The Life and Times of Lady Warrington

WII ADDICTION!

2012-02-05T16:21:00.001-08:00

I cooked stew and dumplings the other night, for Oli and our friends Jono and Scott (Who feel like part of the furniture these days)! Oli and Jono, after clearing their plates rushed off to Soho to go and see a Chilly Gonzales gig and me and Scott were left there drinking red wine wondering what the hell we were going to do with our Friday night.
"Oh my God! Who's is the Wii" Scott said very excitedly as he spied a box in the corner.
"It's mine" I replied.
My brother had given me his console before he moved to Japan, because he couldn't carry it and wasn't sure if it worked. I brought it back to the flat in fit of excitement.
"Look everyone I got given a wii!" I cried.
The housemates reactions weren't as enthusiastic as mine. Angus looked at it as if I'd brought the devil into the flat; Alex was being too erratic again to notice and Oli did show a slight interest if I remember rightly, but I think that was more at the thought of fixing it, than playing on it (He loves stuff like that). Since then it has just been sat there gathering dust in the corner.
"It probably doesn't even work Scott and I only have one control" I moaned.
"Have you tried? It can work with one control, we just take it in turns" he replied excitedly.
So we tried and it did work, perfectly.

You don't even have to play a game to have fun, as me and Scott just spent the first hour just creating each others Wii character. There not the most flattering as I look like the love child of Steve wonder and Janet Street Porter and Scott looks like an inflated balloon. To fair though I think the one we did for Jono is the worst as he looks like something out of planet of the apes!
I did pre warn Scott about me on the Wii, though I still think he was a bit shocked. In fact after seeing me play tennis he said he'd never seen anything like it! The thing is I really get into it. I just can't sit there and press a button; if I'm bowling I'll do the run up like at a lane( everyone thinks I'm going to go through the TV); when I play tennis my arms swing everywhere (Don't get in my way, or you will get a black eye; and boxing, well boxing, I'm great at boxing. I've always had a lot feist in me, so I really go for it. Boom! Knock out! Boom! Another knock out! Love it!
Oli and Jono returned from Chilly Gonzales at 2am to find me and Scott still playing. It's even later when I decide to retire to bed, leaving the guys to play bowling and with Jono wanting to know why his character looks like Planet of the Apes!

The next morning I wake up and I can hardly move my arms. What a work out. If I do Wii everyday I will have guns! Linn walks down the stairs looking hungover from her previous nights clubbing, but then her eyes light up when she sees the Wii.
"Who's is the Wii?"
"Mine" I reply happily, "Me and Scott were playing on it last night and I'm going to buy another control and some more games."
"No need" said Linn "I have 3 controls and loads of games in my room!"
"Oh my God! Really?"
"Yes really!"
"Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!"
"Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!"
I text Scott straight away to tell him the good news and they we are going to have a Wii day and he's like,
"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!"
And everything is just, you know,
"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
Now this was the kind of enthusiasm I was expecting. So after this we all lived happily ever after in our Wii addiction heaven.
P.S I still can't move my arms with out them hurting. I better get some bloody muscles from this, to make the pain worth it!

ELECTRIC BLANKET WHORES

2012-02-04T03:54:00.001-08:00

I've got two guys in my bed at the moment! Don't get excited, I can't even get one guy in bed these days. No! These guys are of the furry feline type. Yes our cats; Cassius and Hank. My sudden rise in popularity has nothing to with the fact that they love me dearly. No! It's because as the temperature has dropped below freezing, I have got out my winter best friend: The Electric Blanket, and they absolutely love it. They sleep with me ever night now (which means I get Hank screaming in my face at 7.00am, for food)! I don't mind though; being used by the cats. I love them and I haven't got much time left with them, so I have to make the most of it, before it's gone.
Also breaking news, while we are on the cat front! Moonin Troll has finally started to like women! She has always been a boys girl, but she won't leave me and my new housemate Linn alone and sits on ours laps. I was so excited about this, I sent Alex, who is still swanning around Mexico drinking too much Tequila probably, a picture of her sat on my lap. Her main response was:
"She looks fat!"
Alex has a thing about fat people, this also stems down to fat cats, especially if it's her cat! I can imagine her brain going into over drive sat on a Mexican beach somewhere, trying to think of ways to make the cat thin again. Oh God! Its going to be a nightmare if she comes back and finds a fat Moomin Troll. Maybe I should do something about it. Is there weight watches for cats? I'm going to go and google it now.

WHO AM I?

2012-02-02T17:09:00.000-08:00

I had one of those drunken conversations with a friend recently. You know the kind where you talk absolute crap about everything, and then at the end of the night you tell each other how much you love one other and how great they are. One of the topic's that came up was knowing ones self. My friend argued that no one ever knows ones self. I told them I agreed with them to a certain extent; it is true you can never know yourself entirely, but you have to be sure of some things within you, or you become a stranger to yourself and life can't function happily that way. The next day I found myself pondering over the argument, and asking myself what do I know about me and this is what I came up with (Please don't except Einstein here)!:

* I have a gap between my front teeth which I use to hate, but now I don't think I would change it, because it's now part of me.

* I don't like opening mail!

* I'm loyal.

* I have food phobia's. This includes Sandwiches, eggs, most finger buffets, those American style hot dogs, not putting milk on cereal the right way and people who are serving food that don't look clean!
(God I sound like a complete freak)!

* I hate chick flicks and would much prefer a beat them up or an action movie.

* When I want something I flutter my eye lashes, and then slope my body to the side. Apparently this is not in a sexy way, but more like, (so I have been told) a Steven Hawkings kind of way (I know my house mates are wrong)! Though it can't be that bad as it got me off a fine for not having an MOT and not have my tax disc displayed with the police recently (Get in)!

* I hate the cold, and when I say that I really mean it!

* I like to feel the sun on my face.

*I always like to believe the good in people before the bad. This has often left me disappointed, in the end.

* I like my legs. I hate my hip bones ( they stick out too much and I use to get teased at school by the other girls for them)!

* I don't like to take life to seriously, only when needed to. I can laugh at myself. I think this is up there for me as one of the best qualities a person can have.

* I usually love the men in my life, more than they love me.

* I'm scared of deep water, but I always try and swim in it as I feel its good to confront your fears.

*I think about things way too much!

* I'm allergic to cats, but I love them (We have three and they make me sneeze and my eyes itch, and through all that I still love them).

* I'm most happiest when I'm travelling.

* I drink too much, but not in an alcoholic kind of way. I'm just a fun time girl.

* At the age of 32 I hardly own any furniture as it scares me, because it makes me feel tied down.

* I can be selfish.

*I don't like being tall, but I'm learning to except it (I'm 5'10).

*I can be the life and soul of a party, but deep down inside I'm a loner and I often seek solitude.

* Before I die I have two ambitions: I want to speak another language and write a book and get it published.

This is what I know about me, and I'm OK with these things, because that's who I am. I still have the rest of my life to figure out the rest of me.

A REVIEW OF 2011: A GOOD YEAR

2012-02-02T10:36:00.000-08:00

I know this is a bit late for a review, but people I have been in Mexico (I know hard life)! Anyway it seems fitting that I should spend the end of last year and see in a new one, abroad; because in 2011, I spent more time out of the UK than in it. I started the year feeling ready for a something different, an adventure and a change, but most importantly a change in me, and that is exactly what I got. I know its sounds corny to say it, but I feel like a different person to the one that started a trip in Costa Rica, feeling low on self esteem in every way shape and form. This year I proved to myself that I can do things I never thought I could do and my self confidence has grown, in not just work, but with in me as a person. The most important thing I learnt this year is to like myself (God I'm starting to sound like one of those self help books)! Who knows what 2012 holds, but I do know already that my life is going to completely change this year. For the better or the worst, it remains to be seen, but at the moment I am looking at it as a new start, its up to me what I make of it.

TRAVELS

Well it wouldn't be a proper year for me if I wasn't jetting off somewhere with my back pack. I do believe that I am well and truly addicted these days, and I don't think it will ever stop. When I'm 70 I will still be there with my back pack, in some far off land, staying in some shit hole, getting food poisoning, having ice cold showers, but still having the most amazing adventures.

This year saw me travel Central and South America for 5 months. I have travelled a lot of Asia in the past and I love it. I never thought anywhere could beat Asia, but I do believe that Latin America may have just done that. I love the place and the people, it has a magic that you can't describe. From the tropical jungles, to the snow capped peaks of the Andes, it was the most amazing adventure I think I have ever had on my travels. This trip was all about building, and pushing myself. I met the most amazing people, saw the most beautiful landscapes and have memories that will stay with me until the day I die.

I finally got to go somewhere in Spain that wasn't swarming in a ton of British package holiday makers, and I didn't see an English pub in site (Yeah)! I went to Madrid. Even better I went on a girly trip with the lovely Miss Becky B, and we did what we do best which is chat, eat, drink and be completely clueless. I also got to catch up with Martin again. Its the most chilled capital city I've ever been to and has great food, people and weather to go with it. I loved it there and I will definitely be returning.

I finished the year in Mexico with Olex, but you guys know all about that already? Well if you read my bloody blog you do? I only did a small part of the country, but I already have a plan to go back, buy a VW Beetle in Mexico city and drive all the way down and through to Guatemala. Now that would be an adventure, especially as I have never driven on the other side of the road and know absolutely nothing about cars, or actually is it just insane?

WEDDINGS

First up my old school friend Miss Kerry Hogan, who married the lovely Martin and became Mrs Scott. It was a good excuse to go up north for the weekend and catch up with all my old friends from the manner. A great day.

Next was my cousin Ryan, who married the beautiful Hannah, in a ceremony where there wasn't a dry eye in the house, well apart from mine (I don't cry a weddings; remember)? All the best for the future for the two new lovely couples. 2012 is going to be the year of weddings for me. Three of my best friends are getting married: Arrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WORK

Well I didn't work for over 5 months this year, as I had far better things to do like travelling, of course! But I did have to come back to reality as I was totally broke and you do need to to this thing called work to survive (Life hey)! The good thing about this year though was I got to mix travel with work. My perfect combination.

I have been in this industry for 10 years nearly and the most exotic location I have ever got to go to, is some gorge in Leyton Buzzard that was doubling for Jerusalem! This year I finally got to go abroad with work. OK, it wasn't the most exotic location it being Benidorm, but it was hot and not Blackpool, and in fact I had the most amazing time. I'm glad I was only on it for a bit though; I don't think my liver could of taken the whole 3 months of that job.

They say things happen for a reason, and after not getting on a job I thought I was going to get, I found myself flat broke and with no work insight, feeling low, but then I got a phone call. The next thing I was in Morocco working with a team of 15 Moroccans who Eventually I got left in charge of, working with costumes I never worked with before, on a drama documentary called Mankind, the story of us. For me this was a job that was character changing. I have never had much belief in myself and put myself down a lot. I came back from Morocco with a new found confidence in myself and my work. I now actually believe that I can do things.

FAMILY

The end of the year marked a huge change for my family. My brother finally got the amazing job offer that he had been working for, for so long. Sadly it is in Tokyo, and so that means my brother Darren; his wife, Yuko; and my Nephew Leo are now living on the other side of the world. You have to look on the good side though; its a great job from my brother, Leo who is half Japanese will grow up bilingual and I get to visit Tokyo again, as its one of my favourite places ever.

SONG OF THE YEAR
Lana Del Ray: Video Games
I can't listen to it too much though as it makes me cry.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Gonjasufi: A Sufi & A Killer
It was actually released in 2010, but I was only introduced to it in 2011 and I can't stop listening to it. Here is my favourite track from the album; Dobermins.

FILM OF THE YEAR
The Skin I Live in. Totally amazing film.

TELEVISION PROGRAMME OF THE YEAR
The Killing! I was totally obsessed with it. I want to be Sarah Lund. I want. No, I need that jumper. Probably the best TV series ever, the Danish version that is!

HAPPY 2012.

I WANT TO BE ALONE!

2012-01-27T17:58:00.000-08:00

So I was in Playa del Carmen. I hated it. It was so touristy and built up; full of the kind of people I hate; and strangely the drains smelt really bad too, Hendrik wanted to go to some music festival called BPM, while we were there and dragged me down to the beach to one of the events beach parties, only for me to find loads of drugged up, pissed people all over the place. I freaked out and went home early. I found myself looking down my nose at all these messed up people, thinking what the hell, which was funny when only two nights earlier I had been cavorting drunkenly around a pole in a nightclub flashing my ass (What a hypocrite)!I was feeling down and anti social and then I told Hendrik it was time.
'I need to be on my own" I said.
"What schatzi! You are leaving me on my own' he replied shocked! I told him I was and that he would be alright and that I would be back to join him once again when I had found social Carly.

I booked myself a bus ticket to Merida which is an old colonial town. After being a bit over ambitious by deciding to walk all the way from the bus station to the hostel, in the midday sun, I finally arrived hot and sweaty and threw my bag down.
"Do you have a bed free in a dorm?"
"No, we are all full!"
I look round in panic. The thought of dragging my back pack all over town trying to find a bed scares me just thinking about it!
"But we do have a hammock, you can have in the girls dorm." I think about it for a second and then think sod it! "I'll take it!" I reply. It doesn't bother me sleeping in a hammock, I did for a couple of nights in the jungle in Colombia. You just have to find a comfortable position and not move from that for the rest of the night (easy right)? What does bother me though is, that they had forgot to mention that its a dorm with 22 other girls! I think its the biggest dorm I've ever slept in! So much for peace and quiet time. The hostel seems quite a social place and everyone seems to be mixing and socialising but as I'm not in the mood for this I take myself off to the centre and go and see the sights.

As I'm walking round the main square minding my own business, I keep getting approached by local guys. They ask me my name, where I'm from, and am I here on my own. I tell that all politely that I just want to be left a lone. Its seems funny that they are trying to chat me up as most of them are so small they only come up to my chest. The Mexicans are small. Alex who is five foot nothing, is classed as a tall person over here. The women usually just about reach my waist, so I'm a total freak out here being 5'10. That said the men seem to be strangely fascinated by tall women. There is one guy in particular that won't leave me a lone. He follows me around everywhere, even though I have told him a 100 times I just want to be left alone. He insists that I meet him that night for a music festival that is going on in the town. I say yes in the end, but only to get rid of him. I have no intention of meeting him again.

Everyone is talking about the festival, so I decide to go anyway, and hide myself away in a corner to watch and where no one can find me. Wrong! I had seen most of the nights proceedings and was having a great time on my OWN, when the guy found me again. He wondered why I had not met him. I lied and said I couldn't find him. He then insisted on buying me a beer. I said no. He came back with one for me anyway, already opened. My brain told me not to trust this guy and I was scared he had put something in the drink.
"Why don't you drink my drink. I brought it for you!" he started saying. I told him I didn't want it, and wouldn't drink it. He became angry at me, and just kept telling me to drink the beer. I became quite scared by him, so I seized my moment and ran off into the crowd. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me all the way back to the hostel, (good job I have long legs), looking behind me all the way.

In the morning I awoke in my hammock, thinking I wasn't going to find the peace and quiet I wanted in Merida. Besides I didn't want to spend another night in the hammock, with 22 girls in a room! I had heard a few travellers mention a town called Campeche on the coast 2 hours from Merida. I thought why not and packed my bag. After another bus journey of being nearly frozen to death with air-con, I arrived in Campeche, and met an old English couple called Richard and Angela, who I shared a taxi with into the centre. They then asked me if I would like to explore the town with them. Oh God! I thought, is this is what it has come to; hanging out with old people, but actually as we walked around I realised that they were really sweet, interesting and we had a lot in common. They had sold their home 3 years ago and now worked running camp sites in the summer and traveled around the world in the winter. I found them quite inspiring and a refreshing change from the normal backpackers talking the same old shit. I think I would like to be like them when I'm older. We decided to go for something to eat and I made them have a beer, well actually two and a Margarita (I am now a corrupter of the old now too), which went straight to their heads due to the fact, as Angela told me, they don't really drink and never during the day. They had to go and have a siesta after that, and off they wandered into the sunset and I never saw them again. I finally had what I wanted, I was alone! I walked around Campeche on my own, and it was perfect. It was the little Mecca I had been looking for; no local men pestering me; hardly any gringo's; nothing set up for tourists; just peace and quiet. I was finally alone. Even my hostel was nearly empty and the guy that ran it was so laid back, he barely functioned.

As I walked around in the evening I realised that everything in the town was shut by 8pm and as there were hardly any places to eat in the first place I found myself back in the restaurant that I had eaten in with Angela and Richard earlier in the day, as it seemed to be the only place open! I was sat quite happily eating and reading my book when a Mariachi band decided to come and serenade me in front of the whole restaurant. I wanted to curl up and die, and I tried to hide my embarrassment by hiding behind my book. After they had finished a young guy walked up to me:
"I could see you were looking a bit distressed there. Would you like to come and join us at our table?"
"Yes please!" I replied desperately.
The young guy turns out to me called Elliot and he is sat with his father Jeff. They both hail from the windy city, Chicago. They turn out to be pleasant company, especially Jeff who is a sweet natured man. They also stop me being molested by the Mariachi band, and neck a drink as well, as me. What more could a girl ask for? The night proceeds with more Margarita's than we should of; debates on the Euro and the war in Iraq; getting into an argument with some weird Flemish guy about the Euro (I don't quite know how he came to be sat with us)?; and finally we ended in the only bar in town for one last night cap. The bar, lets say, is not the best. In fact I'm the only woman in there, and its full of drunken locals, who faces light up when they see me walk in (Well the ones who weren't face down on a table passed out drunk)! I think I'm going to get raped! Some guys walk over and start pestering me. Jeff tells, them I'm his daughter, Elliot tells them I'm his girlfriend, so to leave me alone, and I'm sat there thinking we look like some sort of weird incest family! I sit drinking a Sol, not trying to look around too much because every time I do there is this fat seedy Mexican guy, with a big moustache winking and waving at me. I was quite glad to leave in one piece and Jeff and Elliot escorted me back to my hostel, just to make sure.

After finding my solitude, I realised it was time to become sociable Carly again. For my last couple of days I ventured to Isla Mujeres, where I had promised to rejoin Hendrik. I arrived late, exhausted and hungover. A early night, I think to myself, well that is until I bump into Hendrik. He is walking around bare foot.
Me: "Why don't you have any shoes on?'
Hendrik: "I had my flip flops stolen when I got here. I also had my towel and my credit card stolen too. Look what happens to me when you leave me on my own schatzi!"
Me: "Its not my fault! Why don't you buy some new flip flops?"
Hendrik: "Because I only have 3 days left, so it's not worth it."
Me: "So you are just going to walk round bare foot till then."
Hendrik: "Yes."
Me: "What the hell!"
Hendrik also informs me that the hostel is a party hostel and is impossible to get an early night, so I may as well as he likes to put it "Make party!" Well I do have a free new arrival drink, it would be rude not to use it! I think it was 4am when I dragged my sorry ass to bed. So much for an early night, but at least there was no pole dancing involved.

I spent my last day on the beach trying to top up my non existent tan. I started to think. I had loved my time in Mexico; had met some great people, and seen some great places, but it was then I realised something! I was homesick! Homesick! I never get homesick! I was 5 months in South America and never had it once. Once I was 8 months travelling around the world and I never got it even then! Why then now? It was because I wanted to go back and make the most of my normal life, this life that I had hardly experienced in the last year because of being away; this normal life that I had taken for granted; this normal life that I actually loved. Because this normal life was going to be taken away from me very soon and I wanted to make the most of the time, I had left with it. It was time to go home, but I wasn't sad. I know this will not be the last time I see Mexico. It's just another journey for me to have

A LESSON IN HISTORY!

2012-01-26T14:48:00.001-08:00

"Everything that has happened since the marvellous discovery of the Americas.... has been so extraordinary that the whole story remains quite incredible to anyone who has not experienced it at first hand."

A Very Brief Account of the Destruction of the Indies
Bartolomé de las casas (1552)

Don't tell anyone, but I'm a history geek! I know, it doesn't go with the image I try to portray of myself, but I guess you should never judge a book by its cover! It has been an affliction that had effected me from childhood. From loving every National Trust home I went to as a child, to asking my boyfriend of the time for the latest book on the history of London for my birthday present (He looked mortified, but brought it me anyway: That's love for you). I can tell you everything from the history of the French monarchy, to Victorian London Slums, from the crusaders in the holy land to the fall of the Roman Empire. It all fascinates me. I'm a little obsessed in fact.

While traveling South America last year, I realised I knew nothing about the history of Latin America, apart from that guy called called Columbus. Since then I have emersed myself in it, and it has probably become my favourite part of history, because I believe that the discovery of the Americas is the most important event that has happened in history. It was the meeting of two worlds that had no idea of the existence of each other and it changed the world forever and shaped the world we live in today. I thought the British had done some bad things in history, but from what I now know, I believe the Spanish Conquistadors were the most brutal colonisers of all time. They came, conquered and destroyed the natives who were quite happy with their simple lives and enforced their rules, their religion and their way of life upon them. The Europeans exploited the indigenous people of the Americas, and it still goes on today. It is glaringly obvious that a mainly European-descended Latino elite rules a mainly Indian population. Politicians, doctors, businessman, journalists, landowners, TV personalities are all Latino. The more Indian a person, the poorer they are. The more Latino, the richer. I have seen this all through out my time in Latin America, this because is because the main population is still indigenous, not like in North America. In fact I have never seen a native North American Indian in my life (maybe this is a worse fact)?
I was determined while I was in Mexico, that I had to go and see Chichén Itzá ( or chicken Pizza as my sister calls it, but what the hell does she know)! Now one of the new Seven wonders of the world, it is probably one of the best left monuments of pre conquest civilisation. It was built by the Mayans, who ancestors still populate this area of Mexico today. Me and Hendrik decided to take a day trip from playa del Carmen to see it. I hate these tourist day trips (you get herded around like cattle) but due to the lack of time left to us on our trip, we decided it was the best option. It was as bad as we thought it would be. They picked us up late and we were all packed into a mini bus that didn't have enough room for us all. What was worse, as me and Hendrik were the last to be picked up, we got shoved into the back which was the smallest and as Hendrik is quite well built and not small at 6'2 it was squashed! To make things worse I was wedged between Hendrik and a Brazilian guy of the same build. There was no room. For three hours we sat like that in the heat, with no head rest. I was very uncomfortable, the Brazilian guy huffed and sulked a lot (I'd forgotten what diva's Latin men can be!) and Hendrik just sat there happily and ate lots of bananas! Oh and I forgot there was another Mexican girl shoved in there with us. We stopped off for a toilet break but our driver decided to go AWOL for about half an hour. The Brazilian guys were going mental, the rest of our group sulked in the bus and I asked around and through my bad Spanish discovered that the driver has just pop back to his house for a bit! What the hell!
The driver eventually returned and we made it to Chichén Itzá. It became apparent when we arrived that me and Hendrik were the real only non Spanish speakers in our group. When anyone speaks Spanish to Hendrik he just looks shocked and shouts "English"?
I tell him you should at least say "Can you speak English?" it's more polite. He just looks at me as if to say your so English. As he speaks no Spanish it was left to me to sort it out. What then ensued was an argument with the driver in the car park about how we were promised a English guide and a German guide. The driver laughs at me. The rest of the group look on as if to say:
1. God she is brave and amazing.
2. This girl is crazy. She makes no sense as her Spanish is so bad.
I think they were thinking option 2, but something must of got across because before we know, Hendrik is shoved with a German group and I'm put in an English group full of fat Americans and Chav Russians.

It doesn't matter though, I'm so happy learning about the history and the buildings, which even though they are covered in tourists are still amazing. Most of my own group, though seem to be more preoccupied with taking shit tourist photos of themselves than listening to the history (This annoys history geeks like me)! Speaking of annoying, I feel I might of annoyed my guide a bit. I'm like one of those over eager students that puts their hands up and wants to answer every question and then asks too many in return. He's a good guide and he knows his stuff, but then he's says something:
Guide: "Well lots of people ask me how true, Mel Gibson's apolcalypto is and I say it's rubbish. The height of the empire had finished by the time the conquistadors arrived in Mexico and their were no human sacrifices then."
Wait a second! I don't agree. It's burning inside of me. I can't help myself.
Me: "Well actually, yes that is right for the Mayan's, but when Cortes and the Conquistadors arrived they first encounter the Aztec's who were at the height of their power with Montezuma and still did human sacrifice!
Guide: I only deal with Mayan history, I don't do Aztec's!
The guide looks blankly at me for a second, then decides to move a long to the next site and ignores me. I think he hates me. I don't care. I know I'm right.
We finish the day swimming in cendotes and have another horrible squashed bus journey back, but I don't care. I had another lesson in history that day.

HISTORICAL FACTS ABOUT LATIN AMERICA

* Hernán Cortés conquered Mexico with just 500 men, 13 horses and a couple of cannons against a estimated population of 25.5 million.

* The conquest of the Americas was the biggest holocaust in history. The Europeans did not kill most of the Indians with the sword but with disease i.e Small pox. The estimated population of the Americas before the conquistadors in 1518 was 100 million. By 1570 it was 10 million. They had killed off one fifth of the whole human population on earth in 50 years.

* Hardly any of the names of the Americas, represent their indigenous origins.
Colombia: named after a Italian who never set foot on its soil.
Bolivia: after Simón Bolivár, a Latino Venezuelan that spent 2 weeks there.
Amazon: named after a Greek legend of women warriors from Turkey.
Indians: named after a country on the other side of the planet.
The America's: named after another Italian explorer, Amerigo Vespucci, who sailed to the coastline a few times.
Latin America: named after the conquerors!

* Don't even get me started on North America.

* Finally I leave you with a quote from a book I was reading in Mexico called the Gringo Trail by Mark Mann. It summed everything up:
"The Indian, was in a state of being content simply to be in his natural environment, because he thought it was perfect. The white man, on the other hand was in a state of becoming, always striving to change himself and his environment. He didn't know what it was to be at peace with the world around him".
It is this problem that poisons the world today.
I hope you enjoyed your history lesson.

THE SHIT HENDRIK SAYS!

2012-01-26T10:36:00.001-08:00

So everyone this is Hendrik aka Monster. Hendrik is the loveliest guy ever and hasn't got a bad bone in his body. He also happens to be the funniest German I have ever met! Hendrik got the nickname Monster from Sean, the Canadian guy he was traveling with, due to the fact that Hendrik over heard two girls on the beach one day saying:
"Look at those clouds. It looks like a monsoon is coming!"
Hendrik misheard what they were saying and said in dismay:
"What! A monster is coming! Where?"
Hence he got stuck with the nick name Monster there after.
Germans are known for their directness, but Hendrik has the ability to be as direct as hell but make it the funniest thing ever.
Me, him and Flo were sat eating waiting for a bus to Playa del Carmen. We were discussing relationships. Flo was saying how he was single for the longest he had been in ages and that it was a good thing. I then said I'd been single for 3 years and that I felt it was good for all people to be able to be on their own at some point in their life. Hendrik's eyes lit up in shock.
"What?" I asked
"No, Carly it's not! I can't do it!"
"But why?" I asked.
"Because I like to f**k!" he replied really loudly. Me and Flo looked at each other and I felt like the whole restaurant had heard.
"Just because I've been single for 3 years, it doesn't necessarily mean I haven't had sex in 3 years" I tell him
"Oh! Well that's OK then!" and he carries on eating his second plate of Tacos.
Hendrik becomes my most constant travel partner on this trip and I grew very fond of him. He takes the piss out of me all the time by calling the British "Island Monkeys"; I tell him to shut up a lot; we spend most the time getting him food as he is always hungry (I've never seen anyone each so much); I tell him to stop making loud weird sex like noises when he wakes up as everyone in the other dorms are going to think we are doing some weird shit; and we jokingly call each other "Mein Schatzi" which means my darling in German.
I became quite protective over Hendrik, I felt like I wanted to look after him, but I think he was the same with me. There were some days when I travelled with him and my head was in another place and I was sad.
"I don't like seeing you sad Carly" he would say. Then he would say some shit and make me laugh again. So this post is dedicated to Hendrik aka Monster, the funniest man in Germany, who always had the ability to make me laugh, when nothing else could. I thank you and it was a pleasure to meet you. You are truly one of life's characters.

LOCO

2012-01-26T09:52:00.001-08:00

Now on my travels, I have been to some crazy places in my time. There was Bolivia were everyone just seems to like having a good old riot and throwing dynamite at each other in the street. Then there is Morocco where everyone just seems to be having an argument all the time. Panama, where they go round dressed as devils whipping each other and where a ex pat American told me that it was proven that it was the second most stupid place on earth. And then there is India! Actually don't get me started on India, it will be longer than War and Peace if I do! Of all these crazy places I do believe that Caye Caulker in Belize might just top all of them.

The plan was to get the bus from Tulum to Chetumal, then from there get the boat to Caye Caulker. Unfortunately in my carefree manner, I had told Olex that we didn't need to book the bus the day before, but I had forgotten that it was the holidays (I'm meant to be an experienced traveller!), so all the early buses were sold out and we had to wait 2 and a half hours in the bus station (Oophs)! By the time we got to Chetumal we had missed the last boat (Double Oophs)! The next boat wasn't till 3.00pm the next day! We heard that you could get another boat at 7.00am in the morning across the border in Corazal. We grabbed a local bus and met some fellow gringo's on it: Sean a Canadian director; Fol a French Canadian; Henrik from Germany; and Gerad another Canadian. After crossing the border, and being tried to be ripped off $200 pesos for trying to leave Mexico (I don't think so!) our now big group found ourselves in Corazal. The book described it as a quaint town by the sea which didn't have the sleaze of other border towns. What are they going on about? It was a shithole! From the moment we got there, we were accosted by crack heads and drunks! Even the dogs looked like they were on crack! We ended up in a guest house run by a Twainese guy called Bryon. Let's just say I'm surprised I didn't get bed bugs from my bed! Strangely the town only seem to have Chinese restaurants, so guess what? We ate Chinese in a crack head town in Belize (because that's what everyone does it Belize; isn't it)? Actually it was pretty darn good. We finished the night tasting the local beer and drinking rum, a great end to a strange but enjoyable day.

The next morning we a rose early to catch the boat. The boat would take 2 hours to get there. That normally won't bother me, but when the sea is that ruff and even the locals say it's the worse they have seen it, it's not great. We are all getting thrown around left right and centre. I was sat at the front of the boat with Sean, which was the worst, but I was feeling quite pleased with myself as I hadn't managed to get a wet ass like Sean who was sat there in misery complaining about it. My smugness didn't last long, as the next thing a big bag landed on me. At first I didn't think it was a bad thing until I could see something running from it straight on to me, all over my legs. What the hell is it? I thought? Then I freaked! Oh my God! It was a big bag of eggs and they had smashed and the yolk was running all over my trousers! I started to scream, because for those of you that don't know, as well as have a phobia of sandwiches, I also hate eggs too! Olex laughed hard as they knew this. Everyone else looked at me like I was some sort of freak. I spent the rest of the journey trying not to think about the fact that I had egg all over my trousers, which was very hard for me.

After another boat journey in which Sean got proposition by a local prostitute and asked if him, and the other boys would like to have a fun weekend with her and her other friends who consisted of names like Shaniqa and Little Kim, we finally made it to Caye Caulker and I found myself shacked up in a room with two young French Candian girls called Emile and Natascha. I felt it was time to leave my little threesome with Olex and give them some love land time. As we were all as hungry as hell, we decided it was time to get some food. Before we knew it we were hustled in to a bar with promises of free rum and cheap food by a local guy called Benidict. It soon turns out that Benidict is full of shit. This also proves to be a recurring theme on this island as most of the locals seem to talk shit, or as they like to call it: "Talk the talk baby!" I say this not in a horrible way. In fact it turns out to be most amusing, if not loco! Benidict has basically told us anything to get us to come and eat at his bar, and when we ask for it this the waiter looks shocked!
"Who told you, you could could have this offer?" he demands.
"Benidict" we reply
There then ensues a 10 minute argument between the waiter and Benidict on how he can't just say any old shit to get customers in. The waiter then goes to talk to the boss who is some fat guy sat in some sort of box with a window and a curtain which he just peers his head out of looking very pissed off and shakes his head a lot. In the end we get no dessert, but we get the free rum punch, which is shit anyway. Benidict tries to smooth things over through lunch by calling everyone "Baby" (even the guys) a lot and then saying I can get you smoke if you want it. This is just the taster of things to come on the island.

We all then head down to the Lazy Lizard which is a bar at the end of the island on the split. It's happy hour and we all know what that means: Party! The group has extended even more, as Olex have bumped into Tom and Elle and their friend Howard who they met at the airport in Cancun and Sean has befriended a Aussie girl called Sommer. Before we know it we are drunk on Panty Rippers ( Thats a drink if you must know!) and are acting outrageously at the bar. As it seems only to be the English left out of our group apart from Sommer we call ourselves team England ( bloody Brits abroad, hey)! We head back to the rest of the guys apartment for a party, with some some crazy Danes in toe who look like Gandalf with their beards (Can't remember how the hell we picked them up)? We end the night in I think the only nightclub on the island (If you can call it that?) which shows hardcore porn on the TV (very off putting when you are trying to order a rum and coke); consists of mainly pissed up locals, including the big fat boss from the restaurant earlier in the day; and has a pole in the middle of the dance floor that only the tourists embarrass themselves on by swinging round it thinking their strippers (What idiots I think, id never do that)? The night is finished off in style with Hendrik being nearly raped on the dance floor by a local girl who is dancing with him by rubbing her ass up and down his private area. Hendrik doesn't quite no what to do and after standing there for a minute or two, he decides to give her a thrust back. Just the one thrust though. He walks back to us all 5 minutes later looking a bit shell shocked and says, in the broadest German accent,
"Oh! I have a big dick now!", Which I believe was Hendrik's version of a hard on! It was time to leave.

The next day I awake to find blisters all over my hands and chest, and my fingers are red, swollen and very painful. I go and get some breakfast and find Sommer, at some shack with the locals. We get talking to the locals especially one guy called big Steve. As we are talking Alex and Oli rock up too.
"Oh! It's that little one with the big mouth from last night!" says big Steve. I automatically know who he means. Alex has only been on the island one day and she has make her mark with the locals! As we all sit there talking, I show big Steve my hands.
"Baby you need some aloe on them or maybe I could help you work them out. You come back to mine and I'll make them better!"
Olex are just laughing and I'm left open mouthed. You see, there is something wrong with the men on this island. They are like on heat or something. The night before I'd got asked for sex three times, especially by one guy that looked like Coolio, who asked me if I wanted
"A bit of bump and grind?"
"No" I lied, " I have a boyfriend!"
"It doesn't matter baby, he don't need a know bout bump and grind."
Seriously they are the most forward men in the world. Your walking down the street they ask you for sex; your buying something in a shop, they ask you for sex; they are driving down the street in a golf cart ( there are no cars on the island only bikes and golf carts, even the taxi's) they ask you for sex. Me and the rest of the girls even started to compare how many times we had been asked to have sex in a day. Basically the locals are loco. They sit and drink rum, argue with each other, even with dogs and even the police drive around in a golf cart, but with a siren on top!

I decided to go to the doctors, which of course was never going to be easy on this island. I turn up at 10.30 am to find a piece of paper on the door saying they will be back at 2.00pm. What! That's like the longest lunch hour ever! I return at 3.00pm to find much to my surprise it is actually open. A bored receptionist greets me with the same response she gives to everyone in a thick Caribbean accent!
"The doctors is free, the medicine is free. If you want, you give donation and put money in thee box. Sit down, wait your turn!"
She points to a box overflowing with notes. After an hour I go in a meet the smiling doctor. I show her my hands.
"Well it looks like you have had a bad reaction to something." No shit Sherlock I think. She then gives me a pile of tablets and cream; tells me to take one every 8 hours.
"Oh! And no drinking!" she says as I leave.
What! Sod that, I think. I later find myself that night with a rum and sprite in my hands and a few Panty Rippers. I'm on holiday I think.

I make the decision to leave the island and Olex and head back to Mexico with Flo and Hendrik. We spend our last day together with the group sunbathing on our own private pier and drinking beer while watching the sun go down. As I'm catching a boat at 7am in the morning and I'm on medication the sensible thing would have been to go and have an early night, but that would have been boring. So we once again found ourselves drinking way too much rum at the boys apartment again ( it was the party place). We ventured to the nightclub again after this. On my way there I bump into Coolio again as I seem to every night. It seems by now he has lost his charm of "Bump and Grind" and just walks up to me and says, "Let's f**k"! I tell him he's a very bad boy. As I walk away all I can hear is "Baby lets fuck, yeah!" I think he'd had one too many rums, but we all had by then. Alcohol does funny things to you, as you believe you can do anything once your on it. I believe it started with Jared, who as soon as we got into the club, turned into some sort of male pole dancing pro, by swinging round the pole. May I add I think he was the best of the night ( I think he has done this before)! Before I know it everyone is doing it and as I'm not one for missing out, I find myself swinging round the pole and posing in very strange positions. As I have a play suit on I feel I'm not baring anything, but in fact, the play suit doesn't cover me much normally, so when swinging round a pole with my legs in the air, I am actually exposing my ass to the entire club, which Oli proceeded to get photographic evidence of.

The next day I wake early with a sore head and then meet Flo and Hendrik for the boat. As I'm sat on top of the boat with Hendrik being blown to death by the wind, Hendrik turns to me and says,
"Carly you drink so much. You crazy. You drink rum like its water. It's so ugly."
"Shut up Hendrik" I reply grumpily.
I was going to blame it on the island but I couldn't. Maybe that's why I liked it there, because it was Loco and that's the way I like things.

TEAM TULUM

2012-01-08T21:16:00.001-08:00

Three is a crowd they say. Well not in our case; mine and my housemates; Olex, that is! Though from a outsiders prospective it did look like some strange ménage à trois was going on. One guy in a room with two blondes, who went everywhere together and ate together. In fact when we checked in, the manager asked where the other woman was as well, as my friend Hannah was originally going to stay with us. I think he thought Oli was some kind of pimp. Though I don't think Oli minded? Actually, it didn't help matters when Alex started touching my breasts on the beach, as if to say look at the size on those (I had my Victoria's secret bikini on) and some couple were watching us, looking bemused. Alex then insisted we rub sun oil on each others backs, which we did, just to stir things up more. The thing is we just get on so well. We are more than friends. We are more like family: Oli is like my brother and Alex, well she is like my sister or my mother depending on what mood she is in! Anyway we live together, so traveling together and sharing a room was no big deal. We know each other inside out; warts and all.

We are happy in our own company and each others, well me and Oli are anyway. The thing is Alex has this problem of not being able to sit still for more than two seconds, (she also has a problem of not being able to cover up, which turned out to be a bit of a nightmare when they went on a trip to India a couple of years back)! To be fair to her, she did very well for the first two days, as me and Oli are quite happy to sit around reading our books, not saying a lot, but by New Years Eve we could see her chomping at the bit; she couldn't sit still and she was being erratic. She basically needed to socialise and go wild!

Luckily Team Tulum was in town. When Olex had got off the bus in Tulum they bumped into one of Oli's old work colleagues, Charlie and her boyfriend Hills. After a few Margarita's we formed a plan, to all meet up and celebrate new year together as, Charlie also had three friends in town as well. Now I wasn't to sure about this as her friends were called Pippa, Petra and Lucienne, so this made me think that the cast from Made in Chelsea were going to turn up. Charlie had booked us a posh restaurant a long the beach, which we turned up to late as the dam taxi driver didn't speak any English and I missed a letter out when I was trying to spell it to him in Spanish and he had dropped us in the wrong place, so we had to walk for twenty minutes. Though can I add, I do not think this was entirely my fault as the restaurant he dropped off at had done of the letters I spelt to him, which I did try to point out before we got out of the cab. Anyway moving on. We eventually got to the restaurant and my fears of Made in Chelsea are quickly lifted as Charlie's friends turn out to be cool. Alex gets very excited that she actually has other people to talk to other than me and Oli and goes into hyper over drive. Soon the wine and the Margarita's are flowing, and for people that have just met we all get on like a house on fire (not like Alcohol has anything to do with it)? Soon we become so loud, it seems like the whole restaurant is looking at us (which they are)! Not like we care at all by then. We make a toast:
"To Team Tulum. Cheers!"
After Alex has done a Russian dance with a Mariachi band; we have taken lots of stupid pictures of ourselves with stupid spectacles; and I have to have my picture taken with the Rico Sauve waiter, we stumble out of the restaurant and decide to head to Charlie's fancy Eco resort where she is staying, as they are having a big party.

Rather than pay top wack for drinks, we decide to sneak in a bottle of Tequila and some shot glasses (not sure where they came from?) and do crafty shots. It was a good job we did this due to the fact we get even more drunk, and so are just about able to cope with the rest of the people at this party, who all turn out to be rude, obnoxious, wankers! They included the international clubbers, an English actress talking shit who both me and Oli have worked with (Alex got very excited about this and wanted us to go and say hi and network. We refused as one: she wouldn't remember us and two: she was an idiot!); the boho, hippy types; and the gay mafia. The more drunk we got, the more opinionated about the resort and its clientele, with Charlie even have a drunken rant to the management about the place. After enduring enough, we found ourselves at a beachside bar in the early hours of the morning swigging beer and strangely watching people being thrown off a bucking bronco. By this stage after consuming enough alcohol between us to fill a brewery, we had lost the power of speech and all sat there in some half coma state. It was time to call it a night, and thus saw the end of another New Year seen in, in the only style we know how: Drunkenly!

The next morning with sore heads and me and Oli realising that you can get Margaritas downers, we dragged ourselves to the beach again, to sunbathe and see the last dregs of the hardcore revellers stagger home after the previous nights proceedings. That night we meet up with Team Tulum again, and again drank to many Margaritas (Don't we ever learn)? In no time we are all well on our way (No appears we don't learn at all)! We had gone for drinks way down the beach which is miles long. It being New Years day there was not a taxi in sight. It looked like we were going have to walk the whole way back which was going to take over 2 hours, when Alex managed to hitch hike us a lift on the back of a pick up truck. Good times.

The next day it was time to leave Tulum. I can't say I didn't enjoy it (we did have the best Ceviche here ever!), but it was far too big, spread out and full of idiots for me. We packed our bags. Our next stop: Belize!

THE GIRL JUST CAN'T HELP IT!

2011-12-30T10:31:00.001-08:00

So people I am writing you this post, sat on the concrete floor (Oh the glamour!) outside Cancun airport, Mexico, drinking my first of what I feel could be many Margaritas to come, as I'm going to be sat here for the next 2 hours waiting for a bus! Not like it bothers me ( God though it's bothering most of the Americans here, who are screaming at the poor little Mexican guy who sells the tickets and are demanding to know why the buses are sold out and why there are not more)! Actually this is why I come traveling; the chaos; the non routine; the not knowing what's going to happen next. God I love it! In fact I'm addicted! Totally and utterly! And it seems to be getting worse. Even though I've spent more time out of the country this year than in it, I had a couple of weeks back in London, I got bored with life; the winter set in and I got itchy feet. I found myself in WH Smith or waterstones again looking at traveling guides longer than I should; I was reading the Guardians travel pull out section with excitement and I was trying to convince my friends on a trip abroad that I knew they would never do! After many failed plans of departing, I had almost given up, when Oli and Alex ( or as they are now known Olex!) my housemates announced they were going to Mexico for a couple of weeks, and did I want to join them? Dam right I do! Besides Olex are completely mad so I knew it would be quite an experience, no matter what.

Now your probably going to find this slightly strange due to the amount of traveling I do, but I'm actually scared of flying, especially landing and take off. I'm convinced every time I get on a plane it's going to crash! Now the Aussie Dingo's introduced me to Valium in the Colombian jungle and I found it an amazing experience. Since then I learnt that Angus and Oli have a supply and now and again I pop one when I am full of cold and can't sleep (bliss)! Oli informed me he had some for the trip. Due to the fact that I was getting myself into a state, thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about again (story of my life) and the fact that I'm getting on on a flight, I board the plane a complete anxious mess!
"Oli give me a valium now!"
The next thing I know I wake up God knows how long later, with a woman sat next to me who wasn't there when we took off and a tray of congealed food in front of me. I'm completely spaced out and I'm not really sure what's going on, buts that OK, because my anxiety has completely gone. I'm just sat there with this warm relaxed feeling in my head, though Olex said they just kept turning around in their seats seeing me looking into space like a zombie!
Now we got cheap flights because we had to have a lay over in Minneapolis. Now I don't know much about the place, so I could be being unfair here but one word I would use to describe Minneapolis is, grey. Then the next word I would use to describe it is? Grey. And then after that the next word I would use to describe it is? Yes that's right; Grey! It's so depressing, it makes Warrington look like Saint Tropez! The one good thing though about the place is, it does have the biggest mall in America! And yes what does mean? Victoria's Secrets! Remember my time in Miami? How I found VS and how it changed my life by giving me breasts for the first time in my life in a bikini! We don't have VS in the UK, so this was my chance! Me and Alex raced into the shop.
Shop Assistant: Hi there, can I help you?
Me: Yes, can you tell me where the bikini's are?
SA: I'm afraid we don't have any bikini's yet.
Me: What!
AS: It's December. We don't get them until the summer starts.
Me: Really! But I'm going to Mexico tomorrow and I need one!
AS: I'm sorry.
Me: Well Top Shop do swimwear all year round. Do you have Top Shop here?
AS: Sorry I don't know what Top Shop is. I've never heard of it.
What, she doesn't know what Top Shop is. Never heard of it! Don't have it. What kind of civilisation is this? We spend the rest of our time at the mall a little down beat and trying not to let Alex make rude comments about fat people (she has a thing about fat people)!
Olex got an earlier flight to Cancun than me and so this how I find myself a lone at the airport, waiting for a bus to try and meet them in Tulum, waiting for my Mexican adventure to begin, but if I'm truthful on an adventure I can't really afford, but hey the girl just can't help it.

After I wrote the above and as I am now sober this is what followed:
I had more Margaritas; got very drunk; met some cool girl called Jet who own's a hotel out here and said I could stay there; met some American hippies who hoola hooped while waiting for the bus; got the bus; had to change buses; had to wait again; started on the Corona's; got some muscly young Mexican guys to open them with their lighters; got chatting to some old Mexican dude who was trying to teach me Mayan; got to Tulum; my phoned died of battery; tried too drunkenly get my charger out of my rucksack and that's when Alex found me a little worse for wear, but that's OK because so was she, as she and Oli had been on the Margarita's too, as they had bumped into Oli's friend from England (small world); so we all went and had more Margaritas together and have called ourselves team Tulum! The end! No its not! It's only the beginning. Ha ha!

A WEEK WITH THE FAMILY

2011-12-11T15:50:00.001-08:00

I love my family; I really do, but God they drive me nuts! The reason for this cannot be clearly defined, as there seem to be more than one, as I found out last week, as I finally journeyed north for a visit, after being continually berated, on how Shit I was as a daughter as I'd only been home once this year. I did point out I'd spent most of the year out of the country rather than in it. This still didn't seem to make any difference: I was still shit in their opinion. I shall now list why I it is impossible for me to spend long period's of time with the family without tearing by hair out.

1. Well let's start with the fact, that my mother and my Nanna Lil, seem to forget that I have actually lived away from home for nearly 12 years and I am capable of doing things for myself! Example
Lil: Do you want me to do your washing for you?
Me: No it's OK Lil, I'll do it myself.
Lil: But you won't know how to work the washing machine.
Me: Funnily enough Lil, I do this job called costume, where we use a thing called a washing machine every day, so I think I'll be able to handle it.
Lil: Don't be cheeky!

2. I am made to endure a marathon of crap telly. For a me working in crap television is enough, I don't want to watch it as well! It's starts with Home & Away, then Emmerdale, then Coronation Street, then maybe a bit of Eastenders depending on their mood and all this is finished off with I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here. I knew I'd seen enough when I realised I'd been brainwashed and started to find Mark Wright, on I'm a Celeb attractive. The man is a thick Chav! Unfortunately this affliction since I have got back to London has not gone away and I find myself secretly looking at The Only way is Essex clips on You Tube to have a good perv at him! What the hell has happen to me?

3. The music! My family only seem to listen to local radio stations, which only have a playlist compromising of bad 80's and 90's songs. If I attempt to play any music of mine (ie something decent) I am met with the response " What's that rubbish your playing"?
Rubbish! Rubbish! Just because they have no taste in music!

4. I usually get roped into helping my mother and sister with their decoration and flower business. Now this does not bother me, the work aspect. It's the fact they I get covered in feathers and glitter in the process. I hate glitter and no one wants to get covered in feathers. I'm still finding glitter on my jumper now. I feel like bloody tinker bell!

5. It is impossible to have a lay in. You are usually woken by my mum shouting at my sister; my sister shouting at my mum; a dog jumping on me and licking my face; my sister coming in and shouting something nice like "Get up mong!"; my mum asking me if I want a drink or Nanna Lil wanting to know what I want for dinner that night (Why that is so important at eight in the morning when she has all day to ask me, I don't know why)?

6. The dog! Now I don't hate the dog. I love the dog, but a dog is meant to be a dog, not dressed in terrible clothes, with it's own wardrobe and treated like a baby. I am partially to blame for this, as it was my idea to get my sister one for her 30th due to the fact it was going to be a traumatic landmark birthday for her, which meant it would be for all of us. Mum and Paul were a bit opposed to the idea at first, but it's seems they are now just as bad as my sister in treating the dog as a child. You also can't leave anything lying around as the dog also functions like a vacuum cleaner and will hoover up anything in its path. This includes wine (actually all alcohol); tea; coffee; chocolate and as I found out, much to my horror, a whole chicken leg bone, which I managed only to prise half of it out of her mouth. Three days later I get a phone call from my sister to say the dog is in the vet's, maybe awaiting an operation and if she dies, it will be my fault! My fault! How is it my fault that the dog is stupid enough to consume something nearly bigger than itself. It's not like I forced it down her. All I did was put a chicken drum stick down for two seconds! Well you will be glad to know the dog did not die and is alive and well, still yapping a lot and still being abused by being dressed up in stupid clothing!

7. Nanna Lil and her boyfriend. Now I'm all up for older people having a love life, just not when I'm trying to watch the television and their sat on the sofa next to me. Lil is being a diva and playing hard to get, the boyfriend is like some love sick puppy and keeps trying to hug her and I'm trying to pretend that I'm not noticing anything going on by playing a game on my phone, as I can't watch the telly anymore as they have changed the programme to something they like, which is Midsummer Murders!!!!! Or maybe the real reason I have a problem with it, is because my 80 year old grandmother has a better love life than me! What is the world coming to?

I know that I sound like the most horrible person ever now, after what I have just wrote, but isn't the truth of the matter, that the people you love the most, do drive you insane and I do love my family more than anything else in the world. I just can't live with them.

VIDEO GAMES

2011-11-22T16:35:00.000-08:00

It's you, it's you,

it's all for you Everything I do  

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you want to do

I heard that you like the bad girls Honey, 

is that true?

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

Baby now you do.

I've fallen in love with a song. Its called Video Games by Lana Del Ray. It's the most beautiful song I have heard in a long time. I feel every word of the lyric's and every time I hear it, I feel my emotions rise to the surface and my eyes begin to fill with tears. Sorry I'm sounding a complete wet in this post, but sometimes things just get you. Check it out yourself.

ZATOICHI

2011-11-17T10:56:00.000-08:00

So, I get in from another late night drinking session to find the boys of the house, watching one of their geek movies again. To be fair I don't know why I'm calling them geek movies, when I enjoy watching them, just as much as they do, or does that just make me a geek too? Anyway, the movie this time was a Japanese film called Zatoichi from 2003. Now I quite like Japanese films, as there completely bonkers, and this one was no exception. So instead of going to bed, in my hazey state, I found myself totally engrossed and one of the main reasons were the amazing dance routines, with the finale, may I say it, probably being one of the best dance routines ever put on film. Whats more amazing is, the fact that its Japanese, because I've been to a Tokyo nightclub and believe me, there was not much rythym going on in there. Who would of ever know it, the Japanese are really great dancers after all. Check it out.

5 MORE SONGS I CAN'T STOP LISTENING TO, AT THE MOMENT!

2011-11-17T10:37:00.000-08:00

Metronomy: Everything Goes my Way

Kalyani & Anandji: My Guru

Bonga: Mona Ki Ngi Xi

Kasabian: Days I'd forgotten

Beruit: In the Mausoleum

MOROCCO

2011-11-16T09:54:00.001-08:00

Around this time last year I was going to do something reckless again and get spontaneously on to a plane to see a guy, who I was totally besotted with, because he asked me to. I never got that flight. It's funny how life twists and turns in different ways, as now a year on, he, is sadly, no longer in my life and I find myself in the place I had so longed to be with him and nearly took a plane to: Morocco.

This time the reason for being in Morocco was not a lustful pursuit; it was something quite the opposite. It was WORK! After my surprising phone call from the designer (read the previous post), I found myself a couple of days later, with bags packed being whisked away on a plane, and landing in Marrakech, not knowing whether this whirl wind of events was quite real or not. When I reached the arrivals hall and saw a grumpy, old Moroccan guy holding a badly scrawled sign with my name on it, I decided it must be real. I was then whisked off in a 4x4 with two actors who were on my flight on a four hour journey into the desert. Our driver who I could only communicate with in Spanish as it's the only language we have in common, drives us through the winding roads like a nutter and in no time I'm feeling car sick and trying not to throw up over the actors. Four hours later, after stopping off for a dodgy Tajine and having to wee in some hole in the ground, classed as a toilet, I arrive at my hotel, looking as White as a sheet in the early hours of the morning, knowing I had to be in work in a couple of hours and I'm exhausted. On the plus side, the hotel is 5 star and amazing. My room is like a suite and is massive. I could get use to this, I think as I slide into my king size bed.

I awake the next morning, though it's too early as I have got my Moroccan time wrong and realise later that could have spent an extra hour in bed, God Dam it! I get driven to the workshop where I get to meet my designer and supervisor for the first time, who are also husband and wife. Now I've never worked with a couple before and all I can think about is whether they argue a lot and if I'm going to get caught in the cross fire. They seem lovely though, so I hope for the best. What is less lovely is the workshop which is a big, damp, unfinished concrete hell hole. Oh! The glamour! It is also over flowing with costumes, of every period of time, most of which I have never worked with before. It's all a bit overwhelming. The place is also filled with Moroccans running about. This is our costume team, and there are 15 of them in total. I get quickly introduced to them all.
"This is Hassan!"
"I'm Amin."
"Latifa."
Now I'm normally good with names, but these are unfamiliar ones to me (I can't even pronounce half of them!) and one minute later I can't remember anyone's name. They are all also, viewing me with an air of suspicion, as the new girl brought in from a foreign land for extra help, as a slight on them. It's all a bit intimidating. Fatima our washer lady brings over some tea. Now I only drink green tea, but as most of the Moroccans seem to be giving me daggers I don't want to piss them off and so I'm polite. With everyones eyes watching me intently I take a sip. Oh my God! It's disgusting and I can't help but grimace; A LOT! The Moroccans are laughing at me and it's at this point I realise that most of them don't really have many teeth. No bloody wonder with the amount of sugar they put in their tea. There is enough sugar in their tea to kill someone! I get it now! They are trying to poison me with tea! The rest of the day is spent trying to get my bearings and learn the ropes. This is pretty hard when all the Moroccans seem to do is laugh at me and some keep undermining me and telling me I'm doing everything wrong. I'm soon a bit of a stuttering wreck and everything that comes out of my mouth seems stupid. Later that night I sit a lone in my room drinking the vodka I got from duty free thinking: I'm on a job, in a foreign country, with a designer I have never worked with before; with a team of Moroccans who see me as a threat and just poke fun at me; with costumes I've never worked with before; I don't know a single person; and I'm trying to be murdered with tea! Where has confident Carly gone? I feel totally out of my depth. I opt for another Vodka and Tonic.

The next morning I wake at 4.30am!!!! With the purpose of, its time to take back control! Today we are dressing Spartans and Persian soldiers for a big battle scene. I get stuck straight in and start dressing, though it's not long before I soon realise that my presence has caused quite a stir and I look round the room to see I'm the only woman ( A blonde western one, at that!) in a room full of half naked men, all staring at me. No I shall not be intimidated I tell myself. I've seen it all before and I'm not the one with the problem, this is my job! I start to dress one of the stunt men. He stinks of Alcohol. I thought Muslims weren't meant to drink? I start to dress him as a spartan when I'm told he needs a loin cloth under his skirt. So I'm on my knees face at crotch height with this guy with my arms around his waist trying to wrap this loin cloth around him, when I look up and realise he's got his hands behind his head; his legs parted; his eyes shut and seems to be getting some sexual kick out of this. Oh God! He's imagining I'm doing something else down there! Everyone else's eyes are on me too. I shall not be intimidated. Well actually I am and I completely rush the loin cloth and I see it already falling off him as he leaves for make up. So much for taking back control, Carly!

After ploughing through nearly a 100 extras, I am sent to set with some of the Moroccans. I don't know any of the crew here either and as they have been out here longer, they all seem to have bonded. Actually that's I lie I do know some one. The 1st AD as he's one of my best friends ex-boyfriends. I can't decide whether this is a good thing or not, as I can't remember whether it was a good split up between them? Production seem to like every single persons costume broke down to the max and after covering nearly 100 extras in dust and dirt, I'm more filthy than any of them. It's also won't come off either! My hands and my clothes no matter how hard I scrub are stained! Great, I've only been on set less than an hour and I already look like some comical chimney sweep. Checking the extras becomes a pain as well. There all male and giving me shit! They all start talking to be in Arabic and then starting to each other in Arabic and even though I can't understand them, I know it's about me. I shall not be intimidated! Kevin comes out (or as it has now become know after this job: Pitbull Carly)! I start barking orders at them, not like they can understand me, but it does have the desired effect of letting them know I'm not going to take any shit off them! The day wears on and the sun gets hotter and it's seems after lunch the extras decide that they have done enough work for the day, and most of them run off and hide under bushes and get stoned! The afternoon is then mainly spent trying to track them down and find their displaced costumes. A complete nightmare! By the end of the day I'm completely knackered and my feet are swollen with the heat. That night I lay in the bath soaking my feet and trying to get my hands clean. After half an hour of scrubbing, I'm still dirty. I give up.

The days roll on, each day a different period in time, I start to remember the Moroccans names, they except me and become nice to me and I still drink the God dam awful tea, to be polite. I'm just about to complete my first week and I think to myself; I'm alright, everything is alright. I thought to soon. Now I have a stomach of steel. I was in South America for 5 months and never got ill from the food. Actually not even in India did I get sick, but there is something about Morocco that my stomach doesn't like. Last time I was here, 5 years ago with my ex boyfriend, we were both as sick as dogs by the end of it. It was the day of the crucifixion and I'm hanging out with Jesus, who was crazy and cool, so I called him J.C (sorry I know what I have just wrote seems very unbelievable, but every word is true), when my stomach starts to get the biggest pains and then suddenly I'm rushing through the Jerusalem set trying to find a toilet. I'm not going to go into details (I'm a lady remember) but lets just say it wasn't very pleasant. It only gets worst in afternoon as some bright spark in history decided to crucify Jesus on top of a hill. This might have been a good idea in Jerusalem a couple of thousand of years ago, but not now when I'm filming and have a urgent need to go to the toilet every two seconds and the toilets are at the bottom of the hill! Let's just say its a long afternoon and as I'm trying to help Jesus on the cross and do my checks, I think he senses my pain and asks if I'm OK. This seems quite ironic coming from a man covered in blood, with lash marks, wearing a crowd of thorns, nailed to a cross, shivering with fatigue.
"I think I'm a lot better off than you" I reply.

It's my day off and still feeling shit and covered in dirt, so I decide to have a Hammam, as I was told it was really relaxing and gets you clean. I've never had one before and didn't really know what to expect. Let say it was a shock. I get dragged into a hot room, by a naked woman, who then strips me of my bikini which I thought was suitable to wear; she then throws a load of buckets of water over me; lays me down on the floor; scrubs my skin until its red roar; throws more buckets of water of me and leaves me in the room, a little bit startled. I don't know about feeling relaxed. Feeling violated is more like it!

The next week my designer and his wife have to move to the next location to do fittings.
"Your in charge now. Your more than capable" he tells me.
What! He's leaving me! On my own! In charge of Moroccans! To dress all these people and stunts! Arghhhhh!!!!!!!!! Oh my God! This decision does not go down well with the Moroccan supervisor: leaving a woman in charge. He's been giving me some problems: he never tells me anything; ignores me when I speak to him and does bugger all as he thinks he's a bit grand for it all. This is not going to be easy.

My first day in charge is one of the biggest days. It's the battle between the Egyptians and the Assyrians. In fact the battle begins before they even get to set, as there is a punch up with some of the extras. That's one thing I have noticed in Morocco: they do love a good fight! There always arguing and even when there not, it sounds like they are. I'm trying to be assertive and give orders out, when I find 4 of the costume assistants dressing the pharaoh.
"We don't need 4 people dressing one person, when we have another 90 waiting to be dressed. Move on!" I yell. They disperse. I come round the corner 5 minutes later to find them all there again, dressing the pharaoh! What the....! I give up. Apart from having a huge fight with all the stunt guys; calling them all disrespectful arseholes and falling out with them (it's a long and boring story, but I did get almost pushed to the ground by them) I'd say the day when pretty well.

It's tough being a woman in charge in Morocco, as I find out as the week rolls on. You get treated differently and you have to stand your ground. With my stomach still not right, I'm losing weight, I'm weak and my trousers seem to be falling off me. This on top of dressing, doing fittings and having to deal with crew politics, has left me exhausted. On our last day in Ouarzazate, we are filming the building of the great pyramids. An easy day in comparison to what we have done. WRONG! This is because we end up filming in a sand storm. It's so bad you can't see as there is so much sand in your eyes, and all they do is water. The situation is made worse by the extras: AGAIN, as they are only dressed in a loin cloth and apron, and there cold. So they all keep hiding and getting stoned in the work tents at the back. The producer gets the tents taken down so they can't hide anymore. This only makes the situation worse, as the extras then barricade themselves in the mini bus and go on strike. It takes over half an hour of negotiations while we are all being blowed around trying to take shelter, to get them out. They bribed them in end by giving them extra money. Lunch was a sorry affair that day, as we only got a couple of mouthfuls before the whole meal was covered in sand. We all just sat there looking a bit disillusioned. We had to abandon the set in the end as it got to dangerous. Here is a little taster of what it was like, though it did get much worse than this!

We finally move onto our next location, Essaouira. It feels like complete civilisation after being stuck in the sticks of Ourazazate for 2 weeks. It's by the sea, there are shops, restaurants and SURFERS (We all know they are my weakness). Heaven. What more could a girl ask for. Well actually a better hotel, as ours is a shit hole after the last one, but then again after some of the places I have stayed in on my travels, this is quite upmarket. I'm also glad to be back with my designer. Though not for long.
"So Carly, I have to start my next job and I'm leaving in 2 days and because you have been doing such a good job, I'm going to leave you in charge again", says my designer.
What! I can't be left in charge again. Actually what am I on about. I bloody love it. I've realised on this job I get a real buzz from having responsibility.

It being the last week, people are getting tired and tensions are high. One day from this week will be now be known as C**t Day. Now I hate this work, but it seems an appropriate name as this word seemed to be used a lot this day. There were arguments galore this day, and everyone was just calling each other a C**t! At 5.30am there was a particular bad argue kicking off with our department and another one. I just wanted an easy life at this point and didn't want to get involved, so just stood there looking a bit bewildered, wishing I smoked or drank coffee as it would give me an excuse to leave. In the end I just left anyway, leaving a trail of smoke behind me.

As my time had worn on in Morocco, I had become so immersed in all, as the job was so intense, I had completely forgotten about my life in England. It seemed like another world. I'd also grown to love my Moroccan family as well, and I think most of them grew to love me too (though I was quite aware that I still had my sworn enemies)! In fact some grew to love me a bit too much. In the first week I had the question that I knew was going to be asked:
"Are you married, Carly?"
"No".
"Have you children?"
"No".
"Do you have a special friend"?
"If you mean boyfriend, then no".
I have 15 faces staring back at me intently.
"But why?" they ask.
"I don't know really. I go for the wrong types? I don't really have time for one?"
"How old are you?"
"32" I reply.
Gasps, from audience.
"Well I know that's on the shelf age in Morocco". I can see one of the female Moroccan dressers who is 40 and not married giving me the biggest daggers right now. Oophs! I continue,
"buts it's not to bad in England, to be single at my age".
"Carly we must find you a husband, before it's too late!" says the Moroccan supervisor, "You should marry one of our costume boys, I have married many of them off to costume girls in England and America".
I bet you have, I think to myself. After this conversation, it seems I have no lack of suitors. I got asked by three different guys to say on in Morocco with them. I tell them I would be a very bad Muslim wife, as I drink, party and wear very revealing clothing. This doesn't seem to deter them and if I had taken them up on the offer, I could quite easily by now, be married off in Morocco with the first child on the way. Though one of the guys was quite cute, and the thought of a Moroccan toy boy did cross my mind for a bit, but then I realised I'd never be able to stay in Morocco with what it was doing to my stomach. There would be nothing left of me!

After crazy hours, lack of sleep, fittings, dressing hundreds of people, bad food, bad tea, a bad stomach, arguments, and sand storms the job had come to an end and I'd survived. In fact I'd done more than survived, I'd done bloody well. I'd been thrown in at the deep end and I'd swam. I realised on that job that me and my confidence has always been my worst enemy, but when set a challenge I can more than rise to it. This job has been more than a job, it's been an experience and a good one at that. I feel my confidence has soared and actually this 3 weeks has changed me, and for the better. I now know I'm more than capable at doing anything I put my mind to. I just have to keep remembering that.

OBSERVATIONS

* Moroccan men have some very colourful, crazy underwear, as believe me I saw a lot of half naked men on this job.

* Apparently Muslims can't throw bread as its against their religion, as we found out when we tried to get the extras to throw bread at a Roman emperor in a scene. They wouldn't do it so the crew had to throw it instead behind the camera. In the process the extras kept getting hit with the bread. This seemed to piss them off, so they decided to stuff religion and started throwing bread back at the crew, turning into one big bread fight. I stood there speechless.

* There were lots of crazy people in Morocco. Examples are the crazy drunk guy that use to get pulled away on the floor by security everyday; the guy that walks around wearing 20 coats: All at once!; and the mad resident that started throwing rocks at the crew and then got his sword out and started trying to hit people with it. If he wasn't happy, he could of just spoke to locations.

* Moroccans don't seem to get what a tail gate truck is, as that's what I asked for when I was doing a costume move. Instead I got a dumper truck! Check out this video. I've never done a costume move like this before, though it was much more fun this way.

* Moroccan tea still tastes shit without sugar. In fact worse. Can't win!

THE LAST DAYS OF SUMMER, OR IS IT?

2011-10-23T07:04:00.001-07:00

The other week I sat on the roof terrace, watching the last rays of the sunset on the hottest day in October in over a 100 years. This was, because, I told myself at the time, the last proper sun I would see for months. I felt a pain of sadness take over me, like saying goodbye to some close friend. The summer was gone I told myself as the sun vanished behind the buildings and my enemy the winter was coming ( I hate the cold)!
The winter set in, the nights appeared earlier and my unemployment was a continual worry, but the thing about this industry is, how quickly things change, you never know what is going to happen next. I went from low's of despair to all the buses coming at once, in the space of a week. I got a phone call to do a day working on a film, which turned into me working on it a week. During this time though I received a very surprising phone call. I was sat on set freezing once again, feeling I'd had a enough of the British winter already, when I answered the call.
"Hello, is that Carly?"
"Yes it is."
"Hi I'm a costume designer and someone recommended me to you. Are you available, I need someone to come and work with me as soon as possible."
"Well I'm booked till Friday, but after that I'm free" I replied.
"Great! So I need you to get on a plane to Morocco at the weekend."
"Morocco!" I'm in shock.
"Yes Morocco. Is that a problem?"
"No!" I'm still in shock.
"Good. We are filming in the desert at Ouarzazate for two weeks, then we go out to the coast at Essaouira. Do you know it?"
"Yes!"
"Good. Right I'll give the office your number. See you in Morocco."
So I now find myself sat at Luton airport getting ready to board a plane to Marrakech. I'm excited, but nervous, as I haven't got a clue what the next couple of weeks has in store for me. All I know is, it's going to be an experience, good or bad! I've got a feeling there are going to be some good blog posts from this! It looks like my summer isn't over after all. Winter can stay on hold for a bit. Morocco here I come.

OKTOBERFEST

2011-10-11T04:23:00.001-07:00

Desperate times call for desperate measures and these are desperate times people, we are in a God dam recession and the worlds economy is in tatters! Well this is my excuse anyway for degrading myself by donning a silly fraulein outfit and serving drunken people in a tent; not because I thought it might be fun; not because I like dressing up in silly costumes and not because I wanted to flirt with lots of men! No it was for none of these reasons? It was purely done for money due to lack of costume work in these hard times? Well you can believe what you want, but there is one thing I'm not going to lie to you about: it was one hell of an experience! Here is my day by day account of my Oktoberfest experience!

DAY 1
We turn up at the tent in shoreditch park. My housemate Alex, who roped me into doing this is a bit over hyper (she gets like this with new people and situations)! Stephanie who is in charge of us Frauleins, shows us our new uniforms. This is not the easiest thing to do when you have 16 competitive girls trying to get the best uniform. It turns into a free for all:
"I want this one!"
"I don't like this colour!"
"I'm a size 8, this is too big!"
In fact all the uniforms seem to swamp the girls. Instead of looking like a sexy fraulein, I look like I'm wearing a sack and a long one at that! God the girls they have in Germany must be big, I think to myself! We then meet Daniel one of our German bosses, who is to show us how the whole ordering and cash system works. Daniel has only one facial expression and that it is straight. He says everything very matter of a fact, has no emotion and is extremely funny because he is so unfunny. So basically very German. After over an hour of trying to explain the system to 16 very loud interrupting girls, Daniel should look like a rabbit in the head lights, but no it seems he is still devoid of any facial expression. We are all allocated our own areas to serve, but it's completely dead. I just have two really pissed up guys at my table, who bless them do give me a little tip every time I serve them and talk to them, not like I can understand what they are saying as they are so drunk! Now I've been to Germany a few times and the Germans pride themselves on their food especially their meat. At least I'll get some good German Bratwurst (Oh! That sounds rude!) from this job, I thought. Wrong! The British get called for having bad food, but this must have been some of the most awful food I have ever seen in my life! The sausages looked processed and White; the mash was instant; the chips oily and the chicken overcooked. All this is finished off with mayonnaise and ketchup slopped on a plate by a grumpy German chef and presented on a paper plate, with plastic cutlery. At nearly £10 a pop, I feel slightly embarrassed at placing it down in front of the customers and asking them for the money. Most of them are to drunk to notice so due to this most of them don't say anything, apart from one man who as I put down his "Bavarian surprise" dish in front of him, said:
"Surprise! Surprise! That's definitely one word for it! What the f**k is that? An anemic sausage?"
I can't lie to him, and all I can say is:
"Yes sir, it's a surprise anemic sausage!" I think he saw the funny side, though I didn't get a tip!
Another bad thing is the music. Germans don't have good music or taste in it. Come on, any nation that chose to have David Hasselhoff singing at such a historical moment as the Berlin wall coming down, in leather trousers, can have no taste. Besides I went out with a German for 2 years and all his music was rubbish, especially the German rap! The music selection consists of the Birdy song and Cotton Eye Joe! Then there is the live German band who decide to grab me and Gemma who is also tall and blonde and make us into their go go dancers! The next thing, I know, I'm on stage still in my sack dress, now with Ugg boots (I was cold!), trying to follow a dance routine I don't know, to German music. All I can think is; has it really come to this!
The night has come to a end and I couldn't be happier. I cash up my float with Daniel only to find I've only made a measly £7 in tips. Actually no I haven't even made that, as Daniel says:
"Carly this is not a £2 coin, it is a Turkish lira. I have to deduct from your tips. Here is £5.
"What Daniel! Are you joking?" I look at his face, it straight as usual, he's not joking. I continue:
"That's so tight Daniel. Anyway you probably gave me that coin in my float!"
"No, Carly. I would never make that mistake" he said, still completely emotionless. No of course you wouldn't I think to myself, you and your bloody German efficiency! As I cycle home, Alex informs me she has made £60 in tips. What the hell! How did she manage that? Right this calls for action!

DAY 2
As soon as I wake up I set to work; on my uniform that is! I work in costume, for God sake, one must use the skills they have. Up goes the hem, take in the waist, lace the bodice, leather boots, and knee high socks with a bow. Legs and the biggest breasts I have ever had in my life. Now this might feel a little bit like prositution, but if it gets me more tips who cares! It seems I'm not the only one that has done alterations, as most of the Frauleins hems have gone up to the max and breasts are everywhere.
Luckily I have a lot more people this night and in one hour I have already made more in tips than the night before. This is maybe because most people are looking at my breasts rather than my face, a first for me. My favourite customer of the night is the drunk Japanese tourist, who seems to be wasted after just one litre, but he's funny, tells me he loves me and tips well. He also makes me get up on the bench to do YMCA with him, though I do feel like everyone is looking up my skirt, while I do this. Worst customer of the night is some drunk guy who thinks it's fine to pick me up and carry me around.
1. Not with the length of this dress. 2. I'm wearing a thong. My whole arse is exposed to a tent full of drunk people.
My supervisor Stephanie comes over and tells him,
"I hope your going to give her a good tip for that!"
The next thing in his drunken state, he shoves £25 in crumpled notes into my hand. Suddenly he becomes my favourite customer of the night.
"Anyone else want to pick me up?" I ask.
The most persistent customer of the night is a Brazilian guy from Rio. He keeps hugging me and telling me I'm the most beautiful girl there. Funny I'm sure I just saw him hugging another girl and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. He finds me at the end of the night as I'm clearing tables.
"Will you come for a drink with me after work?" he says.
"I'm sorry I have a lot to do and then I have to go to bed as I'm back here again tomorrow" I said.
"But it's my last night in London" he protests.
"I'm sure you can go to a club and find lots of girls to have fun with, I know you Brazilian men have lots of charm".
He still persists. "Just come with me to the toilets for a little bit and we can have some fun!"
"What you want me to go and make out with you by the Portaloo's!"
"Yes!" he replies.
"What do you think I am? I don't think so mate!" I retort.
"Not even a little kiss?" he asks.
Oh my God! "No!" I shout.
"Sorry I can't help it. I just love your sexy outfit."
Oh! Bugger off I think, as I walk off and leave him, muttering "The Portaloo's! How vulgar!" under my breath!
As I cash up that night, my tips are a lot better. Look what showing a bit of leg and your breasts does for you I think. God men are so fickle. Alex still has double the tips I have and has smaller breasts. How's that work? Must learn her secret!

DAY 3
It becomes apparent from the start that today (Saturday) is going to be a 100 more times busier than anything we have experienced yet. I still manage at the beginning of the shift to get on the stage and do my dance routine with the band. I'm actually getting quite good at it now and am even starting to enjoy myself doing it. Besides I think the German drummer is quite cute, so I don't mind jumping up and down in front of him in a short dress. Me and Gemma getting on stage seems to be causing some resentment with one of the other Frauleins! I don't like to mention names (so I will just refer to her by the name of, annoying) is bitching about why it's always the blonde girls on the stage. I don't care. I've always found annoying, well, annoying from the start. She likes to be the centre of attention and is sooooooooo dramatic and this is coming from a drama queen (she makes me look like a wall flower)! Anyway I soon have no time to do anymore dancing, because the place turns into pure chaos. We are under staffed as a load of girls rang in sick in the morning, and there are not enough glasses to go round. Soon the queue is around the tent and people are just grabbing me.
"Serve me now"!
"I've been waiting ages!"
"Can I get food off you?"
I don't stop. I have no time for food, drink or even to go to the toilet, and if we do stop for a drink of water we get shouted at by the Germans. Slave drivers! The litre beers we have to carry are so heavy. As I'm a weakling I can only manage 5 at once (some girls can do 8). Carrying litre after litre of beer has made me knackered! After carrying over 14 litres of beer to a drunken table who had been asking me to serve them for ages, I go to take the payment.
"That will be £120 please."
"Sorry love but we didn't order these!" says some drunk guy.
Now the problem is this; the Germans have constructed a master plan of any none payments come out of our wages. Well there is no way I'm loosing £120. Besides I know they ordered them. There playing me for a fool and now I'm bloody angry.
"Right!" I scream "Let's just get this right, I'm totally sober, though right now believe me I wish I wasn't and you are all very pissed. Do not mess me around, I know you all ordered these drinks, so I suggest you cough up now or I get security over and get you all chucked out"!
There is grumbling and they slowly start to remove cash from their pockets, but it is like trying to get blood out of a stone, and I'm stood there while they count all their small change. To add insult to injury, one of them at the end says laughing;
"Here you go! Here's a 5p tip."
I explode
"You know what? You can stick your 5p tip and if you think I'm coming back to this table to serve you again you've got another thing coming. Your all a bunch of rude idiots!"
I storm off. No more nice Carly. It's time to get ruthless. I'm being approached every two seconds by beer hungry men.
"Can you serve me luv?"
"Yeah! If you tip me well, another wise no!"
It seems to work. In no time the tips are flying in. The stag parties are the best as they tip £20 a time.
By the end of the night I'm exhausted and haven't had a proper break in 11 hours. I see Daniel looking a bit forlorn. Earlier in the day I had seen him being bombarded by Customers complaining about the lack of service and asking for their money back. It looked stressful. I go and ask him if he's OK.
"Ya! I'm fine Carly. Why?"
"Well you looked, not to be having the best time before" I reply.
"No Carly. I am very happy. This is my happy face" he says totally straight faced.
"That's your happy face?" I look surprised, "Well I'd hate to see what your sad face is." Actually, I think, it's probably just the same.
Cashed up, I find that I have made £125 in tips and the nightmare of the last 11 hours doesn't seem that bad. As we are getting ready to leave, Alex informs me that it is gone midnight and now officially my birthday. So my 32nd birthday was celebrated in a stale smelling beer tent, tired and exhausted, dressed in a sexed up Fraulein outfit being sang Happy Birthday to, by 15 other Frauleins. Well I guess it was different.
I get a new lease of life, it now being my birthday, and me Alex and Stephanie decide to head to a house party we have heard of going on.
"Let's just go in our uniforms, it will be so funny, everyone will be like, what the hell!" I say.
Oh no they won't, because it turns out the house party, is a fancy dress one! Everyone is dressed in stupid outfits! Our moment in the spotlight is gone, though we do get lots of comments on how much effort we have gone to with our costumes.
"It's not my costume! This is my uniform! I wear it everyday!"
The last straw is when our friend John swaggers up to me and says,
"God, Carls. You look like you have turned up for a porno audition" while talking to my breasts the whole time.
"Thanks John! Thanks!"
There is nothing else to do but down a gin. HAPPY BLOODY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARLY, I think to myself!

DAY 4
It's my birthday and there is no way I'm working. I go and get drunk with my friends in the pub instead. Yeah!

DAY 5
It's the start of our second week (We do Thursday to Sunday). Me Alex, Stephanie and little Celia (my housemate Oli's niece) cycle in 5 minutes late. The Germans decide they are going to deduct half an hour off our wages. I don't think so! As Stephanie correctly points out none of us have had the legal breaks we are initialled to, so they shouldn't be deducting anything! The Germans don't like back chat, hence I don't think they like English girls that much. We are a feisty bunch and they have got more than they bargained for. I think there more use to placid girls who will work all hours and give them no trouble. Well sorry we don't work like that.
It's quite quiet so me Alex, Stephanie, and Gemma get sent out on flyer duty. After running a gauntlet of horny builders we found ourselves at Old Street tube handing, out flyers. Oh my God! I think to myself, I hope no one I know sees me dressed like this. This is a all time low. Most of the flyers we give to men as they seem very happy to take them off us, while most of the women ignore us and look at us like where whores! God I hate women sometimes. In fact I hate doing flyers full stop! I don't know how some people actually do this as a living. We get back to the tent and I'm feeling rather defeated with it all. Luckily the rest of the night is quite quiet and goes with out much hassle. Thank God. Me, Alex, Celia and Stephanie go for our now routine after work drink at jaguar shoes bar, and yes, we are of course dressed in our Frauleins outfits as always!

DAY 6
As soon as I get into work there seems to be a tense atmosphere. Everyone is fed up and grumpy. Though to be fair I can see why. None of girls ever get a proper break. Actually it seems that most of the girls have taken to smoking lots just as an excuse to standstill for 2 seconds without being shouted at. Also the food that they give us to eat is totally horrible and Alex is now demanding that they give us something green to eat. We set to work. It's busy but the band still manage to grab me up on stage and Celia too ( I think the lead singer is in love with her)! I'm getting a bit of a pro now at the dance routine and I'm still perving at the drummer. My table becomes suddenly packed with a huge corporate group of over 30. As I'm dashing back and to, in the kitchen, I see Stephanie looking harassed.
"Are you OK?" I ask.
She informs me that all the girls are bitching and moaning saying they haven't got prime position tables or that other girls are going onto their turfs. I tell her not to let them get to her and to tell them all to shut up and get on with it. God the place has turned into some school play ground mentality and will not get myself involved insuch bitchy childness behaviour. Well that is until I find out annoying, has been slagging me off behind my back! She as gone to the manager and told him I'm not serving my table properly; all the customers are complaining and that I'm just dancing on the stage! Oh! That's what it is! It's the, me dancing on stage thing again and she hates it! The final straw is when Alex tells me, annoying has been slagging me off to her. That's it! Kevin is out and the bitch is going to get it! I storm straight up to annoying and confront her!
"Sorry annoying but could you tell which of my customers have been complaining about me"?
She looks startled. "Oh well they don't seem to be anymore".
"Funny that isn't it?" I shout "Can you not slag me off behind my back in future, especially when I'm working my ass off"
I walk off but she grabs me by the shoulders and turns me back towards her and shouts,
"Listen here you! I ain't said anything about you"!
"Rubbish!" I scream " Don't lie to me annoying I heard you myself. I'm not one of the young girls you can boss around, so you stick to your table and I stick to mind, and mind your own business"!
I storm off. Annoying never really talks to me again. BOTHERED! The night becomes more drunken and I get the usual array of drunken men groping me and making comments about my breasts, but this night we have a group of lesbians in and one comes up to me and asks me why I won't dance with her.
"Because I have to work! I tell her.
"Don't worry about that baby!" she says and the next thing she is grinding up against me and feeling my breasts! Oh my God! I have to push her off me. I have had everything done to me now, in this outfit! That night I had another much needed stiff drink at Jaguar Shoes.

DAY 7
I wake up Saturday morning feeling like some one has hit me with a sledge hammer. I'm totally exhausted. We are rushed and I have no time for breakfast. On the way to work we stock up on Red Bull for that extra needed boost we need for the day. As soon as we open, the Place is rammed. It is also the hottest day in October in over a hundred years. The tent is like a sauna. I feel bad, so I decide to take my first Red Bull. I notice that I'm shaking while I'm drinking it, it's then I realise I haven't eaten in nearly 24 hours, (I haven't had time to eat)! I quickly grab some food, well if you could call it that. It's more like crap on a plate. I'm struggling to eat it but know I must. I head straight back to work. After serving 24 litres to a huge stag party, I'm feeling knackered and slightly dizzy. It's unbelievably hot now. I'm grabbed by some other guys and as I'm taking their order my legs just buckle. I'm leaning against a bench and the room is spinning and I can feel myself coming in and of conciseness. Luckily the security guys see what is happening and come over and carry me like a rag doll to the medic's area. Little Celia has spotted what has happened too and as the security carry me pass the huge queue of customers waiting for the bar, they start shouting abuse like,
"Look at her! She's drunk!"
"Shouldn't let them drink on the job!"
Celia doesn't like her aunty Carly (that's what I'm now know as, as she is only 19 and me and Alex look after her) being accused unjustly, so starts shouting back,
"Shut up! She's not drunk! She's fainted you idiots!"
Thanks Celia you made aunty Carly proud.
The medics get me outside, and lay me on the ground. I'm shaking all over. One of the medics elevates my legs. Oh my God! Everyone can see my knickers, but then I calm down as I remember I've got on a really nice pair today. After half hour, drinking lots of water and eating fruit I'm feeling human again, though I'm still shaking and my body feels like jelly. The medics tell me that my sugar levels had got too low and that I shouldn't go back to work. I walk back through the tent looking a bit disheveled and see it's absolute chaos. I feel guilty about leaving the girls to deal with this, but there is no way I can carry anymore beer. I go over to the boss.
"Why are you not working!"
"I fainted and now I'm really weak!"
"Does that mean your not going back to work?"
"Did you not hear what I said? I fainted! The medics have told me not to work anymore!"
"OK then!" he snaps angrily at me and walks off! You German slave driver, I think. I'm off home and I don't feel one bit guilty about it! That night I sit curled up eating fish and chips with the boy housemates, feeling very happy to be away from the chaos.

DAY 8
It's the final day and I'm so determined to go to work. This is because the day before, the German boss called the English lazy and that we Need a good kick up the arse!
1. The UK has some of the longest working hours in Europe. Much more than Germany.

2. I'm not lazy! I usually work a 14 hour day, sometimes 6 days a week.

3. In the UK we like things doing properly, which means giving workers proper breaks so we don't faint with exhaustion!!!!!!!

I go in and work my arse off, unfortunately the kitchen staff seem to be working at half gas. There slow, the kitchen is upside down, the floor is a death trap, and the food is not ready. Who needs a kick up the ass now, I think!
Today even though it is busy, seems quite subdued after the other days, but there are still enough drunken animals to go around, and most seem to be at my table. I have two drunken kiwi's who keep giving me tips but only if I speak to them in a German accent and tell them my name is Greta! I think it turns them on. As they get more drunk, one of them wants to know if he can take me for a drink after work, still wearing my uniform. He can hardly walk, or talk and is covered in beer! Why do I always get them?
"I think I'll give it a miss thanks!" I say.
Angus and Oli, (my housemates) decide to come down for a visit even though, I've told them it will be their worst nightmare. Besides they don't even like beer that much. In no time the boys have downed 2 litres each, and are quite drunk and actually having a good time. Well wonders will never cease.
As I'm cashing up with Daniel at the end of the day I decide to be a bit cheeky with him and say,
"Daniel, I saw you weren't wearing your lederhosen today, which is a shame as I think you look really sexy in them."
"You really think? Thanks carly."
And for one split second I actually think he might of smiled, but then it's gone and he's back to straight faced. I can't wait to give back my beer stained uniform, and I'm glad that it's all over. I'm exhausted, it's probably some of the hardest work I've done in my life. Would I do it all again? Of course I would, it's me after all. I like an experience good or bad, and it's wasn't all bad, in fact at times it was hilarious, it's just that I need a year off to recover before I do it again!

There was some terrible music played at Oktoberfest but this was by far the worst. Its cheesy, kitsch and just God dam awful. Is it wrong to say it grew on me and I actually like it now?

FRIENDS REUNITED: THE RETURN OF THE PUSSY FAGS (WELL SOME OF THEM ANYWAY)!

2011-10-11T03:50:00.001-07:00

Life is all about chance meetings isn't it? I often think that. Just imagine if I hadn't stayed in that dorm in that hostel in Taganga in Colombia, if I hadn't woken up when I did, if I hadn't been angry with them, if I hadn't spoken to them and if I hadn't decided to go with my impulse and follow them into the jungle after knowing them for only half an hour. If I hadn't of done all these things I would of met the Pussy Fags and had the time of my life with them (If you need a recap on this story please click on impulse for the post). But I did and now 5 months later I found myself at Heathrow airport, waiting in arrivals to pick one of them up, Biskey AKA Arnold, that is. When we were in Colombia he told me he was coming to London later in the year, so I said he could stay with me, and as I always mean what I say, here I was waiting for him at the airport, at six in the morning, full of cold and with no make up on! He appeared and he hadn't changed, still friendly and super chilled. We hugged and began to catch up.
"God" he begins " It seems like only yesterday, since we were all hanging out together in Bolivia".
"I never travelled with you in Bolivia Biskey" I reply.
"Really?"
"Yes really! I only travelled with you in Colombia!" I retort
"Oh yeah that's right?"
I'm hoping it's the jet lag. Later as the conversations continue, Biskey continues,
"Remember when we were in Playa Blanca and Italian Ed and Reuben were.....
I interrupt "Biskey I never went to Playa Blanca with you guys remember? I went to Bogota instead".
"Really?" he sounds confused
"Yes really!"
It turns out it's not jet lag. Biskey just has the worst memory ever. I ask him what he would like to do in London; where he wants to go and what he wants to see.
"I don't know. I know nothing about London" he replies.
"What you booked a ticket to the other side of the world and you know absolutely nothing about the place?" I ask in shock.
"Yeah! I thought it would be fun" he says calmly smoking his cigarette out of the car window. God I had forgotten how laid back Biskey was. If he was anymore laid back he'd be dead.
Biskey from the moment he arrives, fits into my house and the wick like part of the furniture, though it does help that he has brought whiskey and cigarettes for the housemates as presents as they seem to go down very well. There was one noticeable difference with Biskey though: He wasn't drinking! Now in Colombia him and the guys drank alcohol like it was water. Him and Reuben had decided to go dry for a month, which when I first heard about it, I thought it was a joke; it seems it's not. Biskey does very well, considering I seem to take him to places where everyone is drinking and getting drunk.
As I'm hanging out with a guy that I met while traveling and has come all the way from Australia, I get the usual questions from people,
"So what's going on with you and Biskey"?
Nothing actually! We are just good friends. In fact nothing ever went on with me and the seven guys I was traveling with in Colombia. I just loved their company. A girl can actually be friends with a guy without any stuff going on. Besides Biskey says I'm like a older sister to him (if not a little bit of a dysfunction one)!
I do get introduced to a new side of Biskey during his stay with me. I get to meet Business Biskey!!!!! For some one that is probably one of the most chilled people I have ever met, there is a switch which turns on when Biskey does work. Biskey is a computer programmer and so was skyping all the time his clients back in OZ. This is when business Biskey came out. I would compare him to a mix between Alan Sugar and Simon Cowell. Let's just say he doesn't take any shit.

One day Biskey informs me that Reuben who is travelling in Europe has come to London unexpectedly. Oh my God! Two of the pussy fags in London. Great! I go to meet them in China town after work. Now in Colombia me and Reuben sometimes clashed, and had one or two arguments. In fact our farewell was I think me saying,
"Goodbye Reuben, I'm off to Bogata now. Are you going to say good bye or not!"
He turned slightly in his bed where he was lying hungover and went,
"Yeah what ever! " and went back to his slumber.
"Oh! Piss off Reuben" were my departing words.
This time was different. He seemed glad to see me and I him. We talked like adults, well as adult as we can be. Reuben being Reuben doesn't do things by half, and had booked himself into a posh 5 star hotel in Knightsbridge for the night and I found myself there with the guys drinking wine and as it got late I ended up staying over spending the night in a luxury suite in a king sized bed, wedged between two Aussies (it was all very innocent)! The next morning I get up early as I have to go to work, and leave the guys in bed. I get to the lobby looking very disheveled and very out of place, not having a clue where I really am. The receptionist spies me.
"Can I help you Madame?
I ask where the nearest tube is and he directs me. As I'm leaving something occurs to me. Oh God! I think, I look out of place here and disheveled and he probably saw me go to the room with two men and now he's seen me leaving on my own! I bet he thinks I'm a hooker! Well a least it will be a high class hooker, I'm in a 5 star hotel!
As soon as he arrived, Reuben was gone again. A nice but short reunion. He got a flight to Berlin that night. Totally crazy, totally erratic and you never know what he's going to do next, but that's maybe why I like him. I hate normal people. A least this time my farewell to him was a nice one. I think maybe we understand each other better now.
Biskey left to go to Berlin, but we arranged to meet up in Paris and and a couple of weeks later I found myself in a his rented studio apartment, in Paris.
"It's a bit small isn't it?" I said looking at a space you couldn't swing a cat in. Biskey just thinks its cool and bohemian. I give Biskey the low down on Paris as I've been many times before and he's a Paris virgin.

1. Parisians are the biggest snobs ever.

2. You can try and attempt to speak the little French you know, but I wouldn't bother as they also seem to get annoyed at people speaking bad French, so you can't win!

3. Do not get wasted in Paris, as no one really does here and it's looked down upon.

4. Make sure that everyone knows your Australia and not English as they will be nicer to you. The French hate the English.

On the Saturday night, Biskey wants to go to a nightclub, as he loves house music. I hate house music and I don't go to nightclubs anymore. I'm not very thrilled about it all but go along anyway. Soon we've made friends with a Swedish guy, I've downed a load of drinks and I'm having a great time dancing away on the dance floor (it's funny how alcohol changes your mind)! Biskey and the Swedish guy decide they want a cigarette so I go with them to the smoking area. As they are smoking I get talking to some guy in Spanish. I'm deep in a drunken conversation when the next thing I know I can see Biskey being dragged through the fire exit doors by some big burly bouncer. What the hell! Me and the Swedish guy run after him. The bouncer deposits Biskey on the street, and shouts that he's not coming back in! What's going on I ask.
"I don't know?" Says Biskey.
Rule number 4! "You didn't say you were English did you?" I ask.
The next thing I know we end up in some God awful Australia bar in central Paris. Biskey gets excited about some strange Australian beer the bar is selling. I turn by back for one minute and look back to see that Biskey is getting in a huge, nearly fight like argument with the barman. I realise then that drinking Biskey is back, and now I remember that in Colombia the pussy fags caused havoc where ever they went! "Biskey we are leaving!"

I left Biskey in Paris to carry on with his European tour. Over a month later he returned back to London and our flat to catch his flight back to Oz and to celebrate my birthday. I realised I'd missed him a lot. He has become a good friend, and I can tell him anything. It was during one of these conversations that I discovered wise Biskey. I was moaning about men to him and the situation's I was in. He turned to me and said,
"Well Carly, I have no sympathy for you. You have put yourself in these situations, because you let these guys do this to you. You only make yourself sad. Why do you let these dick heads into your life, when they never treated you well and so never deserved you in the first place! You don't need them! Either sort it out, do something about it and stop being the victim or shut up about it, because you have done it to yourself!"
I sat there for a second feeling a bit shocked by his rant, but then realised he was completely right. It was completely my own fault because I always let people treat me this way. That night I went and erased everyone from life, who didn't treat me right, who let me down or who played games with me. Those who it was not possible to erase from my life, I changed my mind set to; I let go of them and moved on. It was time to stop making myself unhappy. It was quite liberating and I felt so much better instantly. I liked wise Biskey. He gave me the kick up the arse I needed.
I dropped Biskey at the airport where I had picked him up 2 months earlier. I felt really sad. With that chance meeting in Colombia, I realised I had made a true friend. I know I will see him again. Now I just need to, some how get my ass to the other side of the world for a full reunion with all the pussy fags. Now that will be a story worth telling believe me!

3 FILMS YOU HAVE TO WATCH

2011-10-04T07:06:00.000-07:00

First up is The Skin I live in which is the latest offering from Pedro Almodovar. It's dark, twisted and completely amazing, as well as having one crazy twist in the plot. It's one of the best films I have seen in a long time and I made my housemates go out and watch it as well, so I could discuss it with them, as its one of the films you can't stop talking about. Elena Anaya is one of the most beautiful women ever to grace the screen and Antonio Banderas is as sexy as always. I also felt good as it was in Spanish so I felt like I might also be learning as well?

The other week I stayed in and watched a documentary film Called The Burden of Dreams. It was about the making of Werner Herzogs film Fitzcarraldo in the Amazon jungle. Herzog and his lead actor Klaus Kinski are totally insane; they film in the middle of nowhere in harsh conditions; everything goes wrong and basically it's complete chaos, so right up my street. Would of loved to have been on the crew. I love crazy people, it makes life far more interesting. I want to work with Herzog now!

Lastly is the film Drive. Beautifully acted, directed and shot. Great soundtrack too. Oh! and I'm totally in love with Ryan Gosling, who is the coolest man in film today. I love you Ryan. Go watch it now!

NEW DISCOVERIES

2011-10-04T05:30:00.000-07:00

I've lived in London nearly ten years now, but there is always something new to see, some place new to discover, it never stops. Maybe that's why I love it so much. This last week I have discovered two new places worth mentioning. First up is a place called Comptoir Libanais. I went to meet my friend Hannah for lunch the other day. We were in the centre of London, which for me most of the time is hard to find any where decent to eat. Its all chain's or tourist restaurants. Hannah said she knew a cool Lebanese cafe round the back of Oxford street, which she knew I would love. She was right. It was fun, bright, modern and the food was great at a reasonable price. They also have some cool Moroccan shopping bags, that I think I really must have.

COMPTOIR LIBANAIS

65 WIGMORE STREET

LONDON

W1U 1PZ

TEL: 0207 935 1110

Secondly up is Gordon's Wine bar. I went for a drink with my friend Oli, who introduced me to this place round the corner from Charing cross station, near the river. From the outside you would easily walk past it, with it scruffy old wooden facade, but walk down the stairs into the cellar where the bar is located, is like walking back in time. It's dark, smells, and is scruffy, but has so much character and looks like a seedy Victorian tavern, in a Dickens novel. As I love history, I totally loved this place. You should go just for the experience.

Gordon Wine Bar

47 Villiers Street

London

WC2N 6NE

TEL: 0207930 1408

TOLEDO: SOLA

2011-09-18T10:48:00.001-07:00

While I was with Martin, he told me something interesting. The word Tapas does not just mean a type of food. It means food that is shared. This sums up Spain totally for me. Everything in this country is about sharing; family comes first; community is important and socialising runs deep in people's veins. I thought the south Americans were a friendly race but it seems the Spanish are just as nice, if not even more. It made me think what a cold, odd bunch, we British are. Actually underneath it all we are not, just a little bit repressed, and not sure how to express our emotions properly, hence we drink too much (Well that's the excuse I give to other nations every time I see ANOTHER drunk Brit collapsed or puking in the street)!

So I'm sat at a train station in Madrid waiting for a train to Toledo, and I'm feeling quite sorry for myself, as I've messed up the time I could of had with Martin and I'm nervous about being on my own all of a sudden. I hate it when one feels sorry for themselves as I think it's a little bit pathetic. I decide to snap myself out of it. Besides I tell myself, why the hell are you nervous about traveling for 3 days in Spain on your own; you have just spent the last 5 months traveling around south America on your own! Sort it out!
I arrive at Toledo, and realise I haven't got a clue where I'm going to stay, so I ask my taxi driver in bad Spanish to take me to the cheapest place he knows. He drops me near a small hotel on the outskirts of the old walls of the city and puts me into the care of the owner (A friend of his), a middle age señora who has a face like a bull dog chewing on a wasp. I'm a bit scared of her.
"How many people?" she barks at me in Spanish.
" Just me" I reply quickly
"What! Your on your own?"
"Si. Estoy sola" I reply.
She suddenly softens. Oh my God! I think she feels sorry for me. No I don't want you to feel sorry for me!
"Porque (Why)? She now asks.
That's a bit bloody personal I think, but as I'm still scared of her I answer, in bad Spanish.
"I was working in Spain and now I'm on vacation". I was going to tell her that I actually might not have been on my own, if I'd hadn't of messed up by not being open with a guy, but as I don't have the words to say that in Spanish I think we would have been there till Christmas, and besides she was already starting to look bored. She shows me to my room. Within in 5 minutes of being there I manage to lock myself out of my room, then I can't open the door when I get another key, and I can't get the wi-fi to work (How the hell did I survive in South America)! This seems to annoy señora a lot as it keeps interrupting her cigarette. I don't think this is a bad thing though as I thinks she smokes to much anyway.

As I set out on a walk of the city, señora and her husband (who believe it or not is quite handsome and younger than her; well done señora!) give me a detailed map and instructions as by now señora believes I am totally useless and shouldn't really be let loose on my own.
Now I'd read about Toledo and Martin had told me it was one of the most beautiful places in Spain. It also use to be the old capital of Spain before Madrid. It didn't disappoint. The medieval city perched high on a hill is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. It is also very romantic! As I walked round all I could see were couples walking round, kissing and holding hands. Great! Just what I need I thought. Toledo as well as being pretty is a complete maze and in no time I'm completely lost amongst the narrow medieval streets. While looking a señora's map for the hundredth time, thinking, "Wasn't I on this street five minutes ago"? I notice a man watching me, smoking a cigarette. As I walked on I realised he was too. Fifteen minutes later with the map back out, he's still there following me and not making a very good job of disguising it. It's nearly dark now, I'm totally lost still and starving. I find the nearest restaurant, and sit down. My stalker decides on the same restaurant and sits down at a table opposite mine and just sits there staring at me, still smoking a cigarette. Great! The waiter comes over and whacks down two menu's with the impression that someone is coming to joining me.
"No. I only need one. I'm alone" I say in Spanish.
"Oh! Sorry" he said.
The stalker is still staring and smoking. I decide I want paella as I'm in Spain and I haven't had any yet. The waiter returns to take my order.
"I'll have the paella please".
"I'm sorry but the paella is for two people, it's not a single person dish".
What! What! I'm on my own, due to my own doing, in probably one of the romantic places I have been to, I'm totally lost, starving, I've got some freak stalker sat there just smoking and staring at me like he has done for the last half an hour and all I want is a bloody paella and you can't give it to me because I'm SOLA!!! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!! Of course I don't say this as I'm English. I just smile and ask for the salad instead.
I decide to call it a night and lose the stalker, finally find my way back to the hotel and sit content on my bed. A bit of telly before bed, I think to myself. I switch the telly on to find a couple making love. Double arrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

I loved my time in Toledo but I didn't feel comfort being on my own there, which is strange for someone who has travelled half the world on her own. I felt wave of comfort at the thought of going back to Madrid, as I sat waiting for the train. That was until I got sat with three American women, who during my 45 minute journey with them, didn't let me get a word in edge ways, but I don't think I could of spoke if they let me anyway, as I was to busy staring at their bad plastic surgery! They were also fanning themselves every two seconds with their fans, which I wondered was, because they were soooooo plastic they thought they might be melting in the heat. During my journey I learnt or was told that I should travel the world as much as possible (I actually have but you didn't give me the chance to say that), to have as many lovers as possible (One of them did ask me if I was single, but didn't wait for the reply), and make sure there as rich as possible (Well if you had asked me if I was materialistic or false, I would of reply, NO)! I guess it was a interesting journey though.

I checked into a hostel, with the guy behind the front desk thinking he was pretty smooth asking me where I had just come from.
"Toledo" I replied
"And did you like it?" he asked
"Yes! It was very beautiful"!
"Not as beautiful as you. You are more beautiful than Toledo" he said. Oh my God! He must think I was born yesterday. I bet he says that to every girl that comes here.
As I settle into my dormitory a fellow roomy checks in. She is another American and looks very nervous.
"I've never stayed in a hostel before" she tells me, " but this one looked nice on the Internet and the guy at the front is very nice. He just told me I was the most beautiful girl in the hostel!"
I knew it! She then asks me if I'm on my own. I tell her I was with a friend, and then a guy, but now I'm on my own. This seems to make her think that I'm good person to talk to then? The next thing I know I'm being told her whole life story, how she has left to travel because some guy in New York has broke her heart. She looks like she's going to cry. Oh no! She is! I've only known her 5 minutes. I don't really know what to do.
"Well there are plenty more fish in sea. Anyway I really have to go and get something to eat. Bye!"
I know I'm heartless.

I found myself a restaurant in a square and sat with my book and watched the world go by. It was there on my last night in Spain that I realised I was once again happy in my own company and it felt good. It's alright to be sola, I thought.

MADRID: A TALE OF A SHORT REUNION

2011-09-16T14:21:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was checking my emails as normal, when in between the usual old junk I get sent, I saw a message from a name I never thought I'd see again. It was Martin. For those of you who don't know or are not regular readers of this blog, Martin was a Spanish guy I met on my travels in Colombia, who lived and worked there. Read this post Blondes have more fun, don't they? if you want to know more or a recap. Anyway back to the email. He wrote to tell me that he was back living in Madrid, that he had read my blog (How embarrassing!) and that we would one day meet again. I was surprised. We had not had any contact since I said goodbye, in Bogota. I had thought about contacting him again, but thought it pointless and presumed he would forget about me as soon as I left. I took it for what it was, a holiday romance and decided I had to be content with just the nice memories.

This email came at a time though, that by coincidence I had just found out I was going to be working in Spain for 2 weeks and by a even bigger coincidence I was planning to come to Madrid to meet up with my friend Bec's to do some sightseeing, after my job ended! I took this as a sign that I had to meet up with him.

I arrived in Madrid tired from working, but excited to be in a new city and to be hanging out on travels, like old times with one of my best friends, Bec's. Me and Bec's had traveled India together years ago and even though we are quite different, we also have very similar attributes which include being easy going and laid back. We also have a tendency of getting ourselves into situations. For example with only one month in India we managed to get molested by some Israeli guys; I got a chest and throat infection; I collapsed; Bec's cursed the God's thus getting a nose & eye infection that lasted for month's (never curse the God's); we tried to feed some monkeys which resulted in them trying to ransack our guesthouse, so we had to lock ourselves in our room only to be saved by some old Indian guy with an umbrella peg (I later saw a sign that said don't feed the monkeys: Oophs!); we went on a walk in the midday heat, over rocks, with no water and only wearing flip flops, only for bec's to fall over in the mud, and cut all her ankle open; Oh! Oh! and yes, there was the incident in the women's carriage on the train where we started a war and had a whole carriage of Indian women defending us and slamming the shutters down on all the male chi sellers, because they said something rude in Hindi about us, just because Bec's was showing her knee's (I never did find out what they actually said, but I'm sure it was something like slags or whores)! Yes! Me & Bec's certainly know how to travel?

Actually this trip passed without any trauma, though we did have to have our little Carly and Bec's moment which was to do with our timings. We all know that the Latin's like to go out late. So this is what me and Bec's decided to do. Unfortunately we decided to be more Latin than the Latin's and for 2 nights in a row found that we had left it too late to get food, as everywhere had stopped serving food. I like the fact that we got dressed up in our nice dresses (I mean breasts!), to stand on a backstreet in Madrid eating a €1 pizza from a takeaway and then finished our night stood over a air vent, thinking we were Marilyn Monroe, and not two silly girls who had probably exposed their knickers to most of the neighbourhood or the passing taxi drivers? True Carly & Becky class!

Bec's went back to London and I was left waiting nervously at a Metro station for Martin. As I sat there thoughts started flying through my head: What if I don't recognise him, it's been over 5 months since I last saw him and I never had a photo of him; what if he doesn't recognise me? ( Not likely, there is nothing about you that looks Latin remember!); What if he's different? What if it's uncomfortable? I decided to stop thinking and read my book instead. A couple of minutes later I heard a voice I knew and looked up to see him standing there. He looked the same (actually better, as he now had a tan) and I shouldn't of worried as he was still the same. He talked of his time in Colombia, his travels since then and how he was glad to be back in Madrid. I spoke of the rest of my adventures in South America. It was good to see him again and later as he was hugging me, as we talked and kissed he said " Its a shame that you are not staying more days in Spain". Oh! Maybe this is the point I should tell him something that maybe I should of mentioned by now?
" Well actually I am"!
"What, really"! He looks a little a bit shocked.
"Yeah, I decided to stay the weekend so I'm going home Monday now, not tomorrow".
He looks confused now. "Why didn't you tell me"?
Yes why didn't I tell him? I'm starting to feel a bit stupid now, so I do what I do best and go on the defence.
"Well I thought you'd be busy anyway, you always are".
I'm now thinking that he is thinking I'm mad.
"Well I actually didn't have any plans for this weekend until a couple of days ago. I've just booked and paid to go away with all my friends (He was going on Spain's version of a stag do). If I'd known I would of rearranged it. How long have you known you were staying"? I turn into a little girl and feel the colour run to my cheeks (He seems to have this effect on me) and I reply with embarrassment "Over a week".
I'm actually starting to think I'm mad too and feeling very silly. Now, what was my reasonings for not telling him? I believe it was:
1. I am an independent woman and I like to do my own thing.

2. I do not like to depend on anyone.

3. I don't need to spend much time with anyone.

4. I'm just God dam stubborn!

5. I can't think of a fifth.

Erase all of the above I'm just stupid and shit with men. It's now sat there talking to him, I realise I did want to spend the weekend with him, I just couldn't admit it to myself. Loca chica.

I decide to get over my bad decision quickly as what's done is done. Martin decided to show the way a real Spanish Tapas was done. Now me and Bec's had walked past a lot of the traditional Spanish cafe's but found it quite intimidating as we couldn't figure out how it quite worked. Now I know this sounds a little dumb, but it wasn't like how a normal restaurant worked. So this is how to do it. Firstly no one really sits down, or if they do, it's at small tables with no set place. First thing to do is to get a small beer, then comes a basket of bread. The only menu is on the wall and you order behind the bar. This place we went to did croquette tapas. Martin ordered 8 different favours which came on one plate which we then shared between us. Then Martin tried to navigate me through Madrid's bars. Madrid has more bars than any other city in the world, six in fact to every 100 inhabitants. After going to another bar for more tapas, we found ourselves in an Indie bar, which seem quite strange for me to be singing along to the Happy Mondays in the middle of Madrid. To be fair though we spent most of our time with Martin trying to attempt to teach me more Spanish. Now this under normal circumstances is a hard task indeed; under the influence of alcohol, it's virtually impossible, though actually more fun, as it turned into a tipsy game of hangman and scribbles on any piece of paper we could find. Believe it or not I did remember and learn something that night, but I'm not telling you what it was! The night ended in another bar, with me downing a free tequila shot with the barman. Always a good end to a night.

The next afternoon I found myself with my backpack at the same metro stop with Martin where I had met him the day before, but this time we were saying goodbye. We hugged and said it was nice to see each other again. He couldn't believe I was still staying on in Spain, I was reminded again of my stupid mistake. I asked him if he thought we would see each other again. He said he thought we would, but as I said goodbye I thought it was for the last time, but then I thought it last time. I am learning to say never say never again. Who knows? One thing I do know though, is, if it does happen again I will give him some notice this time. Lesson learnt! Next stop Toledo, on my own or as they say in Spanish; Sola!

OBSERVATIONS

* The Spanish seem to eat their bread plain without any butter like I do, which makes me very happy as I don't feel like a freak anymore. Thank you.

* I thought the Argentineans or the Brazilians were the most beautiful race but I think the Spanish may beat them, well the young population anyway, the old become like the rest of us.

* There really big on serving you ready salted crisps with every thing!

* Bec's told me how to recognise the people they call Barcelona Types: they usually have lots of piercings, wear bad tie dye clothing, have one or two dreadlocks hanging from the back of their heads and look like they haven't washed in a year. So like most of the travellers I met in India.

GOOD GIRLS GO TO HEAVEN, BAD GIRLS GO TO BENIDORM!

2011-09-10T13:30:00.001-07:00

The other year my friend Debbie thought about asking me, to work with her on a TV programme called Benidorm. She quickly retracted the offer with her saying; "Carly, you single, abroad, in the sun, in hotel with all the crew, is just going to be a complete nightmare!" I was very offended at first, but then I thought about it for a minute and knew she was completely right!

That said, she seemed to forget these factors very quickly this year, when she was desperate for someone to cover her supervising while she was on another job, as she asked me! Her reasoning was that I was doing most of the job prepping in London and only actually got 2 weeks in Spain, so I couldn't get up to much trouble in that time, could I? Hello! How long has she known me!

For my international followers, if you do not know what Benidorm is, it is a tourist destination for lots of British people in Spain, and they are usually the worst kind of Brits. Yes they are Brits a broad! Now let me put down in words the criteria for being a Brit aboard:
1. They are usually chav's (this is English slang for common people, that don't pronounce words right & have no class)!

2. They are mostly fat and overweight.

3. They usually have really bad sun burn. This is because they still haven't learnt that getting burnt doesn't actually give you a tan but skin cancer!

4. Owning to the above they are also thick or of little intelligence.

5. They usually have lots of bad tattoos or tramp stamps, as my sister likes to call them.

6. Their diet usually consists mainly of alcohol and fry ups, or anything they eat back in England, as foreign food is classed as something alien to them and maybe a little scary.

7. They spend 99% of the time drunk or hungover.

This is the criteria of Brits aboard, and it is actually this type of people that the show I'm working on is about. It's quite funny, as the Brits aboard love the show, even though it's taking the complete piss out of them. Everywhere the cast go, they get swamped with people wanting their photos and autographs. It's all very crazy.

After getting off the plane, checking into my hotel quickly it was straight to work. Our costume room and where we film is situated at another hotel down the road. Now I have a confession to make here. Me and my family had a family holiday years ago at the very hotel where Benidorm is filmed. I know, I can't believe a lady would admit to that. To be fair though, I have nothing but good memories of that holiday, but I was young and saw things with different eyes back then. A rosey tinted vision. I don't have those eyes anymore though. I now have the eyes of a 31 year old woman who has seen a lot and travelled the world. So I always knew that Benidorm was going to be a bit of a shock and it didn't disappoint in that aspect. As I walked to the entrance of the hotel of my childhood past, I was greeted by a fat chain smoking woman, covered in tatoos, with sunburn, sat in a mobility scooter. Now mobility scooters are all the rage in Benidorm, they even have tandem ones. This is not because there are loads of disabled people there, in fact there are probably none. No! It's because they are all too God dam lazy to walk, which I think was the case with this woman. Also with her was an equally over weight man, also smoking and covered in tattoo's. There was also a child playing with a ball beside them. The next thing the fat woman shouts at the child:
"Stacey stop playing with that f**cking ball and f**cking get back here"!
She then turns to the fat guy, who I presume to be her husband.
"Where are the rest of the f**cking kids"?
The fat guy replies, "I don't f**cking know! Probably in the f**cking pool where we left them you stupid bitch"!
The fat woman retorts, "Well you can go and f**cking find them, I'm off to get a drink. F**cking come on Stacey"! And with that she scooters off, dragging the child behind her; the man still sits there smoking and I'm just left standing there thinking I've arrived in my version of HELL!

During our 2 days of none stop work, unpacking costumes me and Delphine would sit and take our breaks on the balcony and watch the world go by. Delphine who is my designer is a amazing woman. She is intelligent, cultured, lived a life most full, has pink hair and is one of the nicest people ever. So you would think with all that I have said about her she would hate Benidorm. Not at all in fact she loves it! She has been filming Benidorm for 4 years and loves returning everytime. "Look " she said as we sat there on the balcony, "Where can you get people watching like this, anywhere else in the world. It's amazing"! I guess she is right, and after my initial shock of Benidorm, I decided to give it a chance. So it wasn't anywhere I would chose to go on holiday but there were many good things about this job, I thought:

1. I can walk to work in 5 minutes, something that I've never been able to do it the 10 years I have done this job.

2. I can go to work in a summer dress and flip flops.

3. I do the ironing on a balcony in the sun, instead of a freezing truck with no windows.

4. I can go for a swim in the outdoor pool after work and have a piña colada after a couple of lengths ( I know it kind of defeats the object of doing lengths)!

5. I can sit and have a drink after work, by the beach and watch the sun go down (There seems to be a lot of drinking involved in these pros if the job).

6. In the old town there is some amazing Spanish food.

7. The crew are lovely.

8. My hotel is nice.

9. Actually people a really friendly here, even when drunk!

10. I get to practice my bad Spanish.

As a lot of the crew and extras are Spanish, the little Spanish that I do know has come in useful. Though sometimes this becomes lost in translation and vice versa with the Spanish talking English. Take for example one of my conversations with one of the Spanish drivers. Rueben the driver, was having one of his flirty but nice chats with me again when he suddenly said,
"I love your breasts"!
I stood there speechless. It got worse as he then said:
"Each day they get lovelier and lovelier".
How rude I thought. Maybe this is how you talk to women in Spain but not me! I was just about to give him a piece of my mind, when I saw him touching my hem and realised he said dress in a heavy Spanish accent, not breasts. Oophs!

Another good thing is your days off. How many days do you get off and go to the beach. On my last day off me and the girls decided to spend the whole day on the beach. Instead of going to the main beach and being squashed like sardines in a tin, we decided to head to a little cove round the bay.

It was quiet, beautiful and away from the masses. It also appeared to be a nudist beach! Now I don't have a problem with the naked body, but It is a bit weird when your sat there reading and all you can see is a burnt bare bum or a penis flopping around as someone runs out the water. It is even stranger when a little old naked man who is old enough to be your grandad, is there, trying to help you put up your umbrella, while your trying very hard not to look at his wrinkly old penis, which is impossible as he just sits there talking to you with his legs spread wide apart. Not pleasant! Well if you can't beat them join them. So me and Nat decided to go topless which I'd forgotten how liberating it was. Don't worry I didn't go the full monty, imagine burning down there! All was going well until the camera boys decided to join us! You have never seen two girls but their tops on so fast. I believed we had got away with it and didn't have to go to work the next day with the whole camera department looking at us, thinking I've seen your breasts. That was until one of the camera guys told Make up he had a great zoom lens camera and got some great shots at the beach that day! Oh my God!

My time in Benidorm went quick. Too quick. In fact I had a great time there and I will go as far to say I will miss it. Benidorm may not be my heaven but you can always find the good in the bad.

I LOVE LONDON

2011-08-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

I think I was seven, maybe eight when I first came to London. My dad took me and the twins on a long weekend, to the big city I had heard so much about for so long; our capital. Instead of being daunted by this great metropolis, like a small child should, I soaked it in and savoured every minute. I guess it was love a first sight. When I left I remember feeling so sad to leave the place and having to go back to the dullness of Warrington, but I told myself I would come back, and that one day I would live here. Fourteen years later I did. I'm not going to lie to you, it was hard at first. The pace of life, the hardness to get even simple things done, and the coldness of people after being brought up with the warmness of the people of the north. It didn't last long though, I soon came to love the pace of life and the energy of the city. The thing that I came to cherish the most was the acceptance. I never fitted in, in Warrington. I watched, read and liked the wrong things, to ever be like everyone else. Sometimes I was called weird, sometimes I was frustrated when I wanted to speak about things that people just didn't get and all I would recieve back was a blank expression; and sometimes I felt completely trapped by it all. London lets you be who ever you want to be. It's OK to be different, to wear what you want, to be as free as you want. This is why I love London, because it excepts you for who you are. It excepts me. For a long time I always use to say home was back in Warrington, but over the last couple of years I have started to say London is my home, because it truly is now.

I guess this was why I was so sad this last week, with what I saw happening to this city that I love. It was like the place lost it mind or the should I say some of the people did. I got caught up in riots in La Paz in Bolivia, running from water cannons and dynamite. I don't agree really with any form of rioting, but in La Paz there was a different feel to the riots. It felt like people were fighting for a reason, united in a strong cause. What I saw this week in London, was just mindless violence, that had no cause other than to wreck the lives and communities of the people they lived with. It made me a shamed to be British. There is something within this nation that feels the need to fight and be aggressive and this is the side of the British I hate. Luckily this is a small minority, but unfortunately this is what reflects of us on the rest of the world. When I travel I get very frustrated with the awful stereotypes that people have of the British.

"You don't seem very British!" people will say to me.

"Why what is a British person meant to be like?" is my response.

"Well you don't get drunk all the time (I know some readers might find this hard to believe), you don't start fights, you don't burn in the sun, your not a slag and you don't drink tea!"

Its ashame that people don't know about the good sides of the British; We are polite, we are hard workers, we can laugh at ourselves and the most important thing, you can knocks us down but we will always pick ourselves up again. This why I know that this country and this city I love will overcome this terrible week. London I still love you and always will.

All the photos in this post are by my old photographer housemate Guilherme Zauith from brazil, who actually got threatened and a bottle put to his throat by youths, while taking them. Check all the photos out at Demotix.http://www.demotix.com/photo/786826/riots

THE WINEHOUSE

2011-07-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

Say what you like about like about the Winehouse, but one thing that can't be denied is the fact that she had the most amazing voice and lyrics with meaning. This is probably not her most famous song, but its my favourite. RIP Amy.

BAG LADY

2011-07-25T11:51:00.001-07:00

Hello! Welcome to my life; the life I have had for over 7 months now. Yes! My life of living out of a bag! Just call me bag lady! It never bothers me living out of bag when I'm on the road; it's seems like a small sacrifice in exchange for having the time of your life. It's different though when your back in your own country. Due to the fact I got a job in Birmingham as soon as I hit home soil, I decided to keep renting my room out. This has meant I have continued my nomadic existence, but I was use to it I told myself. Last week though it happened. I finally snapped! I couldn't take it anymore; this routing around in bags trying to find your basic things; the packing; the unpacking. I had a tantrum (or a Kevin) and threw all my clothes out of my bag and started shouting, "I can't take this ANYMORE!" Frank and Linda (my Brummie landlords) must of thought they had rented their room to a complete nutter!
Luckily I've finished my job now, I'm back in London and I get my room back this week. Thank the lord! Otherwise I think I was going to have some sort of breakdown (well more tantrums of throwing clothes around a room)! I think it's time to put some roots down again now

5 SONGS I CAN'T STOP LISTENING TO AT THE MOMENT.

2011-07-10T08:38:00.000-07:00

The Libertines: Music when the lights go out

Yellow Hammer: You and I

Belleruche: Northern Girls

Fela Kuti: Alu Jon Jonki Jon

Gonjasufi: Sheep

I DO?

2011-07-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

"Don't you want to get married Carly?" is a question I get asked a lot these days. You see at the age of 31, most people are expecting me to be married off by now or a least have something on the horizon. I can see peoples brains go into over drive. Whats wrong with her, there must be something wrong with her, they think. Maybe she has no personality; maybe she is weird or maybe! Maybe she is a lesbian! Well most people tell me I have too bigger personality; we are all slightly weird in our own way; and I did kiss a girl at Uni in the bar, because this guy said he would buy us pizza if we did, if that counts as being a lesbian (God the things you do at university)! There is also could be the reason that maybe I'm just not that bothered about getting married. I don't feel that a piece of paper and a change of your name should change the way you feel about someone. I would never say never. Maybe if I fell deeply in love with someone, I could feel differently about it, but right now its not high on my list of priorities. All that said I do love going to other peoples weddings: food, drink and one big party. You also get a good excuse to buy a new outfit.

Its the start of the wedding season again and first up this year, was the wedding of my cousin, Ryan to the beautiful Hannah. They have been together 9 years, are totally in love, and cried a lot throughtout the day along with most members of the family (With happiness of course). Don't worry I didn't. I don't cry at weddings! It was a great chance to catch up with all my family, many who I haven't seen since before I went traveling. I was sat at the most noisy table again, which got a bit riotous during the sing a long with the piano player; I spilt red wine all over the ushers white shirt (embarassing!); everyone had a good old dance and I did my usual trick of walking round bare foot (I hate heels) and then had my mother on my back back to put them back on as there could be glass on the floor. Of course I never put them back on, as I never do as I'm told, and finished the night with black feet. Always the sign of a good wedding for me.

THE HOUR

2011-07-10T06:59:00.000-07:00

Please check out this trailer for a drama called The Hour. It was the last job I worked on before I went traveling. Lets just say it wasn't the easiest job I have ever worked on. In fact at times I felt like it was going to kill me (OK; maybe a bit dramatic), but it was knackering and very full on. All that said it had an amazing crew, the best written scripts I have ever read (Abbie Morgan is a genuis), a extremely talented cast (Ben Whishaw, Romala Garai and Dominic West; boy they can act!) and of course some beautiful costumes. It should be good. Watch it on BBC2 Tuesday 19th July 9pm or else!

NICHOLAS

2011-06-19T02:13:00.001-07:00

So it's Saturday; I'm back in London and I'm walking down Upper street, after going to see Olga (Olga is my waxer and boy have I missed her during my 5 months in South America). I have a whole productive day planned for myself, but even though I don't know it yet, this is all going to go to ruin, because the next minute I bump into Nicholas in the street. Nicholas is a friend of my housemate Alex who I have got to know over the years. He's one of those people you really shouldn't like: he's annoying, arrogant and talks a lot of shit, but for some strange reason you do end up liking him. He's also a terrible womaniser. I think he has lost count of how many women he has bedded. I would like to state now that I am not one of them, though he tries his hardest to get me into bed every time I see him. The first time I met him at a party, he came onto me even though I had a boyfriend at the time by telling me I looked like a beautiful Russian princess because I was drunk wearing a fur hat. I told him to piss off! Our relationship has been pretty much the same since.
So here he is in front of me. I haven't seen him in over six months. He's feeling good because he's lost over 2 stone in weight and he's completely smashed from partying the night before, stinks of alcohol and hasn't been to bed. The next thing I know, I'm sat in bar with him at eleven o'clock in the morning, with him saying let's get a drink.
"Just one Nic" I say determinedly "I have stuff I have to do today. I've got to go to my Osteopath soon."
Two hours later and completely drunk, stood outside a bar in Islington, I'm on the phone to my Osteopath.
"Hello. It's carly. I've got an appointment with you in 15 minutes. I'm afraid I can't make it. Someone has crashed into my car!"
"Oh no! Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, but I have to wait for the AA to pick up my car. I know I'm cancelling last minute, so I'll just pay for the session."
"No! We can't charge you. It's not your fault you have had an accident. No charge at all and I hope you and your car are ok, Miss Griffith."
"Thanks so much and goodbye."
Oh my God! I really am going to go to hell this time, though I've actually realised I'm a better liar than I thought I was.
Since I got back from traveling, I've felt while I was away that everyone has settled down and are getting serious with their lives. As I'm not in this place at all in life, I've found it all a little scary. Who am I going to go out and party with anymore? Well a least there are always people like Nicholas, who will never settle down. Wrong! No something terrible has happened. Nicholas has fallen in love!
"But you can't be in love! Your Nicholas!" I protest.
"I am" he replies "I've met the woman for me. I can't get her out of my head. This is why I've lost so much weight. I can't eat, I can't sleep. She drives me crazy."
I sit listening in disbelief. I tell him I'm happy for him, which I am, but it's another person succumbing to growing up and it's Nicholas of all people! It scares me. As I sit there, I think maybe it's time, that I start to go up. Maybe I should try and become an adult.
A couple of hours and drinks later, with most of the conversation having been about "How in love" Nic is, I realise I'm completely drunk and can hardly see straight. Nic bundles me off into a taxi as he has to go to the ballet with his girl that night, even though he's wasted (actually there is nothing grown up about his behaviour at all). I finish my day with my head over the toilet bowl being sick for the first time in ages, my productive Saturday in tatters(Bloody Nicholas)! It was at that moment that the thought of becoming a little bit more grown up, didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

A DAY ON THE RIVER

2011-06-16T14:43:00.001-07:00

OK, so for those of you who follow my blog, you will remember that the last time I was on a boat, was the nightmare journey from Panama to Colombia, on which I spent most of my time, throwing up, exhausted and at breaking point! So you can imagine that when I found out we were going on a boat for my friend Ali's surprise 30th, my body was filled with a sense of dread. Luckily when I turned up at Caversham bridge in Reading, I realised this was not going to be a sailing boat on the Caribbean ocean, but a canal barge on the Thames. In fact this experience on a boat couldn't have been more different. It was pure bliss. The sun shone all day; we drank bottles of Champagne and cava; ate great food and I got to perv at all the hot rowers doing their stuff on the river (one of my friends told me I was a menace to men. I told her I was alright with that).

The best thing about the day though was catching up with loads of friends I haven't seen in ages and who I missed lots while I was away. I bored them with the real Stories of my travels. They filled me in on there lives while I was away. I felt everyone has grown up so much while I've been away. God! Maybe we are now really turning into adults.

Ali, as she always does, took it upon herself to try and set me up with someone, as I think she worries as I'm the only single one left of her friends.
"What do you think of kevin's friend over there?"
"He's really not my type Ali. Besides he all dressed in beige!" I said
"But he's got a Ferrari."
"I think it will take a lot more than a Ferrari, Ali for me to fancy him!" was my reply. I later found out he drives home every week for his mum to do his washing. Definitely not my type. I'd eat him for breakfast. So can I just say, to my friends now: Please can you all just try and stop setting me up with people. I hate it and I'm perfectly fine on my own!

There was one important person I got to see for the first time: Stan! Stan is the 6 month old baby of my friend Claire, who was born just before I went away. He's a big deal as Claire is the first of us to have a baby. Now Stan hadn't met his Aunty Carly yet, but Aunty Carly isn't very good with babies. It's not that I hate babies, it's just that I'm not very good with them; I'm too selfish. I'm not saying I don't want kids, but there not something that is natural to me, but I have to say that I fell in love with Stan. If I could pre order a baby (Claire told me it doesn't work like that!) I would get myself a Stan. He never cries, he is so chilled and he looks cool. He even wasn't bother been held and fed by drunk Aunty Carly! All That said, I still wouldn't change his nappy. Claire said she is determined to make me do it one day. I told her she has a battle on her hand, if she thinks I'm ever going to change a babies nappy! It was a perfect day.

BACK TO REALITY

2011-06-14T15:08:00.001-07:00

The other day, with a few moments to myself, I lay on the grass and shut my eyes. As the sun shone on my face I tried to pretend to myself I was back in south America and for a few seconds I really believed I was, until my little day dream was shattered by the yell of,
"Crew rehearsal!!!" My eyes shot open and I realised I was not in Argentina, or Brazil or even Colombia. No! I was in BIRMINGHAM!

Yes people, less than two weeks after getting back from the wonders of South America, I seem to have found myself filming on a TV drama, called Land Girls for the BBC, in BIRMINGHAM! When the job was proposed to me, it ticked all the boxes; 5 day working week (nice); 1940s period drama (nice); working with the Wonderful Giles and one of my best friends, the beautiful Becky Brown (even nicer)! Oh, but it's daytime drama (I've moved onto better things these days darlings) and its filming in BIRMINGHAM! I hate BIRMINGHAM! Also after living out of a bag for 5 months I was desperate to be back in London and get settled in the warehouse again, but beggars can't be chooses and after getting back from my travels I was totally broke. I needed money pronto and this job was starting straight away and gives me 2 months solid work and the chance to get back on my feet. Besides its 5 day weeks; I can go back to London every weekend or go and see my family, I thought to myself. I also tried to think about other good things in Birmingham? Well 2 of my best friends have moved there; Claire who now has a baby and Debs who moved to be with her boyfriend (God, she must love him a lot)! After that all I could come up with for Birmingham was Cadburys chocolate, but I do like chocolate a lot, so I suppose that is quite good?

I really can't complain about this job though at all. The crew are lovely; the cast are the nicest ever and there is some eye candy for me to look at (my being a "nun phase" is going to last 2 minutes)! Besides work has taken my mind off the fact that I'm back in England and hasn't really given me chance to get sad, as I'm so busy.

I'm renting a room off a family that I found through the BBC housing list. It's a middle aged Mum and Dad and their grown adult son, who I think is older than me. When I arrived his face lit up like he'd never seen a girl before (I've got the feeling he's not that experienced with women)? In fact he's still got his childhood door plaques with his name on, nailed on his bedroom door. I also hear him when I get in late at night from working split days, playing on his Playstation. Maybe he's waiting up for me? I keep thinking I'll wake up in the middle of the night with him sat there watching me sleep, and then say,
"Hello Carly! Will you kiss me, as I've never kissed a woman before"!
Arrrghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! I've started to lock my door at night!

Filming has been quite fun; I'm filming in a stately home which has a bar call Dickabels (what the hell); which has Sequin cushions and a disco ball (I think the Lord and Lady must have swingers parties there)! There is also a huge cardboard cut out of Robert Patterson, and even though I hate Twlight, I did find myself having my picture taken kissing it! Oh my God! Is this what my love life is now reduced to; kissing cardboard cut outs of Robert Patterson! I need to go back to South America! Now!

A first happened the other day. Filming was stopped due a pensioners day out walking onto set with their guided tour, by accident. It didn't seem to bother them though, as they carried on with the tour as if we weren't there (they were old though; maybe they couldn't see a WHOLE cast and crew trying to film in front of them)! Well on the bright side we did all learn about the whole history of the house (actually maybe it was only me that thought it was good due to the fact I'm a history geek)!

I guess reality isn't too bad, at the moment. I'm just throwing myself into work for the time being and concentrating on not going back to the way I felt before I left, because right now I'm feeling the best I have done in ages. I want it to last.

SUNSET

2011-06-11T13:54:00.001-07:00

You know what? I've been away for 5 months travelling the exotic lands of south America, but nothing there came close to a Hackney Wick, London sunset. One word beautiful! Who said England is not beautiful?

WELCOME HOME

2011-06-01T11:38:00.001-07:00

I never really know what I'm going to come home to on a daily basis in my place in London: a photo shoot in the flat; a cat falling from the ceiling or a gathering that seems to have turned into a party again. So after 5 months away I really, really didn't know what the hell, I was going to find when I walked through the door. To my surprise I found a calm empty house. I had the place to myself. It was quite nice to be eased back into my surroundings. It was still the same, but different. The warehouse which was already cluttered with stuff seemed to have accumulated much more. I find out we have been donated Alex's, dead uncle Roy's stuff, which includes framed pictures of Dead uncle Roy's dead cats, which now sit over Moomin Troll's bed like a shrine; all of dead uncle Roy's ceramic collection, which includes Diana & Charles memorabilia; and pictures of dead uncle Roy himself.

Please add to this a ton of crystal wear which Oli got from working in the art department on the film, The Iron Lady. I tell Oli that maybe we could sell them on eBay and say "As used by Meryl Streep!" I asked if Meryl drank from any of the glasses because then we could add they have Meryl Streep germs too. I don't think Oli likes my eBay idea?

I also see some very unwanted additions! More God dam dolls! Oli keeps finding the most horrible, ugly dolls and puppets around Hackney wick and brings them back to the flat! I'm scared of them and hate them too. In the past the boys of my house, have found it really funny to put them in my bed and sit there waiting to hear my screams when I find them. I got my revenge though, at our Jane Fonda Party when I got some girls who I didn't know to throw them on the bonfire we had going outside, so I wouldn't get in trouble. Unfortunately one of them survived and Oli found out I was the culprit anyway! I'm now thinking of ways to get rid of this new batch!

Three people that were home, were our cats, Hank, Cassius and Moomin Troll. I had missed them so much while I was away and was so excited to see them, but as I greeted and hugged them, they looked at me like a complete stranger. No, I thought! They don't remember me. Well I have been away for 5 months. It will take time.

Oli arrived back and then later the whirlwind that is Alex, and they hadn't changed in the slightest. I realised then how much I loved them and how much I'd missed them. I guess there more than friends to me these days; there like my family also. I sat there chatting and probably boring them with the tales of my travels, for ages but I also felt anxious as I was awaiting the arrival home of 3 people in our house that were strangers to me. I had rented my room out to an Aussie girl called Tylie, Angus who is still traveling had rented his out to a Brazilian guy called Guilherme and my other housemate Rohan had moved in with his girlfriend while I was away, so in his place we had an English guy called Nick. Then suddenly everyone seem to come home at once, add to this our friends Melaine and Jenny bursting in very drunk also, it was all a bit overwhelming and all of a sudden I felt like a stranger in my own home.

Luckily I got to speak to my new housemates in a calmer setting the next day and it didn't take long for me to realise that they were all lovely. My unease was soon put to rest.

Alex being the Miss organised that she is, had decided to have a welcome home BBQ for me, though to be fair it was probably just a good excuse to throw another party in Oslo house. Everyone brought food and booze and I'm proud to say I cooked the best Asparagus and polenta quiche ever. Even Oli said it was amazing, and he's like master chef! This means a lot for girl who's known culinary skills consist of cereal with milk and peanut better on toast.

It was a great BBQ. The sun shone, loads of people turned up. I got to see and catch up with loads of friends and I found my feet once again in London. Alex had purposely invited lots of single guys, and kept coming up to me and saying "Well, do you fancy anyone?"
"No, I'm not really interested", I replied. It's the truth I really wasn't. I was just happy to see my friends, that's what mattered. I've decided that I'm really happy on my own right now. It's a nice feeling. If someone wants me, they can come and get me, as I'm not looking anymore. I'd grown so tired of the London dating scene before I left; all the games; the being messed around. The thought of going back to it fills me with a sense of dread. It still won't stop Alex trying to marry me off though, I expect.

Unfortunately my friend Melaine's new housemate, Greg decided he did want me and started following me around like a puppy dog, and then as he got more drunk started to tell everyone that he was going to "Smash me!" The only thing he smashed that night was himself as he passed out on the living room floor. God! Why do I always get them.

It feels nice to be back, but I've been traveling before and I know that this feeling doesn't last. After the excitement of being back, comes the fall of being back to reality. It's depressing. I know it will hit me, I just don't when and it doesn't matter how prepared you are for it, it always hits hard. Until then I will keep as busy as possible and pretend it won't happen. I start work again tomorrow, for the first time in over 5 months. Now that will be back to reality.

OBSERVATIONS:

* Hank our cat has got fatter

* My cat allergy is back

* People need to smile more in London

CONCLUSION: MY WAY

2011-06-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

"The real voyage of discovery consists

not in seeing new landscapes but in

having new eyes"

MARCEL PROUST

(This quote was written on my writing book that I took traveling with me. I always tried to bare this sentence in mind).

So I'm 31 years old. I have spent the last 5 months of my life living out of a bag, sharing rooms with complete strangers, moving from place to place, in a continent that I did not really speak the language, on the other side of the world, not knowing a single person, apart from the instant new friends I made along the way. I was sometimes tired, sometimes dirty, sometimes pushed to my limits. I have spent every last penny I owned. In fact I'm totally broke. I don't even know how I'm going to pay next months rent! Do I regret it? No, not for a minute. I have had the time of my life, this last 5 months. Any regrets? I made mistakes, some big mistakes, but I'm not perfect, but nor is anyone else. My only regret is that my adventure is over. Did I find life's answers? No, but I never expected to, but I know that I feel 100 times better and happier than the miserable state that I left in, back in December. Do I know what I want now? No of course not, I'm a woman! Though I do think, that I know now what I don't want. On this adventure I've tried to learn Spanish; tried to surf; tried scuba diving; trekked in the jungle with a bunch of crazy people; lived on a boat for a week, throwing up most of the time; I got caught in riots with dynamite and water cannons, cycled down the worlds most dangerous road; peed in front of a whole bus load of Peruvians; got drunk in a desert; went to watch Argentinean football; ate some of the worst food I have ever tasted; ate some of the best food I have ever tasted; pulled some hot guys; I met some weirdos and I met some of the best people ever, some of whom I know I will see again in this life.
This was the sometimes silly, sometimes reckless, sometimes stupid, sometimes corny, sometimes too emotional, but always honest (I don't know how to be any other way) account of a 31 year old backpacker and her adventures in Latin America, who did it her way. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did?

P.S To answer all of you that asked me the question time and time again, in a shocked tone "Does your mother read your blog?' Yes she does and so does my 80 year old grandmother, and guess what? They love it!

BEST COUNTRY: Colombia or Argentina. I can't decide.

BEST CITY: Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro

THE TOUGHEST TIME: That boat crossing from Panama to Colombia. I still feel sick just thinking about it.

THE WEIRDEST PERSON YOU MET: Still definitely Tim!!!!!!!! Read the post if you don't remember. Click here.

THE BEST HOSTEL: Almost Paradise in Nosara, Costa Rica of course, but Casa Los Molles in Tilcara, Argentina comes a close second.

THE WORST HOSTEL: Hostal Republica in La Paz, Bolivia, because the evil bitch that ran it, told us the wrong price and then chucked us out into the street at midnight because we refuse to pay her the full amount! Horrible staff, the worst customer service I have ever seen in my life. God, I'm actually still annoyed about that one!

THE BEST TREKK GROUP: Well it goes without saying really: Ciudad Perdida, the lost City tour. I salute and miss you all; Aussie Dingo's; Swissy Fags; German No 1, 2, 3; Ed the Italian whore and Nice guy Jess!

THE BEST GUIDE EVER: My Colombian husband, Carlos of course!

TAKE YOUR BREATH AWAY MOMENT: Iguazu Falls

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT: Mendoza, Argentina

BIGGEST SURPRISE: Chile! I wasn't meant to go there but loved it!

DIRTIEST MOMENT (NOT IN THAT WAY, BEFORE ALL YOUR FILTHY MINDS START GOING INTO OVER DRIVE)!: Getting off that boat from Panama after a week, with no fresh water and still having sick in my hair! I know, totally horrible!

BEST BEACH: Hollandaise in the San Blas islands for the beauty and isolation, but Ipanema, in Rio was great in a totally different way.

MOST DANGEROUS MOMENT: Probably getting caught in the riots in La Paz, Bolivia and nearly getting shot down by water cannons and hit by dynamite!

SCARIEST MOMENT: Falling over and nearly passing out in the street on my own in Peru with altitude sickness.

BIGGEST REGRET: Not traveling more of Brazil. Well its a good excuse to go back.

MOST PAINFUL MOMENT: My feet on the last day of the Lost City Trek!

THE NICEST PEOPLE: Hard one, but I think it has to be the the Colombians. I love them.

LEAST FAVOURITE PEOPLE: The Bolivians. One word: Attitude!

MOMENTS THAT MADE ME CRY: Leaving Almost Paradise; trying to learn Spanish; saying goodbye to my Colombian father and Spanish teacher Carlo; and finishing my adventure.

FAVOURITE FOOD: Ceviche, Empanada's; the meat in Argentina and Brazil!

WORST FOOD: Colombia!

NEW ADDICTION: Caipirinha's!!!!!!!!

THINGS THAT SEEM ODD NOW I'M BACK:

* Putting toilet paper down the loo and not in a bin.

* Looking the different way when crossing the road.

* Having a shower and it not going ice cold half way through shampooing my hair.

* Going to sleep in a bed and not worrying I'm going to wake up with bites all over me.

* Talking English and everyone understanding you.

* Wearing clothes which don't have holes in them.

* Using a hair dyer!

MY TOP FIVE TRAVELING TUNES FROM LATIN AMERICA:

Luis Enrique: Yo No Se Manana
This is such a cheesy song, which I would never normally like, but I heard it all around South America and it reminds me of such good times, that now I'm in love with it. Probably the tune of my whole travels. So bad its good.

Hector Lavoe: Periodico de Ayer.
This song just reminds me of the whole Salsa vibe of Latin America. Please watch this video, its hilarious, especially Hectors suit and look out for the woman in the chair in the background. So funny!

Wilson Simonal: Nem Vem Que Nao Tem
Brazilian smoothness and sexiness encapsulated in music.

Mercedes Sosa: La Pobrecita
No one sings with more feeling and emotion.

Bebel Gilberto: Samba da Bencao
Reminds me of being on Ipanema drinking from a coconut and looking at all those hot guys!!!!

BEST NIGHTS OUT:

* New years eve in an English pub in Costa Rica. Strange but so much fun.

* Taganga in Colombian with all the boy's. Crazy!!!!!

* The Salsa club with Martin in Bogota.

* Caipirinha nights in Rio.

FUNNIEST MOMENTS:

* The naked German guy in my room.

* Matt singing Rudolph the deep throat Reindeer to me after being sick on that boat.

* Being followed home by a white horse on new years eve while completely drunk, and freaking out!

* Seeing German No1, the middle aged business man, being completely stoned in that river in the jungle.

* Meeting the Aussies, though I didn't think it was at the time.

* Biskey asking if there was WI-Fi in jungle when he was totally wasted.

* Getting drunk in the desert.

* My Colombian driver, Caesar trying to seduce me while, wearing the ugliest Y-Fronts you have ever seen in your life. No thank you!

THE BEST BBQ EVER: Jeffery's and Owen's at Almost Paradise, just because it was so dis functional!

OTHER GOOD HOSTALS WORTH STAYING AT:

Ipanema beach house: Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

Media Luna: Cartagena, Colombia.

Hostal Rana: Villa de Leyva, Colombia

Hostal Rural: San Pedro Atacama, Chile.

Bothy Backpackers: Puno, Peru

Hostal Hansi: Bocas del Toro, Panama

La Casa Roja: Santiago, Chile

SPECIAL MENTIONS TO: Julie, Stefan, Hannah, Cat, Cat 2, Cat3, Carly 2, Charlie, Jeffery, Owen, Belle, Billie Sue, Thomas, Johnnes, Pete, Alex, Felix, Joe, Doug, Maggie, Rae, Utaw, Luc (Boca Grande), Brenda, Jasper,Angus, Dave, Nancy, Heike, TIM!!!!, All the sailors at Captain Jacks, Asif, Ken, Miguel, Matt, Nathan, Travis, Lauren, The Aussie Dingo's (Craig, Biskey, and Reuben), the Swissy Fags, German No1 (I eventually found out his real name is Chris!), German No 2, German No 3, Italian Ed, Jess, Carlos (my Colombian husband), Danielle, Angela, Martin, Colleen, Cyrile, Laura, Luis and clan, Beth, Carlos (My Colombian father), Sylvia, Sonja, Ronal, Eva, Tanja, The pea heads, Elliot, Rosie, Holly, Anna, Maria, The old Spanish guy in my dorm, Andy, Tai, the naked German guy in my room, Jasmin, Lucas, Alejandro, Marco, the angry Hungarian, Micheal, Eric, Fabrice, Jenny, Martha, Tom, Natasha, Dave, Natalie, the Brazilian guy at the front desk I kissed after to many Caipirinhas (God! How bad am I; I don't even no his name!), Igor, Victoria's secret and Billy. You have all contributed to my journey and made it memorable in one way, shape or form.

THE MOST IMPORTANT THING I LEARNT: Live for now!

AND NOW THE END IS NEAR AND SO I FACE THE FINAL CURTAIN

2011-05-30T18:07:00.001-07:00

"Are you American?"
"What! No!"
I was finding myself in my first, of what would be many crazy conversations with Ronál, a crazy guy who I met in Peru, who ran the guesthouse I stayed in. He would later ask me if I'd like to be his girlfriend. I told him I didn't think it would work out (besides he came up to my chest)! he continued:
"But you speak English very well!"
"Well funnily enough I'm from this place called England, where we speak English!" I said
"Haaa! You are the real English then?"
"I wasn't aware there was a fake version knocking around" I replied. Ronál just laughed and carried on. "So you English and Americans, you very much the same?" This was a question I got asked quite a lot around Latin America and everytime I gave the same reply: "No, not at all. In fact we couldn't be more different!"

Now that I found myself in Miami, I was now reminded of this fact. You see I realise that every time I come to America, I don't quite get it. We may speak the same language, but Miami felt more alien to me than any other place I had been on my travels. You see for me the American Mentality is bigger is better, everything in your face and confidence dripping from ever pore. The English mentality is let's not make a big song and dance about things, let's just take the piss out of ourselves and we will just take the easy options because we don't want to cause any fuss! We are complete opposites. This is why I find America so fascinating; because I just don't get it!

I had to fly home via the States, so I decided to stop off in Miami for 4 days to see my friend Billy. Billy who's real name is actually Chris (long story!), had been my travel guide round Latin America, as he traveled my route the year before, and had given me handy tips and advice throughout my journey. I'd not seen him in nearly 2 years as he'd been traveling for a year and then landed himself a job with an Argentinean company but got posted to Miami.

I arrived in Miami, totally exhausted. After 2 weeks of continual partying in Buenos Aires and Rio, my skin was bad, I had bags under my eyes, My throat was sore and I was pale after two and half months with no real sun. Basically I felt like shit. In London I always remember Billy being just as up for a party as I was, so I prepared myself for another onslaught of drinking and late nights. Oh God, I thought to myself, I'm going to go back to London a total wreck, so you can imagine my surprise, but totally relief when Billy turned round to me and said, he was rather tired, not feeling 100% and would I mind if we took it easy. "I couldn't be happier", I replied and I really meant it. I guess I'm not as young as I use to be.

I hadn't really experienced any privacy or home comforts since staying at Martins in Colombia and that was over 2 months ago. Since then it had become the norm to share a room and bathroom with about a billion other people. After nearly 5 months on the road, Billy's place was a real treat. So I was sleeping on the sofa, but this was no ordinary sofa; it was bigger and more comfy than my bed back in London; I had my own private bathroom, a power shower; air-con; the biggest fridge freezer with an endless supply of cold water; cable TV, a gym and best of all a huge swimming pool. God! I felt like I was in the Hilton. Billy truly has found himself in the good life in Miami. We sat and drank Caipirinhas and talked a lot; about life on the road; how he missed it; how he felt he had to get out of London; I told him I felt the same; I expressed my fears of going home; he reassured me it was going to be OK. I realised that me and Billy were very much the same. We had reached a point in our lives where we were no longer happy with them; we needed to change them and so went looking for some inspiration. The only difference is Billy found the answer. I'm still looking for mine.

One day, Billy had to go to work, so he dropped me at south Beach (a must if your in Miami). My main aim over the 4 days I had there, was to regain my tan, though rather than sunbathing I just found myself people watching! Men in thong trunks, people pumping iron on the beach and boob jobs everywhere! I looked down at mine. I felt like an adolescent boy, like I had,most of this trip. I kept telling myself, well at least there real and don't look like to beach balls stuck to my chest! Feeling in need of some retail therapy, I decided to treat myself to a new bikini as mine were all looking very tatty now. It was then I found it. My Mecca; my heaven on earth. It's name was Victoria's Secret! Even though we don't have VS in England I'd heard of it, but never been to a store. Let's just say we need them in England, because it's changed my life. Yes! I finally found a bikini in their store, that gave me tits and quite big ones at that! This genius of a bikini top, takes what little you have and pushes it all up to make you look like bloody Pamela Anderson. You couldn't stop me smiling and the woman serving me must have thought I was one crazy English girl as all I kept saying to her was, "Look! I've got breasts, it amazing!" After that you couldn't stop me parading around in that bikini, thinking, God I wish I found you at the beginning of my trip. Actually maybe not, I got myself into enough trouble being flat chested! It would have been much worse with breasts!

My time in Miami was just what I needed. I rested, got my tan back, we ate at good restaurants (we went to an amazing Shepherd Ferry one!), I finally got to eat a decent salad again, my throat got better, and Billy took me on the most beautiful day trip to the Florida Keys. At night we drank beer, watched crap movies and laughed at Family Guy (my favourite). Billy was quite distracted most of the time in the evenings though. He had signed up to Match.com for Internet dating. We had both done Internet dating in London. It didn't really go to well for me as I met an alcoholic script writer; a man that had a business in making pre stained underwear; and another guy who told me on our first and only date, that he had wet dreams about me (seriously)! Billy on the other hand, being the playboy that he is, had a great time with it, luring girls in with lines such as "marriage material" and then putting into force the 3 strikes and your out policy (anymore than 3 dates and it's classed as serious)! Billy had decided to try his charms on the American ladies (God help them)! I then got the job of vetting the ones Billy liked, which seemed to come more down to looks than personality. I don't think he was interested in getting to know there personality? As a woman, the girls in America, Internet dating seem quite hard work and very girly. I informed Billy, anyone who quotes their favourite films as being The Notebook, Letters from Juliet; who hates camping and doesn't know what salsa music is, is going to be a hard work Princess, with not much in the way of brains. "Yeah, but she's hot though, isn't she?" was his response. Men!

The whole time I was in Miami, the thought of my travels coming to the end, was always in the back of my mind, and then the moment I didn't want to happen, finally came. I found myself sat at the gate waiting for a flight I didn't want to get. I was scared to go back. I guess I'd thought at times, I wasn't going to go back, that I expected someone or something to pick me up and take me away from it all and I'd never have to go back to my old life. I sat looking at the departure screen. I could see flights for Buenos Aires and Rio. I swear if I'd had the money at that moment in time, I would gone on got myself a ticket to one of them, but I didn't. I could feel the tears start to well up and then they rolled down my face.
"Are you alright?" said the concerned man next to me. I couldn't take it anymore and bolted for the toilets. I locked myself in the toilet and sat there crying. My 5 month adventure was over. I have family and friends that I love and miss, but I sat there and told myself there was no real reason to go home. There was nobody or anything that wanted me back there. But I was going home and if I'm trueful, I knew I needed to. It was at that moment sat crying in a toilet cubicle in Miami airport, I finally admitted to myself that I had ran away from things; that the same problems and the way I felt about myself in England had followed me over to the other side of the world; they just don't go away if your in a new environment because you take them with you. It was time to do something about them. I got up and went to the gate. It was time to go home.

THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD

2011-05-23T08:49:00.001-07:00

While on this trip, I one day received an email from a friend, who was concerned about my behaviour. He asked me to be more "Middle of the road" with the way I acted. I replied that I couldn't; as I don't know how. I've come to realise I'm all or nothing. Im addicted to the highs in life and I pursue them sometimes in ways which people would class as reckless or as my sister recently said to me; "You just don't think, sometimes Carly"! There is a problem with the highs though: the fall! I have fallen from great highs in the past, especially the last 2 years and believe me it hurts. I still go back for more though. All that said recently its becoming harder and harder to get back up after these falls and the thought of being more middle of the road on this trip has constantly been in the back of my mind.

Maybe with what I've just said about the way I am, is the reason why I fell in love with Rio. There is nothing middle of the road about it. It's a city that is all or nothing. It's crazy, beautiful, exciting; everything I love. A dangerous combination, me and this city, but I knew I was going to have a hell of a lot of fun here, and that's just what I did.

I arrived in Rio totally exhausted after ANOTHER 24 hour bus journey. I was now once again, totally on my own after leaving Maria. I booked myself into a hostel in Ipanema after a lot of recommendations off travels to stay there. Besides it's the best area to stay in the whole of Rio and I'm in love with the song, the girl from Ipanema. Now after nearly 5 months traveling, and tons more travel experience before this trip, you would think I won't get intimidated anymore. WRONG! I turned up at Ipanema Beach House to find everyone, chatting and laughing with one another. God! I thought, everyone knows everyone, I'm a complete outsider! After getting over my initial fear, I decided to rein in all my people skills and get chatting to everyone. Unfortunately this was to no avail, everyone was completely hungover from the night before. God this is so shit!, I thought and decided to call it a night. Hardly the rocking first night I thought I would have in Rio.

I woke the next morning to sunshine and thought, God dam it! I'm in Rio and there is only one place go be in Rio when the sun is shining: THE BEACH! I hot footed it down there, a long with a French guy from my dorm called Fabrice, who kind of tagged himself onto me, but seemed nice enough. Now I've heard the Brazilians where a beautiful race, but nothing prepared me for what I saw on that beach. I thought the Argentineans where a beautiful, but what I saw there were the most beautiful men I have ever seen in my life. It's not like there were one or two scattered around. No they were everywhere! Every time looked round there was a new one. I was like a kid in a sweet shop. I imagined this was what heaven must be like. God it was amazing. As time wore on, on the beach, it started to become clear to me that Fabrice wanted to be more than just friends! He kept buying me drinks and getting very pissed off with me when, he kept talking to me and I was just nodding and clearly looking over his shoulder and just perving at all the hot men on the beach. I really knew he fancied me when I was lay on the beach and he lay down besides me, grabbed me and started taking pictures of us together like boyfriend and girlfriend. Hello! I've only just met you, I'm not interested and I'm surrounded by hot Brazillian guys! Why do things like this always happen to me? He invited me to go to sugar loaf mountain to watch sunset with him. I couldn't get out of it.

Sugar loaf was amazing. Even though it was cloudly; even though I was with a Frenchman that I didn't fancy and who kept coming on to me; even though I kept thinking I wish I was here with one of the hot Brazillian guys from the beach. Yes! Even with all this. It was amazing! I've seen a lot of cities in my time, but seeing Rio from above I can truly say it's one of the most beautiful cities ever, tucked between tropical mountains, with it's White sandy beaches. It was there my love affair with Rio began.

We got back to the hostel and Fabrice wanted to go out for dinner! SHIT! Think fast! I bumped into some of the guys I had been talking to the night before and quickly arranged that we should all go out for dinner together. No one really had a say in the matter, as that's what I wanted to do, as there was no way I was going out for dinner with just me and Fabrice. Fabrice looked very pissed off. I looked very relieved! After having an all you can eat meat feast which the Brazilians are the best at (totally amazing!) some of us decided to hit the bars. I was left with Fabrice (of course!), the most chilled English guy ever called Tom, and a Israeli guy whose name I can't pronounce so we will just call him Israeli guy! We decided that being in Rio we had to drink Caipirinha's. Warning: After my time in Rio, I have realised that Caipirinhas make you do crazy things, as the following will show. Totally drunk, we realised we were in a gay bar, only after Tom came back from the toilet after being accosted by a man in them. Please bare in mind we had been in this bar for nearly an hour and didn't notice once, we were surrounded by tables full of butch guys in hot pants! This is what Caipirinhas do to you! After a few more bars later, and few Caipirinhas later, we crawled back to the hostel. We all decided to go straight to bed as we were totally wasted. I put my PJ's on realised I needed some water so headed to the reception to get some. Now after this it gets a little bit blurry. I'm at the front desk asking for water and some how I start talking to the Brazilian guy behind the desk in Spanish, as I don't know Portuguese and he starts talking to me in Spanish and we are talking for ages and then he asks me to come and sit with him outside, I say yes, we sit down, we talk, he grabs my face and starts kissing me, I kiss him back and then I stop this moment and go " I'm sorry but I'm in my PJ's. I can't do this!" and storm off to bed.

The next day I wake up with a sore head not really knowing where I am! It takes me an hour of being awake to realise that my handbag with all my money, my phone and my passport is gone. SHIT! I run to reception in an panic and ask the girls at the desk if they have a brown leather bag. They pull my bag out from underneath the desk.
"We just found it left on the desk this morning. What the hell happened to you last night?" one of them asks. Yes, what the hell did happen to me last night I ask myself?
"Caipirinha's" I reply. They laugh back in an all knowing way.

I spend most of the day trying to avoid the guy from the desk that I kissed. I don't even fancy him, I think to myself. It was only because I was drunk on Caipirnha's and he was whispering sweet nothings in to my ear in Portuguese that I even went there. Besides Im a bit besotted with the other guy that works there at the front desk in the day. I ask him to write down the music he plays in the hostel which i think is cool, to add to my growing South American playlist. He does so with his glaring beautiful eyes, smooth smile and sexy voice. God he's so hot, I think to myself. On the good side Fabrice checked out before I woke up. Some one later told me he found out about me kissing the guy at the front desk and was pissed off. What ever!

To try and avoid the guy I kissed even more, I book to go on a tour of the favelas. Favelas for you who don't know is the name for the slums of south America and were made famous from the film The City of God (in my top 5 of best films of all time) and that snoop dog video, Beautiful, with all those girls not wearing much with big asses. On the tour I meet a fellow northern called Jen, who is also at my hostel and we get on like a house on fire. I tell her the favelas are a bit like Salford; we both realise we love guys and motorbikes; we get a lift with some guys from the ghetto on the back of their bikes; we see gansters smoking joints; bullet holes in the walks from gangland fights; drug dealers and the fattest roughest girls you have ever seen. All on all a good day out.

I go out with Jen and everyone from the hostel again that night and yes more bloody Caipirinhas (I told you can't do middle of the road; I never learn)! As everyone I knew was leaving the next day for the beaches of Brazil, we decided to stay up late for farewell drinks at the hostel. This means me and Jen do Northern measures and in no time we are completely drunk! Everyone seems to pass out and goes to bed and I'm left once again with the Brazilian guy that I kissed on reception and his hot volley ball friend. At some point, very drunk I kiss the Brazillian guy again (what the hell am I doing)! After coming back to my senses, I decide to go to bed. As I'm coming back from the toilet, I find the friend, the hot volleyball player friend blocking my door way. Before I continue this story, let me tell you that a lot of travellers had told me about what Brazillian men were like. They are extremely sexual, on heat all the time and very forceful! I was now about to find out, this was very true. As I tried to pass the door, volley ball guy asked me where I was going?
"To bed I reply!"
"Why?" he asked
" Because I'm tired".
He grabs me and tries to kiss me. I push him away. The next thing I know he picks me up, like Tarzan would do to Jane and starts to carry me away. I'm hitting him, but there is little I can do as he is so strong and I'm no match for him. I'm feeling a bit scared. He sits me down on the pool table at the far and starts kissing my neck and chest and whispering, "I want you, I want you"! Oh God, what am I going to do? Suddenly, I remember what the Danish girls had said to me about dealing with full on Brazilian men: You have to just punch them sometimes! So that's just what I do; I full on punch him (I'm a northern girl, I've got a good punch)! He stops in surprise and then I realise Carly is back in control again.
"When I say no, I mean no!" I scream at him, "Now as I said I'm off to bed!" I gracefully stand up, compose myself and walk away. It's as I'm walking back to my room I realise I'm shaking a little.

The next morning I wake up to find a new addition to my room; an Aussie girl called Natalie, who turns out to be a stripper. Natalie is one of lifes characters, very strong, doesn't give a shit and extremely funny. I like her instantly. I tell her about my incident with the volley ball guy, the night before. She just laughs, tells me she had a fling with him last time she was in Rio, that's he a complete arse hole, and that he is like the hostel bike, as everyone has had a go. We then both laughed! We decided to go on a mission to go and see Christ the redeemer (a must see in Rio). This is harder than you think when you don't speak any Portuguese. I had realised by now it was better to speak Spanish than English, but this still wasn't always understood. Two buses later, lots of lost in translation and being escorted by a kind Brazillian woman, we stood at the foot of Corcovado, in the pouring rain looking up to the skies, to realise you couldn't see a dam thing! God dam it! I never got to see Christ the Redeemer, due to the bad weather. We spent the rest of the day in the hostel, feeling miserable as the rain poured down. It's Rio, it not meant to bloody rain, I thought to myself! As we sat around talking, the boys from the hostel told me they were going out that night to a club where there was Samba music and free Caipirinhas from 10-12. Really, the sensible thing to do here, would be to say no, after my last 2 nights on Caipirinhas seemed to have got me into a bit of trouble, but as I'm not sensible, I said yes to going straight away. Besides it was my last night in Rio. I had to make the most of it.

We arrived at the club and it was crammed with people dancing, and downing Caipirinhas. I noticed volleyball guy was there, and I avoided him at all costs. I also noticed that there was a cute guy that kept looking at me. He seemed quite familiar to me, but then I just thought I had one to many Caipirinhas again. As the night wore on people got drunker, the dancing got crazier and everyone I was with seem to have hooked up with someone. I got stuck being chatted up by some boring English guy, when I turned around and saw the guy who had being looking at me all night, stood there. He walked over to me.
"Hello" he said "You don't recognise me do you? I work at your hostel."
Suddenly I recognised the beautiful glaring eyes, the smooth smile and the sexy voice. It was the guy from the front desk that I really fancied, only that he had shaved off his beard.
"Yes, I recognise you now" I smiled.
I spent the rest of the night talking to him, dancing with him and of course kissing him. I got my sexy Brazilian guy after all.

The next day as I left Rio in the taxi, I felt full of sadness. It had left a deep impression on me this city. It felt like a city that suited my personality. It was a place where I didn't feel bad about not being middle of the road. I then remember a conversation I'd had with Tanja one the Danish in girls in La Paz, in a bar, about being middle of the road. She told me that night she envied me.
"Why?" I replied
"Because you take risks! I don't because I'm middle of the road, which is safe but it's ultimately boring!"
I don't do boring, I thought to myself. I'll try the middle of the road, when it becomes exciting. Until then I'll carry on as I am, which isn't bad is it? Next stop, is my final one: Miami.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 5: IGUAZÚ FALLS

2011-05-23T08:17:00.001-07:00

Sometimes as I find out a lot, life can be full of disappointments. As I journeyed to Iguazú falls, which is classed as one of the new 7 wonders of the world, on the border of Argentina and Brazil, I expected to be disappointed again. I heard they were amazing off so many travellers, but I kept saying to myself how good can a bunch of waterfalls be?

I was now back on the road with the gorgeous Maria, which was great. We ventured in the morning to the national park, with me a bit under parr as I'd been up drinking till the early hours of the morning with a group of 7 Aussie guys (what is it with me and Aussie guys)? Maria was really excited, but I was just sat there in mood thinking I'd rather go back to bed. As she dragged me along to see Garganta del Diablo, the biggest of all the waterfalls, all I kept thinking I was going to throw up.

Then something amazing happened. I saw the waterfall. I wasn't disappointed. No! It actually exceeded anything I could of ever imagined in my mind. For the first time in ages, something took my breath away, and suddenly my hangover disappeared. I stood there in awe of the beauty and power of nature.

The waterfalls do something crazy to you and me and Maria spent the rest of the day running around like excited children taking in everything.

The next day we hit the Brazilian side to see more of the falls (it's important to do both sides as they give different views). I only had a short time to see it as I had to catch a bus back to the Argentinean side to catch my bus to Rio. "Must not miss that bus!" I told myself.

As I said before, the waterfalls have a strange effect on you and I got completely side tracked and kind of forgot the time! I rushed back to the entrance to find that my bus had gone. Brazil got to witness it's first Kevin as I was stamping my feet a lot and shouting "Shit! Shit! Shit!" So I'm stuck in Brazil, with no Brazilian money, I don't speak Portuguese and I have to try and get back over the border into Argentina to catch my bus that leaves in an hour and a half! Shit! After my initial freak out I go back into experienced traveller mode and decide to use the only thing that is going to get me out of this mess: My feminine charms!

Being a blonde in South America has been a bit of pain most of the time, but now I used it to my advantage. In no time at all, after doing my little girl lost act, I'm on local bus for free, with some local guy making sure I'm OK. He gets me to a bus that is going to the border which I also get on for free, and then the bus driver becomes my new guardian and makes sure I cross the border safely. I'm back with half an hour to spare to catch my bus. Good going girl, I think to myself. Actually sometimes its good to be a woman.

I sit on my bus heading to Rio thinking, Yes, the last two days I have seen this world at it's most beautiful and I then remember the reason why I travel, for moments like these.

NB: Please note these photos and videos can not come near to summing up what I have seen. I suggest you all go and bloody see it yourselves.

ITS A MANS WORLD

2011-05-17T15:01:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, I wish I had a penis, I really do. Sorry that sounds a little strange! What I mean to say, is that I wish sometimes I was a man. It would just be so much easier, especially when traveling, because as much as I hate to say it, the truth of the matter is, it's a man's world out there. Men just have it all there own way. They get don't periods; they can sleep with as many people as they want and get called studs, while women just get called slags; they are always right, even when they are wrong; they usually get better looking as they get older; and they can pee easily in public places. Yes its most certainly a man's world!

In Latin America, I have found myself in probably the heart of a male dominated society, where what the man says rules, where most men have affairs as often as meals; where a woman's main purpose is to please a man. Being as fiery and as fiercely independent as I am, I was always going to find this side of Latin America hard to stomach. I've never been good with men telling me what to do. In fact my head strong ways with men, has often given me the reputation of being a crazy girl, but only from men, (funny that)!

So I now I found myself on my travels, in Buenos Aires; the most, vibrant, cosmopolitan city in Latin America; the place of the beautiful people; the Paris of the south. I had also heard from others on the road it was the place where there were the most Arrogant men on earth. Well this is going to be interesting I thought. I had experienced some Argentineans in Cartagena, in Colombia, where the Buenos Aires rich kids went for vacation. They were some of the most handsome men I have ever seen in my life, but boy did they know it! Their arrogance seeped from their pores as they sat there, thinking; look at me; look at how beautiful I am; I'm God dam amazing! Yeah what ever, I thought!

My friend back in London, Prue, had put me in contact with her friend Alejandro, a local to Buenos Aires, who she had met during a trip to Costa Rica. Prue had warned me before hand, that even though she adored Alejandro, he was very Argentinean, which meant very arrogant. Oh God, did she not realise she was asking for trouble, by giving me an arrogant man to hang out with and to be my guide! When you last left me, on my adventure I was alone in the bus station after arriving in Buenos Aires. The first thing I did was ring Alejandro, as he had asked me to, when I got to the city. The conversation is as follows:
"Hola"!
"Hola, it's Carly, Prue's friend."
"Did you get my emails? Why have you not responded!"
"I've been on a bus for 24 hours"!
"Why didn't you say"!
"Because I've been on a bus for 24 hours"!
"Why are you ringing me at this time, I was a sleep"!
"Its 10.00am, it's not that early and you told me to ring you remember"?
"I've got you an apartment, to say in"!
"Why did you do that! I told you I was going to say in a hostel"!
"Don't you want a place of your own"?
"Of course I do, but I backpacking, I can't afford it"!
"Hostels are expensive here, you can afford it"!
" How much is it"?
"$300 dollars per week. You won't find a hostel cheaper than that!"
" I have, it's 60 Pesos a night, a third of that price."
"Oh!"
"I'm going to the hostel".
"Come here now, to mine. You can have a shower".
"Why, when I can go to my hostel and have one?"
"My place is better"!
"What are you going on about"!
"So your not coming here"?
"No, do you not listen to me"!
"Only 30% of the time. Right woman, you woke me up. I'm going back to sleep. Ring me or Face Book me later woman and we go out."
"OK"!
The line goes dead, and I'm left there holding the phone wondering what the hell just happened. Wait a second, I think to myself, did he just call me woman? Yes he did! Twice! Something tells me this is going to be war!

After a few very direct face book messages, we arrange for him to pick me up from my hostel. He is not a disaapointment, he's exactly as I imagined; very handsome, brimming in confidence and completely arrogant! Its clear from the off me and him are going to have a feisty relationship. He tells me to shut up woman a lot. I tell him to shut up too, a lot. I tell him he's very annoying; he's says I'm annoying. I tell him he's the most arrogant man I've ever met in my life (and that's saying something)! He's says he's not arrogant, he's just the best at everything, because he's Argentinean! He says Argentina has the best looking people, are the best lovers and are the best at football. I tell him the English invented football. He said it doesn't matter as we are shit and Argentina kick our ass.
"What by cheating with your hands"! is my reply.
He then runs round the room waving his hand above his head, shouting
"The hand of God, Maradonna is a God".
"No he's not", I retort " He's a fat, drug, using, alcoholic now"! This goes down like a ton of bricks.
"Woman I will forgive you for what you have just said, but others would kill you for that, Maradonna is a God here"!
"What ever"! I snap.
"Oh and don't tell anyone here your English, we hate the English. Tell them your Austrailia or Canadian other something"!
"I will not! What, is this because we beat you in the Falklands. Don't be a sore loser"!

As you can tell, we spend most of our time widing each other up and arguing. I think if you were a fly on the wall you would find us very entertaining. All that said, I have actually grown very fond of him. Underneath all the bravado, was actually some one very sweet. He took me out every day, opened doors for me and even though I found it hard at first, he paid for things. It was quite old fashion behaviour, something I'm not use to as a modern independent woman, but is it wrong to say that I actually quite liked it. I guess deep down inside, I do for all my feistiness, like some one taking care of me.

Ale (That's what I started calling him) invited me to his house leaving party on the Saturday. I got an email to say to bring as many women as possible, but no men. When I turned up with just me, he was like,
"Why didn't you bring any women"!
"Its not rent a brothel" I told him "So piss off"! And stormed up stairs. I then realised why he wanted me to bring more girls, as I stormed into his flat to find I was the only girl, in a room of about 20 Argentinean guys. Not like I was complaining, most of them were hot. Heaven! There I was sat amongst all these guys, and the total centre of attention. It didn't last long, as Alejandro's girls did eventually turn up, though I did at one point, accuse him of not knowing any! Not like it mattered. I had an amazing night. I think I made friends, danced and had fun with everyone there. The guys were total filrts, like I expected them to be, but there is one instance from the night that stands out. I was talking to one of Ale's friends most of the night called Thomas who was very handsome with big blue eyes, who seemed quite charming. As it came time for him to leave he waltzed up to me and casually said " I'm going home now. Are you coming with me or not"? I stood there, thinking you cheeky bastard and said " "Ermmm? NO"!
He stormed off. Five minutes later he came up to me again, tapping numbers into a phone, and said, "Well just so you know, I'm ringing another girl now, because its Saturday night and I need sex, and she will give it to me"!
I'm sat there, thinking what the hell! Then I let rip! I inform him that he's crazy, that does he think by saying this I will go "Oh, sorry! I am now really jealous. Please can I come home with you"; that his behaviour is rude and not acceptable to me; that women are not something you just have sex with and for him to get some respect. After my rant he left. I later find out, he's married with a kid. It doesn't surprise me, nothing does anymore. This is why I would never have a Latin boyfriend, you could never trust them. There is a lot to be said for English guys actually. Apart from that it was an amazing night and I crawled back to the hostel at 2.00pm the next day. Hard core or what!

I really like football, even though I don't get to watch it enough (I'm a Man United supporter, if anyone is interested). Being in South America I really wanted to go and watch a match, because for once I did agree with Alejandro, they are the best at football. Ale had agreed to take me to a River Plate game on the Sunday, but that was before he was grumpy, tired and hungover from his house party.
"Woman, why are you making me take you to a football match, why can't you go on your own"?
" Because you said you would take me, and no I will not go on my own, I'm a lady, so shut up"!
We carried on arguing all the way to the match. The game itself was amazing. We were squashed into the standing area, like sardines, but I didn't care. The atmosphere was electric. The drums, the chanting, the dancing, I loved it. River lost 2-0 to all boys. It was a big upset, but on the bright side I learnt lots of swear words in Spanish that evening.

I could of quite happily of stayed in Bueno Aires for ever. I fell in love with the place and the people, even the men, but I had to go. The destination of Rio was out there still waiting, patiently like it had for nearly five months. I couldn't keep it waiting any longer.

THE SIMPLE LIFE

2011-05-06T08:13:00.001-07:00

It's funny how traveling makes you appreciate the simple things in life, like a hot shower, clean clothes and a comfortable bed. All things that we take for granted in our everyday lives, but these things are not always that easy to get when your on the road. It really doesn't take much to make me happy these days. If I get to a hostel and they have hot water, that's enough for me. For a girl that lives, works and buys into a materialistic environment, back home in London, it's quite a contrast to have been traveling for over 4 months with my only processions being what I can carry on my back; the essential things; the simple things.

My appearance as completely deteriorated on this trip, my skin is bad, my clothes have holes in them and my hair is wild and unkept. I keep thinking if people could see me back home, they would go "Carly what the hell has happened to you?"
Due to this fact, I have for a while now stopped looking in mirrors, as I can't bare looking at my appearance without feeling completley ugly, but recently I've been feeling very happy with things and within myself and the other day, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Instead of turning away like I normally do, I took along hard look at myself. There I was, just me staring back at me; no make up; no trendy clothes; hair scraped back; nothing to hide behind; just Carly Griffith. I may not be the most beautiful, intelligent or kindest person ever, but I thought to myself; you know what? Your alright, and you have met so many people recently that think your alright too, and who like you for who you are, without all the fanciness. They like the real Carly Griffith and for the first time in a long time, I thought to myself, I quite like her too; she's bloody good fun!

Anyway, all the corny, how I'm feeling stuff, over with, let's get back to the story at hand: Travels! I had once again found myself back in chile, in a place called Valparaiso. Many travellers had told me, how great it was and with the dissapointment of Mendoza, I decided to cut my losses and head of there.

After another memorable bus journey, in which I was the only gringo and English speaker (crossings the border was nightmare of lost in translation) I finally arrived in Valparaiso and checked myself into a hostel. As I was shown into my dorm, the owner informed me it was just me and a German guy in there, but there was no sign of him. After going out for a bite to eat, and getting back to a still empty dorm I decided to retire to bed early. I was woken from my deep sleep, in the early hours of the morning by the most almighty racket, of someone banging around. It was so bad I decided to turn on the light, only to find my fellow room mate standing there completely naked. He was clearly wasted as well. Well I didn't quite no what to say, until "Had a good night?" popped out of my mouth. Funnily, he was the one that looked at me like I was strange, then carried on stumbling about and banging around, until he fell onto his bed and passed out on top spread eagled and fully naked. I kind of just sat there for a bit in shock and then realised there was nothing else left to do but to turn the light off and go back to sleep, well not before I had a good old look at his you know what (you know you would of as well, so don't be all high and mighty now)! I woke up, to still find him naked on the bed, so decided to be very English about things and carry on as if it wasn't happening, by pottering around. Eventually he woke up and after a moment of clearly not knowing what was going on, he sprang under his sheets and everything came flooding back to him. He apologised to be about his behaviour and said how embarrassed he was, without looking me in the eyes. I told him he had nothing to be embarrassed about after what I saw last night. This only made him go redder and he ran off to the bathroom. He checked out an hour later. God, all because I saw his penis. I don't know what his problem is? I'm sure I'm not the first girl who's seen it and I'm sure I won't be the last!

After all that excitement I decided to spend the day getting lost among the narrow streets and old buildings covered in paintings in Valparaiso. Magical, and felt very happy in my own company for the day, taking it all in. I returned back to my room to find two new additions; a girl from Taiwan who's name I could not pronounce, so I ended up just calling her Tai. Her English was so bad, I could hardly understand her and her Spanish? Well let's just say it was good to finally meet someone who was so bad, they made me look fluent. She was sweet though and was a buddist so just meditated most of the time. The other person was a big German girl, who scared the hell out of me, as she looked like she could beat the shit out of me. I didn't ask her name, as I was too scared!

I went to check my emails and saw I had an interesting message in my inbox. It was from an English guy called Andy, saying that he had checked in on Facebook in Valparaiso and had seen that I had too, and that we were from the same part of England and if I wanted to meet up for a drink with him that night. He added at the end of the message, that he understood if I didn't want to as I might think getting this message from a complete stranger, a bit strange. Dam right! Could be a serial killer or something. Weirdo! I went back to the dorm. After 5 minutes of realising that my night now consisted of still being scared of German girl and having to listen to meditating and bad English with Tai, I decided to opt for the serial killer instead. I sent him message and told him to meet at eight in the square. Besides, everyone I meet traveling and end up hanging out with, I've only known 5 minutes and don't know from Adam, anyway! I was also on a good run with my impulsive's, after the Aussies and Martin. If push came to shove, I could kick him in the nuts (I've got a good kick) and run fast, as I was no longer at high altitude. Before I left I thought, for extra safety I'd tell some one where I was going so interrupted Tai from her meditating and said in really loud, slow English " So his name is Andy and if I don't come back alive, tell the police you can find him on my Face Book inbox, OK"? She just nodded a lot. I left thinking she hadn't bloody understood one word I'd said!

I went to the square to find, not a serial killer, or a weirdo, but an ordinary northern guy. Relief! We headed straight for a bar and ended up in some tacky hell of an African theme bar (the Chileans love their theme bars)! Andy is a computer programmer who now lives in Toronto, but has no trace of an accent. He was nice company too and we talked, and drank the whole night. He was the perfect gentleman, who never tried anything on with me. He just wanted good company and so did I. Two northerners together makes for a big session of drinking and by the time we left the bar, we were very drunk. As we got some late night empadanas we got talking to some Chilean screaming queens who wanted us to go to a gay nightclub with them. Andy looked horrified while my impulse told me this could be fun, but then my impulse became blurred and then it told me I had to much to drink, and it was probably best to be sensible for once and let Andy walk me to my door.

The next morning I woke to find Tai looming over me and saying
"I'm glad you are back and alive Carly". She then went back to meditating. "Only just alive", I said feeling my banging head. Well a least on the bright side she understood what I said last night, I thought as I rolled over back to sleep.

The next day I took a bus to the capital, Santiago. My main aim in this place was not to go sight seeing, but to buy a new pair of jeans. The ones I was wearing, where full of holes and falling to pieces. Also there was a big hole in the crotch and if you sat at the wrong angle it could be classed as indecent exposure. They had to go. Now I love shopping usually; it's my job for God sake. The problem is I'm a 5'10, skinny girl with not much ass, which doesn't really fit the shape of the average south American woman. I knew it was going to be a nightmare, and it was! After going to the biggest department store I could find in Santiago, I tried on a ton of jeans, which came half way up my legs and sagged inwards where my J-Lo ass was meant to be. This seem to amuse the locals a lot, when I came out of the changing room everytime wearing them asking to try another pair. Yeah! Let's all laugh at the skinny, tall, Gringa with no ass! Funny ha ha! Not! I was starting to become a bit distressed with the situation and was about to give up, when lovely Carmen who worked in the store, decided to take pity on the weird body shaped Gringa, and made it her mission to get me a pair of jeans. After a lot of effort, she found me a pair and I have to say, they probably fit me better than most of my jeans in England. Thanks Carmen; you have saved the rest of South America from indecent exposure!

Now when you have a 24 hour bus ride a head of you, the sensible thing would be to get an early night, which I did have the good intension of doing. All I did was go for one beer at the hostel bar! At 4am and God knows how many beers later, I crawled into bed after meeting a ton of travelers at the bar, playing drinking games, truth or dare and dancing around to stupid music. So not exactly the sensible night I was thinking of. Bloody funny though! I had to keep telling myself, the "Funny!" thing when I was sat on the bus dying of a hangover, then when it broke down and we had to sit at the side of the road in the middle of the Andes for an hour; then when they squashed us all onto another really shit bus; then when the old Chilean lady kept talking to me in Spanish LOTS, even though I told her I couldn't understand her; then when the only food I got to eat on the ENTIRE journey was sandwiches!!!!; then when I didn't sleep for the whole night as the big Argentinean guy sat next me, snored all night and encroached on my space. By the time I got my first glimpse through hazy eyes, of Buenos Aires I was totally exhausted, but then when I found myself alone at the bus station, in this bussling city of 17 million, of what I'd heard so much about, that I had dreamt of for so long, I found a new lease of life. I was excited. I was about to start my Buenos Aires adventure, but that's a story still waiting to be told, so you will have to wait to hear that one another day.

BIKES AND WINES

2011-05-01T11:15:00.001-07:00

It's best sometimes not imagine places in your head before you get to them, as it can often lead to disappointment. This was the case when I arrived in Mendoza. I had visioned a small town nestled between vin yards with quaint shops and cafes, some peasant farmers working their fields in the distance, and cows, yes lots of cows. Well maybe if I had actually done some proper reading on the place I might have actually realised that I was turning up to a city that is Argentina's fourth largest, with a population of just under a million! Maybe then the motorway that encircled the city, the tons of ugly modern concrete buildings, the mass of cars and big advertising billboards might not have come, as such a shock! My little ideal imagine of Mendoza was shattered into tiny pieces.

I was now traveling with Maria a French girl I had met in the cool hostel in Tilcara and joined up with in Salta. Maria is one of those truly nice people you meet in life. She is always happy and loves everyone and everything and it's impossible not to adore her. I did think she must be on something at first as I didn't see how it was possible to be so happy all the time, as it's beyond me, but no, she is just naturally like this. Even on the 18 hour bus journey where we were tired and uncomfortable she still managed to be upbeat and chatty in contrast to my grumpiness. Though as we arrived in Mendoza even Maria expressed her deep disappointment, though she did so, still with a smile.

Mendoza is know as the wine capital of Argentina, so me and Maria decided to go on a wine tasting tour, as it was a must in Mendoza, besides, we told ourselves it would be our lovely rural vision when we got out of the city and into the vin yards? WRONG! Our taxi dropped us off at our tour office, which was not a rural vision, but a building, with lots of other buildings by it, at the side of a busy road. Dam it! I want my rural vision!

We had opted on doing the wine tour on bikes as this means you can get around and have a drink. Now those of you who know me well, will probably thinking the idea of me, bikes and wine, aren't a great combination. There were a few instances in the past where these things combined, did have a few dramas, the worst being the time, when I hit a BMW and went over the bonnet. Yes it was parked at the time and stationary! Hello people, that's in the past. I have just survived biking the worlds most dangerous road, so I would say me and bikes are good now.
We set off on our journey of 24km round trip to our first winery. The roads were busy, the scenery ugly and the weather was crap (I'm selling it to you aren't I)? The other problem was the men! What is it with Argentinean men; have they never seen two women on bikes before? Well it seemed that way as we got beeped, perved at, shouted at in words in Spanish I could not understand (but I think they were dirty) and they did that sucking their gums thing again. Never thought I'd say this, but give me British builders any day. We arrived at our first winery cold, dusty and harassed. Thank God for wine, that's what I say, as everything seems good as long as you have wine. By the time we had finished our second winery and 8th different wine, Maria confessed that you felt quite drunk. This worried me, as it hadn't even touch the sides with me. Does this mean I have a drink problem? Oh no I forgot: I'm British!
After more wine, some chocolate and jam testing! We arrived back in one piece. Not the dream vision I had of Mendoza, but a good day all the same, which was made even better by coming back to our hostel to find it full of young hot Argentinean climbers. I didn't know where to look. I guess I did get a lovely vision of Mendoza in the end. Heaven. I've decided to take another detour into Chile again, because I loved it so much last time. Next stop Valparaiso.

HOLY

2011-04-26T15:36:00.001-07:00

I can't say I'm a religious person. I only go to church for Christenings, weddings, funerals or Christmas eve when my mother decides she wants to feel really festive and drags all to sing carols at the local one; but even she, hasn't done that in a while. All that said I wouldn't say I'm an atheist. I like to believe that everyone I have ever loved and lost has gone to a better place and there is something after this life; it makes it easier to deal with their loss. What this place might be; I don't know?

I actually find religion quite fascinating (am I allowed to say that with out looking like a complete bible basher)? Especially the Catholic religion. I know it's a religion full of self flagellation, guilt, tortured looking statues and kiddy fiddling priests, but it appeals to my morbid side. Anyway I always wanted to be a Catholic as a child, as I liked the thought of going into a box and confessing all my sins to a priest (though these days I don't think there would be enough hell Marys to justify my wrong doings)?

With no cadburys chocolate Easter eggs to stuff my face with this year, I needed something else to get me in the Easter spirit. So me, Eva and Tanja, headed from Chile to the hills of northern Argentina to a little town call Tilcara, which is well know in South America for it's Easter celebrations. Now I have traveled a lot and in that time I have stayed in many hostels. Some good, some bad, but the hostel I have stayed in here, in Tilcara, I think has to be my favourite ever! Why? Well it's not like a hostel. It's more like staying at your friends house, and you have got all your mates there as well and all you do is chillax, chat and drink lots of good wine. The owners, two young guys from Buenos Aires are so laid back, if they were anymore so, they would be dead. Sounds like my heaven. Well actually it is, that's why I have stayed there nearly a week instead of the two days I thought, I was only going to do.

Now I have been traveling for 4 months and I haven't met many females traveling on their own. I thought I was the only one at times Well I've now realised the reason for this is because they all seem to be holed up in Casa Los Molles (thats the name of my hostel in Tilcara). Yes the place just seems to be full of lone women travellers! In fact Carly's tip of the day for guys is to get your ass there as you are out numbered 8 to 1, by women! The really good thing is I have made some really good friends here too. There is Lucy Robinson, who is also a fellow blogger, though in a much better league as she is a blogger an Marie Claires website, in fact I have a mention in her latest post (famous or what)! She is also a novelist and is out here writing her second novel, I find her very inspirational. Then there is Holly another Brit, who at 21 gives me back my faith in the young of England after it was smashed by the pea heads. Finally there is Anna from Germany who learnt English in Sunderland and now speaks with a Geordie, German accent which I think is great. Together we make a good group and don't think the small town of Tilcara know what's hit it with when Los rubia gringas walk around.

We took over the dorm and it would have been completely womanised if it hadn't been for the middle aged Spanish man that occupied one of the bunks. I was a bit disgusted by him at first as he snored a lot and didn't come home till the early hours of the morning. For a man of his age, me and Rosie automatically thought he must being going to some brothels or something. It turns out he's also a writer and writes to the early hours of the morning. It's funny that I still keep referring to the guy that could be Spains leading novelist, as the man that woke me from my sleep because he farted so loudly ( four bloody times: So WRONG)!

So let's get back to the reason why we were in Tilcara: Easter! We arrived in time for the Wednesday which we heard was the biggest parade of the weeks proceedings, with all the villagers marching down from the mountains; marching down with 3000 panpipes that is, as Rosie informed us. Now this wouldn't be a problem if Tanja hadn't told us the day before, that the worst sound in the world to her, was the sound of PANPIPES. You should of seen her face drop. At first I couldn't really see what Tanja's problem was, with pan pipes, but after sitting on a hill for three hours listening to hundreds going by, giving out the most awful unrhythmic sound ever, I agreed with her entirely.

The next night was the procession of the virgin and yes, that's right more bloody PANPIPES. Still, I decided to brave it, as I don't think it's a real Easter parade, with out a good virgin. I also got on everyones nerves a lot by singing like a Virgin by Madonna, which probably wasn't very appropriate at all.

The celebrations continued through out the rest of Easter, which basically meant panpipes 24/7. I did start to wonder how they all kept going and if any of them actually died due to loss of breath. In fact I did google to see if I could find out how many people died of Panpipe fatalities in south America a year, but didn't have any luck, so if anyone knows I would be very interested to know.

Im now traveling on my own again, which seems strange after nearly a month with Tanja and Eva and having the most amazing week in Tilcara with the girls, but once again I knew the rules: You always have to say goodbye. Actually this time it's not goodbye. I know I have made some real friends and I will see them again in this life. Anyway it's time to start a new chapter. This one will be called the final leg. Next stop Mendoza, after a 18 HOUR bus journey!

OBSERVATIONS

* Argentineans are so chilled, they even take their dogs to bars with them. You can be watching a band and there are just dogs everywhere. Love it!

* I'm sick of being chatted up by horny middle aged Latino America men. All the time; sat at dinner; walking in the street and on the bus. I know I'm in the next age bracket these days but if I'm going to be chatted up, can it be by someone that's hot and not old enough to be my dad!

* I've finally found a south American food I love. EMPANADAS! I'm addicted!

* I'm the clumsiest person alive! Yesterday I managed to punch some poor Argentinean taxi driver in the nose as I put my backpack on, and busted it. Its a horrible feeling standing there while some guy is holding his nose and you think you have broke it. Luckily I didn't, it was just a bit bruised! I gave him a big tip.

* A lot of South Americans seem to have some terrible face piercings.

* I've actually got a lot on my mind at the moment, but even with that, the other day in Tilcara I was sat there and realised I was the happiest I have been in along time. Nothing else really matters after that. It's a good feeling.

* I got in trouble again by being the animal lover that I am, by letting the hostel's cat Lucca into the dormitory, and let him sleep on my bed. It appears most of the girls are allergic. There was a lot if sneezing going on. Oophs!

MY NEW BEST FRIEND

2011-04-20T11:10:00.001-07:00

It seems I have made a new Spanish best friend. Her name is Vogue Latino América. I do believe she is the most helpful and interesting best friend I have made in a while as she has helped no end with my Spanish.
When I was with Martin, he told me the best way to learn a language was to read, and that I needed to get reading Spanish. Me being me, and biting off more than I can chew, AGAIN, told him I was going to read a Gabriel Garcia Marquez book (slightly ambitious, don't you think)? Since then I have been hunting round South America for one, only finding one in Peru brand new, which was way to expensive and I told myself I wasn't going to pay that amount (I'm on a budget don't you know)! All I have found since are versions in English, and last time I checked I could read English pretty well! Hence my learning Spanish through reading had come to a bit of a standstill, until now! I'm now hiding away in the most chilled hostel in the world in a little village called Tilcara in the north of Argentina. There is not a lot to do here apart from relax, so I saw it as a good opportunity to get out my Spanish books and start learning again. The only problem is, I keep getting easily distracted, so instead of using google translate on my phone, I seem to find myself logged onto facebook, checking my emails, or browsing the Top Shop website for the latest fashions (even though I have told everyone whilst I have been traveling I haven't once; I'm a big liar: I miss you Top Shop; I miss fashion)!
With my love of fashion in mind you should of seen my face, when I came across a recent edition of Vogue Latino América! Bingo! I haven't stopped reading it all day. I've been tapping away on google translator like there is no tomorrow. I now can tell you all the words in Spanish for pattern, lace, embroidery, pleating and off the shoulder neckline! Heaven. Thanks Vogue Latino América, your the best friend a girl can have.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 4: SALAR UYUNI

2011-04-20T10:39:00.001-07:00

Yes, I seem to be on a good run of Benidorm bad girl at the moment. This is now the fourth! No 4 is taken in Salar Uyuni which is the worlds biggest salt desert and I think it makes the most dramatic setting for Benidorm bad girl so far. May the good run, keep continuing. Though that does mean I still have to carry on making a complete idiot of myself round South America!

WHERE AM I GOING?

2011-04-18T13:27:00.001-07:00

"All the world is a stage and and all the men and women are merely players", that's what Shakespeare said, wasn't it? Well if that's the case, can someone tell me what role I'm meant to be playing, because I don't know anymore. You see, while nearly all my friends are growing up in life, by having babies, getting married and getting mortgages, I seem to be at the age of 31 rebelling from it all by wandering round south America, partying, having flings with guys from foreign lands and trying not to be responsible in anyway shape or form. The truth of the matter is, I'm completely lost at the moment, I have no clue where I'm going or what role I'm meant to be playing but it's OK, because I'm traveling and it's OK to be lost when traveling. It's because of this reason, I have decided to extend my trip by a month. I will now not be back until the end of May. My family and friends who say they miss me, have waited this long for me to come home, they can wait a little bit longer for me. I'm not ready to come home yet. I don't want to come back to reality. I want to be lost a little bit longer.

Speaking of lost, I now seem to have found myself now in Chile, which again is a detour from my travel plan, but what a lovely detour it is. This is the story of how I got here.

Me, Eva and Tanja took another awful Bolivian bus ride from Potosi (the highest city in the world) to Uyuni, which once again included terrible roads, having to pee in the open and bad 80s music, which also comprised of a Spanish cover of Chris de Burghs, lady in red! Eventually we arrived at Uyuni, which was a complete dump! Still it was a must on the Gringo trail as it was the gateway to Salar Uyuni, which is the biggest salt desert in the world and a must see in South America.

As much as I have loved Bolivia as a country, I have been very disappointed with the people. After the kindness of the Colombians and the Peruvians, the Bolivians seemed rude, unfriendly and had a really bad attitude to Gringo's. Added to this Bolivians bad roads and that Uyuni was such a horrible place, me and the girls decided on the plan of taking a 3 day tour into the Uyuni desert, after which we would get dropped at the Chilean border and get the hell out of Boliva.

As I have learnt from traveling, when you take a tour, your experience depends a lot on the rest of the group. Well the rest of our group consisted of all Brits! Now I try and avoid Brits abroad, as they are usually just that (Brits abroad!) and I find myself apologising for their behaviour, even more so when their ages range from 18-21, which the rest of my group was; all ten of them! Four of them girls, who all dressed the same, could not be separated from each other, even for the toilet; all they seemed bothered about was the way they looked and between them had the brain capacity of a pea! The boys were just one big bag of testosterone, who only seemed bothered about getting in the four girls knickers and trying to act hard to disguise their public school boy past. All in all it made for entertaining 3 days if nothing else! There was one other member to the group, a another Brit Elliott who at 26 was more with us as he fell into our age group, of the golden oldies, which we had began to feel like!

The group was split into two jeeps. Our jeep consisted of me and the girls, Elliott and two of the young guys; Johnny and Dave, who seemed very reluctant as Eva was sick and they thought she was going to throw up over them and they couldn't be with the other girls and work on getting into their knickers!

So off to the desert we went. The day consisted of the boys drinking loads, the girls stripping off to their underwear in the desert to take photos of each other, the boys getting erections, finding some binoculars and shouting " Oh f**k, that's so hot!" a lot. As distracting as this juvenile behaviour was, it did not ruin for me the salt desert of Uyuni, which has to be the most amazing landscape I have ever seen in my life. It's so magical, it doesn't look real, even when you see it with your own eyes. I do believe there is nothing like it on earth. What I saw there will stay with me to the day I die.

We then had a three hour drive to our hotel for the evening, so we decided to get in some beers. The boys had got some nasty local spirit and were mixing it with coke and kept offering it us. Well if you can't beat them, join them so we did. Before we know it we are all soooooooooooo drunk. We are singing our hearts out to Oasis songs; Eva is mixing the drinks and getting whiskey all over her arms, which she makes the boys lick off; we piss off our driver, Mario by having to stop to pee ever two seconds; we have to pee next to llamas; Tanja is soooooooooooo drunk she starts trying to catch a llama; Tanja starts kissing Johnny and the next thing Elliott asks to kiss me and I say "OK, then"! It's totally crazy. I'm drunk in the back of a jeep in the desert, kissing some guy over the seat that I don't even fancy, like a thirteen year old. Hanging with teenagers has turned me into acting like one. The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. I do remember Tanja throwing up and being put to bed; me thinking I was fluent in Spanish while talking to the locals; me losing my bag; me finding my bag and me nicking one of the pea head (I now refer to the group as the pea heads!) boys toilet paper because I couldn't find ours!

The next morning we all woke up with huge hangovers and Tanja not knowing where she was. I sat with Elliott for breakfast and we both hadn't got a clue why we had started kissing and laughed about it. Then it was also revealed he had kissed Eva later that night, even funnier, though he did start quoting the bible to her after (worrying)!

The rest of the day was quite painful, because not only did I have a hangover, I had to deal with the pea heads too. After surviving the day and seeing some amazing scenery, we arrived at our accommodation for the night. After eating me and the girls decided to have a early night because we felt so rough.

Unfortunately we were sharing our room, with the pea head girls, who decided they were going to go to the pea head boys room and play drinking games to the early hours of the morning, which is shit when the walls are paper thin. You can hear everything, so when they crawled back to the room late, I was still wide awake, which should of made me angry as we had to be up at 4.30am, but I would not have wanted to have missed the following for the world! Please imagine the following conversations, in the most girly, squeaky, stupid voices you can imagine.
"Oh my God girls, the boys call us the untouchables, because we are so untouchable! Isn't that cool?"
"yeah that's cool"!
"So cool"!
"Cool!"
"Steph, I think you should get off with Dexter!"
"I can't! He looks like my dad! I can't get off with my dad can I?"
"Lucy, Brad loves you, I think you should have sex with him".
"Really? Does he? Maybe I will have sex with him"?
"Is it wrong to shave your stomach"?
"No Paris, it's cool, I did mine in the shower this morning".
"It's cool Paris".
"Cool".
While this is going on I'm under my sheets, shoving my pillow in my face, so they cannot hear how much I am laughing. I find out the next morning Tanja was doing the same.

After really no sleep, but a very entertaining night, we head out to see the Geyesers and the hot springs. All the girls are put in one jeep, which I quite enjoyed as I am finding the pea heads very funny now, probably for the wrong reasons, but funny all the same.

We head for the hot springs, which all the pea heads are very excited about: the boys because they get to see the girls half naked and the girls, because they get to show the boys themselves half naked and they have also shaved their stomachs. Me and Tanja sit and watch with amusement, but when we head out of the spring, we realise the boys are making comments about us and having a good stare at us in our bikinis. I guess the girls aren't as special as they think they are. When guys are that age, they are so testosterone all they really need is a woman who is breathing, and with breasts. I then realise I have left all my dry clothes in the jeep and have to runaround in my bikini. That said there is something very liberating parading around the Andes in just your bikini.

After breakfast me, Tanja and Eva have to go to the border in a jeep, to catch our bus in time. This seems to be a very traumatic thing for the Pea heads as it means three of them have to come in our jeep, thus separating them all for more than 2 minutes. The girls flatly refuse to come with us (selfish as well as dumb)! The boys all can't decide and the whole thing turns into a mission, which we are getting very angry with as we might miss our bus. After shouting at them, three very reluctant boys sit riding with us to the border. We reach the most remote boarding crossing ever and I'm glad to see the back if them all. I'm too old for all their rubbish and I'm reminded why I would never want to be 21 again. No more teenagers, though I can't say it wasn't a very entertaining experience, just one I don't want to repeat.

I am now in a great little town called San Pedro Accama in chile. It was so the right decision to come here. The people are great, there is brilliant wine, I'm out of high altitude at last and back into shorts, vests and flip flops. The only regret is that I haven't got more time to explore Chile. Tomorrow, we head for Argentina. At least there is one place I know where I'm going in life.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 3: THE WORLDS MOST DANGEROUS ROAD!

2011-04-11T15:33:00.001-07:00

I'm quite accident prone, so cycling down the worlds most dangerous road might not seem like the most sensible idea, but I do like a challenge, and my altitude sickness has got much better, so I couldn't resist. Besides only 13 tourists have been killed since the cycling began, 10 years ago. That averages out at just over one a year, so I rated my chances. Saying that no one has died so far this year! The road, use to be the main highway up to La Paz and in it's time took the lives of 200-300 people a year in car accidents, making it the road with most number of fatalities in the world, hence the name. Luckily the government opened a new, safer road ten years ago, so the old road is just left to crazy backpackers on bikes and a few odd locals in trucks.

We started our 65km journey at 4,690 metres above sea level (which is the same height as Mount Everest's base camp), in thick snow and icy winds. Luckily we were padded up to the nines, but it was still wet and freezing and for the first hour I couldn't feel my feet or my hands, which isn't great for braking! The first 30 minutes were on Tarmac, but then after that, the real challenge begins, as the rest of the journey is on gravel dirt track. I cycle in London, but this was a whole new ball game. The gravel was loose and it was down hill all the way, this equals, very scary indeed. As I nearly go flying off my bike right at the beginning of the gravel, I start to get frightened! I'm cycling down hill in the fog, can't really see what I'm doing, on a road that in parts seems hardly wide enough for bikes never mind cars, knowing that if I make a wrong move it's a 800m sear drop off the edge, and I suddenly think: Carly, you are such an idiot, you have taken it too far this time! Basically, to put it in an uncouf manner: I'm shitting it!

I decided to take it at my own pace and placed myself at the back of the group, and as the flog disappeared and sun came out, I started to feel better with the terrain. This was short lived as I go over a mount, lose control and the next thing I know I'm flat on the floor (but a least it's not over a cliff)! It seems I'm not the only one though. Eva, one of the Danish girls has fallen off in the same spot, but is a lot more hurt than me. She has a swollen hand, elbow and knee and is unable to continue with the ride. I do what, I learnt to do with horse riding, which is get straight back on and get on with it.

Instead of scaring me more, the fall seems to have the reverse effect, and I lose all my nervousness and just go for it. In no time I'm speeding down the mountain at break neck speed, as I realise it's better not to use your brakes too much. In fact I'm really enjoying myself now, the more crazy the incline, the better. Our group (minus Eva), make it to the end, and we are all still alive. Yeah! It's a good feeling. After a descent of 3,450 metres; through 7 microclimates, through rivers, waterfalls and snow, we have made it to the bottom. I can say I survived the worlds most dangerous road, though the next day I did have a very bruised body! You can't have it all though.

OBSERVATIONS

* I can't wait to get to Argentina(they are meant to be taller there), so I don't feel like Godzilla anymore. The people in Peru and Bolivia are total midgets! Most of them only come up to my chest, and I'm not joking!

* Some one really needs to tell the local women in Peru and Bolivia, that they need to wear bra's . They are not flat chested and by the time they are old their breasts are really down to their waists. Not a good luck!

* People in Bolivia don't seem to be able to flush the toilet after themselves. Disgusting!

* Bolivia seems to have the most awful selection of wedding dresses and cakes I have ever seen. Take for example this little number below ( yes! They don't just do White)! Do you think it will suit me?

LIFE ON THE EDGE

2011-04-09T04:42:00.001-07:00

I'm one of those people in life that things, just happen to, especially when I'm traveling. Take for example the time I crashed a moped on a driving test in the Cook Islands and took all the skin off my knees, knuckles, elbows and had stitches in my chin. Then there was the time I got water poisoning in Cambodia and couldn't eat properly for weeks and came home looking like a famine victim with my clothes falling off of me. Also there was that time in India when on the sleeper train in a cabin with five Indian men, I woke in the middle of the night to find that one of them had placed his hand beneath my sheet to have a good feel and I had to scream, switch on all the lights and wake the whole carriage. Oh! And there was that time, up that volcano in Indonesia when I set my shoes on fire at the top trying to dry them on the camp fire because they were wet, and I had to do the rest of the trek, with my shoes falling to pieces and then bare foot! Actually something much worse happened to me up that volcano but it was so traumatic I can't talk about it; let's just say it was bad, really, really bad. Oh God!

So far on this trip, I've been quite lucky, but I was waiting for something to happen and it did. It was altitude sickness. I had experienced some in Bogota: headaches and breathlessness, but this was nothing compared to what I experience in the higher plains of Peru and Bolivia. When I arrived in Puno, Lake Titicaca I felt completely fine, which I was surprised at, as it's 3822m above sea level. My surprise was short lived though, as I woke that night at around 1.00am with the worst headache ever and just couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning I tried to walk to the lake but was so out of breath, I nearly fainted. The headaches, the insomnia, continued but it was the breathlessness that was the real problem.

By the time I had crossed into Bolivia and reached La Paz, I wasn't in a good way. I couldn't even speak with out being out of breath, never mind climbing a flight of stairs. I had been at high altitude for five days now, and instead of getting better I was feeling worst. Luckily I was now traveling with two Danish girls, Eva and Tanja who I met on the Isla de Sol on Lake Titicaca. From past experience, I know it's the worst thing to be ill when your traveling on your own. As I started to get chest pain and felt like I could hardly breath, the girls got worried and said I needed to see a doctor because altitude sickness can be fatal. So off we went to the hospital. I was put on a oxygen tank and had to have my lungs X-rayed. Luckily there was no water on my lungs. The doctor said I had altitude sickness, but it wasnt the dangerous type. He gave me a load of medication, told me to rest and not drink alcohol (that's going to be hard!), and I should start to get better soon.

The next day I decided to follow doctors orders and took a short walk to the Market with the girls, but as not to over do it, I decided to walk back to the hostel. As I was walking I could hear lots of noise, like explosions and gun shots going off. I've never heard anything like it in my life. It sounded like a battle zone. I continued on my path, until I found it was blocked by riot police and hundreds of protesters. I had heard, off travellers that Bolivians were known for having lots of protests. This one was about pay cuts. The people were shouting chants and setting off gunpowder rockets.

I decided to head away from them and try and find another route. Unfortunately I headed into another protest, and was trapped. This one was turning more ugly though, as the people were attacking what I later found out was a government official. A local pulled me to the side for safety, as people were starting to throw gunpowder bombs at the police and officials. Just seconds after I filmed this clip you are about to see they opened the water canons and the riot police came in. I have never ran so quick in my life, even with altitude sickness. I got away and is it wrong to say I wasn't scared but found it all very exciting. I'm a total adrenaline junkie and one of my idols is Lee Miller, so what more can I say. So much for taking it easy.

The next after going to visit some ancient Inca ruins, me and Tanja met Eva in a cafe for a drink. It soon became apparent that the riots of the day before were not the end of it, as in the distance we could hear more explosions. It wasn't long before those explosions drew upon us. I looked out of the window and saw thousands of people now marching down the street. The riot police had sealed off all the streets and our cafe pulled down it's shutters and locked it's door and we were closed in. We looked out of the window to see what was happening and the next thing we know, the protesters were throwing dynamite!

We were asked to move away from the window for our own safety. So me being me, I went round to the other window to look what was going on. Just after I finished filming this, the riot police shot tear gas into the crowd and charged.

We stayed holed up in cafe for another couple of hours, until the mob had disbanded and things had calmed down (thank God they had Wi-Fi). It appears there is a lot of unrest with the political situation in Bolivia at the moment, hence the protests. Even though the protesters do not wish to harm ordinary people or tourists, me and the girls think it's probably best to get out of La Paz for safety reasons. So instead, tomorrow, we have decided to be sensible and cycle down the worlds most dangerous road!

BRIEF ENCOUNTER

2011-04-07T15:00:00.001-07:00

You meet lots of people when your traveling. Most of them come into your lives for a short time and then you never hear from again and they are lost to you in this world. It was on one of these brief encounters that I met Brenda Waugh of Washington D.C who has since become one of the most faithful followers of my blog. Yes, that's right people, this blog has gone international; I have followers in the US, Australia, Germany, and some other countries I can't think of right now. This post is dedicated to Brenda.
I met Brenda quite by chance. Her son Jasper was at the same Spanish school as me in Costa Rica. Jasper was like the star pupil, who was nearly fluent in Spanish and who I avoided like the plague as I felt very inferior compared to him with my Spanish skills. One day we went on a school outing to see the baby turtles hatch on the beach.

I spent most of the tour silent, too scared to say anything In front of everyone in case people laughed at my Spanish, and trying to avoid my fellow Class mate, Megha (real name Nancy, but Megha is her ancient sand script name) as she drove me crazy! As we all sat down for breakfast, I still sat there silently wishing for it all to be over. Then the women next to me started talking to me in English (relief)! The woman was Brenda and she turned out to be Jaspers mum, who had come a long for the day trip as well. We hit it off straight away, and I told her I wrote a blog. She asked for the name of it and my email, like so many people do when you travel. Then our brief encounter was over and I thought that was that.

Isn't wasn't that, though. Brenda has stayed in touch through out my travels. Sending me emails on how much she enjoys my blog and my stories, but most importantly to her, that reading my blog makes her worry less about her Jasper on his travels. I'm not sure how it makes her worry less with all the crap I get up too!

As I traveled to Puno on Lake Titicaca, I received a email, from Brenda to say that that Jasper was going to be there at the same time as me, and I should email him, though he never checks his emails she said. I sent Jasper an email, but heard nothing.
It was my last night in Puno and after getting something to eat I decided to head back to my hostel as it was really cold. I stopped at a chemist to get some headache tablets and when I had finished and turned round, there by complete chance was Jasper stood in front of me. I guess it was fate. It was weird seeing him again after all this time, as I had not seen him since Costa Rica and that seems like a life time ago. We went for beers, exchanged travel tales and then before I knew it was time to say goodbye again. Another brief encounter, but one that I think, will make Brenda very happy. My mother too like Brenda, worries about her child on the other side of the world on her own, but I think this photo proves that both of their offspring are safe and happy on travels in far off places around the world.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 2: LAKE TITICACA

2011-04-02T20:42:00.001-07:00

I have had a few complaints off readers recently, that they had not seen enough of Benidorm bad girl, and it was suggested that I had given up the challenge. Oh you of little faith! OK, I forgot to take it to the lost city with me (gutted!), but guess what I'm back with a vengeance! Oh yes, only bloody Lake Titikaka, the ancient lake of the inca's and the worlds highest. Not only did I complete this challenge, but I also incorporated really bad tourist knit wear into it, to make me look like a bigger idiot. Oh yes! The rest of the tourists with me thought I was completely mental, but luckily my new best Friend, Tamara from Brazil, who is just as crazy as me, got really into it and was quite happy to take photos, while the rest if the group looked on slightly bemused. Can I add it was totally bloody freezing ( too God dam cold to be exposing my mid-drift) and I was suffering from altitude sickness as well. That's dedication for you!

CHAPTERS

2011-04-01T06:37:00.001-07:00

I think I can now say, at this point in my life, that I am experienced traveller. With this experience I have come to realise that when you go on a long journey it becomes not one solid venture, but journeys within journeys; stages, parts or as I like to call them: Chapters. So far on this adventure, I have had three chapters. Chapter one was my time in Nosara in Costa Rica. Chapter two was my time traveling the rest of Costs Rica and Panama with Angus and Chapter three was the time I spent traveling alone in Colombia. As Chapter three started more or less with Martin (I met him on my second day in Colombia), it seems fitting it should end with him too. I went back to Bogota to catch a flight and to see him one last time. Do you want to know what we did? Did we go to a fancy restaurant, to a bar, or a night club till the early hours of the morning. No. We stayed in, and guess what? It was the best thing ever. When you have been traveling for over three months, the thing that you miss the most is a place that feels like home, where you can be comfortable and have privacy (something you don't get a lot of, when you share a dorm with seven other people). We drank beer, ate microwave popcorn, got take away pizza, and lay together on the sofa with a blanket and watched a film (actually we only watched an hour of it as Martin realised he hadn't down loaded it all; so if anyone has seen My Blue Valentine with Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling, I would really like to know how it ends). The next evening I left him to go to the airport. Was it hard saying goodbye? No, as I always knew I had to. Will I see him again? Who knows what will happen, but I like to say no, as then you can't be disappointed. Am I sad about this? If I am true; yes, but there is nothing I can do about it. It is the way of the world, especially the traveling world; people come into your life and then they go again. All I can say now is, Martin: Gracias. Me hizo muy feliz, aunque fuera sólo por un corto tiempo. Te voy a echar de menos.

So ends a chapter, another begins. Chapter four starts in Peru! Yes I know Peru. Some of you are probably wondering how I ended up here ( I keep asking myself the same question), as it was never in my original plan to come here. The original plan was to cross the border from Colombia to Brazil and head through the country via the amazon. Well, I changed my mind. Two reasons:

1: Brazil's economy is doing well at the moment, which is great for them, but crap for us travellers, as it's bloody expensive!

2: As I'm only just coming to terms with Spanish and getting by on it, the thought of having to start all over again with another language (Portuguese) sends shivers down my spine. I'll concentrate on Spanish thank you.

Anyway that's the good thing about traveling, you can change your plans when ever you want, the world is your oyster. So the new plan now is to cross the border to Bolivia, head down through the country and cross into Argentina, make my way to Buenos Aires and head up to Rio via some interesting places, and get my flight home. As simple as that? This is of course, all subject to change. I'll probably end up in Africa, or some place and go "Not sure how I ended up here"?

After getting a flight from Bogota via Lima, I landed in Arequipa, Peru. I had wanted to go straight to La Paz, but it was too expensive and probably wasn't a good idea to go straight there due to altitude sickness. I didn't really know much about Arequipa, but it's actually a really amazing place. Arequipa is surrounded by some of the wildest terrain in Peru, which consists of thermal springs, snow topped volcanoes and some of the worlds deepest canyons. Even the town itself, which at first does not seem that impressive, grows on you. I went to see a great convent ( I know me in a convent! I'm surprised I didn't set on fire from all my sins when I stepped through the door)! The locals are really friendly and as hardly anyone speaks English and I haven't really been mixing with Gringo's here, I have been practising my Spanish a lot!

Yesterday I took a trip to see the Colca valley, which was amazing, apart from having the dullest tour group ever. I had to get up and leave at 2.30am! Yes! 2.30am! Totally knackered, but it was OK, as I didn't need much energy to interact with the rest of my group as I have seen more personality in a dead corpse! Most of them were GERMAN. They would only speak in GERMAN. They would only talk to the other GERMANS. They did not laugh at my jokes, because they were GERMAN. They didn't really smile because they were GERMAN. Now I haven't got anything against GERMANS, I went out with one for two years (actually ignore that. I probably have after him), I have many good GERMAN friends who I really love, but honestly when you get a group like that, you do want to just get a cattle prod and blast them with it, just to see if you would get a reaction, and I bet you wouldn't! Actually better idea, I should of just got the Aussies on the tour. Now that would of shook things up a bit. I wish they had of been there, they do make life more interesting, even though I did want to kill them most of the time.

The highlight of the trip for me though was seeing the Andean condor in full flight right near me. It has the largest wing span of any bird in the world at 3.2m. It was an amazing moment, though would have been more amazing if the annoying American guy next me didn't keep saying "That's narly!" ever two seconds and "is it having a shit"! Where's that cattle prod again!

TAJO

2011-04-01T06:33:00.001-07:00

Now this might look like the most boring video clip ever (sorry about that), but I'm trying to show you a game of Tajo. Tajo is the national game of Colombia and consists of throwing metal pucks at a clay surface. The aim is to hit the circle and the four paper triangles around it which contain gunpowder. If you hit them correctly, they blow up, which is cool, but bad on the ear drums! Unfortunately I kept missing filming them every time they blew up. I went for a game with Luiz, Beth and four German guys from my hostel in villa. Me and Beth were the only girls there and got a few stares as I don't think it's a woman's sport. Never or less Beth, won! She was bloody great at it. I was so, so. The German guys are obsessed with it, and very competitive when it comes to the game. They even Want to introduce it to Germany and try and make a business from it,( quick some one buy the patent)! The most distressing thing of the night for me was the mens urinals were just behind our game, so if you got your throw wrong it could be very horrible in deed!

I SPEAK BECAUSE I CAN

2011-03-28T09:56:00.001-07:00

Do you want to know what the worst word is, in the english language? It's not hate; it's not greed; it's not jealously. No, it's CAN'T! It is a word that should never have been introduced into the vocab. It is a word that should never be learnt. Unfortunately it is a word I learnt a long time ago and a word that I have been using too much ever since. It is so imbedded in my psyche, that I believe I can't really do anything anymore. I say I can't do it before I have even tried. It is an unhealthily disposition to have, a loss of ones faith in ones self. My Achilles heel in life is when some one calls me stupid. I get defensive, even when it's meant as a passing joke. This is because, I have grown to actually believe that I am stupid, I even play up to it. I set out on this trip to challenge myself again and try new things. One of these things was to try and learn Spanish!
I had done two weeks of lessons for four hours a day in Costa Rica, which I was a little bit like a rabbit in the head lights. It was one of the hardest things I have done in a long time. I came away from those lessons thinking I hadn't learnt anything and that I was rubbish. I had once again gone back into my bad thought zone. Since then I have been taking the easy route hanging out with Gringo's, and talking English.
One thing I will say about me is that, I get knocked down very easily, but I will always get back up again, and so I decided it was about time I went back to Spanish lessons and try again. Laura and Luis also run a Spanish school, so it was perfect. I signed up for a week of three hours a day.
My new teachers were Sonja who I did grammar with and Carlos who did conversation. Sonja who is sweet and patient, knows English as well as Spanish, which has helped me so much, as she can explain to me the difficult grammar. All those notes and hours of grammar in Costa Rica that made no sense to me, are slowly all now starting to slot into place. Thank God!
The real revelation of these lessons though was Carlos! He is one of life's real characters and one of the best people I have ever met. Even though he speaks really no English, I have become very close to him and his wife Cecilia, who have become like parents to me in the very short time I have known them. I'm only meant to have three hours a day but it's more like five, as every night I have been asked to stay for dinner with him and cecilia, and they make me the best hot chocolate in the world, which they dip cheese in over here, which I get nausea over and can't do (me and my food phobias)! We talk art, as Carlos paints and I showed him my drawings which he got very excited over. He encourages me talk, (actually he makes me talk until I have no more brain space to learn) never laughs at me, only with me and I feel comfortable talking Spanish with him, some thing that has not happened before. He and Cecilia call me their adopted English daughter and when they walk me home every night back to my hostel, they proudly introduce me to their friends like I'm part of the family. On one of our evening walks around the town, which we usually did, to practice vocab, I told Carlos how much I wanted to speak Spanish. He laughed and said I will then. I told him I was no good at it and he laughed again and said you can speak, and you will learn to speak more and then more and then more, so do not say anymore you can't, you can!
I wish I could stay longer with Carlos, he has such passion for wanting you to learn and has ignited this passion in me as well. I will miss him and Cecilia a lot, my adopted Colombian parents. I will miss Laura, Luis and family. This place as well. There is something very special about here. I will take away from here a lot, but the most important thing I will take is the word CAN.

Im going to leave you with an Argentinean song by a lady called Mercerdes Sosa. I listen to it every day on my way to lessons. It's called la pobrecita, which means poor thing. Even though I cannot yet understand all the words, I think it's a beautiful song and she sings which such emotion. It makes me want to understand Spanish more.

TRANQUILO

2011-03-27T16:30:00.001-07:00

Life is one big party; isn't it? Well I always thought so, being the party girl I am, or maybe I was? After over a week with the Aussies and two late ones in Bogota, I was feeling worn out. I guess I'm getting too old for it all. My skin was bad, I had bags under my eyes and even I realised, I looked too thin. It was to time to get some calm, some tranquilo. With Colleen gone and Martin working all the time, there was nothing to keep in me Bogota. Besides it's cold, wet and ugly and was the first place on this trip that I felt really unsafe as a woman on her own. My friend, Billy, had told me about a place called villa de Leyva four hours from Bogota, in the hills. It sounded like the perfect place to chill. After navigating the bus network of Bogota, finding a bus to take me to Villa, the bus getting wedged between two trucks, mudslides, crazy winding roads and once again one mad bus driver, I arrived in villa in heavy rain. After walking the streets for ages and getting very wet, because I could not understand the directions people where giving me (it's always a problem when you can only ask questions in Spanish, but not understand the God dam answers)! I eventually arrived at my hostel: Rana.

Billy had stayed at Rana too and had loved it so much he had ended up staying two weeks. Rana is run by a English wife and Colombian husband; Laura and luis. As soon as I walked through the door I knew I had made the right decision. I felt right at home straight away. I walked into craziness! Kids running everywhere, lots of noise and no room to move. Luis and Laura have three girls and it was Maya, the eldest birthday. It reminded me of my home when I was growing up, it was so full of life and warmth. In no time I'm dragged into having my nails painted as it's a manicure party (eleven year olds these days are so sophisticated) and was given a huge piece of birthday cake. It felt so nice to be around a family again. Thats the amazing thing about this hostel; it feels more like a home than a hostel and no one can ask for more than that. That night as I tried to sleep, I realised how much I missed my family, even though I say I don't miss them, I do. I always feel so loved and happy around them. I told myself that night I will make a big effort, when I get back, to see them more and not make my excuses that make me a stranger to them some times.

Even though I came here to chill, I've actually been quite busy, but in a good way. Apart from doing more Spanish lessons (which I will talk about in another post), I have been making the most of seeing the local area which is so beautiful. Beth, laura's sister, who is out here for a vacation with her daughter Carmen, has been coming on a lot of excursions with me, and as her Spanish is as bad as mine it's been quite interesting. As no one really speaks English here( thats why I came!) Trying to communicate to our taxi driver on where we want to go has been a mission, but also extremely funny as he usually takes us to the wrong place first, but I find life more interesting when it goes wrong. The other day I got a taxi to some hot springs on my own. My taxi man was a young local, who I think fancied his chances, even though he didn't speak any English. After having to strip off to my bikini in front of a load of local builders who were building a house next to the spring, I then turned round to find the taxi driver had stripped down to his Y fronts and was getting in the spring with me. Oh God! He then proceeded trying to talk to me using all his best lines. Luckily some old people who could speak English got in too and I started talking to them and practising my Spanish. As he was not getting anymore attention,the taxi driver then got out of the spring and then proceeded to stand there posing talking to the builders in just his Y fronts which were so unsexy, I can't tell you! I couldn't stop laughing which pissed him off even more. He just couldn't understand why I didn't want him! I find out later, off others, that he really wants a western girlfriend, even though he is married with two kids. Men hey!

As I was a good horse rider in my past, I've been doing quite a lot of horse riding here. My guide who again speaks no English is great and we go off galloping in the mountains. The only problem is he keeps trying to marry me off to his farm friend who is about 100, but who he keeps telling me has lots of land and property. No thanks! In fact the other day I had a sore back and even the guide started to rub my back, while he felt my bra a lot doing it. God! The men are on heat around here!

I spend most of my spare time eating (I've put on weight which is great), writing, reading and in the evenings I hang out with my friend Cyril, a French guy who I met in Bogota, who also works in the film business. We usually moan about the industry, talk football, music and then have a good old debate on politics (I love a good debate)! I feel so happy here. Everything is tranquilo.

OBSERVATIONS

* It appears you can do DIY funerals in Colombia, as I observed the other day when I saw someone with an estate car, driving around the streets with a procession following it. It wasn't as big as a hearst though, as the coffin was sticking out the back.

* You know that you have a really bad bus driver when even the local sat next to you makes the sign of the cross!

* So Latin America's are the most amazing dancers, they put us to shame and make us look like idiots on the dance floor; well that's with their music, because I realised in the nightclub the other week, they can't dance for shit to western music. There is a God!

BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN, DON'T THEY?

2011-03-22T20:11:00.001-07:00

Before I went away, loads of people were telling me to dye my hair dark, to go traveling to south America. Even the west ( that's the actor Dominic west aka McNulty to you!) was telling me I was crazy not too and that I was going to get molested! I told him to shut up and go and do something useful like acting or something, because we had that kind of relationship where I could talk to him like that ( in fact I seem to have that type of relationship with most actors)! Anyway back to the subject at hand: BLONDE! Because I'm as stubborn as a mule I refused to. I've had my years of experimenting, red, brunette and pink (that was an accident!) and I have come to realise I'm a blonde through and through, besides blondes have more fun, don't they?
It was quite apparent from as soon as I started my travels, that blondes are something of a rarity over here (apart from some local women who try to dye it but it looks more like some bad orange sun kiss)! I had survived it in India; the staring and the touching of hair, but here I have been finding it more difficult. The men here are much more vocal and full on and leave you feeling a lot more uncomfortable, especially as a woman on her own. It becomes quite tiring as well. It was on a day in Cartagena, walking around on my own, when after feeling fragile still from the boat; sick and tired of being harassed by the local men and sad for reasons I will not talk about; I met Martin.

I was standing at the fort taking pictures when a tall, dark, good looking guy approached me. He spoke to me in Spanish and from my little understanding, I guessed he wanted me to take a picture of him, which I did. He carried on talking to me in Spanish, asking me questions like my name, where I was from and wether I wanted to go for a drink with him. I looked like a rabbit in the head lights, but mustered through and explained to him I knew a little Spanish and was trying to learn. We went on like this for a while, me suffering why I fluffed my way through my terrible Spanish conversation skills, Martin listening patiently. Then he turns round and said "We can speak English for a while if you want"?
"You can speak English fluently, then why didn't you"? Was my response.
"Because how are you meant to learn Spanish if you don't try to speak it"! Was his valid reply. Point taken then. It turns out Martin is a Spaniard living in Bogota, Colombia, working in human rights. He also happens to be very good company too. We spent the rest of the day together walking and talking, sometimes in my bad Spanish, most of the time in English. It's funny how you can meet a complete stranger and pore out some of your most deep thoughts and feelings, but that's what I did and him too. As he was leaving that night to catch a flight back to Bogota we sat on the old city Walls and watched the sunset go down. We were exchanging email addresses and as I was typing mine into his phone he grabbed my face moved it to his and kissed me. When he had finished, I sat there completely speechless for once in my life and blushed like a little girl. I had not expected it, but I was completely blown away by it. It was one of the most romantic and passionate kisses I have ever had in my life. We told each other we would meet in Bogota and he left on a plane that night.

Two weeks later I found myself in Bogota. I was unsure whether to call Martin. I guess I wanted to preserve that perfect day and moment between us and not tarnish it with the usual disappointment that follows with these things. I pondered. While I was pondering, I met my new room mate at my hostel: a Bubbly Canadian called Colleen. She was hitting the bars that night with her fellow class mates from language school and asked me if I wanted to come a long. "Why the hell not!" I thought, which seems to be my motto these days. After walking for what seemed like miles to try and find the cheap bars, and having an accidental detour into a brothel thinking it was a bar, we eventually ended up in some cheesy night club as the only Gringo's. Now I have been to a few night clubs in my time but I have never been to one where the playlist ranges from shakin Stevens to the violent femmes. Crazy, but not as crazy as the drunk Colombian guy who wouldn't leave me a lone all night and kept saying he was in love with me and that if I didn't kiss him he was going to die from a broken heart. He then vomited in a glass and passed out, (actually he is probably one of the better guys I have been chatted up by in my life)! I crawled in the early hours of the morning again.

I eventually decided to take the plunge and contact Martin as I figured I'm a lot more use to dealing with the disappointment of the reality of men, than the disappointment of the not knowing. We arranged to meet at his apartment in the city. I was wondering if I was going to feel weird meeting him again, but as soon as he opened the door I knew it was going to be alright. What was weird was being in such a modern fancy apartment after being in such simple surroundings for over 2 months. We started to talk again, drank beers and I realised Martin is one of the most interesting and intelligent guys I have met in a long time. We talked for hours, listened to music and then.....? ANYWAY, later he took me to the good area of Bogota for dinner (as believe me Bogota doesn't have that many of them) but the real treat of the night was going to a real salsa club that all the locals went to. It was amazing and so different from the nightclubs back home. Everyone dances in couples and watches everyone else. Martin dragged me onto the dance floor and tried to make me salsa, but dancing as a couple is something I'm not use to and left me feeling like I had two left feet. I went to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. God I felt so unattractive. I was wearing the same clothes I had worn for the last three days as they were the only warm ones I had (Bogota is freezing); had hardly any make up on; and looked tall and gangly compared to all the curvy beautiful latino women. I look like a tramp, I thought and would never be seen dead like this in London. I came back to the table feeling a bit out of spirits, while Martin departed to go for a cigarette. As he left a Colombian guy came up to the table and asked if I would dance with him. Being very proper and English I said I was here with some one else. As he left Martin came back and asked what happened. I told him and he laughed and told me that I should dance with as many men as I could and he women because that's what everyone does here. It's like one big melting pot of sexual tension and flirtation. How wonderful. The latinos are the most sexual people ever and very open with it, it's very catching too as I found that me and Martin couldn't keep our hands off each other. I have never given or received that kind of public displays of affection before, but I loved it. I was even starting to love salsa, as every time Martin left the table I had a new guy come and ask me to dance and this time I did not refuse. Every single one of them asked me where I was from, what was my name and that they loved my hair. After salsa-ring the night away we left the club in the early hours of the morning in cab driven by colombia's answer to Micheal Schumacher, who I'm sure was trying to kill us. What a night! The next morning, I left Martins with a smile on my face and thought to myself; its true; blondes do have so much more fun.