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Apologies to readers of my blog for the long delay in updates.
I can assure you there are many crazy and funny stories on the way, but if you happen to have a Kindle you might want to check out what happened during my time on the Argentinian delta island and action packed adventure living on a Bolivian animal refuge in Kiss My Ass..
Buy the book now on Amazon Kindle
The family friendly Recipes for Disaster 2 ‘Animals’ edition is on the way soon along with a fifth book underway.
Right now I’m taking part in an internship in Tampa, Florida working at Big Cat Rescue but will hope to catch up on blog posts and Kindle books as soon as I can.
Try crossing that after a few too many!
Waking in a mad dash with a forthcoming jet of piss at that painful point of no return. I was REALLY wasted last night and now as I fumble with this jarred zip I wonder if there is a worse place to let loose than in a tiny tent containing all your worldly belongings for the foreseeable future. I try the other zip and with its opening on first try I´m presented with the sight of one solitary, soggy looking boot..(?).. I had two of those before.
Struggling with my memory and the clues presented to me as I make my way to the main house where I´ll prepare some breakfast and perhaps find my phone, I pass my only pair of trousers lying dirty and soaking wet on the ground. This makes me wonder if I really want to know and when I find my fleece jacket close by in similar condition I decide probably not.
As per the norm, once you´ve made up your mind that you don´t want to remember, your memory starts to kick back.
“More wine, why not”?
Stagger, stumble, SPLASH!
Later on I´m informed more and this does help immensely combined with the wearing off of my self-induced headache.
Turns out I did actually make it across that tiny piece of wood we call a bridge that doubles up as an impregnable obstacle on the way to my tent. Not even my tent really which would have made it all the more harrowing/funny if I hadn´t got that zip open in time!
So I made it across I´m told then stumbled back a little and fell a fucker into the water below.
I remember now. I remember sitting laughing so hard as I sat soaking wet after being lifted out by Clement –French guy who´s come to visit for a few weeks-. Haven´t laughed so hard in a long, long time and understandably so did he. Maybe not aware of my missing phone and boot or maybe during the moment this actually just adds to how funny it all is, but fuck did we laugh!
“Getting you out the first time was easy, but the second..”
Wait, I fell in again!?
“No.. You went back in to get your phone.”
Two days my phone and boot lived at the bottom of that water and with this being a delta wherein the water levels are lowered and raised dramatically due to wind direction then I guess I should really count myself lucky that there was water down there that night to break my fall, but I can´t wait any longer though and so in I go one more time for a thorough search and whadaya know? I found my phone!
Are you a believer in miracles? Do you want to guess what happened? Does my phone still work? Does it fuck, it was submerged in water and sludge for two days. I can see water floating behind the screen however.. The SD card survived! My SD card that held about two thousand photos and videos. Time to buy a USB card and save that shit. Sooo fucking happy to get it all back. Took around two weeks for my boot, once found, to get back to being wearable again and spent the next week drying my jacket and trousers but from what I hear it was one damned fine night on the Delta.
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Won’t forget this city anytime soon!
Woken from a half comatose slumber by the hand of a middle-aged woman punching down on my face as she trips over on her way up the aisle in an effort to reach the bathroom. “EEEUUUHHH”?!
Thanks’, so glad one of us found that funny.
Arriving in Buenas Aires and I have never seen anything like it. The place is overflowing with Hells Angels and not just a host of Angels – or chapter- but a fucking full on invasion with not one motorbike in sight!
I´m in an area near Plaza De Mayo called San Nicolas and passed by small squadrons of them at every corner, cafe, restaurant, jumping out taxi´s fully loaded with suitcases and even out strolling through the parks. I´m later informed that it´s some kind of annual gathering -of course, it´s Easter weekend and we know how much those naughty bikers love the Easter Bunny- and every one of them look like Auld Nick might have shat them out himself, but if you think I´m taking pictures guess again. My knee-caps feel pretty good right where they are!
Dropping my bags of at a cheap hostel recommended by a google search just fifteen minutes ago, I step outside for a wee gander at what this world renound city has to offer.
With souvenirs purchased (no hanging around) and check list complete for my up and coming Delta adventure -What the fuck is a Delta?-, I`m approached by one cute young student handing out flyers and asking if I´d be interested in visiting this interesting bar where I can have a relaxing beer and massage.
Hmm, after a twenty four hour bus journey..
Tell me more.
I´m led to the club which lies at the bottom of a flight of stairs in some shitty little back alley, but tastefully decorated inside although really small. There is just enough room for a bar and two comfy couches sitting across from each other at the far end of the room -less than a meter from the bar.
Within this room there be company. Company in the form of the old owner, not that old really, old cleaner -really has seen better days, although maybe not-, butch girl as the hired heavy or hired hairy, girl I came in with -quite hot, educated, early twenties and another similar looking girl but with a bit of a squint face like she`s been hit with a shovel or had a stroke. Both perfectly do-able and hospitable. VERY hospitable!
I didn´t really know what this place was going to be like, a beer AND a massage (Captain Naive), but it soon becomes clear when both girls sit either side of me and start to ask me bullshit questions while stroking fingers through my hair, crossing legs within my own and groping at my l arms. They have my pants around my ankles in moments and I´m now getting wanked off on front of the whole staff.
I get it now.
Hold the bus. Before we go any further, how much is this costing me?
“Don’t worry about that, this feels good yes”?
No, well yes but I´m not Mr fucking Money and I don`t wanna get stung and have to beat your hired fatty once I`m done here. So again, how much do I owe in total right now?
“310 pesos per girl for the show -I find that I`ve just had the show- if you want more it´ll be 800”.
800 pesos in total, for EVERYTHING?
Ok, fuck the show. I´m going to the bank and when I come back we´ll get this on.
Accompanied to the cash machine by Shamu, I´m told while taking out the cash that I need to take out more. Do I fuck! I´ve already paid 700 – price changed from 620 for both girls to 700 when I handed over 7 one hundred peso notes-.
“You paid for the show. If you want more it´s and extra 800 for each girl”.
Eh, no. I`m horney as fuck, but not stupid as fuck. I´ll let them know I´ve had fun, it´s all been a very pleasant experience for me and one hell of an introduction to Buenos Aires but it all stops here. I´m European but NOT rich.
I enter the bar once more fully expecting a hoard of abuse. Sexual abuse if they wish, but I aint paying for it. After explaining to the girls I then have to repeat my predicament to the boss.
“How much have you got now”?
“You still have to pay for the girls drinks.”
How much is that?
Haha, course it is! I pay up and leave on good terms getting friendly hugs from everyone as I leave including the cleaner who had while watching me getting jerked off, suggested jokingly that I could have her for free. For a second I consider this.
I stop halfway down the street to check my shopping bags for my mobile. It´s not there. FUCK!
Chest puffed out and ready to fight, I march back in and explain that my phones no longer in the bag I´d left here while out at the cash machine. Maybe it fell out the bag while I was here, but I´m not leaving until it`s found.
We look around a clearly empty phoneless, small floor.
“Check your bag again.”
I don´t have to.
“Just take everything out and make sure”.
I do and woops!
Blimp, The Hired Hairy: “See, they might be sluts but they`re not thieves!”
Ohhh, that didn´t go down well with the others. I escape back out into the street before the possible bloodbath begins and this is still just my first day in Buenos Aires!
Into the bathroom I go, back at the hostel and still unsure as to how I should feel about this recent incident. Relieved to have my phone, stupid at spending so much in such a short time on my first day (not that much really 13.46 Pesos – 1 British Pound), amused at the whole thing and frustrated that I just walked away from sex with two stunners.
Out now on Amazon Kindle
I make my way towards Rio where I´ll meet a friend who´s arriving in Brazil quite soon and from there after a week or so I have plans to live on the delta islands near Buenos Aires. A journey not to be sniffed at.
My ass settles down for the next forty eight hours on a bollock cold coach from Recife to Rio De Janero ,1869km/1162 miles and it doesn´t take much scoping around to take in the fact that this could be one very interesting bus trip.
I have less than half a seat thanks to the beluga next to me, but given the fact I´m the only idiot on the bus to not think of bringing a duvet or even a jumper and trousers for that matter, then this might not be such a bad thing.
What’s with the air con on your busses? Cold enough to freeze a penguins nuts off!
So, perched next to fatty and presented with an odor much to my disliking coming from across the aisle wafting from the bum of a baby and young couple. That’s what I need, a smelly baby all the way to Rio. A smelly crying baby but no, all the noise for the next 2 days would emanate from the seats directly behind me. What the fuck is going on back there?!
#Insert loud rasping noises..
I´m spooning tonight. Kind off forced to but I´m not complaining as the leg that’s trapped between her bum cheeks is feeling quite toasty, but I really hope to Hell she doesn´t fart. The rest of my body is blue.
During the night we stop for a rest and some nibbles. I scan the menu and only recognize the word for cheese. “Dos queijo fatia por favor”, she smiles, writes a receipt, takes my money and sends me towards the opposite counter where my order will be prepared. Something about that smile, a knowing smile. A ´Hey Gringo, you´ve fucked up”, kinda smile.
I inspect my two slabs of cheese. “What the fuck´s this”?
What do I want two large slabs of cheese for, did I ask for.. Shit, I just asked for two big slabs of cheese didn´t I?
Everyone´s loving this moment, everyone except for me. I just want to eat, be warm and sleep. Maybe I can laugh about this later but right now I´m finding it hard to look happy. I explain with wild hand gestures and finger pointing. Relieved of my cheese I take my hamburger and proceed to a table where I can eat in peace.
“#Rasp.. NAAAARRRGGG, WOOOOOOP”!
Called over to the table of noise and human beat box from Hell. They hold up a liter of beer and extra glass and so I join them.
A little guilty now that I know one of them is deaf and therefore can´t hear just how loud he is and I begin to drink with them for the next 40 odd hours.
It would go like this; I buy a beer for the three of us -big beers I might add-. They, between them buy a beer for the three of us. I buy one, they buy one between them but for the three of us. I´m getting fucked here, in a group of three it shouldn´t be my round every second time. They give me some food, shitest food in Brazil. Hold on. I can see what’s happening, It´s the old ´We got you some food back there so now that we´re in a place with good food, we´ll cash in on the whole Your turn.’ I stop leaving the bus and stay on board as I don´t want to taken for a fool and I´m running out of money anyway. They bring me more food.
As we enter Rio and I disembark I begin to realize that I am indeed a cunt. These two seemingly thuggish football hooligans (complete with Flamengo football tatts) have been feeding and drinking with me all the way and not asked for a thing in return while I sat full of assumptions and accusations. They invite me to drink with them at their friend’s house for a few days. Fuck that, dodgy fuckin scum!
. . .
Rio might be one of the visually spectacular cities in the world and it´s great to be exploring it with a good friend that I´ve not seen for a while, we laugh harder than I have for some time and live like Kings briefly, but we can´t stay too long. It´s expensive here and we must be getting on. We make our way towards Iguaçu Falls for a few days before I continue with my South American adventure while Jack returns to Rio where awaits a job in a hostel.
Iguaçu Falls is something to behold. Can photos do this place justice? Done Jacks camera no justice as the spray of water coming from one of the eight wonders of the world proved too much. Jack loves his shit being wet and so let the bottle of water in his bag leak and fuck up his passport, return ticket and mobile phone too.. No luck Jack, no luck at all!
Again I laughed like I haven’t done for a while.
Waterproofing your camera.. Remember you have it in a condom for when pulling it out to tell someone the time!
Packed! Ok, so to avoid the whining of fuckin hippies believing that I’m taking my machete overseas to maim a leopard.. I’m not.
No, I’m sure they’ll give me one while I’m there!
Flicking through my wad of Brazilian reais (currency) and taking note of the variety of wildlife displayed on such colorful notes, which might actually eat me at any given time. I consider that my occupation whilst living there –shepherd- combined with my location of such job – 200km West of Belem or Amazon territory to you and me- makes my notion of becoming a predators bowel movement not as farfetched as it might seem.
I’m feeling pretty much prepared as I sit in my bedroom surrounded by paper work of flight details, travel insurance, health..fuck, I don’t want to even look at that pile of time consuming shite right now. So that’s all there, clothes folded and ready to be crammed into a bag at some point, camera, few books and my tablet. Even that stretchy rope thingy for keeping my arms in shape, all present and ready to rock.
I’m informed that mosquito repellent isn’t cheap and I don’t expect it would be but my minds more focused on the acquisition of leopard spray as harsh language will only see me so far.
*Images of a Tarzanesque Andy decked out in junglewear aimlessly crashing through dense rainforest muttering “Nae fuckin’ danger!” while hotly pursued by a carnivorous jungle kitty.
. . .
So what can we expect from this forthcoming adventure?
Something really stupid involving snakes and crocs no doubt. I can pretty much guarantee that as I am that idiot that has to touch. My ways have served me well so far, but feel free to tell me you told me so if I return minus a limb. Ten months in Costa Rica and the most savage attack came from the jaws of a terrapin (although it could have been far worse if we’d found that puma we were tracking in Corcovado or Derik the fer-de-lance snake we pestered) so do your worst mother nature for you are my bitch. –ok, so I do respect nature a little more than that-
Being something of a football fan although not obsessively, it hasn’t escaped my notice that during my time there a certain tournament will be taking place. I may however, be the only living thing in Brazil who will miss it all entirely. Just can’t justify to myself the possibility of forking out £300 per night in a city to watch sport. Especially if England win the fucking thing! –I’m Scottish- ‘Boo’, ‘yeah’! Fuck off, it’s just a bit o’ banter!
So don’t expect a 2014 World Cup review or even a travel guide of what’s hot in Brazil. Just expect the tales and photos of a man exploring something new.
Think Bear Grills meets Mr. Bean!
Well versed in the ways of the mighty Leppard!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 7,100 times in 2013. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.
Click here to see the complete report.
From donkey whisperer to goat herder..Lets forget the in-between!
If sound could be seen and viewed as a colour,
This moment would be an ominous shade of FUCK!
This is the sound emanating from a hairy, four-eyed, balding little man awaiting a response to a heart wrenching e-mail *a shit one to boot, that never should have been sent. -Please note; I’m not always a miserable shite-
I’m sure we’ve all done it. The age of text messages, facebook and e-mails giving those of us with that red mist descending, ‘this is a good idea let’s do it now’ mentality, far too much opportunity to dribble our half-baked thoughts and schemes and punch ENTER quite appropriately as I now enter, or re-enter the ever growing and over populated land of Thefuck’dIdothatfor.
Now I could say I never learn, but this is actually a vast improvement on the time I sent a valentine’s message during my school days through the morning notice board that 1,500 people had the pleasure of reading. I spent a loooong time brooding in the land of Thefuck’dIdothatfor after that one, but that was many years ago and long forgotten, until now –shit.
So, back to the present and a pulsating heart pounds out toward a stupid little brain;
‘What have I done’?
You did what you had to
‘I’ve really done it now’
Indeed, but you gave it your best
‘But I did it all wrong’
Well, yes. You did it by fucking facebook you fucking idiot!
Waiting, waiting, w-a-i-ting..
To hear that familiar rendition of ‘let’s just be friend’s’, followed by the classic ‘it’s not you it’s me’ and finishing off with a slightly different version of ‘you’re a good guy, but not for me’. Yeah, I get it. Better than a kick in the balls, but I don’t have to be happy about it.
INBOX: 1 NEW MESSAGE
God, I hate being right all the fucking time!
Not really looking for another pen-pal to be honest and that’s really what facebook is –if you see them every day then what’s the point?
Despite the lols, dining updates and self-righteous ‘look how great I am’ dribble from people who want us to know how they support every humanitarian issue going, not to mention endless fucking games requests then yeah, facebook is a great thing. Not so many friends in Scotland, but a fair amount scattered across the world from seven years of travel and adventure. Maybe 90% of these people I will never see again, not because I don’t want to but because life goes on, new things happen and I’ll most likely make new friends tomorrow. So to the future ‘let’s just be friend’s/pen-pal’s’ lady’s out there.. Let’s not.
In my bid to get a grip and stop acting like a big Jessie crawling from the pages of a Helen Fielding novel, I did what any man would do. Any non-religious man not long off a 30 year drought would do.
Thirty years. Thirty fuckin years and you better believe I give up. No one will ever have that chance to let me feel I’m just not good enough again, so as I crawl my way back towards the open arms of a masseuse named Crystal I wonder to myself if this is just the way it’s going to be, possible start to a no-strings physical relationship with a prostitute. How could this possibly go wrong?
-Smallest violin? Smallest fuckin’ orchestra jammin’ to this shit!-
Think we can guess the only possible time she can offer me is during her working hours at the cost of £75 and when I arrive she’s not even there. I’m met by an old, fat, smoking Romanian dwarf telling me it’s just herself on today and I’ve to take it easy as she’s pregnant. New lows in life, is this still the way to go? Futures bleak, this futures shite!
I’m out the door and fuming at life, at myself and with my morning horoscope which was a complete load of bollocks:
Today, Venus connects with the Sun and this is going to give your sex appeal a boost. Indeed, lots of people are likely to want to be with you. With all this popularity bubbling away, enjoy the plaudits and praise.
Fuck you Metroscope! Only person getting wet at my presence today is myself –by way of it being a miserable rainy day out there-.
My time back in Scotland has been a brief one but a brief one to soon forget. So close to falling in love with a girl so completely my type AND learning that when it comes to finding ways to move on then all the Crystal in the world won’t make things right.. and either will a pregnant, Romanian dwarf.
*At time of writing this
TEXT MESSAGE (from Crystal):
Where were u 2day?
Fuck this, I’m going to be a shepherd in Brazil.
And that is how we get from A (Aruba) to B (Brazil)!
Not yet in Brazil shepherding goats, but here’s one I worked for previously in Italy