When Your Handed A Lemon...

Just a quickie this time round, but I wanted to share one of my favourite quotes, and this one goes a long way in explaining why I always try to make the best of even a bad situation.

 

"I'm a great lover of fresh orange juice, but when they hand me lemons hey, I make lemonade"

 

You see, if your real thirsty and go down to the shops to get some oranges but all you can buy is lemons, you basically got two options :-

 

a) You could piss and moan and complain that you aint got your orange juice, go thirsty and sooner or later the lemons will go off.

 

Or b) ... you can shrug your shoulders, think "oh well, it could be worse" then carry on regardless and make a refreshing lemonade to quench your thirst.

 

My trip to Colombia started off as bas as bad could be - delayed flights, lost luggage, alone in  a strange country and let down by those I thought cared for me, and I could have let this get my head down and think of it as a failure.

 

But instead, I refused to let it beat me, made a few adjustments to my schedule, went out and got a new suitcase and clothes, still did all the stuff I normally like doing and ensured that when I made it to Medellin and met up with the good folks out there I enjoyed it as much as I could too.

 

It wasn't what I planned, but I like to think that I made the best of the situation.

 

So ... when life throws YOU a lemon, make lemonade

Images of Colombia

A Night to Remember in Medellin

So anyway, David who seemed to have appointed himself as my personal guide for the day, said that we were going to have a traditional meal at Paula's Aunties house, but he may as well have said feast. There was nothing lavish, but a huge plate of home made food that tasted as good as anything I've ever tried and even belching there was just too much to eat in one sitting for a small guy like me.

They made a joke about rude guests who left food also left by a window, so after struggling for almost an hour to finish it all, I had to reply that I think I was in need of a parachute or a pair of wings.

After lunch we went to one of the highest parts of Medellin, a place where they had recreated some authentic buildings and were doing their best to make it like a living museum, which was very cool.

There were a few souvenir shops, but they were all tastefully done and without the private hawkers / sellers in the main square made a refreshing change from the usual tourist trap, as did the fact that the legitimate sellers who were their didn't pounce on you the second you came within a potential snaring range.

The view from the place overlooked the city centre, and you could see the plans for the new rail link, the old cathedral and everything in between. I have to say that I was surprised the amount of tall skyscrapers there were in Medellin. Not only do they show that the industry and economy are again higher than I expected, but with all the vast areas of the country undeveloped it strongly suggested at prime city space being of premium value.

Stopping for a cool beer and ice cream we then made our way back down the windy road to the city centre before driving to a cool place for some drinks. At this stage Davids cousin called in a couple of her friends, and if I had trouble keeping my thoughts pure before now it was impossible. Three young, happy, sexy singletons who all were all a bit curious about the new addition to the crowd and who he was { me } was more than enough to put a huge smile on my face { and create a huge something else that I need not go into right now!!! }.

It was the perfect spot for a few drinks, and with prices of three for one of cocktails all day long, a few rounds of drinks for seven only cost me about £30, and it only cost me as this was indeed my round, with them not even trying to take advantage of my "white thus rich" status.

As the night went on, I decided that David's cousins was indeed a true cutie-pie and I could not but hope that I would see her again the next day. However the night wasn't even over yet, and so David suggested we went to a new spot, where the drinks were more expensive but the women even hotter { was that even possible ? }, and of course he was proud to be able to show off even more of his city at the same time.

This was the only truly sad part about the whole trip, for as soon as we got there, for some unknown reason that came as fast as a runaway train, one of David's friends got all up in his face and they came to blows. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the heat, maybe just the Latino passionate culture ... maybe even something I had done without realising it, but whatever it was, it came out of the blue and ruined an otherwise perfect day.

So after everyone tried to calm them both down, after about an half hour we called it a night and David drove me back to his place with his cousin. Up to this point, I was due to spend the night with Paula's auntie but the boys were her two sons, so this was impractical and as they speak but a little English and I speak but a little Spanish and David was doing all the driving ... it made sense all round for me to go with him.

Back at David's I was again impressed with the decent furniture, decor and high-fi equipment. He had made a very nice little pad for himself and again showed that a hard worker in Colombia could have as nice a standard of life as a hard worker in the UK.

We stayed up and chatted for a few more hours and he introduced me to his girlfriend, need I say that she too had looks a model would be jealous of, I doubt it! Me and Davids cousin did a bit of a nighttime stroll though the city on our own, which is always something I love to do anyway, while we popped out for more drinks { the local rum is like water to them ... well almost } and then at about 02:00 I had to call it quits.

Up until then my body was still on UK time, which meant that over there I was waking up at 04:00 and going to bed as early as 19:00, but that one night sort of violently shoved my body in Colombian time properly, and it was no more early nights for me after that.

Even More In Medellin

Well I got back home yesterday morning at around 09:30 and after a short trip to my mums for her birthday party I came home, thought I would have a quick kip to rid myself of any overdue tiredness and then slept for fifteen hours. Wow, I never realised I was that tired but the travelling must have totally knocked me for six, as I've not slept that much undisturbed sleep in years.

And then as soon as I woke up and checked my blog I realised, Oops, I didn't really finish the last post properly, so here is the rest.

The people, ahhhh, the people.

I've been to quite a few places now, but the friendliness and warmth that I felt from these wonderful people still takes my breath away.

I had chosen to visit Colombia because a good friend at work, Paula, is from Medellin and she said it was the best place on earth. Knowing how few true friends I have made from work and the fact that I've already met her friends, brother, mum, dad and even cousins, when she suggested I go to her home city and meet more of her family I could not really say no and I am sure glad that I went.

From the moment they met me at the airport to the moment they dropped me off again I felt like I belonged. At no stage did I feel like I was a stranger among them, nor that I was a foreign VIP that they needed or deserved to receive any special attention. I was just at once part of their lives.

I did my best to speak Spanish wherever I could, which was more and more as I continued to create many new mini sentences by dredging my memory for every last word I knew, and I always introduced myself properly in Spanish before adding the line about my Spanish being poor.

The fact that I tried and kept on trying I believe was one of the big reasons why I didn't feel out of place, as they felt at east speaking in Spanish to each other and to me, unless they had something they really wanted to get across to me without any chance of confusion, when they would turn to David and he would translate perfectly for me.

The other reason was that I have always tried to be a good guy, honest, trusting and humble. I do not go throwing around me past, successes or money in other peoples face, and am happy most of the time to applaud others for there's.

So anyway ... after I was met at the airport and a long drive through the most idyllic countryside imaginable, we made it to central Medellin and to my friend Paula's aunties house.
Colombia and Medellin are not as poor as the media like to make out, and just because they are in South America, do not be fooled that the property or staying in a hotel will cost you pennies.

A good night in a decent hotel in Bogota would still cost you a tidy sum and to buy a large estate with a fancy town house on it you are still talking more than the average westerner could afford on their normal salary.

Sure, the Colombian government are selling off some of their cheaper end of the range apartments for around £20,000 but then you can go the the worst place in Liverpool and do the same thing, just without the hot weather, the superb mountain backdrop or the friendly natives.

And the women. Boy oh boy, I never believed Paula when she said that back home she was just one of the girls, not until I had seen it here with my own eyes. Here in Medellin was the home of the sexiest women on the planet.

Now I don't want to sound rude or arrogant but this just isn't a normal city. Ive met stunningly pretty Chinese girls but wandering around China the average woman was fair but nothing special. Same about English women, Spanish, Romanian ... go anywhere else in the world and you will meet a few sexy women but the Jane average of their cities are exactly that, average. Not in Medellin.

Here it seemed that almost EVERY woman was a knockout. The woman selling T-shirts, the woman behind the grocery counter, the barmaid, the neighbour, the neighbours younger sister, the woman pushing the pram down the road ... everywhere I looked was a vision of beauty, that I would be equally proud to have on my arm. Everyone with curves, long dark hair, olive skin, slim, pretty face and an air of happiness that I have never experienced anywhere else in the world.

Why the first time a guy goes out there with a girl he would have to be wearing blinkers like a workhorse not to have his eyes stray, though I suppose in time any amount of beauty becomes common place, but for a tourist or visitor ... it was paradise!

And the guys ... well I'm straight, but the guys here are no slouches neither, and I'd be willing to bet that the young ones would have no problem finding a girl in any part of the world they were in.

Arrival in Medellin

So anyway ... my holiday in Bogota wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, mainly because despite having a few Internet contacts they all ended up blowing me out or not replying to my emails when I got out here, and thus ended up spending all my time alone, apart from the times when I was spending money like in the shops, the hairdressers, the restaurants or whatever.

But this was only the prelude to the REAL holiday in Colombia, the trip to Medellin to hang out with some of Paola's folks back where they all started and have their roots. This was the reason why I came out here in the first place, and without this I would have shelved Colombia way to the back of my list of places to visit, especially going solo.

It started off with a few names on a scrap of paper, with phone numbers and a vague promise of meeting up if I should make it all the way to Medellin. Well fly out to Colombia I had, and then onward to Medellin I did, so it was a very welcome sight to find a shop at the airport lounge that sold mobile recharger's or there is not telling what might have happened.

When I arrived at the airport to find no one with my name on a piece of paper and all the other passengers got picked up I made the call. I called my contact, who then said that they were at work until 6pm, but had arranged to send someone else out here to pick me up. Not a promising start.

An hour later, after making a few lengths of the entire arrivals hall, this car pulls up and seeing as I was the only left standing on the platform, and I am of course easily spotted as being Caucasian, they spotted me first and came up to grab my stuff.

Relief instantly flooded through me ,as along with my friends auntie who speaks limited English, there was also a guy that was doing the driving and he was really something else. He had a really calm attitude to him, he was friendly and approachable on a lot of subjects and having lived in London for 4 years and New York for 15 more, there was no problems with language other than he still had a slight Yanky twang as it were.

This guy, who had also done a fair amount of travelling, was gonna be a good pal while I was out here, and that was alright by me.

Driving through the countryside from Medellin airport to the city was really something else and if you have never seen a complete vista of a lush green mountain range in the full 360, speckled with small hamlets all around then you have not seen anything. This place was like the best parts of Spain, New Zealand and Dominican Republic all in one, and I could instantly see why Paola is proud of her heritage and city ... she has every reason to be.

This place had warmth, plenty of greenery in all shapes and sizes, olive skinned beauties everywhere I looked, and an air of post Mexican cowboy & western films of the John Wayne or Ronald Regan era, I mean it really had it all.

The drivers all seem to be Jedi masters, as they weave in and out of each other be it in a old beaten up Beetle or brand new BWM, and then of course you have to add the thrill of the motor cyclists and the horse carts as well. The law out here stated that every motorcyclist has to wear a big puffy safety jacket with their registration number on the back, and with the heat that's a receipt of bad BO and several showers a day.

All the buildings had their own character and each street was unlike any other, as one minute you could be driving down a fully tarmacked road with car showrooms off to one side and high skyline hotels the other, but 2 minutes later if you hang a right turn you are suddenly going down a wide dusty path with no pavement on either side and the rust and boned of broken down buildings almost encroach on your car as it drives by.

But no matter where you are, or what direction you look in, look, in the distance you will always see the pastel greens and browns of a distant mountain range reaching high up above where you were.

Rules of Engagement

I have had it mentioned that this trip to Bogota so far has not been the most successful or action packed of adventures, and while this will have pleased mum and a few others back home who still call me crazy for coming here in the first place, its with equal doses of a few emotions that I agree.

The things that I generally do on holiday are not every ones cup of tea, and if everyone thought the same way then life would be boring, but to me they often bring a little form and structure to judge between places.

Firstly when I visit a place I want to know someone there, so that we can go around and do the local scene and not just the tourist areas. Having been given warnings of "don't stray from the hotel" being issued for just about every city outside of the Medway towns that I visit, its harder to do this and get the full measure of a place.

Likewise everywhere has its own charms, its own kinks and comparing two places often seems like comparing a fruit to a vegetable - similar but just not on the same level. So whenever I go anywhere I try to do lots of stuff, see many of the sights, meet the people, but also to do a few things the same everywhere and thus have a yard stick of comparison.

Thimbles, keyrings, postcards, McDonald's, hand fan, Internet cafes, litter, architecture, hotel room information leaflets, traffic, language - a whole host of seemingly random things but in my mind they help put things in perspective and its why I shy away from the "all-inclusive" deals that seem so sterile of originality that they may as well be in another town in the UK - just a bit hotter, or nearer to a beach of whatever.

I think this was one of my long ago ex's fault, as even after we parted company and stayed friends she encouraged me to just go to somewhere that you have never been to before and just see what happens.

Now as Ive done that a few times and been bored shit-less, these days I do try and fill my time a little better, plan it more, have a few backups in case my plan A goes awry { and for some strange reason don't they always!! }, and even then I'm not immune to a few last minute hiccups.

More of Bogota

Bogota is a truly remarkable place.

The backdrop of the entire city is a mesmerising vista of lush green rolling hills, where anything could be waiting to be discovered, uncovered or indeed actually hiding from the truth.

The streets are a mix of modern shops, broken down apartment blocks and bulldozed rubble arenas just waiting to decide what they are going to be in future.

Yellow cabs are flying down the streets in all directions, unless they are hovering outside a nearby hotel or shopping complex.

Uniformed security guards patrol the most populated parts, although their age ranges from as young as late teens to, I would judge by my eye, around the 70 mark. How a 70 year old would be bale to chase down or fire straight and true at a fleeing criminal I have my doubts, but still it is mildly reassuring that they were there.

During June the daylight streams in through the cracks in the curtain as early as 4am, and as soon as the dawn comes so does the heavy traffic, and its at times like these that I wished the hotels all had double glazing, as the noise still sounds so close that it could be right in the hallway.

But the most remarkable sound I hear each day, to my western ears at least, is the genuine steam locomotives that chug their was through the city bringing the tourists and the workers to their destinations at all times of day.

The night time comes too early in June, and by 5pm it is getting dark and with the high hills surrounding the city it does not take long for darkness to descend and engulf the entire city before your eyes.

I am not sure if soup is a hotel speciality or a national breakfast dish, but I am enjoying the food here as much as anywhere else in the world. Sure their burgers could do with a makeover, but the pasta carbonara that I had yesterday was simply irresistible and it was only through a great force of will that I did not immediately insist on seconds of this superb dish.

The people here in the hotel, the shopping complex and the taxis all seem to be both friendly and able to speak maybe a few basic words in English, but not enough for full conversation, which has left me bored to tears lacking in decent conversation as my Spanish is little better than their English. However, having said that, I have not had any problems in making myself understood and even got complimented for my accent yesterday, so that is some achievement I suppose.

The weather here is meant to be cloudy and thunder storms this week, so I cannot blame the fact that I have zero chance of getting a tan, but that is another thing about the locals, many are barely darker than I am, and certainly I would never call myself tanned or olive skinned.

So many preconceptions are being revised in my mind, save a few that remain very stereotypical and genuine in the same breath.

The Colombians love their food, their wine, their football and have a wonderful fluent and sexy accent to their words, much more than the Spanish I have met, so perhaps this is South American influence, but whatever it is, I like it.

Sadly I have had no news from any of my Colombian friends or from the airport about my lost luggage, so I am still at a loss for what to do today and boredom will again have me leaving my hotel in search of something, anything, to feel alive. Today I might try and find a salon and get my haircut ... who knows, it could be worse!

First Foray Into The Big City

And wow, I must say that I am impressed.

 

The licenced taxis have lists of fairs on big plastic cards clearly displayed on the reverse of their driving chair, as well as a full large colour photo of the driver including his details. For those who don't fully get the significance it means that there is almost zero chance of getting ripped off as you can see what your have clocked up as you go and at all times can see what you are going to pay for, and who is driving you.

 

In the city centre, which would have been a fairly long walk  had I a map of the city in English, there was a fairly new and impressive shopping centre. All the usual shops you could think of, albeit the Spanish equivalent, and a few that I had never seen before were all laid out over a few floors spread out over a large area.

 

I wont say that it was a piece of cake, and even my limited Spanish helped considerably, but within an hour I was able to purchase most of the items on my shopping list. Clothes, smellies, travel bag, mini phrase book, all ticked off. I did stop in a mobile shop but could not see any chargers, and having left my own handset behind was sure that my Spanish was not up to trying and explain that I wanted a recharger for a phone I could barely remember the make of.

 

I also tried to look for a salon, to get a nice hair cut, but this would most likely be in the shops outside the main complex, which meant going out into the wide open and away from the armed security guards, taxi rank and risk being frisked on the way back into the complex again to get a taxi back to my hotel.

 

With all the negative press that Colombia received, I would say that in the shopping complex there were enough armed security guards to occupy Paris.. Ok, bad example, but you know what I mean. At no stage did I feel sized up by any local criminal element, and I felt considerably safer than walking home from work after staying late in London for a few drinks.

 

I even managed to negotiate my way into the cinema to show Shrek 3 with subtitles for the Spanish viewers, instead of the normal over dubbed version that was showing much more frequently. Not that Shrek 3 would have been my first choice of films, but I have to keep a little continuity going here, and I have always believed that if you get into a sort of pattern or routine then you can forget where you are and truly be miles away from anywhere and still have a peaceful heart and steady hand.

 

However, the fact that the cinema only had salty popcorn is one mark against it, but the fact that i was the first in which meant i could ignore the chosen allocated seat more than made up for it.

 

All in all, I felt ready for anything, and that is exactly what I got when I got back to my hotel, as the last thing i was expecting was for them to have realised that I am perhaps abusing the Internet facilities and request that at this stage I pay the balance of my bill, including the full 6 nights accommodation, lest I skip out with one day left owing a substantial Internet bill.

 

With money being almost no-object ( the prices here are still very cheap when compared to back home ), as this is perhaps the only way to keep sane and feel in contact with the outside world I did not object to this and am glad that I bought along a spare credit card, just in case something happens to the first one - like it getting blocked, which is exactly what happened when I was in Chester that one time!

 

Back in familiar surroundings, I am just going to post this and then rush back to my room to freshen up and try on my new purchases, hoping to all that is lucky in my life that their mediums are the same as the English ones. Wish me ... er ... scrub that, fingers crossed eh.

Bogota the Day After

Well I woke up today with a mixed bag of emotions.

The previous day I had received an email off my "friend".

Not a personal visit or a phone call, but an email, and even that was bad news as she said that she has come down with a mysterious illness that keeps her at home and away from telephones - but seems perfectly able to go online ( on the family computer in a different room from her bed ) several times a day.

Not surprisingly I did not believe a single word of the email, and it only steeled me on to further adventure today.

I also had not heard back from the airport so my luggage was still lost and I was entering day three of wearing the same clothes ... yeuck.

So the question I know face is ... after being tricked into visiting a foreign city where the people are friendly but speak a language you know less than the average 5 year old does, and your lost luggage has not turned up, what on earth do you do next?

One answer is to hide out in the hotel, drink and eat as much as possible, watch the football that seems to be on most channels most of the time and then head off home with your tail between your legs and vow never to be so stupid again. Its a possibility, but not that likely, knowing my high sense of adventure.

Another option is to hit the local bars, try to drink yourself into oblivion and chase a few of the local women whilst also trying not to get rolled whilst drunk the whole time in the hope that you can sober up in time to catch the plane home.

Alternatively, there are a variety of options open that require a whole heap on money could be to hire a bodyguard and a willing female escort for the remainder of the week and go out like it was your last week alive.

My choice ... is almost to carry on regardless.

I am still in a foreign country, still on holiday, still have my wallet intact with my credit cards and although it will eat into slightly more debt, I dont relish the option of staying in the same underwear and clothes for an entire week in a country where the weather is both hot, humid and during its rainy season.

So, I need to grab a map and leave behind my belongings in case of being mugged, then catch a taxi into the city centre where hopefully I can replace some of my lost travel supplies, pick up a few souveneirs for the folks back home, sample a haircut and possibly even a McDonalds if there is time and then get a taxi back to the hotel to pat myself on the back, before getting drunk while writing postcards and watching football, ha ha.

Keep my spirits up, that's the name of the game, I may be knocked back a bit, but I'm far from beaten and while there is still a breath left in me, fresh from reading a Clive Cussler NUMA adventure that is cram packed with larger that life heroes, I forget into the fray once more to try and carve out a little piece of personal glory that I may one day be able to bore my children and grandchildren with.

The Truth About Birthdays Wishes

Now that I am in Colombia, I can finally tell a secret. It is not an evil or dark secret, but a light and good secret.

 

It is also a polite reminder and maybe even a warning to others.

 

There is an old belief that says on a persons birthday, where friends and family gather to wish you well, they will bring forth a celebration cake with lit candles upon it. It is said that if you can manage to blow out all the candles in one go, without help from anyone else, that it is possible to make a wish that will come true, as long as you do not tell anyone what the wish was.

 

Now it just so happens, that many years ago, as a small child of about 8 or 9, I made a birthday wish that I wanted to travel all around the world.

 

A few years later I made another birthday wish that I wanted to make love to many sexy women from all around the world.

 

Both these wishes were made before I became a teenager and I kept both wishes a deep secret.

 

Lots of people know that I like travelling but no one knew that I had made it my birthday wish to do so.

 

Well this weekend I managed to set foot on my sixth continent ( and also my twenty second country ), which is a feat that few people can boast, and all would agree conclusively can count as having "travel all around the world".

 

In my full thirty one years of being alive I have also managed to have relations with lots of different women from various different nationalities.

 

At first I thought this to be a blessing, when the figure first reached twenty I considered it a curse, but only now after more still do I realise that it is neither ... it is just exactly what I wished for.

 

In my late twenties I have often moaned and complained about the fact that I could charm and receive love, but found it impossible to keep it.

 

Time after time I would meet a girl ( or woman ) that seemed ideal to me, that was pretty, kind and caring. Time after time things would quickly progress and then for no reason whatsoever all these relationships would fail and collapse totally in the space of a few weeks or months, and nothing I could say or do could prevent it.

 

It was never the case that I was dumped because I was a bad person as I never beat them, cheated on them, abused them mentally or physically, stole from them or failed to give them the respect, honesty or attention that they wanted or craved.

 

On all the occasions I then asked my friends and / or family what was I doing wrong, and each time the answer came back slightly different, but most of the time it was said that I was trying too hard, too eager or just going for the wrong type of girl.

 

I have never fully agreed with any of these hypothesis, but equally I have never had a better argument or theory to suggest. Until now...

 

My new theory is that no self respecting woman would be happy for her partner to go gallivanting around the world and making love with different women all the time. However the magic of my childhood wish was such that it proceeded my more mature and reasonable request of wanting to find but a single partner and settle down to raise a family.

 

In short, I was destined to never find true love until I had first lived out my childhood wishes.

 

Now few people these days believe in real magic, this I know to be true, and I do not expect to receive many positive replies or comments to this entry. Some will think that this is my own way of justifying my actions, and I admit that from the outside it could seem like a logical conclusion to come up with.

 

However, anyone who really knows me, knows that I am a strong believer in morals and righteousness, that I disapprove of playboys and those who go around breaking hearts without a care, and that it has been my strongest desire to find a partner to settle down with. Coming from a large and close knit family, and hating the idea of being an "old" father, none who know me would say that I live or enjoy a Casanova lifestyle.

 

I do not go out to pubs or clubs, where the chances of finding a one-night-stand are at their highest, and I have do not attempt to have more than one girlfriend on the go at any one time. Neither do I go around boasting or bragging about the amount of women I have had, or what I intend on doing with the next one.

 

Most of the time I keep myself to myself, refrain from discussing most of my sexual history, and am only ever on the lookout for a woman that I can laugh with, enjoy a good conversation with, happily introduce to my family and will at least get on with my friends.

 

So, although there might be many who till read this entry and think I am trying to find some sort of absolution for a life of sin, anyone that knows me will know the truth.

 

All I do hope is, now that I am content to have been around the world, and somewhat shamefully can admit to have more partners than anyone else I know, that the magic of the wish will now have now resolved itself fully and thus I can perhaps at last find true love and happiness, enough to get married and raise a family like most other people.

 

And the reminder or warning I mentioned at the beginning is simple and as old as the birthday belief itself, and it is thus ... "BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU WISH FOR, AS YOU MIGHT JUST RECEIVE IT".

The Worst of Starts in Bogota

My trip to Colombia has not got off to the best of starts.

Leaving work was a battle in itself, for various reasons, which I have mentioned in an earlier post.

Gatwick was little better, with arriving over 2 hours before my flight was due to take off and yet almost walking straight onto the plane as the queues for check in and to get through security is tighter than ever.

Atlanta, America. Ah ...what to say about this place.

Firstly, I had to queue to go through customs and replace my luggage, despite only wanting to board the next flight out. A queue of 1500 people ahead of me wanted the same thing, and that was just the foreigners.

Having to be ID with both Index fingers and looking into a webcam to pose for their records, was only mildly frustrating, but the fact that I could time the yanks getting in a record 35 seconds, while us poor immigrants had to wait on average 10 minutes each meant that even with about 50 booths I felt that at the end of it I could fully understand why people the world over hate the states. I wasn't even wanting to be here, and already I was feeling almost like killing someone.

Well as normal i tried the McDonald's, and I think I understand now why American women give good BJ's, as their strawberry milkshakes require such a high powered level of suction that the average milkshake drinker must be able to beat a Dyson hands down. It was nice, but too thick and did nothing to quench my thirst.

The fries were the best in the world, top marks for that, pity that the actual burger let it down a bit, being only so so in its taste. I must say that I also did not rate their hot apple pies either, they were too doughy and the filling was all stodgy. So far, though I don't often rate England for many things, its McDonalds apple pies have to be the rare exception to the rule, as they do just that ... they rule supreme.

Waiting in the lounges before the second trip I wasn't really expecting to hear a piano belting out non-stop interlinking hits from the Beatles and John Lennon, but I have to doubt the pianists choice of songs, for one of them was Eleanor Rigby ... with lyrics like "all the lonely people, where do they all belong" - ironic, or just melancholy ... for me it was too much the later.

After the departure gate had been changes for the second time and been delayed by a further 3 hours it now meant arriving in Bogota at around midnight, instead of 9pm, and with it went the last hope of meeting my friend tonight, as I cannot expect anyone to wait around at an airport until 1am for someone to arrive.

However it was even worse than that, as despite sitting next to a delightful girl who was born in Colombia but raised in the states, my spirits fell even further when it was finally realised that they had indeed left my luggage back in Atlanta, along with about 10 other peoples belongings.

No paperwork, no phone charger, no clothes ... just me, my passport, the book I bought in the waiting lounge and my wallet were all that I arrived and took with me out of that airport.

Realising how bad my luck was, i decided not to risk getting an unlicenced taxi, so after haggling with a guy to get a receipt, i just walked out of his taxi and up to the rank, as I had been suggested at the start, and after a short but manic ride through the city at 2am in the morning I reached my hotel.

At this stage I have to say that carrying a mobile phone with internet access was a true lifesaver, as it was about the only way I could have not only filled in all the lost property forms, but also been able to ask which hotel I was needing to get to. Also a good memory came into play, as even without this I might have been able to get there by asking for the "El Belvedere Hotel in Transversal"

Here things took a turn for the better, as the receptionist did indeed speak English, my room was able to be spotted with just my passport as ID and the room was clean, tidy, has a tv, minibar and spare refresher kits for toothbrush, etc, etc.

Only thing I have to say is, after being on your feet for 26 hours, regardless of spending some of it asleep on a plane, always read the directions carefully or you too may end up trying to shave having just stuck a load of antiperspirant gel on your mush ... not something that I want to be remembered for, but there you have it.

The morning came all too, and it felt as though I had only got a few minutes sleep, but after a hearty breakfast of ... pineapple and melon segments ... I managed to wolf down a cup of coffee and try to get in touch with my friend. Pity her brother / father answered the phone and neither spoke any English or understood who I wanted to speak to.

So now I'm left in my hotel, with no belongings, unable to get in touch with my friend and thus with my cellphone dead bound to stick to my room else we miss each other again, having now sent her a few emails to say to her to call me.

I hope that my luggage arrives today and that the rest of the trip goes more smoothly.

Next stop ... the America's

There is always a little bit of nervousness when i embark on my next crazy misadventure, and this one is no exception.

 

It did not help that today was also almost the day when we made our receptionist at work redundant, which didn't really help the mood of the atmosphere in the company.

 

What made it even worse is no one except me and Amy going to her leaving lunch, few people chipping in for her leaving card or present and everyone shooting out to go to their own secret lunch that started at 12.30 and didn't come back, not that they told me that until I realised at 5.15.

 

Some people have no people skills and it shows.

 

My anger at the injustice of it all was too much for me and so I just grabbed my bag and walked out at that point, without even saying goodbye to my boss, not that in her frazzled state she would have noticed anything amiss.

 

Getting to Gatwick was a bit of a struggle as I always seem to end up stuck in the slow moving queue of mental inadequates who are unable to decide where they want to go, when they plan on coming back ( if at all ) and how they want to pay.

 

When the queue next to you goes down faster than a zip line and you think your growing roots is never a good sign when you know that your bushed tired and a hotel room is still an agonising hour away.

 

Once I got to the airport finding my way out and into the open air was just as much of a task, and i followed the signs to the "hotels" only to find that unless you break down a emergency door you cant get out that way, and had to double back and find the arrivals lounge and go from there.

 

Once across a longish road I was there all safe and sound and able to make my way to my room, at last... where i jumped in the showed before bed only for mum to call the second i turn the hot water on.

 

Life eh .... who knows WHAT will happen next.

 

But, apart from a short stop over to change planes in Atlanta, I will be in Bogota before my head hits the pillow for a second time.

New Wonders of The World

We all know that there were 7 ancient wonders of the world.

 

Well, through war, natural disaster and the collapse of a few empires there is only one left ... the Great Pyramid of Giza.

 

So some boffins have decided to have a go at selecting a few for consideration of the next set of 7 wonders of the world.

 

When you get time please go on, log on ( its free ) and vote for your chosen 7.

 

Here is the link to go there :- http://www.new7wonders.com/

 

For those who wanted to know what I chose ( but please chose your own, I am in no way a leading authority on these things ), my choice was ...

 

Angkor Wat (Cambodia), Chichen Itza (Mexico), Easter Island (Island off coast of Chile), Great Wall (China), Manchu Pichu (Peru), Stonehenge (England) and Timbuktu (Mali).

 

And anyone who knows me well can already guess that, having already been to China, living in UK, and off to visit Peru later this year, why and that given enough time and money I will delight in taking a few pilgrimages to see the magnificent vistas for myself.

 

Take care and peace to all