, Lombok, Kalimantan, and Sulawesi. Because of this decision, we are still in Singapore, though we leave for Bali tonight. Yeah!
My Nan, Lil, use to live in Singapore in the 1950’s. She always says she would not want to return here now. It’s too clean and modern for her these days. She preferred it when it was dirty, with opium dens, brothels and shantytowns. “When it had character,” she always remarks. To be fair you can see her point of view. To look at Singapore is as near as you can get to a Utopian society. There is no dirt, no rubbish, hardly any crime; everything is on time and works! This is why my Lil would hate it. For me I quite like it after all the traumas you seem to get living in London. It is also quite cheap for a city, but not cheap enough for us backpackers. With us staying an extra two days, we decided to hunt down the cheapest hotel going. We searched the Internet and found a cheap one just outside the centre and near the train. Great! I thought. There was just one problem! Jan had forgotten to tell me something about where we were staying. While we were in Thailand, Jan procured a book with the lovely title “No Money, No Honey” about prostitution in Singapore. He was engrossed in it, so much so he finished it in a day (Wonder why?) Anyway, I later learn that Singapore has a big red light area called Geylang and guess where our hotel is? Yes! Right slap bang in the centre of Geylang! We walk to our hotel in the day, which on the surface seems to be in a very pleasant neighborhood, but then you start to look closer. Men cruising in cars, a few scantily clan girls on the corner and rooms to rent by the hour. We get to our hotel, which can also be rented by the hour and the manager informs us, that he will put us in a room at the top of the hotel, as the lower floors can be noisy with all the coming and goings. Oh my God! We are staying in a brothel and not just any old brothel as we later find out, but the biggest whorehouse in town! As night falls, if you didn’t realize you were staying in the red light district, you do now! As we leave the hotel the streets are crammed with hookers and men. I have never seen anything like it in my life, the sheer scale of it. The hookers stand on every square inch of the street and the men which consist of mainly Chinese and a few Indian and Westerners walk by like they are window shopping and look these girls up down like they are pieces of meat. When they see something they like they disappear into one of the nearby hotels for a bit. It’s disgusting all these pretty, young Chinese and Thai girls having to service these vile men. Most of these men are married and some are quite young too. I get stared at a lot, being the only blonde haired Western woman around. I’ve told Jan that he is not to leave me alone as when he does the locals seem to think that I am some Russian hooker. He now uses it as blackmail, because if I don’t behave myself he keeps saying he’s going to pimp me out to the highest bidder. I must say though its all very interesting, maybe more to Jan than me, as I keep catching him with his mouth wide open and his tongue hanging out, so I have to give him a good old slap now and again.
As for the book “No Money, No Honey,” Lil took it to read as she had finished her Jackie Collins and said it could be interesting. Maybe after reading it she might realize Singapore is not so clean after all.

OBSERVATIONS

• Hotels in Singapore with a number in big type are usually brothels or places where paid for sex can take place. Ours was hotel 81.

• I have found out it is the Chinese year of the rat. That will explain all the furry little bastards in Kuala Lumpur.

• I think I want to live in Asia, as the food is so good.

• Chinese Men seem to think it’s quite acceptable to have moles with lots of long hairs growing out of them. It is not!

• Lots of Chinese people wear glasses.

SAME, SAME, BUT DIFFERENT: RETURN TO PHI PHI

I was last in Phi Phi three years ago as Tsunami volunteer. I spent most of my days working at a wrecked guesthouse, painting signs. The caretaker was an old Burmese guy called Dan, who was the loveliest man. He would fill our days of work with mad comments such as telling us Cliff Richard is big in Burma and hum Smoke Over Water a lot, and on the last day he told us is name was actually Than not Dan (he had been meaning to tell us for over a fortnight!) I liked him a lot. So I set off to find him but the guesthouse was gone, replaced by fancy bungalows. I never found him. Also gone was the Apache bar where I spent my last night at Mr. Lee’s birthday bash, cavorting round the dance floor in a drunken state. I remember me and Bekkah, catching the ferry the next morning, with big old hangovers. In fact the island has changed so much it was hard to navigate myself around. There are things that are still the same though, one of which was my old guesthouse though the prices were not. Actually Phi Phi is a lot more expensive than I remember it. After a lot of searching, we managed to find a cheap room, which was okay apart from the couple above who came in every night drunk, and had really noisy, rough sex. I also went to find the Sunflower bar, which was our old hangout. It had just been a little wooden shack on the beach, but now it was a whole village complete with multi-level bar and tattoo parlor. I also tried out Deco and Rob’s completed toilet (Nice foundations boys, if not a little uneven!) I spent the whole of the first night there getting totally smashed with Jan. I did not go again after that. It was not the same for me. The gang was not there, not even Mel and Ben. There was no one to reminisce about old times with, apart from poor Jan who must have got fed up with all my stories. I felt sad!
Another thing that made me sad was all those bloody people! When I had been there, there were so few people, the beach was deserted. I had a bit of a shock when I went to the beach on the first day. It was crammed! All I could think was “Piss off! All of you!” At night it turned into the young posers playground (People on the prowl for a pull). I guest I’m past that stage now, but I looked at the young girls and thought, “Yes, that was me three years ago!” (God! I’m making myself sound ancient!) All that said, Phi Phi is still my favorite island in Thailand. It has a laid-back charm and beauty unlike any other. I was just there at a special time, under tragic circumstances and for that reason (even though I loved it so much) I hope that time never happens again.
After Phi Phi we were traveling for 24 hours and found ourselves in Kuala Lumpur. We arrived in the early hours of the morning, not knowing where the hell we were. We checked out a few scruffy but cheap guest houses complete with rats, in Little India, then after seeing a few more rats in the street decided to head to China Town. Only bloody problem is its bastard Chinese New Year and everywhere is full. After a good hour of searching with backpacks and sweating our arses off we find a room, which does not come with Rats included in the price!
We have now arrived in Singapore. I took Jan to Raffles last night to have a Singapore sling, which has to be done if you are in Singapore. I love Raffles; it’s just so grand with its old colonial style. Its just so Lady Warrington! Tomorrow we get the ferry over to Indonesia after deciding to skip our flight to Bali so we can start at the top of the country in Sumatra and work our way down. I do believe now, it’s going to get hardcore, so don’t expect to hear from me in a while!


OBSERVATIONS

• There are three people in my and Jan’s relationship. Actually two people and a thing. Me, Jan, and Nikon the camera. Nikon comes everywhere with us. In fact Nikon and Jan go out for hours together, for their “special time.” He even goes shopping with Nikon to buy her things! I’m not even allowed any where near her. Bitch!

• My hair is the color and now also the texture of straw!

• Jan seems to be eating our entire budget!

• I have the most scarred feet ever, which include Mozzie bites; blisters, cuts and car exhaust burns!

CHUI DUAY,CHAN JOM NAM!

Chui duay,chan jom nam! translated means "Help! I'm drowning!" It sums up exactly how I have felt at times during this last week with the family. Its been very hard at times and trying to keep everyone happy is so tiring, but we survived. The weddding day itself was a great day. Yuko looked stunning, Darren did a great speech in Japanese and English, and dad after a few drinks, told the Japanese car thief joke once again:
"What do you call a Japanese car thief?"
"Tommy took a motor!"
Of course none of Yuko's family got it and there was that tumble weed slience for a moment. We have parted ways now, after we were spoilt on our last night in Lamai in Koh Sumui when Mum and Paul paid for a lovely beach front bungalow for me and Jan. She said it was going to be our last bit of luxury for a long time and it bloody well is as I spent a fortune the week they were here. On our last night together I took Lil to see a lady boy show to keep her satisified as I wouldn't let her go and see a ping pong show as I didn't think it appropriate for nan's. She loved it in fact it was one of the high lights of the holiday for her. I don't know if Paul could say the same as the lady boys seemed to take a shine to him and kept hugging and kissing him. Darren and Jan stayed way and did "Man Things" like playing pool.
My mum broke her designer Gucci glasses. She is going to claim them on the insurance. She will have to fill out the form as follows, and I swear this is no word of a lie!

CAUSE OF DAMAGE TO ITEM:
Well I was on holiday in Thailand with my family and I was watching these elephants play football, and I was sat behind the goal post. The next thing one went to shoot and missed and hit me square on in the face and knocked me out and off my stool. I was wearing the sunglasses when this happened and it bent them in to! Oophs!

Me and Jan are now off to Phi Phi on our own and I think deep down, even with all the hassle I might just miss the family a little bit!

OBSERVATIONS

* I was walking in Lamai and came across a bar with a pole in the middle, and had a flashback to three years ago when I was last here, to me, Brown and Debs girrating round the very same pole totally smashed with a load Go-Go girls. Completely forgot about it. Wonder why.

* Went to a snake farm with Jan and put a burmese python round my neck. They are actually very cute. Might get one as a pet.

* Starting to turn a nice shade of brown. That one was just for all you pale ones back home!

* Yuko's dad had seen Laurence of Arabia years ago and thought because of it that all English people were serious and sensible. His view has now changed after meeting my family.

RETURN OF THE MOPED, THE ARRIVAL OF THE CLAN

In Asia you learn quickly that it is best not to look out the window when in a car or a bus.  You would only give yourself a heart attack, as they drive like a madmen.  This rule is a little harder to apply when on the back of  a moped.  Those of you who know my history with mopeds will know that we don't go together to well.  After Jan finished reading his book on Gangs in Britain, something else was needed to occupy him, so we hired a moped for the day.  The roads on Koh Samet are more like dirt tracks so it made for a bumpy ride.  It was all going well until Jan lost control and we were heading towards a bush.  I closed my eyes and for a split second all that went through my head was, cuts, bruising, ambulance, hospital, needle, stitches again!  I opened my eyes, to find that luckily we had got lodged in the bush which had stopped the bike from going over.  Thank you God!

We are now in Bangkok again and my family have now arrived.  I have spent half my life thinking what an ordinary background I have come from and that I wished I was from more interesting roots.  It is only in the last couple of years that I have come to realize that all my family are actually mad, especially when they are all together, and especially when they are abroad in a hot country (the heat sends them more insane)!  The last time we went away together as a family was more than 10 years ago so the arrival of the clan has had quite an impact.  I have had two days with them so far and I'm exhausted!  We went to the grand palace the other day which was mental and also took bloody ages to get from one spot to the other as there are so many of us.  I felt like a herder gathering their flock, especially with the two Nan's, Lil and Margaret.  We have also Yuko's mum with us who doesn't speak any English and we speak no Japanese.  So all in all it makes for an interesting time.  Well only one more week of it, then we probably have gone insane!  Actually there are more clan still coming for in a couple of days for the wedding.  Oh, Lord, have mercy on us!

Took Lil to see her brother's grave the other day at the Bridge on the River Kwai.  He went off to war when she was fourteen and she never saw him again.  He was twenty eight.  Lil has wanted to go since the 1950's.  So we had to take her.   Me, Jan and Paula took up the task.  We went on the local bus which she enjoyed lots and then took a Tuk Tuk which she enjoyed even more. She does not do bad for a seventy eight year old.  I had found his grave three years before when I was last here and was quite sure where it was among the 6,000 graves.  Of course when we get there I am totally wrong and we then spent the next hour in roasting sun searching all the graves.  We eventually found him and laid some flowers.  Lil had a little cry, though she tried not to let anyone see.  She's not very good at things like that.

Its Jan's birthday today.  He said we have do everything he wants today. Well, that's nothing bloody new is it!

OBSERVATIONS

* Lil has swollen feet from the plane but still manages to walk round the whole of Bangkok with high heels on.

* When my brother Darren said something is just round the corner it actually means a good half hour trek.

* Jan and Paula are in competition to see who can be the biggest brat.

* I want a dog.  We went to the weekend market and me and Paula went mad for all the little puppies.  

Paradise syndrome

A couple of days before I set out on this trip I went to meet friends in Ealing for goodbye drinks. It was not a great surprise to me, that they were all running late (you know who you are!) So, I didn't look like a total loser and to avoid any eye contact with the sleazy old drunk beside me at the bar, I acted cool and grabbed a stool and pulled out the Eveing standard magazine which
I had found lying around on the tube. As to waste as much time as possible I started reading every article on every page, which consisted of the same old rubbish, make-up, fashion, who's cool about town. It wasn't till I reached the end when I saw a article called "Paradise Syndrome" that something finally caught my interest. The piece went on to say that people today are bored of paradise. You see they get on their lovely remote exotic beach with lovely weather and food, in their nice huts, but all they seem to do is be texting back home or emailing to see how everyone else is doing. They then proceed to read an national paper that they have searched around for in a shop, and go and watch some western movies and premier football at night. "What a stupid article" I thought to myself, "nobody could ever be bored of paradise." Finding myself in "paradise" this week I have made a great effort not to conform to any of the symptons of the sydrome. I turned my phone off and refused to use the internet, but then I thought, how was I going to write my blog, surely my blog can't count as giving in. After a couple of days I had to turn my phone on, just in case of any important news from home, I had to be allowed that. Then I had a couple of drinks one night and Man U were playing Spurs. I was all relaxed so it would have been wrong not to have watched it and then we watched the last king of Scotland after that as there was nothing else to do in "paradise!" In truth its my last day here tomorrow on the beautiul sandy beaches of Koh Samet, and you know what I'm glad, as I am bored now. It maybe some peoples paradise and it was mine for a couple of days but I need more adventure than lazing around on a beach. My paradise is something different. So stick it "Paradise syndrome" up your ass!

OBSERVATIONS

* Russian woman are easy to spot as they wear very tight light denim 80's style hotpants that give them camels hoof!

* Thai women can still manage walking on the beach in kiten heels.

* I am now sleeping properley again. It was not insomnia!

* Jan is eating twice as much as he does in England. Might have to buy him two seats on the plane.

Koh Samet: Island of Burns

Jan told me that my last post was a bit boring. Well I don't like to make excuses but, I had jet lag and couldn't concentrate as I had some mad Swedish family next to me, who kept trying to pratice there bad English with me. Being the polite person that I am I smiled and indulged them, which is more than can me said for Jan who kept eating and pretending that they weren't there. Actually there are alot of Swedes here and I do find them all slighty mad. It must be the lack of sunlight over there or something.
We are now on Koh Samet which is the nearest island to Bangkok. It is not the best island I have been to in Thailand but it has a certain charm. Its plus points are its beautiful white sand and that is quite small so it is easy to get around. Like all of Thailand it has dirty old men with young girls and even boys, which seems to keep Jan amused for a minute or two as he keeps saying, "Look at those gays" and " Thats minging, he's old enough to be her grandad" really loud. Actually can't wait for the family to get here as at the moment I feel like I'm travelling with a twelve year old child who needs constant amusement. He can pick on Paula like he normally does, that will keep him busy. I might even buy him a rubber ring so he can go play in the sea and leave me to sun bathe in peace. Won't be sun bathing for a couple of days though as I have burnt my chest. Really angry with myself as I'm so careful usually. As well as the sunburn my legs have been savaged by the mozzies. At the moment you could do dot to dot on my legs. The little bastards!. They seem to leave Jan alone. I said thats because I taste so sweet! We have erected my Mozzie net by tying all our shoe laces together which apparently Jan had seen watching an episode of his much loved show Mac Gyver.
I shall now finish this post with observations. These are simply what they say they are observations. They need no explaination or meaning.

OBSERVATIONS

* It seems common pratice for Thai taxi drivers to down whole bottles of Thai whiskey in between fares!

* Some old people think it is entirely acceptable to still wear thongs! Some even do DIY by stuffing their swim wear between their arse cheeks.

* Still not sleeping properly. Nearly a month now. May have insomnia.

* Last night the hut next next door had a huge arguement as they were both really drunk and she had come back to find him with a Thai girl. Sparks flew, but very interesting to watch. Who needs telly.

SO FAR, SO GOOD!

I always have this fear of flying into Bangkok.  I watched Bangkok Hilton when I was a child and have seen Midnight express far to many times.  I think that I will pick my bag off the luggage carriage, and turn round to find myself surrounded by Thai police with guns and dogs screaming at me with words I can't understand.  They then proceed to open my bag and find half a ton of cocaine which has been planted there by some unknown person. I protest my innocence as I am dragged away screaming, to be put in a cockroach infested cell and left to rot for years by a harsh sentence and a incompentent British embassy.  People always say I have an overactive imagination.  None of this happened of course!  In fact we had a great journey to Bangkok.  For a start we got to Heathrow free as the barriers were down both side of the tube.  As we checked in at the BA counter, they told us the flight was over booked and they were looking for volunteers to back down for £450 each and a free nights accommodation.  Of course me and Jan, the cheapskates that we are volunteered straight away.  Much to our disappointment there was room for us, but we did get a free meal at the airport and £20 to spent in duty free for our efforts.  So it was not all in vain.

We are now on the Koh San, in some cheap guest house that has not seen a lick of paint since I was last here and it needed it then.  Also the last time I stayed at this place I was greeted by a cockroach that popped out of the air con as I opened it.  I forgot to tell Jan that part, but I think it something that he doesn't need to know, do you?

SOLD

There are many addictions in this day and age: drugs, alcohol, fags, food, you name it, but if I was to stand up at an addicts meeting and confess my sin, I would say "My name is Carly, I'm twenty eight years old and I am a ebay addict!"  In truth I have been full member of ebay now, for over two years, and even though I did get the odd thrill when I managed to win someone's old crap on a auction I would never class myself as an addict.  That was until I started selling!  There's nothing better than selling!  With my finances in crisis and my boredom taking over me I ventured into my parents loft and found pile upon Pile of old crap, all belonging to me!  The cogs began turning!  "If I buy any old shit on ebay, then people will surely buy my old shit!" I thought to myself.  So, began my descent into addiction.  It started slowly.  I just put my old porcelain doll collection at first, which as a child I thought them once beautiful, while everyone around me thought they were rather freaky.  One day I woke up and saw the light and since then they have remained in boxes under the rafters, until now.  After I put them on the auction, I felt unfulfilled still, it wasn't enough!  I wanted to sell more!  More I tell you!  Bags, books, coats, hats, shoes, even mum and Paul's cross trainer (mum said she can't use it as she has bust her knee, though I think she just can't be arsed!) They are all up for sale and yours if you want to pay £2 and postage and packaging charges.  It seems I have sold my soul to the devil called ebay, all for the grand total of £22.50 (my earnings so far!)  I feel I could even sell myself.  If I did it would go as follows:

ITEM DESCRIPTION:

Age: 28

Make: Female

Origin: Northern!

Colour: Bleach blonde.  Sometimes orange if it puts on to much fake tan.

Condition:  A bit rough round the edges (It is from Warrington!)

Height: Lanky

Weight:  Unknown, but keeps being told to put some on, usually by the mother!

This item is of not much use, apart from when it comes to trivial pursuit and anything else where useless information is needed.  Does not need batteries but does require a lot of alcohol to keep fueled.

BIDS= 0

The waiting Game

I have ventured north to the retreat, that I call my parents house.  I believe that it must be one of the best retreats in the world.  Upon your arrival you have your bags taken from your car and placed in your room, which has fresh linen on the bed and is heated ready for your arrival.  You then proceed to the dinning area  where you can chose where you wished to be seated.  My favorite option is usually the sofa with a tray in front of the TV. Also available is a free laundry service, free taxi service,free internet and a multi media system ie sky plus.  I just really can't understand why I keep coming back here when I am in need of comfort, or when I need to save some penny's?  

I have less than two weeks now till I go away but it feels like an age!  To be fair the whole of January has felt like an age!  I have not worked at all and I don't expect to be hearing the phone ring before I go.  I feel like I have not worked in an age.  In fact I do believe this is the longest period I have had without employment.  It feels kind of weird, a constant guilt in fact.  I feel like an idle, lazy person when I'm not working, like one of those dole people.  I have been brought up with my mums attitude of you have to work for everything in this life and sitting around on your ass, is not acceptable.

To make up for the lack of work recently, I have amerced myself in the arts.  Well I say that, but it really means I have been to the cinema a lot, an art gallery once and read a few mags.  Oh!  actually I did do something very grand, I went to the Royal Opera House and watched La Traviata.  Ok, so I don't normally go and watch opera, but it was free and I did really enjoy, even though I couldn't understand a word they were saying and Violetta (the heroine) did have the longest drawn out death in history.  From a visual point of view it was amazing.  The opera House really does everything to the highest standards.  Well apart from the set of act two  which was like one of those bad make overs on changing rooms, with its sky blue sponge wall and cheap look finish.  I did annoy everyone for days afterwards, harping on about that matter of the set.

I think I will spend a week up here, maybe more as I don't want to go back to London till the last minute as it just seems to drain you dry of any money you have.  I do feel bad leaving Jan alone, and I do miss him.  God! I'm getting soft in my old age.  

So it begins!

So I have finally done it!  I have created my very own blog.  Not like I think anyone will read it.  Who really wants to read some one rambling on about everything and nothing.  I don't think I would?  Actually depends how bored I was!  Speaking of boredom,  I am suffering greatly from it today.  The christmas and New Year celebrations are over, and all I am left with is a weakened bank balance, some extra weight and the prospect of a cold, dull january.  With no sight of employment until we go away I have decided to hibernate for the rest of the month indoors in just my PJ's, watching daytime TV, hence the boredom.  Probably thats why I created the blog. Oh! and the fact that I have Jan in my ear every to seconds going "Have you created your blog yet, honey!"  

God I'm being very depressing for a first posting!  Well on a positive note I have started a detox as over the christmas period I consumed enough wine to stock an Odd Bins store, and have eaten more chocolate than Dawn French on a Terry's chocolate Orange ad.  For the purer health of my body (Probably bank balance to!) I am banning myself from alcohol till Thailand.  I am also going to go to bikram yoga at least two times a week, thanks to the fact that Jess, from number seven, went back to Oz and left me her card with loads of free lessons on it.  At twelve pound a lesson, its very expensive staying fit.  So by the time I get to the beaches of Ko Samui I will be a lean mean, toned yoga goddess. Well thats the plan anyway.