My Big Apple

My Big Apple

Cosmos, Apple Martinis, Dirty Martinis, Manhattans, Perseco

Meatpacking, West Village, Lower East Side

Rudy's Hell's Kitchen - giant pig, jukebox, lost tourists wandered in from Time Square, guatemalans, salsa, sauced old cats asleep at the bar, sailors in uniform, Jo, James, picking random people off the street and pulling them into the bar

Giant pizza slices, Starbucks grande soy cafe late, california roll, seaweed salad, macrobiotic udon, china town dim sum, bagels and scallion cream cheese

Big guy threatening to smack a tiny lady on the subway for pushing him as she walked through the doors, she responding by saying she was gonna beat his ass

Riverside park breaking ice puddles with a baseball bat with Charlotte

Sony theatre 84th, 68th, Angelica, Lincoln Plaza 63rd, Chelsea Screens, movie night with Kevin

Xmas day - soup kitchen hugs, jews eating ham

Waking up facing CNN studios

Discovering Brooklyn, the other borough.... the other white meat.... (only septics get the reference to pork - again)

Wall Street, Battery Park, South Street Sea Port - public art, scultpures - depositions - what doesn't fit?

Suicidal Russian snow clowns with Clarita, Barneys brunch, FAO Schwartz, Brunch at Tiffanys

People don't speak english in Little Odessa, mistake Maya for a Russian - platinum blond with flashy gold and flashy strut

ALWAYS missing the last subway home and walking 20 blocks in high heels

The end

Are you a MexiCAN or a MexiCAN'T?

I'm knackered now and can't really be bothered to write much about the Yucatan

0. It is very flat
1. There are lots of caves and underground pools called cenotes
2. There are lots of menonites - look like the famous painting of the old guy in dungarees with a pitchfork and his wife
3. It is US package tourist central, and yet people are still really nice and smiley and helpful as in other parts of mexico - par example, we couldn't find the bank so a lady took us in her car, une autre, again car related, we were waiting for a taxi to catch a bus at 4 in the morning with a german boy who had a surf board and none would stop for us, so some guy who we later found out was insanely high stopped for us and let us hang half the surfboard out the window - maybe cos he was high but I'd like to think it was because he was nice
4. There are little idols of the virgin mary at every bus stop that come with fully functioning flashing fairy lights and often a taiwanese soundtrack
5. Tulum is beautiful and romantic and a place to go with a lover not a german girl and a big backpack
6. There are a lot of mormon missionaries in bus stations (I spent a lot of time in bus stations.... and on buses - one of which was nearly commandeered by a one armed tourets suffering boracho (drunk) who tried to get us in league with him to turn the bus back around and go 250 miles back up to Cancun), they are 19-20 year old cornfed Utah boys who try and pick up 'converts' in bus stations - if that doesn't sound sinister I don't know what does... On a serious note, they were actually very nice and very committed - no one is to call them by their first name for the whole 2 years - only elder plus surname, AND they can't go to the beach!!! Can you imagine the torture - 100 percent humidity, carribean waters and not being able to cool down and take a dip - that's religion gone wrong my friend
7. Again this is a repetitive theme with developing countries - but they (generalising) just mistreat animals, especially dogs - street dogs I get it, but pets - wrapping wire round their necks, twisting their legs - I want to say that it's because we are priviledged that we can talk about the humane treatment of animals but now I think that sounds patronising - it's just a totally different relationship. Roman, the hostel owner in Cancun was absolutely lovely but had the most vile pets in the world. He had a white rabbit that was actually brown from sitting for so long in its own filth and 2 cats that were emaciated and spotted with mange, one of which he claimed was pregnant because she was starting to get a bit of a belly.... or maybe because his guests were feeding her? If a cat will gobble down fruit, it isn't getting fed enough! He couldn't see what we saw and yet he claimed to dote on them, well he did pick up the disgusting bunny, aint no way I was touching it

We drove through Belize twice (on the way from mexico to guatemala and return) and got stamped and paid the entrance fee so I'm counting it as a country I've been to. All I can say is that it looked really poor in comparison to Mexico and drab in relation to Guatemala. Belize was British Honduras and is quite multi cultural - there are some indigenous and asian but it's mainly carribeans of african descent. My friend Maya got really cross at me for saying that it looked like the South and they all looked like Welfare moms - because it is a racist statement (especially as most welfare moms are white - trailer trash) - but she knew exactly what I meant so the visual reference worked. There are a lot of old beat up wooden shacks painted in pastels and lots of people hanging around. It seems sort of sad because I know that Belize is a resort hotspot but I don't think the money gets reinvested back into the country?

You say Guate Mala? I say Guate muy muy BUENA!!!

Sorry for another bad pun in the title, I would say it requires a little knowledge of spanish, but I think my level of verbal sophistication is below that of most....

There is something about Guatemala, there just is, everyone who's been there will tell you that, it may have a reputation for being the most "dangerous" country in central america - where rape, murder and robbery of travellers is rife (I myself got attacked by a gang of lads, they grabbed me and I screamed, they told me to shut up, so I screamed harder, and then they ran away as a tuk tuk driver sped - as much as his hairdryer engine would allow-to my rescue, never have I been so happy to have been such a spoilt brat in all my life, all the tantrums were prologue to this moment) - but it doesn't stop travellers coming in chicken bus loads.... to a detrimental effect in some ways. It's just magical - the 300 metre deep crater Lake Atitlan framed by a crown of perfectly conically shaped volcanoes, mayan ruins hidden deep in jungles filled with jaguars, pisotes, capuchins, macaws and other exotically named creatures, with just the tips of temples where ritual human sacrifices took place visible along the skyline. Vibrant colours are everywhere from the old American school buses painted in rainbow to the familial tombs in pastels to the intricately stitched tribal huipiles (costumes originally brought in by the spanish as a uniform for each department). The people are warm and generous and only stop smiling for photos (stern looks for portraits - it's as if every photo should be treated like a mug shot or passport photo). Markets are sprawling with lunch counters in a central ring that sound more like flamenco arenas than food halls with the constant rhythmic clapping of hands and in between them a doughy tortilla taking shape. The clucking sounds emanating from the back of the throat in between tzutuhil (1 of 24 mayan languages spoken in Guatemala, all too divergent to communicate between different ones) a language dominated by soft whisper sounds of "shhhh" and "jhhhh" have an entrancing effect on the street let alone while witnessing a shamanistic ritual in front of miniature easter island heads, offering maize, rum and flowers. These ceremonies often take place infront of or inside catholic churches, shaman float a make shift catholic censer (an old tin can with holes poked through) above a pine needle carpeted floor while healers sit with individuals on pews and chant. The saints days are epicuran reveleries with dancers masked as holy men, conquistadors, devils, jaguars, coyotes and a particular trickster Saint Maximon (who responds only to offerings of cigarettes and rum and with this will carry out acts of revenge upon anyone who has wronged you). Perhaps that is what is so wonderful about the mayans, that they are able to adapt, integrate and celebrate so many new things.

Generally, the Mayans are incredibly accepting of the vast number of tourists who flock to their lakes and rivers. Certain villages are infested with travellers, some of whom are just a little too comfortable.... they've decided to make the serene lake their home and form little ghettos devoid of any local flavour and then often set up arts and craft stalls as competition to local vendors. Now I do believe there should be a balance, in semuc champey - place of shimering emerald pools and waterfalls and limestone bridges and caves - I stayed in a virtual summer camp for western adults - run by a bunch of texans who play billie jean and smooth criminal on saturday nights while everyone born within 5 years either side of 1980 does their best mj impersonation (the legacy of my generation), is actually owned by a guatemalan, all the grunt work is done by guatemalans, but the face of it are a group of texan frat boys - hey, it sells and the money goes back to the community, because of its riverside location, its far enough away from the village not to bother anyone, so that seems alright with me. But some of the interactions between westerns and mayans are so comic book it's unreal. A Tszutuhil artist (by the way I have no idea how to spell that word, I keep wanting to write tutsi or hutu because it seems like a mash of both) selling sculptures that combine traditional mayan mythological imagery with western political and christian figures was intricately weaving traditional fables with modern morals for us in explaining about his work, and after every tale an American lady would say "Cuanto cuesta?' - how much.... Yeah nice story - price tag?

But not all of the long term visitors are annoyances, in fact with many the locals appear to look on them with fondness. There is crazy bob and crazy rob – who have both been residents of San Pedro for over twenty years, even during those of civil war. (My favourite of all the old timer California crazies was chard – as in Richard but he liked the spinach like vegetable so much he took the name – during the day he dove off cliffs and was generally naked – every bit of him was tanned and when he’d talk about vegetables a white ring would appear on his manhood – at night he’d put on clothes but still walk about barefoot, instead of saying farewell he’d offer a neck massage which was actually not sleazy but very effective and orchestrated with the intention of making people feel genuinely better). Often times you are automatically treated like one of the family, Maria, my landlady always brought me fruit when we she came into my room to secretly listen to her neighbours or to moan about Sandra the girl who rented the room next door to mine. And Maria’s husband Jesus, he and I would share a chocolate covered frozen banana bought at school letting out time, directly from a neighbour’s freezer as we sat on the stoop and listened to the radio. The Guatemalans are so kind and humble and understanding of our pecadillos, but very much rely on us having the patience that they do. My friend Ben and I hitched a lift with a trucker from coban up to flores – what should have been a 3 hour journey turned into a 24 hour long saga. Much of it was wonderful – stopping at his cardamom finca (plantation) meeting his family, having a home cooked meal (all of the people who worked on his farm shared a common feature – lacking front teeth – we didn’t know if this was some sort of genetic fault or over-indulgence in a maize drink – that tasted a lot like maltesers), letting a little boy ride for 20 miles standing on the side of the car; the flea infestation and consequent massacre of my person however was not fun, nor was the constant pointing out of cows (as there are a lot in Guatemala, our friend asked if we had cows in Europe and seemed pleasantly surprised to learn that we did) nor the incessant reminders of the flatness of the road. But fantastical stories of million dollars horses, who upon our inspection turned out to be mules were just a bit of fun and it was nice to share that.

The highlands were my favourite, but the strangest part of the whole thing was meeting these wonderful people who were so kind but twenty years earlier had been systematically killed by US funded government run death squads. One of my favourite spots by the lake was sitting on a big rock under a huge old tree looking out on the water the mountain called the Indians Nose across the way, and yet this is the very spot that villagers had been hung from, for no reason other than being poor and wanting a better life. But this story is virtually that of the whole of central America – oppression of and violence towards the indigenous by US sponsored corrupt fascist juntas. Still we won’t dwell – don’t wanna get preachy.


Factoids –

The Guatemalan government has adopted daylight savings, but the mayans do not adhere to it and refer to it as ‘devil time’.

Maya is not at all how the people refer to themselves – the correct nomenclature is a word very much like ‘exit’ but I cannot remember. Maya comes from one of the first interactions between conquistadores and indigenous, when the Spaniard enquired who his people were, the native replied ‘mayap’ which meant roughly ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’

Buses in Guatemala never really come to a complete stop, the only time one is ever rushed

You can climb up Volcan pacaya as it spews lava – be careful, many a shoe melts
Drying coffee smells very much like rotting Chinese food, this is on account of the skins

Guatemala is the biggest exporter of cardamom in the world

The coconut, banana and carrot bread you buy from the ladies on the street in San Pedro is really good but the chocolate is not as it in no way tastes like chocolate and is therefore very disappointing

Guatemalan male fashion dictates that wellies (rubber boots for my non-uk friends) must be worn with a cowboy hat at all times

Non-indigenous Guatemalans are referred to (and refer to themselves) as ‘ladinos’ which actually comes from ladron – thief, in reference to thieving Spaniards

The Mayans believe that the world begins and is destroyed in thousand or so year cycles – the next apocalypse is December 23 2012

The mayan calendar has a different symbol for each day of the year and that is equivalent to your zodiac and will determine the kind of life you have. They also have 5 spare days for doing nothing at the end of each year – very sensible too!

Fruit Police - had to come back and edit this as I forgot this very crucial thing! When you travel from one department to another there are police stops and officers come on board and check your person and your luggage for fruit. They actually question you with 'Is this your fruit?' and then ask what you were intending to do with it and confiscate it! Never have I felt more like a criminal!

Reverse Culture Shock

Right it was too hard to know where to begin writing because I've missed so much so I kind of just wanted to talk about how I feel right now.

So you've got the very well known, very worthy reverse culture shock - the "oh my goodness we are so wasteful and consumer driven and overpriviledged" stuff, but I'm more concerned with me and how I feel personally - on a totally selfish, self-centred, self-involved level

I've got a Top 10 symptoms - let me know if anyone else has ever experienced these

1. The first isn't a symptom at all more a warning to all travellers - NEVER come back in the dead of winter, the darkest days, when the sun has abandonned us and will not break through cloud cover for months. Another marker is the day with the highest suicide rate, surely linked into the above conditions - in the UK its at the begining of february - a few days before my return.

2. Groundhogs Day Syndrome - the monotony of normal life - the pointlessness of staring at a box, sitting at a box, while in a bigger box and then driving another box to and from this other box destination. Being made to stay in the box and stare at the box for 8 hours seems nonsensical? And then you go home and stare at another lit box for a few more hours after heating food in a different box. I JUST PLAIN HATE BOXES!!! And what is the point in sitting in one place for such an extended period of time if it's not transporting you from a to b via some scenic route. Hours of work has nothing to do with productivity, trying my hardest I can only concentrate for a maximum of 4 hours per day. I hate office machinery, especially faxes and photocopiers - I always see people standing by them and staring at them, occasionally I go and join them and ask them why - no one really seems to know, it's not like its viewer participation functioning equipment.

3. Turning into a desperate, clingy girlfriend type to your friends who are still away - asking why they haven't emailed you recently? Have they forgotten you? Are they having a better time now you're not there? Being especially suspicious of any new friends made - do you prefer them to me, etc... Nostalgia and sentimentality - remember when we did this? Wasn't that fun when we did that? I'd break up with me - honey our travelling days are over, it was good while it lasted, now move on.... Then you make the ultimate faux pas of whingeing to your non-travelling friends who don't really want to listen to you moan about not being on an extended holiday anymore and give you a harsh dose of reality - sedentary life - you live and move among boxes! Deal with it!

4. Playing the lottery.... and absolutely any television, radio, magazine, newspaper or other form of media competition. The thing is because you want it so bad you really believe you will get on Richard and Judy's 'you say we pay' or some cable channels general knowledge quiz because you know that the answer to the qualifying question is Clint Eastwood was in b. spaghetti westerns, not a. raviolli westerns or c. rice noodle westerns, and if you enter enough one day the winner is gonna be you. In the process you wrack up thousands of pounds on your phone bill for premium rate calls.

5. Can no longer understand the appeal of soaps - like eastenders or corrie - you used to appreciate the mindnumbing repetivity of the story lines and how they dragged on far past actually caring what happened. Now it all seems so silly to be hooked on something so dull - for 6 months you've had a life without sedatives, all action, need to rewire your brain to nonreceptive mode.

6. Coming back with new business ideas - like opening a crepe shop, or starting with a crepe van and moving up to a shop and then expanding to include a juice bar - a real dream of mine.... Or starting a dog walking service. But imagining that both of these professions will make you a mint and enable you to continue to travel for large portions of the year - namely 3 months either side of the highest suicide rate day.

7. Finding a focus and spending all your time concentrating on that - like deciding to write a book or a script about all your experiences, buying a notebook (spending a long time picking out the perfect one) then upgrading to a laptop, and then getting a printer and broadband and then wireless, then scribbling while bored at work (which is all the time) and transcribing these scribbles to microsoft word and really just accumulating a large amount of documents on your desktop and not really looking at them again after you've written them.

8. Being really emotionally hurt by people who in no way wanted to - simple things like people not sharing food with you - it's such a bonding thing while you're away sitting on a bus passing crackers round or being invited to someone's house and breaking bread with them, so when someone doesn't offer you a bite of their baked potato you think it's because they're trying to show that they don't like you. Another thing that I think is sort of more primitive and instinctual is just the way that different nationalities hold the muscles in their faces. My Persian friend Ali says that all northern Europeans tighten their face muscles which makes their lips look smaller and sort of produces a disgusted with everything expression. A perfect specimen was a somerset lad we met in Guatemala who would jerk his head back and grit his teeth while lifting his lips slightly over them - he looked like a baboon about to do battle or a hooligan - either way it did not look friendly even though everything that was coming out of his mouth was contrarily lovely. Having just visited only equatorial countries I am all about the smiles which I think people here interpret as assanine, but not casting judgement, the main point is it doesn't fit with all this tight-lippedness and makes me stick out like a sore thumb. Plus I have to get used to the fact that smiling at someone here will not necessarily prompt the same gesture back and that makes me sad.

9. Using alcohol as a crutch - to numb yourself to all the aforementionned and curb your frustration, this is only until you get used to the soaps again... It is a slightly dangerous tool when combined with credit card and internet shopping - especially flight websites.... It is also a major cause of the whiny girlfriend effect discussed previously.

10. The worst worst absolute worst is knowing that by the time your tan fades - which is sooner than you'd like to admit, or the length of time in takes you to learn all the lyrics to the top 10 pop songs of the moment, you will have fallen back into the old routine and won't mind boxes or soaps or sedentary or sedative or numbness and in fact you'll be really sad when you go away again and will miss the consistency and the structure.

Photos online!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally pictures of travel are up!! Go look

http://picasaweb.google.com/belcaitlin/Ethiopia

http://www.ringo.com/profile/caitlinbell5.html

Cuba Libre? No Cuba Cara!!

Right so I havent blogged for ages so this will probably be really dull. But just a quick note about my week in cuba. From the start things seemed a bit suspect. The Cubana plane from Cancun had a portal entrance that was big enough for hobbits but no one else so we all had to crouch down into almost fetal positions to get in and there was lots of russian writing on the door - which had a lot of kitsch value - just thought - ohh a relic from the communist era.... Oh wait, a relic from the communist era??? And as the engine started smoke billowed out from under the seats and crept up the aisle - smoke or dry ice?? Anyway it made it look like a ghost plane - I think it was just the air conditioning - or some chemical tool to clear our minds of all capitalist notions???? But I was seated next to a nice older mexican gentleman who had a really bad face lift and all I could see when I turned to my left to look at him were the multiple creases of skin by his ear that made him look like a sharpei. His wife of 28 years had left him and one year later he met a beautiful cuban ballerina and married her and wanted to thank his ex wife for such good fortune - i thought that was nice. Anyway he gave me good vibes about cuba - that its only 90 miles away from the US and yet "the little mouse is the only one who isnt afraid to scream at the big lion". So I was all souped up but at that time I didnt focus much on the fact that he said that he was meeting his wife whod been spending time with her family in cuba and then flying straight out to the dominican republic....

At the airport I was accosted by a crazed german girl who said that she hadnt booked anything and quickly need an address before immigration - its that whole fear of interrogation fuelled by a childhood of movies with stalinist bad guys, and from then on Sonja and me stuck together. Which is good because Cuba is the MOST expensive country Ive ever been too, we wouldnt have lasted the week if we hadnt stuck together. A few examples,

I had dollars because I thought that was what people wanted as currency, but no longer, and changing my dollars I lost 20 percent because Fidel couldnt possibly have the dollar be on equal footing with the CUC and then another 20 bucks commission! Literally when I saw what was handed back to me by the bank clerk I felt like Id just been robbed!

Tourists are given a different currency to the cubans, 1 CUC is equivalent to 15 CUP - local currency, but when you see a price in pesos they ask for the same in cuc which meant on many occasions we found ourselves paying 4 cuc for a loaf of bread which was mainly air which is like paying 4 euros for AIR!!!!!

Then main problem with Cuba is a new one apparently, capitalism has entered with the tourists and now people see us spending in an hour what they are allotted in a month and it drives them crazy. The majority of foreigners are package tourists and go to the beach and sit on air conditioned buses and go to sites and eat a lot. In the Valle de los ingenios by Trinidad there is a beautiful old mansion that used to be the home of the owner of the biggest sugar cane plantation during the colonial era, now its a restaurant!!! Canteen style. In the Necropolis - a graveyard full of italian marble carved statues and tombs the chapel runs a buffet.

With the capitalism has come the jiniteros/jiniteras - which literally translated I think means hustlers - they seem really friendly and talk about mojitos and salsa and then ask for money. Pretty much guaranteed anyone who comes up to you is one of those. We had a taxi driver and he implied he didnt really like the tourists because they are cold - but thats cos there is no other option!! The only way in with the cubans seems to be through the old ladies. We stayed at a casa particular in Habana and Maria Luiza - who permanently wore her hair in curlers was our saviour in cuba. On the first day, we got mugged or rather sonja did, I sort of did nothing while this group of lads walked past us and one grabbed sonjas bag. Next thing I knew sonja and the boy were on the ground and I thought maybe her bag had got caught in his belt, but then he tugged. His 3 friends seemed as bemused as me, then he tugged again and then I realised but all I could shout was Voleur voleur!! Which is french and no good at all, the word I was looking for was ladron - thief, but then sonja shouted something half in german half in english and sounded something like mudderfarteucker - which I think was mother fucker? But anyway all credit to h & m they make strong bags - it was hanging sideways across sonja{s body and just wouldnt go. After a third attempt the muchacho ran off - unsuccessful - never mess with a valkyrie! By that time lots of people had appeared and encircled poor startled sonja and useless me, a car stopped a tiny old lady was screaming and apparently it was all at us?! We were being told off for walking in the neighbourhood we lived in at six in the evening when the sun had just set and there were street lights and cars passing and children on the road - ok for children NOT tourists. Maybe it was their embarrassment? But no one tried to stop them - we were told later that had the boy been caught his life wouldve been over - he wouldve been imprisoned for many years and then everything else would suck, plus everything pointed to him being a first time mugger - it was a botched job and maybe he wont try again and he was probably from the neighbourhood so someone would reprimand him. As a token gesture the little old lady picked up sonja{s broken plastic bag that her water had tumbled out of, and handed it to her. A show of kindness....

From then on Maria Luiza looked after us, escorts to leave the house, ordered taxis, booked room in Trinidad with her cousin, she made us limon te everynight while we watched the 12 year old argentinians soaps with a meatloaf soundtrack with her. Outside her husband played baseball with his grandson who would purposely tumble to the ground. No need to leave the house.

We got asked for lots of strange things - soap repeatedly, powdered baby milk - apparently things they could exchange... When we said no we got called greedy a few times, but if a 70 year old man asks you for baby milk for his child, I think theres no way youd say yes.

Cuba is such a strange place because everything about the people is so flash - they look like their miamian counterparts - too little clothing too tight, they are carribean - they like to dance and drink and have a good time. But a lot of people dont seem to appreciate what they do have - we met janitors who could speak german, french and english. EVeryone has an education, there are no homeless, everyone is healthy, these are guaranteed these are the fundamentals. And when we spoke to Alberto the senor in the Trinidad casa he said yes everyone is provided the fundamentals as if it were something of no importance. There are child labour laws and mandatory school attendance. Granted the tv is tres ennui - mathematic problems and science notions being clarified by a professor as prime time viewing, but they also have discussion format programs about homosexuality, etc... And baseball - baseball EVERYWHERE!! All entrance to games is free for citizens and to museums. And art - even the propaganda art is beautiful - memorial sculptures to fallen soldiers, che everywhere, through art cubans are able to challenge the state in an abstract way. My favourite propaganda piece was a billboard of bush plus batista equals hitler. National theatres for dance

But the generation of the revolucion are getting old and the young people listen to western music - you can tune in us radio stations broadcasting in the florida keys and watch american movies. The worst thing that castro did was put such a divide between the locals and the tourists before until the 80s if you were cuban and you wanted to go to a tourist hotel bar and spend your money there you could but now its all segregated. So they hate us and I cant blame em, but it doesnt make for a warm welcome. The senora in the trinidad casa tried to guilt trip us into eating lobster - do you know how much I wanted to eat the damn lobster!!! As opposed to banana and air bread!!!! She said that they had to pay a tax - 180 a month year round - to the government to build new houses, regardless of whether they had tourists - for us and that we owed it to her to eat as many meals there as possible. After a fight she agreed begrudgingly on breakfast - which still worked out as 6 euros - we stuffed our face on fruit and asked for seconds.

Anyway Im glad I went but Im sad about the situation because I think it is probably the best working form of communism Ive ever seen. Sadly human nature craves and covets and once el padre fidel is gone I think there will be changes - just be careful what you wish for....

Ok now a couple things I forgot to write

we had said we vegetarians and the senora cooked beans without meat and then before giving them to us dropped a bunch of pork rinds in "for flavour"

Coco taxis rock!!! Ill put a picture on soon but they are mopeds surrounded by a round yellow shell and the best form of transport bar none - most amazing drive was in havana by the malecon a big wall next to the sea watching the angry waves break over the side and come rushing onto the street

Afro cuban cults - ARE WICKED!!! They sort of combine catholic saints with Nigerian gods and they set up idols and offer them rum and perfume and they have 2 festivals one the santeria one in remembrance of the dead souls, the latter a bit more sinister - a lady who was in the chapel we went to showed us pictures of her drinking blood from the neck of a filthy looking chicken, also involves speaking in tongues.... But they all happen in a nigerian tribal language and there are drums and music and dancing throughout the night. Nigerians actually come over to watch.

Oh and the only cuba libre I had was on the plane - cos it was free, but regardless it was american soldiers during the war for independence who created it...

Ok thats it for now

NYC mainly consisted of cocktails and giant pigs and food and a soup kitchen on xmas morning which was great cos people were so happy and everyone got hugs.

will seriously sit down and write africa like a summary of specific thoughts and events - ethiopia, rwanda, uganda, west kenya - gorillas, shakira, canoes - nuf said

oh and a couple more things about cuba - school uniforms on little children look like boyscout uniforms with little shorts and a white shirt and red or blue neckerchiefs. But the highschool girls are sluts! They wear gym shorts like hot pants with a mini skirt split at the sides - even on weekends!!!

Oh and the cars are pretty amazing - old chryslers and buicks

Oh and finally - one day we bought a pineapple from a lady{s front room. She{d opened up the french doors and had literally hundreds if not thousands of pineapples sitting there. And sacks full of oranges. A little cottage industry

Hiding out in the internet cafe in addis

Excerpt from an email to Pilon

I would also like to state in advance that I mean this to be in no way reflective of my thoughts on all ethiopian men - just the ones I've met so far in addis on the street where all the hostels are....

now we're in addis and all the men are so horny its frightening - there are a lot of attractive locals but they seemed very experienced with female travellers and it makes me feel like us europeans are complete sluts?! I say I have a boyfriend - butit doesn't seem to be a deterent and I didn't go out with bren and the 2 fellas we met last night b/c I wanted to avoid any awkward situations b/c i was cornered at one point but I put it down to not coping with alcohol but guys stop you here on the street and force you to drink coffee with thm. I am hiding in the internet cafe but I think Chet (another predator) is outside waiting for me. They all seem to have realy slender tiny delicate hands as well - I think its best not to ask... no encouragement needed

Hopping Addis

SO I'm responding to emails on my blog because the internet is so slow...



I forgot to thank willy for emailing and lovely bobbie, and clarita mi hermana I love your emails you are the funniest person I've ever met, Iforgot my first travelling experience waswith you - cant see you camping. All your advice is taken into consideration and I pretty much agree with it all...



Maya - you are such a romantic and have such a good heart, I'm glad you're having fun buit not getting carried away



SO addis is completely unexpected. Its the year 1999 here and there are bilboards up
counting down to the milenium. Their entire sense of time is all completely different - they are 6 hours ahead of their time zone and making plans to meet someone is very tricky. Sunday also is apparently a big party night and addis is a big party city - never thought orthodox chistianity and clubbing went hand in hand?



I can only get vegetarian food on wednesday and friday as those are the days when they are fasting -from meat alone - I think they think that food only counts if it's meat?



Everyone here seems to want to speak french to me - we don't understand the influence but even amongst themselves they like to practice.

Again as with all of africa that I have seen everyone wants to talk about politics and again people here feelcensored and trapped under an oppressive government - apparently during the elections last yearthe government banned dreadlocks -I think it has something to do with student protests and those students often having dreads-so people were arested, detained and shaved - or that's what alex says happened to him



Ethiopians have the cutest way of conveying the affirmative - instead of saying 'yeah' they have a sharp inhalation as if they lost their breath for a second or had a hiccup...



Addis is sprawling - we walked to the bus station today - being used to small cities like tana and nairobery now, when we asked for directions people would say just go straight go straight but it was like 3 km away and like being in islington and asking walking directions to victoria and me telling a tourist to go straight as opposed to takig public transport? There are lots of mosques and buildings with hammers and sickles and russian red stars and everything is named after st george - including the beer. People are really friendly although I think maybe the men are a bit agressive with the women after a few beers, a friend of alex - our 'guide' in addis, kind of grabbed this waitress and she whacked him andwalked away shoutin, buthe laughed and said it was just friendly banter...



The hotel room is pretty interesting too - it's decked out granny style with thick rugs on the bed and embroidered wall paper, but on the door is a note requesting all customers not to keep their guns in the room but to hand them into reception until they need them, there is also a giant framed poster of a bare breasted tribal ethiopian woman that still looksvaguely sexual especially as below it on the coffee table are packets of condoms - which is probably a commendable thing to offer - when they realised that bren and I were in separate beds - the condoms disappeared though.

Addis reminds me a lot of cairo - same taxis, lots of coffee shop with men hanging out all day, lots of cats, market, lots of men holding hands - which bren cant quite figure out. Sadly lots of beggars - many disfigured, either with crippled spines or bburns or some disability



Anyway on a bus for 2 days tomorrow on or way up north.



Please write me comments so I look popular - I took theloginrequirement off...

I think my thumbnails are falling off

Hi

This has to be really quick because we just arrived in Addis and the atms are not available on sundays because they are inside the bank and we need to keep what little money we have free for coffee because its really good here.

Right so I seem to be falling apart. I have my left leg which is reserved forbumps and bruises and my right toe which is covered in scratches and the big toe has only just recovered fromcarrying a giant blister the same size as it - I got it while treking in park disalo in madagascar and then had to walkaround for a week in flip flops - all the malagash stare at your feet expectingto see nice shoes but on me I think they saw leprosy because they'dalways balkand cringe upon glancing. My third toe along on the right foot is also scabby but that is from my altercation with a swimming cockroach that triedto dockon my boob because I was wearing a floralbikini in the natural swimming pool in ranomafana. The little toe is also scabby but I cant remember where that came from?
But seriously I dont know if it is the dust and dirt andgrime that was sitting undermy nails but now my thumb nails are raise and looklacquered like shells and are sore and I am worried that they will fall off and never grow back
If you have the answer to this query please respond

Also if anyone can fill me in on the sex of britney spear'sbaby, if katie holmes has married or left crazy tomcruise and other such important matters it would bemuch appreciated.

So I went to the masai mara and it was amazing but a little like a theme park -we drove around in little white mini vans with the roof raised up like a picnic table on top of the vehicle so you can stand and take photos - occasionally you'd see other glimmering white vehicles and you kind of felt like they all should be running onlittle electric rails like in disney land. Our first vehiclelostthe transmission or something so we'd rattle whenever we went into first gear which m,eant sneaking up on the wild life unawares was quite difficult... But all that said it was amazing-AMAZING!!! We saw everything - like everything, lions devouring carcasses, ostriches running, hippos snorting at each other, leopards up in trees, lots of wilderbeest who looked like old chinese men with confucius beards, buffalo with about 10 birds perching on them, female hyenas with extended clitorises who looked like chicks with dicks, wart hogs hotfootingg it away fromlions inhotpursuit but would forget they were being chased half way through because they're so stupid and would see a bit of tasty grass and go over and munch it. Giraffes running - actually apart from the cats all animals atpace looked really funny, all the various antelope-gazelle, dik dik, hartebeest looked really skittish and would kick their legs outto the side mid run like charlie chaplin. The only animal we didn't see were cheetahs but we'renot gonna talk about that because itmakes meupset- but apparently they have them in Ethiopia.

But now I just want to say I really miss my nairobi hostel family - janet getting into fights with the kenyan girl over use of the two hobs, winston being refused service at a muslim watch counter because he was from bush (USA), and its funny to me on many different levels because I've been spending toomuch time with boys so I think that its funny that it is a person a country and a genitalia... The reason might I add that he needed a new watch is cos he got scammedinto trading hisperfectly decent watch fora crap one by a masai around a campfire- they're very savvy....

I wish we could go back to the localpolice station bar - interesting concept-get the drunks next door to the cells so transport isnt an issue-where crazy john danced to the same congolese vcd every night and did a kind of mc hammer, tai chi, thrusting and tongue flicking dance before getting kicked out by nine every night.

Hopefully tomorrow I can write culturalstuff but right now I'm tired.

PS in Nairobi there is a second hand clothes market which really brings homehowwasteful we are because all the clothes are donations from the west and virtually look brand new. Second hand underpants no matter how unfettered they look-I'dstill struggle with that. The confusing thing is why the donatedclothes are being sold at all surey donation means free - not they western boats thatbring them over get to levy huge charges and apparently ngos get a cut before it all trickles down to the actual vendors

- my favourite thing about kenya - they dress thelittle girls up in frilly shiny dresses as if they'regoingtoa party every day

- my other favourite thing is sunday morning service with all the joyful uplifting hymns,no wonderpeoplego to church here, there'snoneed for it to be such a sombre affair in the west

Marcel the Maki and Another Thing About Mount Kenya

I didnt realise that the south of Madagascar was like texas - I mean in terms of landscape... not cowboys, although our taxi brousse did have a little screen which played a vcd of a malagash western band - lots of demin, stetson and monument valley back drops; it is arid and dry with intermittent huge rocky red mountains and big horned zebu everywhere - malagash cattle with large humps of fat on their backs for storage in case of famine. I sort of thought that madagascar was all cloud forest and beaches - that's all you see on tele? Anyway we went south to climb to the top of a big canyon - D'Isalo. We had an organised trek, which we had before up north with an amazing guide called everest who could spot a leaf chameleon that looked like part of the bark, catch a snake and call to lemurs, so we were expecting much the same thing, but we got marcel - ghetto fabulous prince - he turned up in gold chains sunglasses and big heavy jeans -to climb up a mountain in 32 degree heat (like 90 farenheit I think for the people from bush...). He kind of strutted round the park with us as opposed to give any kind of historical/cultural accounts or identify flora and fauna - for that we had George.



George and Mits are my favourite ever travelling buddies - mits decribes george as a 10 year old boy in a 60 year olds body. George is an expert on everything in the world - he has been everywhere and can give you directions ascending or descending any mountain in the world. He knew why the erosion occurred and in which formations, showedus mini baobabs - which were fat silver stumps with yellow flowers sprouting out - commonly known as elephants foot.

Mitsko has the best sense of humour in the world and finds the best way to describe things - when travelling in oz the two things that stick out foremost in her mind are all the different styled camper vans - that all congregated together at alice springs so they looked like an international convention and a crocodile eating a kangaroo as they drove past on the road which at first glance she thought was a specialkind of marsupial.

Both Mits and George are as hard as nails and can climb anything - on the first day of our trek marcel - who referred to himself only in the third person - marcel is thirsty, marcel goes slowly, marcel wants you to give him that mp3 player, led us over enormous boulders in the canyon - it was really spectacular these huge dry red precipices either side of you and deeep in the middlewas a water fringed with tropical green plantlife and large rocks.Imisunderstood and thought we had to rock climb to get through to the other side and that was the only way out - I had no idea that marcel was showing off for our benefit nd leading us into danger. But Mits and George gave it a go because they are fearless and it ws very funny watching george taking pictures of mits behind as she tried to grasp hold of the rock and not slip off to her death.

anmyway meeting themand janet in nairobi has made me realise that travelling is not just a young person's game and the experience and humour they have brought to my traels has been a highlight

Bits and Pieces

Everything you order off a menu you can see around you - see the allotments with vegetable patches, watch the fishermen go out in their pirogues - carved out wooden trunk - often its very shallow so they punt out like gondoliers, and livestock - see lots of chickens running around, some one orders the poulet 5 mins later one less chicken running around.... But when we were staying on Ile St Marie they had 4 ducks who waddled around and quacked and they were amazing because they were sea faring ducks - we;d see them on the shore bills in the sand feeding on sandflies and other bugs, then they'd swim out on the salty water and fish. I thought they were so remarkable I petitioned everyone staying at la baleine (our hotel) not to eat them.

Phosphorescents (is that how you spell it?) I never knew they existed but at night if you wade through all of the sea grass bits light up and sparkle like fairy lights only much more luminous. Apparently it's just scared plankton.

Like all developing countries they are obsessed with 80s music (which they call slow) and kung fu movies. But the malagash have had exposure to a few other pieces of western tack. We went to see the pirates cemetary in Ile St Marie and our guide was a 19 year old boy who also worked at the ticket office for the boat and moonlighted as a waiter - so wherever we went we saw him, and I could only ever think about his response when I asked him what movies he liked apart from kung fu. He said comedy, action, american films sexuelle. I didnt quite grasp that he meant porn until he gave a demonstration. And after that at the make shift bars that show evening films I started noticing that the billboards not only advertised chuck norris but also debbie does dallas and other classics.

They also love james blunt here

The inverse india problem

So I think african bacteria must be the same or very similar to europe/north american bacteria because there's been no dehli belly or constant evacuation from both ends and what have you. The problem is that you eat SO much rice and bread - they pile it on your plate - 3 baguettes toasted for breakfast and a huge salad bowl of rice for lunch and dinner. All these carbs and no ruffage kind of bungs you up. So conversations among travelers regarding fecal matters sound something like- when do you last have a pooh? Or a cheer erupts from a table when someone comes back from the long drop (because a lot of places are squat toliets - which really means a big huge hole has been dug really really deep so that when you drop something down it - it's a while before you hear the plop - but there is no way of cleaning it? I think when it gets too full they remove the wooden shack over it and the two planks of wood placed either side for your feet and move them to a different hole, anyway I digress) triumphantly raising their arms above their heads saying 4 days! It took 4 days!!!

As a remedy we tried to drink a lot of coffee cos we heard coffee and cigarettes are great for getting the movement going.

Then we purposely tried to eat at dodgy looking places or crunch on ice cubes in our drink in the hope that a bacterial infection would flush it all out.

In the end bren found the cure - drink as much THB (Three Horse Beer) as possible - b/c often the brewery are so quick to rush it out into shops that it doesn't ferment properly and it makes you sick.... The malagash obviously have a worked this one out - better than an enema - all natural checks and balances.