Vertex & Edge

Una costa sin sol y mi salida de Ecuador

2008-08-01T15:24:00.000Z

Beunos días novia, familia y amigos mios,

This message feels as though it's cheating somewhat as I'm already back in the UK. But for all those who hadn't been keeping up with affairs on the other side of the world (the vast majority of you), one of the best parts of the tale is in my semi-epic exit of Ecuador.

From Bahía de Caráquez I caught a series of buses from the slender peninsula down the coast of Ecuador. I had to go from Bahía to Portoviejo, from Portoviejo to Manta and from Manta to the delightfully named Jipijapa. I don't fully recall all that much of the journey but Portoviejo, Manta and Jipijapa are places I had no real desire to stay, and I managed to get a bus from the latter to Puerto López quite soon.

That evening in Puerto López was one of the tiredest I'd been all trip, but I somehow managed to book into a hostel where they put me in a tiny room with the entire roof terrace as a balcony, and booked a trip to the famous Isla de la Plata for the next day. I took a little food in a nearby restaurant, watched the hordes of gringos walk the streets and went to bed, exhausted.

My next day began very early with an impromptu walk and customary singing session along the beach an hour or so after dawn. Joggers stared. Fisherfolk stared too. The other oddballs out at that time of day stared less, since they were pretty odd. But there weren't any foreigners out at that time of day. I think that's why I liked it.

At around 9:30am I was waiting for our boat to arrive on the beach. The Isla de la Plata is 22 nautical miles northwest from Puerto López, and the boat takes quite a while, but seeing as it was comfortable and I was in the company of two other Brits (whose names, I'm afraid, I forget) the journey was relatively decent. We didn't succeed in spotting whales on the way in, though.

Despite that it had been hazy and heavily overcast at the beachhead, once we reached the island after a fairly rough crossing the sun was out and it was set to be a fine day. We changed back into our shoes, were shown the two routes available to us and set off up the steep steps to the trailhead. Most of us selected the right-hand path, the Sendero Punta Machete for those in the know, which was a slightly longer and apparently more arduous circular walk around the east side of the island.

You'll have to check out the photos when I can work out some way of that happening, but basically it's one of the most beautiful little islands I've ever been to. In many ways it reminded me of Orkney, islands like Hoy and stuff, but with a bit more of a tropical flavour. And with more sun. The really impressive part, though, was all the remarkably tame wildlife we passed on the way. I have a host of photos of hundreds of boobies - blue-footed boobies and Nazca boobies and possibly another species that I know not the name for. There was one extremely rare waved albatross, and I saw one frigate bird in the sky. At one rest point we saw a humped back arching out of the Pacific which I was assured was a whale, and we were privy to a basking sea lion, slowly colonising the Isla's luxurious sun-bleached rocks.

Sadly this little jaunt had to come to an all-to-swift end and we were taken back to the boat for a spot of lunch and then a brief snorkelling trip over the coral reef to the immediate south of the island. Being a naturally inquisitive person I had to give this a shot, so I donned my mask and snorkel and did just that. Indeed, the coral reef looked thoroughly interesting, and the colourful, darting fish within it were rather pretty, but seeing as I'd never been snorkelling before and the idea of breathing underwater, aided mechanically or not, freaked me out, and I swallowed a fair old amount of seawater in the process. I found the whole thing rather terrifying, although obviously it was a grand thing to have done.

Dried out on the boat, we headed back to shore, but on the way we caught up with a few whales who come into the Puerto López area at that time of year to breed. From the boat we all took hundreds of photos and videos, which consist mostly of oodles of sea and the occasional spout, back or tail. But I did get one particularly good video - I'll put it somewhere you can see it as soon as I can. The day drew all too swiftly to a close and it would have been nice to be able to check out the other path too, with its resident frigate bird colony, but that wasn't possible. I'll just have to go back with a real birdwatcher next time.

In the evening I sat on my "balcony" and watched an evangelical preacher man from Guayaquil do his religious thing. Don't get me wrong - I've not been converted - but it was interesting to watch Ecuadorian evangelism in action. Very striking speeches, from what I could make out - the acento guayaquileño was particularly thick at times, and naturally it's hard to make out what preachers like that are saying sometimes.

The next day I caught a bus down the coast to a little fishing town called Olón, where there isn't much to do to be honest, but it's only 3km from the mad little town of Montañita, where I knew I didn't want to stay overnight since it'd be really raucous and I'd never be able to sleep. Once I'd check into a hostel, though, I walked over to the surfing hangout/gringolandia to check out the town, which was full of gringos, naturally, with surfboards, dreads, beads, bangles and bongos. Slightly insane.

Most of that day I spent walking up and down the long beaches in the overcast heat, dipping my toes occasionally into the Pacific and watching the occasional off-season surfer. In the evening I walked back entirely along the beach and around the headland to Olón, ate an excelent meal of bolones de queso, rice and salad for a dollar in an Israeli hostel where vegetarianism was accepted, and went to bed exceptionally early.

I walked back into Montañita at some ridiculously early hour of the following morning, from where I rented a bicycle for $6 and took a long, winding trip down the coast from Montañita to Monte Verde in the south - a round trip of about 64km, more or less. On this trip I learnt several important biking facts of life - one should never cycle on soft sand or in soft, silty mud on soft tyres. It's just a bad plan.

The route was lovely with great views over the Pacific and with headlands surrounding secluded little coves, little fishing villages and craft villages and the massive Monte Verde tuna factory - very famous tuna brand in Ecuador, that. There were also hills which seemed vertical, but there always are. On the way back I visited an archaeological museum in Valdivia, but it was unremarkable and in pretty poor nick. Needs monetary donations to protect its cultural ones, but most museums in Ecuador are like that, really.

Obviously I was very sore after this long trip and so I went home and chilled out, taking another early night before my final day in Ecuador. This was another day spent largely chilling out once I'd walked my belongings from Olón to Montañita along the road, checked into a hostel costing $9 but with free breakfast and a free cocktail, and sat in a hammock reading about all the neat stuff in Ecuador I hadn't the time left to do. The rest of the day I spent sipping cocktails and beers on the beach, and visiting the headland of La Punta again to walk big crabs for a few hours. Oh, and paddled in the Pacific for the last time. I shall miss her, the fine ocean she is.

That night, as predicted earlier when I decided to stay in Olón, very little sleep was had for all of the bongo music going on outside. This was on a Monday night, just to give you some kind of impression of what a crazy gringo-oriented place Montañita is. There were probably next to no Ecuadorians in the whole town apart from those providing the services. Damned strange.

The next day I packed up and waited around for my bus which, arriving and leaving at 1pm precisely, was more or less the only reliable article of public transport which I caught for the next 58 hours. Yes folks, the getting home to the United Kingdom Oddysey had begun.

The bus to Guayaquil from Montañita took a little over three hours, enough time for me to converse brightly with the peruana next to me and to watch Rush Hour 3 in its entirety. We arrived pretty much when we were told we would be, which filled my heart with confidence. I headed straight for the airport, where I waited patiently to board for some three and a half hours - easy. But then the troubles began.

To cut a long story short, I waited on the plane for an hour and forty minutes, panicking all the while that I'd be missing my connection in Madrid, before I realised that that didn't matter at all - we all had to disembark and wait 24 hours. I learnt later that one of the motors was broken, so at least it was something serious, but that fact didn't help me to feel less annoyed.

Neither did staying in Guayaquil's famous Oro Verde Hotel, which was all expenses paid - and five star. Free meals, a free room (which I shared out of convenience and a desire not to be so alone with a fantastic Ecuadorian guy called Jessie) and just generally great stuff. Of course, it was far too luxurious for me, and what I really wanted was to be home with my own bed, but spending a day in bed watching TV and eating fantastic food really wasn't incredibly tough on me.

At 5pm the next day they whisked us back to the airport for another stab at getting to Madrid. This flight was successful and even left on time, but in the 11 hours flight time I got very bored and barely slept a wink. I'd also forgotten to pre-book vegetarian food and so had to kind of eat around the meat and proffer it to the Ecuadorian sitting next to me. Such is life.

In Madrid there was a mad dash from our flight to the customer service desk, for which through some lacking in my Spanish I had to queue twice in order to get my missed connections to Heathrow changed. Eventually, and rather painlessly compared to the hordes of Germans in similar positions, this came to pass, but the flight was at 19:55 - some four hours in the future. Basically, after weeping slightly at the ludicrosity of the situation, I lay down on the floor and went to sleep.

Feeling refreshed, I began waiting at the departure gate as soon as I'd found out which one it was, information in the gargantuan terminal complex which was not immediately forthcoming. And waited. The incoming flight, the plane from which we would be catching, had arrived late, and by the time it did arrive and we'd boarded we were already running 30 minutes late, although since I had no idea when I'd be catching a bus from Heathrow to Nottingham this wasn't a problem.

Apart from not sleeping, the rest of the journey to and through Heathrow passed without event, but once I'd called home my heart dropped again on learning that in fact I'd have to wait two hours before I'd be able to get a bus back to Nottingham. It fell again when the bus arrived 15 minutes late, and yet again when just before Leicester the driver pulled into services and took a 45 minute break. By the time we pulled into Nottingham it was nearly 5am and my Dad, who'd said he'd pick me up at 3:45am, was nowhere to be seen.

After walking around for a while I caught an exceedinly expensive taxi back home, where I was greeted with great elation, a warm and wholesome meal, caring parents and, finally, the most comfortable bed I'd slept in in nearly 7 weeks - my own. It'd had been one hell of a 58 hour trip.

In fact, it's been one hell of a trip altogether, and now it's over I'm a little saddened. But yeah. It's great to be home, too. That, my friends, is the truth.

Un viajote por el hemisferio del norte

2008-07-24T13:22:00.003Z

Buenos días novia, familia y amigos míos ...

Today I'm in Bahía de Caráquez, on the northern coast of Ecuador. It's a lovely, upmarket place which is, for the most part, remarkably clean. It reminds me, quite inexplicably so, of Geneva. I think it's the seafront. Not that Geneva has one, but you know what I mean.

Last Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday and Thursday I basically just cruised around the museums of Cuenca, which is certainly the city in which to do it if you like that kind of thing. Which, I suppose, I do. It's always something that is far more fun to do by yourself, which is useful since I am, for the most part, by myself. I also spent a lot of time catching up with a few old friends.

But after a while, being somewhere I'd spent so long in before started to wear on me and I had to leave. Sad to say goodbye again, but Cuenca had both changed a lot and not at all, if you can believe that paradox. If indeed a paradox it is. So, I caught the night bus to Quito, some 9 or 10 hours, and slept quite well for the entire trip.

This time in Quito I was actually privy to the terrifying spectacle which is Quito bus terminal, which is awesomely confusing and surprising untidy for such a touristic city. Fortunately I quickly located a bus to Otavalo, even at 6 in the morning or whatever time it was, and made our slow journey through beautiful sierran landscape to the small town beyond the lakes.

Otavalo is a town very famous for it's large, proud indigenous population and for it's artesenía markets on a Saturday. Since I'd arrived on a Friday morning, I had to find something to do for most of that day, so after locating a ludicrously expensive hotel ($10 a night ... funny how standards change so quickly) I set off in search of a museum. Or anything, really, that might occupy my time that day.

Eventually I chanced upon a free museum that was part of Otavalo's university, for which I had to wait half an hour to open. This wasn't overly much of a problem except that I was bored, but when it did open it was quite interesting - an archaeological and anthropological history of the town and region, including a rather tantalising collection of musical instruments from all over Ecuador.

Unfortunately the small museum didn't keep me entertained for very long, and I wandered back into town, largely defeated. I don't really remember what I did for the rest of the day, but it wasn't anything particularly exciting. Sigh.

The next day there was a power cut in the morning, and the entire town was, for once in Ecuador, a very quiet place without the usual high-volume blasts of reggatón, folklórica and salsa from all the stores I passed. This made a lovely change and my exploration of the market all the more exciting.

Otavalo's market is huge. I mean, absolutely massive. At it's maximum, around 9am when the Quito tourists arrive, it must have spread over two or three dozen streets, all centered around the manic sales banter in the Plaza de Ponchos. You could buy anything in this market, and I did buy rather a lot of stuff. It was really rather impressive. I even bartered. Nothing Monty Python-esque, I'm afraid to say, but I got my money's worth. And I did spend quite a lot, by Ecuadorian standards.

Lunchtime came and went and I decided to hop it, having wandered penniless around Otavalo's market for hours. I caught the first bus possible to the nearby city of Ibarra, where I spent much of the afternoon wandering around the terribly confusing streets taking photos of pretty buildings, churches and parks. It's a nice place - they call it the ciudad blanca, which I suppose it is - but on a Saturday afternoon, maybe because most of its residents are in Otavalo or something, it's totally deserted, with barely a cheap eatery in which to recharge my depleted batteries.

That night I chanced upon a dance recital by a well-known Ecuadorian dance outfit, which was free and really awesome. They're so well-known that I've forgotten their name, but it was Andean dance from various indigenous cultures which was jolly impressive. There was even a little live folklórica music, which after almost a whole day of being starved of music, was remarkably refreshing.

The next morning there was yet another power cut, so I gave up the ghost of staying another night in Ibarra and headed to the train station - yes, a train station in Ecuador! They do exist. From Ibarra I caught the very full tourist train, sitting on the roof, legs dangling through the railings as there were no seats for those without reservations, with a whole host of other people, some gringos and some Ecuadorians.

The train passed through the city and the countryside at a slow enough speed to take photos every now and again, riding bridges over deep, deep gorges and a through tunnels where those on the roof had to duck and tuck in mighty quickly. Naturally the service wasn't without it's problems - half the fun is in the journey, after all - and we broke down once due to an overheated engine, stopped for ages in a dusty little town called Salinas whilst the Ecuadorians piled off the train to book lunch, and were forced to stop once more in the middle of nowhere whilst the train staff grabbed pickaxes and shovels to clear a landslide that had covered the lines.

Eventually we pulled into Primer Paso, where the Rough Guide, sadly 5 years out of date, had promised a hostería with food and maybe even beds. Not so, as it's all now in ruins ... still, we had to descend from the train at a turntable, with the real menfolk (not me) pushed the train by hand through 180 degrees for it's return journey to Ibarra. We stopped at Primer Paso for a little while to check out the river, before the train returned a little way to the highway to drop off those with a single ticket (me) for the onwards bus to San Lorenzo on the northern coast (basically on the border with Columbia), to where the railway used to extend only 10 years ago.

The highway was just that - a highway, in the middle of nowhere, without a bus stop or a timetable or anything. Fortunately a bus to San Lorenzo was forthcoming, and albeit slow, it did eventually bring me to the dusty little port town.

From here I'd hoped to see the ocean, but San Lorenzo is surrounded by mangroves and is actually on a river mouth and not the ocean, so this dream wasn't realised just yet. I stayed just one night in the very isolated town before catching two boats through the mangroves the next morning to Limones and La Tola to the west. These were beautiful boat rides and more than made up for the terribly scrubby nature of all the towns and villages involved. Mangroves are really pretty and more should be done to protect them! I saw lots of cool birds, not that I know any of their names, as well as more types of trees and plants than I could name. It was a passenger boat, not a tourist boat, so explanations weren't forthcoming or extant at all, but it was still an exhilirating ride.

From La Tola it was just about feasible to catch a bus further down the coast to Esmereldas, possibly the worst place in which I've had the misfortune to spend 2 hours. It's dirty, smelly and quite scary - the police themselves warned me not to walk down one street in particular - and I was glad to get onto another bus which took me to the tiny town of El Relleno to the south.

From El Relleno I caught a boat across the river to the island of Muisne, which may once have been quite popular with local and foreign tourists. It is quite an idyllic place, if you ignore that there was basically nobody there for the entire two nights I spent there. I saw maybe five or six foreign tourists, including one Swede who was as desperate to talk to me as I was to him. Fortunately during the day the beach was full of Ecuadorian tourists, but still. Weird.

A handful of local Muisneños were also very glad to talk to me, introducing me to the deserted houses on the seafront where I was assured a Finn, an American, a Colombian, a Venezuelan, a German, a Swiss and even a Brit lived - for some of the year. Rather saddening, but the story seems to be the same in seaside towns the world over.

It would have been Tuesday when I lathered myself in suncream and headed out to the beach, where the day before I'd seen the beautiful, terrifying, edge-of-the-world expanse of water known as the Pacific Ocean. Having barely seen the Atlantic Ocean in the last few years I was pretty excited by this, and after a few hours frolic in the neck-high oceanic waves I knew why - the Pacific was in fact my new favourite ocean. I think I'm in love with it. It's beautiful, and quite amazing. I'm certainly going to try and get in again before I come home. And then, before the year's up, perhaps I'll swim in the Atlantic, make the double. Sweet.

Wednesday morning saw me set out from Muisne at about 9am. I expected to arrive in Bahía de Caráquez at around 3 or 4 that afternoon, maybe 5 if bus connections turned out to be a problem. The problem, it seemed, was less in the connections, and more in the roads themselves.

First I had to catch a bus which I expected to take 10 minutes, which took 20. Then another bus wasn't forthcoming at El Salto, and when it did arrive it didn't leave for another 30 minutes. Fortunately on the road we saw a bus heading to a town I needed to change in, so I hopped off and caught the other bus to Pedernales. Big mistake.

This bus was slow, but not quite slow enough. After about 20 minutes, the driver hit a pothole at just the wrong angle and there was an almighty crack, the bus slowing to a dead halt at an angle across the road. The passengers looked at one another. I looked out of the window to see a pair of the bus crew fish a broken pipe about 6cm in diameter from the underside of the bus.

Not good, they told us, and sure enough, the bus wasn't going anywhere. As usual we were in the middle of nowhere, and there was little to do but wait for passing camionetas, buses, and chivas, the little open-sided wooden buses that I'd caught in Baños to the Mirador and that are common in Ecuador's rural areas.

One of these chivas turned up pretty soon and 20 or 30 of us piled onto it, me on the roof as there was nowhere else to sit. It was pretty uncomfortable, what with having to sit on a bus roof and lean against a metal railing, but remarkably refreshing. Apart from the terribly slow speed, the propensity to stop 3 or 4 times in every tiny settlement, and having to slow down even more for the multidinious potholes in the road surface.

After an age we arrived in Pedernales where I succeeded in catching a bus almost immediately to San Vincente, the town across the river from the resort town of Bahía de Caráquez. This bus travelled at what I considered a reasonable speed, and eventually we arrived at San Vincente, which seemed like quite a paradise after most of the grimy towns we'd passed through on the way. I caught a car ferry for free across the water and after locating a hostel for the night just before 5:30pm - $5 including breakfast! - I went on an impromptu walk around the little peninsula before tea and settling down for the night.

And so we come to today, when I'm either leaving for Puerto López further to the south or staying one night more in Bahía so I can see more of the sights. Not that there are many. It's just quite a novelty being here. But more journeying? Who knows.

"The worst thing that can happen on when travelling is that everything goes to plan." Ain't that the truth. Hasta luego, amigos - I'll write once more from Guayaquil, next Tuesday.

Rafting, Baños y estar en Cuenca

2008-07-15T17:26:00.003Z

Buenos días novia, familia y amigos mios ...

I'm in Cuenca at the moment, after quite a week. Actually, not really a totally insane week, but quite cool all the same.

The day that I posted last I spent quite a long time trying to work out where in Tena I might be able to change Traveller's Cheques. This has become somewhat of an ongoing saga here in Ecuador, so I'd recommend getting a travel money card to anyone who's coming to South America, since TCs seem to be massively out of fashion. Most bankers haven't even heard of them.

In the interim I visited a place my guidebook (and the place itself) assured me was an animal rescue centre, but when I was there and when I was chatting about it to some British folks later on it did strike me that none of the animals in the place, again, especially not the birds, looked particularly happy or even well-kept. Their habitats weren't of the highest quality and although they were probably well-fed, they just didn't ooze the bouncebackability (aha) of the animals at AmaZOOnico in the Selva Viva. I guess that's one of the pitfalls of visiting zoos in less developed countries. And it was a zoo, really. Not much more to it than that.

Still, I didn't let this slight hiccup ruin my experience of Tena and I spent much of the day trying to arrange a rafting trip with the British-run company River People, who were a lovely bunch of chaps, albeit bent on extracting vast quantities of money from my already stretched reserves. Finally, about 8pm that night, I decided I'd try the Class III-IV river which was leaving the next day. A full day trip for $70 seemed a little bit steep by Ecuadorian standards, but, I decided, that would be far cheaper than staying in Tena until Friday at least, which was my other option.

That night I played cards with some rafters and some of the guides who'd be taking us the next day, and ended up in a karaoke bar at some ungodly hour of the morning. Fortunately I avoided any of the crooning - if crooning you could call it - claiming a sore throat and an early start. But it was good to get to know the guides before I started.

Unfortunately - you might say - it started raining that night at about 9pm. Real, heavy jungle rain which lasted all through the night and into the next morning. When I got to the River People agency to kit up, the lady who'd sold me the trip told me, to paraphrase, that if we went out on the Class III-IV river we'd probably end up either dead or hiking out, since there was so much water in the canyon that it would be somewhat insane to attempt it. When the other raftees arrived the situation was explained, and we settled for the Class III+ river, which was a good compromise and a little bit cheaper. I was happy - with no rafting experience, any rapids sounded good to me.

When we set out from Tena there were 4 rafters - myself, an American and two Australians - as well as one of the guides from the night before and a safety kayakero. And the driver. The 4WD was quite full but the trip down to the river was pretty cool. Apart from that it was still raining, but my theory was, if you're going to get wet rafting, you might as well start wet. Anyway, we arrived, kitted up and had the good ol' fashioned safety chat in Spanglish, and then two more chaps arrived, a Swiss dude and a Portuguese lady who were on their own in a raft. Since they didn't want to flip their raft with such lightness, they joined our group, adding another safety kayakero and another guide to our raft. And more food to the lunch.

When I looked out over the river, I didn't know what to think. I'd certainly never seen water move that fast in a river that wide before. It was pretty impressive, but since I was a rafting virgin I didn't truly know what to think. Some of the others looked a bit apprehensive, especially the Portuguese girl, but to me it looked fun. And man, once we'd launched, it sure was fun.

We did two hours on that river before lunch, and it was fantastically good fun. Rapid sections where the guides would shout at us to paddle for our lives, beautiful - absolutely stunning - landscape, flat sections where the guides would walk up the boat conspiratorially before chucking us all in ... yeah. If you've done rafting before, you'll know what I mean. If not, go rafting, and find out. I'd met two British guys the day before, who were jobbing as guides for River People. I'd come to the conclusion after those first two hours that they have one of the finest jobs in the world.

Lunch was a grand buffet affair which lasted long enough for us to catch our breath and relax our strained muscles - paddling can be tough, after all. Then a bridge jump for the bold (not me, as I was convinced if I jumped off the bridge I'd be terribly sick) and back on the river for another hour or so. The river, although very high, was a little more tame after lunch, but still good fun as we larked about a little bit more, and still managed to get totally soaked on the rapid sections. Great fun.

We landed in the Puerto de Misahuallí, where in the main square a troop of various species of monkey roam free, steal cameras, fight each other and generally cause chaos. They seemed to live in an abandoned house on the square, where you could see them jumping on the sofas and swinging from the light fittings. It was certainly highly drole watching them. I apologise for not having any photos of the entire day, but I was pretty scared I'd ruin my camera if I took it.

So that was it - my first rafting adventure. Rather excellent fun, and I recommend it to all. If you're in Ecuador, and in Tena, go and see the River People (end shameless plug).

The next day I left Tena for Baños, one of the major tourist centres in Ecuador. I'd been recommended to stay in a hostel called Plantas y Blanco whilst I was there, which was interesting at best since all the signs were in English and French but the staff spoke only Spanish, and as far as I could tell most of the guests were German or Swiss-German. I made friends almost straight off with an English guy travelling the entire length of South America before heading to Australia - all in the space of about 3 months. He had a week in Ecuador and was spending most of it in Baños, which seems to be the general plan of most folks in the hostel, as far as I could tell. So yeah, Baños is pretty odd. But it is a nice place.

The first day I'd made up my mind to do nothing, so after getting over a hangover from the night before I sat in the hostel and read for hours and hours, before finally giving in and walking around the town centre for a while to locate a rafting tour for the next day. After trawling various travel agencies, all offering pretty much the same things for the same kind of money, I chanced upon a place doing Class III rivers for $25. I didn't think this was bad, so I put in a deposit for the next day, musing that it would probably be a little tame.

Unfortunately, when the next day came around I'd succeeded in making myself exceedingly ill somehow - probably something I ate - and once I'd gotten to the river I nearly fainted from the 900m descent by car, which apparently happens but that I'd never heard of. They still let me on the river once I'd recovered, but for certain I didn't enjoy it as much - although I was the only person to fall in, which was very funny. Still, the river was tamer, and if I'm brutally honest the guides weren't as good. But it was a good trip and a lot of fun - just not so much fun as in Tena.

Anyway, I went to bed as soon as I got back and slept off most of my illness, I think, so that was okay. The next day I took it easy as well, taking only a trip to the nearby hot spring-fed baths, which was somewhat of a cattle ranch of Ecuadorian families and not, by any stretch of the imagination, the cleanest swimming pool I've ever been to. Probably better to go at 4:30am, when they opened. But I needed the lie-in that day. In the evening I tried to take a wooden chiva bus to the volcano, but by some fluke I succeeded in taking one of the only few in the city going only to the Mirador over Baños, which was very nice I suppose, but having been promised some vague tectonic activity by some Brits I met at breakfast, I was rather looking forward to gazing into the centre of the world.

The next day I braved the bus ride to Cuenca, which is 6 hours from Riobamba, which is 2 hours from Baños. Fortunately I met a lovely British couple called Johnny and Hannah who made the wait in Riobamba and the hot, cramped and noisy busride to Cuenca a lot more enjoyable. Thanks, guys. The bus gradually filled up on our way through the Sierra, but I could take my mind off it by gazing idly out of the window on the absolutely stunning landscape that we were passing through. It's one of the greatest bus journeys I've been on, in that respect.

One of the more bizarre things about long-haul buses in Ecuador is their propensity to show highly unsuitable and generally violent films on the way. This is terribly distracting and should be discouraged. Or banned.

Anyway, now I'm in Cuenca. The first night I did nothing but see a couple of friends. It is really weird being here, since I know both the city and what seems like hundreds of people here. But it's very nice to be recognised in the street or in a café by people I probably had little more than a brush with last year. So, really it's very enjoyable. Just a little odd.

So yeah - now I'm staying at Esperanza and Wilson's rebranded "hostel" Tourist of the World, which wasn't a hostel last year and isn't really now, but it is an awesome place for $5 a night - far cheaper than the other good budget options in town. The first day I checked out the, erm, again rebranded Museo del Banco Central - now Museo Pumapungo - and it's attached ruins of what's left of the original Cuenca, the Incan city of Tomebamba. That was cool. Later on I checked out an art gallery at the other end of the city, sitting in a beautiful little colonial building with umpteen lovely Mediterranean courtyards and housing a fantastic collection of contemporary Ecuadorian and Latin American art, from which hopefully I'll remember some artists and be able to come by some prints.

And this morning? Another museum and attached art gallery of paintings of and inspired by Cuenca. That was a nice little place - Museo del Remigio Crespo, and certainly not bad for the grand price of zilch. There was even a free guide.

I'm going to be here another day or so, then catch the night bus up the spine of the country to Quito and then on to Otavalo for Saturday morning's awesome market. I might consider buying some presents, but then again I'm terribly lacking in space at the moment ...

Anyway, I have about two weeks left in Ecuador, which isn't really enough time to do everything I wanted to do, but there's plenty of time left to do some more great stuff. So - take care one and all, don't feel too jealous, come travel in Ecuador and I'll see you soon.

He regresado de la selva ...

2008-07-07T17:09:00.003Z

Hola novia, familia y amigos varios mios ...

I'm back from the jungle. After being a little puzzled as to why it's called the "rain"forest I discovered precisely the answer to this question yesterday. Now a lot of my clothes are absolutely soaked. But it was a lot of fun.

I apologise for the long delay in writing more on my blog. I went to the jungle last Thursday when normally I would have tried to find an acceptable internet café on the Friday. As a result I missed you all. But I'm sure you don't really mind.

Anyway, since my last post nearly a week and a half ago I've done some cool stuff. I went to Vilcabamba, for a start, and met some very interesting people - Águeda y Pedro, Cristobal (apologies if I got your name wrong), Karl ... it's quite a long list and I'm sure I'd never actually succeed in getting them all on there, but needless to say it was a lot of fun spending time with them.

I met Águeda on the bus almost immediately after writing my last post. She directed me to a lovely hostel in Vilcabamba, El Valle Sagrado, which was a snip at $5 a night and an absolute dream to stay in. I spent most of the first day sitting in a hammock reading, for example, which was truly wonderful. Later on I met up with everyone sitting outside the church where we had some wine and tea, and listened to some Chilenos play some rather delightful music. I never caught those guys' names but thanks for the guitar/pipe music - really rather delightful.

The next day Águeda y Pedro had invited me up to their farm near the Cerro Mandango (a mountain formation which resembles from some angles an Inca person lying down - nice views) and for a walk down into the nearby neighbourhood. Chris is studying Vilcabamba, in the broadest possible sense, so Águeda wanted to explain to him all the problems that are being introduced into the area by people moving in to make a quick buck from the tourists, and screw over the locals and the environment at the same time.

Y'all know me - y'all know how that gets right on my nerves, how I'm liable to get on my high horse about that kind of thing - but really, Vilcabamba is probably heading for a horrific meltdown at the rate assorted gringos are moving in a ruining the feel of the place. Not entirely sure what we, as gringos, can do, but going there and spending money in a sustainable way - oh, and not buying property there - is probably a good way to begin.

On the third day in Vilcabamba I decided to take a little walk, as recommended by the German dude Karl, to a waterfall in Podocarpus National Park, which was a very nice walk except it took me forever to find the place. In the blazing sun and later, in the cloudforest, in intense heat. I never actually made it to the waterfall, as I think I was suffering the effects of a minor flu and possible some heat exhaustion or sunstroke. But I did observe that Podocarpus is lovely and definitely worth visiting. I'll just be more cautious next time. Plus I'll know the way.

The fourth day, after going to bed at 5pm the day before, Águeda and Chris met up with me and took me to Águeda's lovely little house in Vilcabamba. Yes, she has two houses, but she's turning one of them into an open guesthouse, on the proviso that anybody who goes there is not to make money. That's an excellent rule. I apologise for not being able to remember the Hebrew word for such a place, but it is a rather excellent idea that I'm all in favour of.

That day I met the famous Patterson, a fascinating man who is writing a proper history of Christianity - http://www.metalog.org/ . It's interesting stuff, from what I can tell, and it's certainly got a large group of people radiating out of Vilcabamba very excited. Some day I'll keep you all posted.

That night I decided I wouldn't try for my Oriental Oddysey as I had proposed to do, and instead stayed at Águeda's guesthouse for the night, which was wonderful. I slept under a mosquito net surrounded by the noise of the countryside. It was rather wonderful, if annoying to be woken before dawn by the eight thousand cockerels which live in Vilcabamba. It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't set the dogs off as well.

The next day I left Vilcabamba and took care of some business in Loja where things are far too hectic and expensive. I was halfway through a phonecall to my parents when I realised I still had something belonging to the guesthouse, so I had to return to Vilcabamba, take it back, and come back to Loja before 7pm. It was quite easy to manage, but terribly dull, hot and smelly. Not the most fun thing I'd done so far on my trip.

That night I spent on a bus between Loja and Riobamba, which took 10 hours and arrived a little before 5am. I hardly slept a wink, since behind me was a young child and in front of me some young ladies insistent on giggling and flashing their mobile phone lights every ten minutes. Needless to say, when I arrived in Riobamba and made an attempt at speaking Spanish, I was barely coherent, but somehow I managed to obtain a bus ticket to Tena where I was hoping I'd be able to arrange some kind of trip to the jungle.

I arrived in Tena at 11am the next morning, after some 16 hours of travelling. Tired, hot and sweaty, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I still had business to take care of. Fortunately, I found a relatively cheap internet café and found out - much to my glee - that my late application for accomodation at Liana Lodge had been accepted! Four nights at a lovely lodge about 40km away from Tena on the Rio Alajuno - bliss. The downside was that instead of starting on the Friday, as I'd expected, I was due to be picked on Thursday, the following day ...

Fortunately everything went to plan, and in fact when I arrived early at Puerto Barantilla the next day I was shocked to discover that the canoa pilot who'd come to pick me up was an hour early. Anyone who's ever been to South America will understand this shock ... normally I'd expect to have to wait at least fifteen minutes for a scheduled event to happen ...

Liana Lodge is accessible only by canoa, which makes it even more wonderful as you can't here any cars or honking horns or screeching brakes at night. It's delightful. All you can hear is the insects, birdlife and lapping river shore as you lie in bed at night. No electricity, everything lit by candles (almost) and a delightful log fire about which to sit and chat at night. The cabins themselves had paja toquilla rooves and where made of wood salvaged from the (illegal) clearance of rainforest to make way for the nearby oil pipeline and associated highway. Okay, so there were luxuries - too much for backpackers, I personally believe - like hot water and comfortable beds, but it was just the right side of rustic to be adorable. Anyway I paid for it all, so more fool me.

Or not. The first afternoon I spent lying in a hammock reading, and thinking how absolutely golden the place was. Pure, absolute gold. The Rough Guide wasn't wrong when it said that staying in a lodge was the most comfortable way to enjoy the rainforest. I just lay there and refused to do anything else for a few hours ... hammocks seem to have that effect on me.

The first day was delightful. We were taken on a (short) tour to a giant tree in the middle of a mix of primary and secondary tropical rainforest a short canoa ride away up the Rio. That was a nice introduction to the rainforest - no hard forest trekking on your first day. Afterwards we were shown around the animal rescue centre attached to Liana Lodge called AmaZOOnico, which was both wonderful and terribly saddening, since all the animals that we were introduced to had very little chance of surviving naturally in the wild. Still, it was great to see some large wildlife since that's not really possible around Tena, and also to see that somebody, the amazing volunteers, still cares about these remarkable animals.

We were taken back by canoa to the Lodge where lunch was incredible. Actually, all the meals there were incredible, and as they gave me the same size plate of rice that was used for groups of up to four people to serve themselves from, I never went hungry ... Anyway, after lunch I wrote some postcards and then went on another jungle tour to a local Quichua community to see their way of life - their plantations, how they used to hunt with blowguns and to sample their drink of preference - chicha de maís, which is ... different.

Day Two saw a much longer (and personally, I thought more difficult) trek through the rainforest. It was about four and a half hours long ... with an additional break for lunch for an hour on the Rio Rodríguez. Good stuff, saw a lot of very cool foliage and insect life, even if we didn't succeed in seeing anything larger than a hunting snake and some apparently omniverous fish which cleaned the food containers and forks for us. Impressive. After that, we walked back to AmaZOOnico and caught some inflatable liferings down the river back to the Lodge, which was a lot of fun. I was only slightly concerned that we'd end up in Perú ...

Later that day a large group of us took a river ride up the Rio Napo, which feeds into the Amazon much further downstream, to a little island where birds nest at night. They fly over the river at dusk from the hunting grounds, and it was at this time that we were waiting. Unfortunately, in my opinion at least, there were too many of us, and they didn't all have my patience, so we failed to see the promised squalls of parakeets who supposedly fly over. Okay, so we did see some, but nowhere near the promised numbers. But there were a few brave birds who crossed the river, and it was a pleasant enough spot to sit and stare at the sunset anyway.

Day Three, which was only yesterday but seems like a lifetime away, saw me taking a shorter trip to a Mirador over the Napo province with Eliane, the Swiss intern from the Lodge and our faithful Quichua guide Edwin, who was a lovely chap. The walk was a lot of fun - we spent the best part of it wading down a small river surrounded by beautiful secondary forest. I saw a lot of cool insects and the occasional bird, but I only have photos of the former, I'm afraid. After the walk we swam the 400-odd metres back along the river to the Lodge, which I can assure you was extremely tiring, even with the current. I must be more out of shape than I thought.

In the afternoon Edwin took me up the river to a beach where we made a traditional Quichua raft out of balsa logs which we used to float down the river to the Lodge. That afternoon, there was a rainstorm, and I got absolutely soaked to the bone, but it was well worth it - so tranquil, just drifting with the current and enjoying the rapids, and actually the rain was rather nice and warm.

But all good things must come to an end, and so this morning I left Liana Lodge for good, hitching a ride back to Tena with a young German couple who I'd done a few of the tours with. It was rather sad, but I feel I'll be back in the jungle at some point in the future.

Ahh, the future. By the end of today I'll be halfway through my trip, which is sad. Tomorrow I'm planning to go rafting on the Rio Napo, but whether or not that'll transpire is another matter and it might be Thursday before I get to go. But I don't mind waiting around in Tena, it's a nice enough town even if it is damnably hot here. After that, on Thursday or Friday, I'll be off for a little R&R in the bizarre town of Baños del Ambato, where I have been before last year, and then off to Riobamba for a ride on el Nariz del Diablo ... the world's most difficult railway track. Supposedly. Then again, maybe they never tried to design the Channel Tunnel.

Right, that's about all I have to say, except - go to the jungle, be nice to animals, don't buy property in Vilcabamba and come to Ecuador to meet me for my last three weeks. Oh, and that I can't upload my photos for at least another week, since no internet café seems to have SD ports. Too sad.

Hasta luego,
Marcus.

'Stoy en Loja, de nuevo

2008-06-26T18:31:00.002Z

Buenas tardes novia, amigos varios y famila mios ...

I'm in Loja. It's actually the second time I've been in Loja this trip, but I am only here on transfer to Vilcabamba, which I'm promised will be Gringolandia. I feel a little out of touch with other tourists, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I'm heading down to the Valley of Longevity anyway to recharge my batteries, which feel a little worn down today.

Last Saturday, the day after I blogged last, I spent almost a whole day travelling from Machala to Puyango where there's supposedly the world's largest petrified wood. There was indeed a lot of petrified wood lying around, but also on my 10km walk from the main road to the village there were more butterflies and things scampering in the foliage than I could name, count or even photograph. Lovely place.

Whilst I was there I met a few other English-speakers, no less than three English teachers from Loja who were kind enough to take me under their wing and chat with until what seemed like very late at night. It actually wasn't, but when I'm getting up at 7am everyday even 11:30pm feels ludicrously late, especially in Ecuador where the sun sets at about 6pm - so by 8 or 9 it's pitch-black outside. No street lights in Puyango, either. Oh no. Spent that night in a cabin at Puyango which was ... interesting. It did have running water and electricity, but not necessarily as we know it. 'Nuff said.

The next day I left quite late with the three teachers from Loja in the back of a pick-up truck to the tiny town in the clouds of Alamor. Beautiful - and somewhat interesting - place, but I didn't get to see any of it as I was being taken by bus to Loja that afternoon, which was a shame as it's obviously way off the beaten track. The busride to Loja was quite horrendous, with some rather rude Ecuadorians lying their seats almost completely flat in front of me. I felt a little stiff after 6 hours of the same cramped conditions, but fortunately once I'd arrived in Loja it wasn't too difficult to locate accomodation for the night in the form of the rather attractive Hostel Londres, which is actually about a block away from where I am now.

Monday saw me looking around Loja for quite a long time. It's a lovely city, rather reminiscent of Cuenca in some of its architecture but quieter and with more focus. Not really very easy to explain, but it's a rather delightful place. Unfortunately by lunchtime I was so stiff from the day before that I could barely walk, and I decided to call it a day and sit in the hostel reading. Rather dull, I know, but they hadn't even opened the museum for the afternoon.

The next day I left Loja for another city in the clouds, Zaruma, which is a long way off the tourist track but inexplicably so, except that it's devilishly challenging to get there from Loja. It's an old gold mining town and apparently mining carries on there even today, but I saw no trace of that. Instead I stayed at a lovely hotel with an amazing view over the valley below, as well as a swimming pool and other general mod-cons. Too nice for the likes of me, really, but I needed a bit of a rest after the journey.

I probably stayed too long in Zaruma but it's a nice town, if a little high up in the mountains. Very steep roads leading through wonderful narrow streets retaining their original colonial architectural charms. Weird but quite nice museums. A beautiful church. If I'm going on it's because it actually is a very nice place, and I really want to tell everyone to go there!

Then this morning ... aye aye aye. Had to get up before 6am to get the bus to Loja which was not much fun, but at least the bus was basically empty and I could sleep for a while. Yay.

So here I am in Loja, sitting in an internet café having some contact with the northern hemisphere. Today I'm off to Vilcabamba, will probably spend tomorrow resting a little bit ... then maybe so short day hikes etc. And meeting other tourists! Hurray.

Can't get my photos on this time, but I did try and make the last batch public. Hope that worked.

Ya estoy en Machala ...

2008-06-21T00:36:00.002Z

Hola novia, familia y amigos mios ...

I'm in Machala tonight. I like this town. It's pretty crazy; it feels all poor and everything until you see the main square surrounded by stuff and you kinda remember that actually, it's probably not too bad to live here ...

Machala describes itself as the world banana capital. I can see the association. On my way here I saw pretty much nothing but banana plantations, which was awesome but kinda weird. There don't seem to be that many bananas for sale here, but I guess I'm not looking in the wholesale markets where apparently there are prodigal amounts of bananas on offer. Thanks, Rough Guide.

What did I do today? Well, I caught a two and a half hour bus from Machala to the Reserva Ecológica Manglares de Churute. It's a mangrove reserve, for those I've not told about it, although I didn't succeed in seeing any mangrove trees today as I couldn't arrange a boat trip in advance as finding the Ministry for the Environment in Guayaquil proved a little difficult. Actually, it proved impossible. Anyway, I digress - instead, I took a walk through a dry forest. I don't want to ruin the photos which I'm sure you'll check out when I can upload them, but I saw lots of cool stuff. And nearly got lost! And nearly drowned, but only in sweat. It was HOT today.

Anyway, afterwards I had to get the coach back. Needless to say, the people sitting next to me were none too pleased about the smell, but it couldn't be helped. Next time I'll have to douse myself more in insect repellent.

Yesterday I spent most of the day travelling from Guayaquil to Machala (a route, incidentally, I basically made twice today) but I did get around to seeing the famous Guayaquileño districts of Las Peñas and Cerro Santa Ana. The latter is set about (and above) 444 steps at the northern end of Guayaquil's downtown. It's very, very pretty architecturally, but the downside to both districts is the heavy presence of armed guards, which kinda detracts from the place and makes it so no Ecuadorianos can set up street stalls ... which they would do otherwise, and which makes the place feel more like Ecuador.

Actually, from my promenades up and down el Malecón 2000 on Wednesday and Thursday, I've come to the conclusion that Guayaquil is really very like a European city, just a little bit more dirty in parts, and perhaps a bit more enterprising. And yes, maybe a little more dangerous, but it's nothing as can't be sorted by keeping your wits about you. In particular, the Malecón put me in mind of Geneva, but the rest of downtown Guayaquil reminded me more of either Wien or maybe the bits of Zürich that I ventured through.

Yeah, Ecuador is nice. It's pretty nice to be here. I've seen some pretty cool stuff so far. Tomorrow, with a bit of luck, I should be going to a petrified forest a little further down south, near the Peruvian border. In the event of my failing to locate the bus station, or their refusal to drop me off at Puyango, I'm off to Zaruma which is almost in the Andean Sierra. I think.

Anyway, that's it. Hope it didn't make you feel TOO jealous. It would me.

New Year's Reflections

2008-01-27T14:31:00.000Z

Alright, so sue me - we're some 4 weeks into the New Year, in reality, so it shouldn't really be referred to as anything vaguely relating to the New Year, but ... well, I haven't blogged in absolutely ages, not since I had my accident in Ecuador. A lot has happened since then, most of it good.

The first amazing thing that happened was meeting Andrea, my current girlfriend, who was working as a barmaid in my favourite nightclub in Cuenca. I won't bore you with the details - or should that be sicken? - but suffice to say she's someone very special to me, even now when I'm living so many thousands of miles away from her. We spent a lot of time together, including a whole week in Quito and most of my waking hours outside of class in Cuenca. In the end when I had to leave it was, well, quite hard to do, but we worked through the hard times together and we're still at that stage, despite being so far away from each other.

All this means I get to go back to Ecuador, erm, this Summer to spend a few weeks with her. I know, I know, environmentally-speaking relationships like this are a disaster, but I think I need some Love Miles as they're referred to somewhere by somebody. Gracious knows I'd been single for long enough prior to that moment. So yeah, I deserve it.

Life didn't really return to normal once I got home from Ecuador. My chin did scar over, unexpectedly, I maintained contact with some of the lovely people I met on my trip, I spent 3 weeks in my parents' house in Nottingham before I sped off up the motorway to Sheffield to embark on my Civil Engineering with Structural Engineering course. After a ... pretty hectic Fresher's Week I found myself settling in, slowly, to the old academic routine which I had been out of for so damn long.

And it's great! I really do love it. True, some of the cultural things about being a student don't really appeal to me. I'm not a great one for drinking, for example, since I don't like the effect it ultimately has on me, so some of that I've had to abandon. And as always my social life has been very different to the typical student stereotype - as opposed to meeting hundreds of new people (which I suppose I have, in reality) I've made very good friends with a hardcore clique of about four people. That's always the way I do things anyway, since I was a youngling back in the day. And I imagine it'll continue like that for years to come.

Civil Engineering is also something that has come really naturally to me. I love this course - I love the way I can see the interlinking bits and how everything affects everything else and ... Oh! It's simply marvellous. True, I get driven mad by having to write coursework and do exams and have early starts and stuff, but, well, it's all jolly good fun. And that really is what counts, since I know I'll enjoy doing it all in the future.

Right now I'm supposed to be revising, but there was a party in our flat last night and I don't feel up to doing any work right now. It was a good party, dino-themed, but some things are just tricky to come down from. I imagine I might go out later to the library to do a bit of studying, but it's always a challenge to motivate oneself. Plus Andrea might come online later.

So as it stands, that's my life. I don't do New Year's Resolutions, so I can't tell you about them. The immediate future is full of revision and exams - three in the next week and another the week after - and after that, back to the daily grind of lectures, tutorials and labs. Oh, and all that social stuff too, and finding somewhere to live next year. And blogging occasionally, I would imagine. Getting on with roleplaying on Adellion, PanEarth 2040 and at NoDDSoc. Watching anime. You know. Life.

Un accidente pequeño...

2007-07-22T17:39:00.000Z

Hey all,

Thought I'd tell everyone about the accident I had in Las Cajas National Park yesterday. Unfortunately it was extremely painful, though under the circumstances what actually happened was extremely lucky. It certainly could have been a lot worse.

It started at about 8am yesterday morning, which was a Saturday for those who are too lazy to check. My friends and I had arranged to meet to go for a cycle tour around the national park through a travel agency, which sounded like a lot of fun and was reasonably cheap for a full day out - only $43 after some high-class bartering. I'd been to Cajas once before and it really is a stunning place, full of mountains and lakes and pretty flora and fauna. We were also taking a guide (something which is REALLY recommended in Cajas) and hiring bicycles from the travel agency. Everything seemed to have been sorted out and lunch was included, so it looked to be a pretty awesome day. The sun was shining and everyone looked to be pretty happy.

After arriving at the park sometime after 9am, we started our downhill descent on the roads of Cajas. Ecuadorian roads are rough at the best of times and Cajas isn't typical because it's roads are really rough. This felt like it was giving me HAVS, but it was all in the name of fun even if I was trailing behind in the first stretch. After a while we started heading uphill again, which was extremely tiring considering I hadn't cycled in weeks and it's also 4000m above sea level where breathing isn't the most easy exercise imaginable.

After this short stretch we started heading downhill again, when everyone overtook me one by one - Daniela, then Heather, then Petra, then the guide... There I was at the back of the group freewheeling downhill on more or less the roughest road I'd ever been on, very happy but also extremely exhausted from the uphill stretch.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the wheel which I couldn't identify as I was too busy keeping my eye on the road ahead. The bikes we had taken were all of the quick-release wheel system, so I assumed everything was okay. In a few moments, there was another ping and then it happened - I flew over the handlebars and landed facefirst in the road.

Crikey, did I scream or what?! Unfortunately this was entirely to no avail, and within a few seconds I realised that I was quite badly injured, and that I needed to sort myself out as the rest of the group would be a few minutes ahead of me by now. Quickly I fished through my bag to find the first aid kit I'd stashed in there and began taking stock of the most serious injuries - ¡Qué intelligente! Antiseptic wipes were applied, blood was cleaned from my hands and I checked various grazes on my legs and arms. Nothing seemed to be too bad, except for the most grave injury to my face. At this time, that didn't hurt too much as I think I must have been in shock, so I tried to wash it with some water and get the majority of the blood away from the wound. It felt quite deep (and to this day I've not actually seen how deep it is) so I knew that it was important to get it covered up as much as possible. I applied (fairly roughly, might I add) a bandage, and began considering what I would do next.

In the interim, some locals went by on horseback, and with my broken Spanish I learnt that my compañeros were at the bottom of the hill waiting for me. They also indicated that my face was in a very bad way, but they didn't offer anything in the way of help. Friendly folks, the residents of Cajas (Except of course for Heather's good friend Tomas, to whom I owe a great debt)...

A little bit later, the guide and the rest of the group arrived at the scene of the accident and immediately began fussing about me. It was at this time that I realised the quick-release lock of the front wheel had, well, released. The front wheel had detached completely from the frame and was hanging on by the brakes, which were locked in position. It was no small wonder that I had come off the bike...

We sat around for a bit whilst the guide searched for the missing bike pieces, but to no avail. After a little while longer we decided that I'd have to cycle down to the rescue centre with my compañeras from the school and find a way back into Cuenca to get to hospital. By this time the adrenalin was wearing off and I could really feel how painful the wound was, but I knew that it made sense to do this as it was the quickest way back down.

So once again I mounted a bike and set off down the hill with Heather, Daniela and Petra in tow. This was the most difficult trek I'd ever done, as every single bump in the road made my scrapes and grazes and wounds throb and ache terribly. I was extremely shaken up by the time we reached the rescue centre at the foot of the hill, but at least it was a refuge.

Heather at this time revealed her awesome skills, as she is both an extremely competent Spanish speaker and also training to be a nurse. We took stock of my injuries and did our best to clean some of the wounds out, removing the bandage I'd applied (carefully...) and fixing one of our own with a handkerchief, some tissues and some stretchy gauze, all fixed in place with some plasters. They fed me paracetamol, which did no good whatsoever, and tried to work out what to do.

Daniela and Heather headed down into the village to find a doctor, as there was no telephone at the refuge to call for an ambulance, and anyway it'd take too long to get from Cuenca to the park to make much of a difference. I sat and talked to the park ranger and Petra for a little while, but it was hard to eat or drink and so I felt pretty miserable. I'd also succeeded in cutting short everyone else's day trip, for which I felt terribly guilty.

After a little while the guide came back with the bike, looking terribly worried and upset, for which I felt even worse. It really wasn't his fault, and he was such a nice chap. He chatted for a while before someone returned with a doctor, who took a painful look under the bandage and told me I needed to go to the clinic. He came back in a little while with his truck, and we drove down to the Clinica Guadalupe in Cuenca. This took about 45 minutes, in which time I was in agony as I had a cough as well, which caused me great pain. I was also incredibly tired, but it was near impossible to sleep on the rough roads.

After a while, Heather and I, along with the good doctor, arrived at the clinic where I was taken to a small emergency room and instructed to lie down. A little while later, the doctor came back with a nurse and began to work. Heather acted as my translator, medical advisor and all-round great friend as I was given 5 injections of anaethetic into the wound, had it vigorously cleaned out and was given 6 or 7 stitches inside the wound and 14 on the outside. She held my hand through the whole experience and really gave me the help I needed - so I have to thank her profusely for the everything.

After what seemed like a lifetime the doctor told me I'd had the last stitch and was more or less okay. I felt a bit woozy and the anaesthetic had worn off a bit towards the end, but I knew that between the stitches and the massive bandage strapped to my head I would be okay. He gave me a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics, and told me to take the bandage off in 48 hours and come back on the Thursday to have the outside stitches removed. Then he called a taxi and had me driven home, telling me the bill would be charged to the guide or the travel agency, for which I felt terrible.

Heather accompanied me to the pharmacy and the store for some ice, before leaving for her own home. I spent most of the afternoon sleeping drugged up on my sofa, as eating and drinking was pretty difficult at that time. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I should just go to bed, so by 11pm that evening I was fast asleep, sleeping off the worst of the injury.

And that's more or less it - we think there might be a little scar but it's on the cusp of my chin where it's out of site. It's still quite painful to open my mouth wide and I'm petrified of tearing the stitches because I REALLY don't want to go back to the clinic for more. I'm also taking 5 pills a day and sleeping a lot, but everyone has been really great about the whole thing, including the guide who - pobrecito - has said we'd be able to get a full refund, as well as paying for our hospital bills. In a way this is okay because apparently my stupid insurance doesn't cover mountain biking, but I still feel terribly guilty about it.

So thanks to everyone who helped me out in this situation - without the guide, Daniela, Petra, Heather, the doctor, the taxi driver, the nurse, my landlady, my receptionist and the park ranger the whole ordeal would definitely have been much worse. It's not been the best weekend ever, but I feel like I've made some truly great friends. And it sure was an interesting experience!

Fin de semana 3

2007-06-30T16:44:00.000Z

¡Hola! I meant to blog earlier this week...but I got held up A LOT because this week's been quite busy. Very busy!

Class is going well. As of two weeks ago we had a new addition to the class in the shape of a Swiss-German (¡Claro! ¡Todos los chicos de la escuela son de Suiza!) lad called Marcel. Patricia left last Viernes along with loads of other people and we had a big party at the apartment that a Galés lad Matt is renting. Good times! After the party we went to una discoteca at my end of town which was awesome...not really my kinda music but about half of it was gringa, so that's always a bonus!

I spent the night afterwards (or the late madrugada, depending on which way you look at it) sleeping in a hammock at Matt's. The chap from Jersey, Luis, stayed over as well as one of the guys who was leaving, Swiss-German chap called Sandro. We had a wicked fry-up in the morning before collapsing in front of a DVD with two of the multidinous American girls, the sisters Ashleigh and Alicia. I believe Alicia is the baby of the school - ¡tiene solamente dieceseis años! I went home to rejuvenate before we all went to eat out in style at the remarkably cheap Italian restaurant in Cuenca. Very authentic...We went to a few bars but most of us were too tired from the night before!

Anyway! Enough of all that. On Tuesday I stayed late after school to watch the weekly film that gets shown. This week it was a Colombian film called...Los Niños Invisbles. It was such a sweet little film, although naturally very odd. I'm not sure I'm too hot at following las temas latinoamericanas, but it was a fun time to be had by all.

Wednesday was a beautiful day (for once! We had a minor flood in the south of the city last week owing to copious amounts of rain - but nowhere near me. Anyway, from what I've been hearing that's remarkably similar to England...) so I got up early and went out sketching near la escuela, which is a BEAUTIFUL part of Cuenca. Luis saw me when he left class and I joined a short excursion up to a ceramics workshop and viewing platform overlooking Cuenca. It was a fabulous view, but the photos won't come out too well as the sun was directly facing us =( Still, it was really nice to be out in the sun for once!

After school on Wednesdays there is a classe de baile, Salsa to be precise. Everyone else told me how much fun it was so for the first time I had a bash at dancing Salsa with everyone. He estado divertido, ¡pero tambien muy cansado! Afterwards we headed down to a bar next to the escuela and had a drink and some comida before some of us went off to the discoteca. A fun night was to be had by all, although perhaps a little too much cerveza was imbibed...Nevertheless, it was a cracking time!

Unfortunately, since I got home at 4am I was really really tired at class (as well as a bit chuchaqui - pero no borracho, ¡serio!) and all my stuff was at Matt's apartment, which was locked! It didn't matter too much though - the teachers are all really friendly and understanding of 'Los Ingleses'. It seems the stereotype has spread!

Last night Marcel and I had arranged to go to a local restaurant and sample the local culinary delights. This involved papas, mote, innumerable salsas, a drink called Zhumir (yikes!) and, of course, the local delicacy cuy. Look it up :P It's very tasty, if a little strange for us gringos. I think we can safely say the entire excursion to the restaurant was a success - we had 21 people in total! ¡Increíble!

After that it was ice cream, a bar and then of course the discoteca, which was full of westerners! They always are, of course, in Cuenca, but it's always fun. Last night, por ejemplo, we met a bloke from Cornwall who's TEFL in a local school. Nice guy...never did catch his name!

I got home at...5:30am and slept very poorly before I decided that I wanted the apartment cleaned - so I had to leave! And that brings me to now, sitting in Cuenc@net opposite the school in the city centre.

Aieeeee, I'm having a wonderful time! I love Cuenca and su gente - and all the other estudiantes as well. It's just a shame that Matt and Luis are leaving real soon - I'll have to keep up the impetus with the social stuff!

¡Hola!

2007-06-12T16:14:00.000Z

Here I am in sunny Cuenca...well, actually it's raining today. No real loss though, as I succeeded in getting quite badly sunburnt on my second real day here when I took a trip with the college to Ingapirca about 100km from here. km! That's the shit. Seriously, none of this miles crap, S.I. units only here! That's what I'm talking about.

The flight over here was wicked, I can seriously recommend Continental Airlines as a longhaul flight provider. The food was pretty awesome - they just kept bringing me free stuff and even APOLOGISED when there were no sandwiches left. I still had one, though, because I am fiendish. Plus the television was great, but that's another matter.

Naturally I got totally interrogated at border control. I mean, come on...do I really look all that suspicious? They didn't seem to accept that I wanted to learn Spanish at somewhere other than South Notts College...weirdoes.

But it's just peachy here. I had my first day at college yesterday, and although naturally they put me in the bottom group I wasn't alone down at the sea bed. There are loads and loads of Swiss-Germans here, which is kinda weird. A good thing I speak a bit of Deutsch, eh? I'm picking up Spanish reasonably quickly, which is good as in my apartment I have to fend for myself - if I want food, I have to go hunting for it! I've not yet found the local supermarket, although I'm assured there is one by my nice landlord Edgar, who speaks wonderful English.

It's 11:23am here and college doesn't start for another three and a half hours. I might go and have almuerzo, apparently there's a place around here that does a great meal for $1, which is pretty cheap even by Ecuadorian standards...I only have 3 hours of college every day this week ' from 1500hrs to 1820hrs. Probably next week I'll be doing lessons in the morning, which I believe to be 0730hrs to 1050hrs, but I don't know off the top of my head. The morning session looks to be pretty brutal, though, since it's 20 minutes to college from my apartment. Crikey!

Ecuador seems to have an unnatural obsession with football, bananas and panpipes, but it's all good. The only downside is that nobody speaks English...and that these f***ing keyboards are all weird.

Check back soon for another update, folks!

Music? It's my radar!

2007-06-04T22:26:00.000Z

Having now finished at Severn Trent, I'm beginning a somewhat hurried process of throwing together my packing for leaving on Friday. I'm told we're leaving here no later than 5:30am, which concerns me slightly as I'm sure that's when I'll be about ready to drop off to sleep, but I'm massively looking forward to it.

The hardest part is putting together a playlist of music I want to take with me. I bought a NexBLACK player last year which has interchangeable solid state media, but unfortunately I've only got two 1GB CompactFlash cards, and they're nearly full. As a result, I'm having to go through my Jamendo albums very selectively to choose my favourite songs.

So far I've listened to nearly 400 songs, trying to pick the best from each album for a shortlist. I've thrown three albums out straight off, and to be frank I would do the same for this one, Fade Girl Hips (Know You're SOL) by The Chadderandom Abyss, if it wasn't for a delightful track at the end about a man and his duck.

Only 113 more songs after this. This filtration process is nearly killing me, but it's invariably interesting.

Apparently work is good for the soul. After today's boredom, I'm very inclined to agree.

Delightful...

2007-05-28T14:10:00.000Z

Well, it won't be long now. I have three days left working for Severn Trent Water, then a week's panicking grace period before I'm jetting off across the Atlantic to Ecuador. For those of you who don't know, yes, I'm going out there to learn Spanish, far less selfless than most people guessed but at least it's the polite thing to do. A language school in Cuenca, just south of the equator, in the cold dark mountains (Ross). It should be a laugh, as the conquistadors probably said.

Crikey. Actually, I'm most worried about the flight, on account of having to stop over at Texas, Houston, at the Bush International Airport. I'm not sure there ever lived a person with more disgust for the namesake, but that's just life. I get about 2 hours to swap planes and then into the western city of Guayaquil, before (I hope!) that I get to be sent on another plane to the tiny airport in Cuenca.

I have an apartment booked - and one night's rest - before I get plunged into a routine of 25 weekly Spanish lessons wholly in Ecuadorian-Spanish. Although I reckon it's going to be bloody brilliant, for someone who at present speaks barely enough Spanish to order una cerveza, it's more than a little daunting.

And yes, it did cost me a lot of money. Please don't ask how much, for I will die of shame. That's if I don't die of the various nasty diseases I'm supposedly protected against now.

Yeah, I'm more or less bricking it, but it's hopefully going to be the defining moment of this year (if not my life) so far. Three months in a paradise before coming home to a country which will probably feel totally different. Then another three weeks and, whoosh, off to university.

Things happen so fast nowadays. I hope they slow down a bit at uni or I'll just collapse of exhaustion.

What's Wrong is Everywhere

2007-04-24T19:22:00.000Z

Just been listening to an interesting program on Radio 4 about Muslims living in the UK. It certainly got me thinking - for what reasons are Muslims being persecuted in this, the land of hope and glory?

Certainly, it would seem to me that the problem sits heavily on Muslims trying to live, holiday or even pass through this country. Stopped at airports, denied entry, refused living status on technical grounds; it's sheer madness.

But even worse are those second, third, fourth generation Muslims who are so utterly fed up with the cultural bias against them that they leave their jobs - often in so-called key jobs - and indeed the country to more receptive climes.

Our supposedly free and fair media labels Muslims as different, something which is quintessentially non-British and even as extremists and terrorists. For what? What do you gain by telling people to integrate? Nothing, you alienate further by highlighting the difference. Feckin' stupid government.

Muslims aren't terrorists or extremists. Can I remind you of the IRA? Supposed Christians? Terrorists and murderers are not accepted anywhere. One swallow doesn't make a summer - one terrorist attack shouldn't give grounds to discriminate and persecute.

People claim Muslim culture is different to British culture, but the majority of people can't come up with coherent responses to the question "what is British culture?" And that's because it's everything, and all of us. Our country has a fantastic reputation for allowing immigrants to settle and integrate naturally without interference. At least it did, before the left-wing tenets of Labour were scrapped to appeal to that repulsive thing, the middle-class.

Urgh. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth. So don't do the wrong thing, please. Accept that your Government is fundamentally discriminative and make it change. Otherwise we'll end up with a situation that was described to me earlier; we'll end up treating innocent Muslims like criminals for crimes they haven't committed and have no intention of committing, and then one thing will lead to another and before you know it, we'll be slap bang in the middle of a repetition of Nazi Germany.

Standing your fucking ground, don't accept discrimination and outright racism and punish those who do. Protect what's British - by accepting people for their merits.

Heading columns of traffic since 1987

2007-04-14T18:41:00.000Z

A lot of people always ask me this, and occasionally I find myself asking the same question: Why did I never learn to drive? Well, did I ever see the point? Did I 'eck...

I couldn't afford it when I was working at Iceland. Well, I suppose theoretically I could have done, since I was earning actually quite a reasonable sum of money, but there were always things that stood in the way, like saving up to go travelling this year or last year, or buying myself a new computer. Actually, I've been really self-indulgent, but in one small way at least I've saved the word from a bit of carbon emissions, even if they're not proven to be the cause of global warming.

Who knows? What's the alternative? Well, in my case, it's cycling. Every day for work I get up at 6:45am, walk around my house dazed and confused for 45 minutes, leave the house by bike and dash to the train station by bike. I jump on board the 0800 Central Trains CityLink service to: Cardiff Central and get off a few stops later, all for GBP3.80 a day. It's not a bad way to get to work, but sometimes it seems like hard work.

I don't reckon having a car would be significantly cheaper, if cheaper at all. It's more fun cycling, and it's better for you. Also, cyclists are scientifically proven to be better looking, better in bed, and smell better. It's true.

Damn right, it makes me a hippy, sweaty, tired and achy, probably less employable, a target for passport theft as that's my only form of ID, constantly worried about my bike and a source of much amusement amongst my petrol-guzzling friends and colleagues, but fuck it. I am awesome, because I'm a cyclist.

I don't even get honked at anymore. That may make me far leeter than anyone else.

sudon't

2007-03-06T21:30:00.000Z

It's been a while since I posted a blog. I don't really have much to say about the time I missed in between, so it'll just be a rant, I'm afraid.

I'm a Linux user. I think this may be apparent from my earlier posts, but yes, I'm one of those rare people who use Linux on the desktop. I have my reasons for this - one is that Microsoft are too powerful, and people are all too ready to merely accept this for what it is without questioning why it is supposedly the better option.

Another is that the world of operating systems is becoming somewhat homogenous - as soon as a new virus comes out, so much goes down. There's a lot at stake based on insecure operating systems, so what better than to follow something with hyper-regular security updates?

Additionally, fellows, free software is truly beautiful. How many of you use Firefox or always search for freeware? Go one step further - make the switch to open source software. Linux is pretty, too! It's also much easier to learn how to do advanced tasks and write startup scripts and so on. Also, who wants to have everything done for them? Linux is an adventure that keeps you on your toes, it makes it so you don't fall asleep programming your machine. It makes life interesting.

And hey, I guess there is that feeling that I just don't want to shell out 3 days work for an operating system with a useable design life which is about as long. Call me cheap, but...you know. Better to be cheap and honest than a software pirate.

So that's how it goes. What I like about Linux - and in particular about Ubuntu 6.06 - is the amazing community support. I've got quite obscure hardware, since I just upgraded my box, and I'm utterly amazed at how readily people try to help out, on the IRC channels or in the forums. You don't get that so often with Windoze, simply because Windoze is proprietary and all of its guts are hidden. They're exposed in Linux, so people can learn. They can learn to change things and make it suitable for their needs.

Now I'm not a Windoze hater. I have to use it at work, for example, and hell, it's okay for that situation, because someone's always guarding it against all the nasties the world can throw at it. But in my house, I don't want to constantly guard against viruses and malware. No sirree Bob. So I get something for which the community is friendly, and minority, and ultimately self-sacrificing. Who would write a virus for Linux? Those who can - write their own operating systems.

Teething problems are always extant. But I'm back to good old dependable Ubuntu 6.06 32-bit. It's excellent stuff. You don't need to install it to run it, either, although naturally I have. Just get yourself a Live CD, insert and run. Functional, attractive, and free. Perfection.

dont like cows cuz they cant walk down stairs (sic)

2007-01-28T00:14:00.000Z

Well, following the previous post (Not so much three-quarters...) I have made up my mind. Not only that, but the decision has been executed. For anyone familiar with the application process, you'll already know what that means, but basically, yes. I am going to Sheffield University. I have told UCAS, and now I'm just waiting for confirmation.

It should feel like a big step, but it just doesn't right now. Maybe it'll hit me tomorrow morning that that has just decided four years of my life - or more - and that it is something I should have felt more about.

It's a good feeling though - a decision off my chest. Now I can get on with my placement knowing that has been sorted out, and that there's no doubt I have a place at uni.

So for my next trick - accomodation! Long distance, too...But that should be fun.

Not so much three-quarters as six-eighths

2007-01-27T00:41:00.000Z

Or so the saying goes - apparently it's much of a muchness, but I prefer the geeky mathsy one. Rather.

Still, it's a blog full of contemplation, and reflection, and really, consideration. Basically, I've had enough of being a Year in Industry student, and now I want to go to uni.

Naturally I'll carry on with my job, that goes without saying! And I'll still enjoy it, don't get me wrong. But now the hayday is over and I need to knuckle down to things and make sure my future is going to be great.

So, I have to make a decision, potentially life-changing, but not neccessarily the be-all and end-all. I have to choose between acting now or waiting.

I either act now and accept Sheffield's university offer, or wait for an opportunity to visit Manchester and have to choose later which I want to go to.

Having put it that way, the choice seems more obvious to me, but I don't want to be rash. I need to make sense of all my options!

So, I have set myself a deadline. I must know the answer by "close of play" on Sunday. Then I can reply to Sheffield University, or wait. And then choose later.

Not much of a choice. But I do like Sheffield, and the course is super-fun too. Plus the staff are friendly and my friends are there and Manchester is so big and scary, maybe. And Sheffield is my roots, man, my roots. I wanna be from Yorkshire...but I'll just have to make do with Nottingham...

So, to be or not to be...from Yorkshire. That is the question. Of the hour, day, week...month? Year?

Man, so many questions...

That's no machine - It's a goddamn Charmed Mace! (+5 Magical Weapon)

2007-01-17T21:06:00.000Z

If my title didn't give it away enough, I'm a roleplayer. That rare breed of gamer who get ridiculed and persecuted in nearly every video game they join, even in the dedicated RP servers. I just don't get it - why can't we rip the piss out of the grinders or the hoarders or the griefers? It's just a different style of gaming. And hey, even if it is geeky, isn't playing MMOGs insanely geeky anyway?

Hmm. I tell you all this because I'm in need of a new roleplay idea. And it is a need too - once you've roleplayed once, be it Dungeons & Dragons, roleplay-enforced MUDs or just general forum roleplay, you so get the taste for it. I've been doing it for about 18 months now, and hell, I wouldn't look back.

It all started on Adellion, a game in development which will be for roleplayers - PKing without a valid roleplay reason is banned. This is a good thing. The games market needs something which will live up to the true definition of an MMORPG. Because, frankly, WoW and Guild Wars and even EQ2 are all tending towards the hack 'n' slash 'n' rinse 'n' repeat style of gaming.

It's not my thing. Repetition just isn't in general, but immersing myself in a character and escaping from this dimension for a little while is more entertaining and rewarding than being a level 75 Paladin in a world of level 75 Paladins. I want to impress others with my writing ability and my storyweaving skill. I don't want to have to become a twitchy gamer to succeed.

I guess it doesn't help that I really suck at that kind of thing. I played PSO for a bit and found it so devoid of RP opportunities that it just turned me off mainstream MMOs. So I'm holding out for Adellion, and in the meantime playing Firan from time to time.

It's good, actually - positively healthy, I'd say - to depart from your own body and think about what the character would do in that situation. Try it in the next game you play; it even works for single-player games like Zelda.

Yeah, it all sounds a bit nerdish and maybe even like an exercise in Buddhism, but it's a brilliant way to get to know yourself and how you interact with others in a reasonably peaceful manner. It's all good. Roleplayers aren't capable of hurting other people, anyway.

Trapped Under Ice

2007-01-16T21:31:00.000Z

I've been listening to old CDs again, Rage Against The Machine's Live & Rare to be precise. True, I did only get them last year, but I like to think I've matured a bit since then. Back in those days I was young, and naive, and overly idealistic. It's true that nowadays I'm reactionary and cynical, but my ideals have cemented a bit, and in some places even crystallised into something which might make a difference.

I'd have loved this CD back in the day. For one, it's got Hadda Be Playin' On The Jukebox, a poem which kind of embodies the person I used to want to be. Like every young leftie, I wanted to follow Che, and buying RATM CDs seemed to help that pang. A bit closer to the revolutionary, I thought. And whilst there's nothing wrong with that, it turned out that I wanted to help people, not liberate them in the loose sense of the word.

I got my fingers burnt when in a fit of rage I claimed that Stalin was my idol. Well, that was pretty stupid. The whole trying to be revolutionary and fringe and ground-breaking wasn't me in the slightest. I couldn't be an anarchist if you gave me a petrol bomb and a government building to throw it at. It's not in my nature, and with the commercialised seed of Che being spread to the next generation now, it's only natural that to go against the mainstream I have to denounce the exalted revolutionary.

I bought book after book about Che, and all of the RATM albums, and denounced and debated and made an idiot of myself in front of all my friends, and in the end, it changed nothing for me. The truth is, I know the world is a bad place, but ultimately, I like some of it. I'm a Socialist, not a Communist, and I can tell you now that I wouldn't have it any other way.

So my stance now is not to demand that the system is brought down. It's to reduce my negative impact on the world by not partaking in some aspects of that culture. Homebrew, yes - I borrowed bits from the Straight Edge movement and bits from Socialism, and I'm still collecting.

I just felt it neccessary to impart to you Allen Ginsburg's poem, though, and ratify that by making a long explanatory blog about how it's a great poem, but it's not who I am anymore.

Auvernia - You Will Come [EP]

2007-01-11T18:26:00.000Z

Finding myself with an MP3 player loaded with this album, I listened to it seriously for a couple of full runs today, and decided to review it. Auvernia are a Buenos Aires-based extreme power metal band; their EP, You Will Come, was released on August 19th 2006 through the open-source music website Jamendo.

Clocking in at just over 20 minutes, You Will Come is a four-track tour de force of extreme power metal. It's quite an impressive sounding thing, with wide-ranging influences and a huge variety of instruments. In this respect, it's quite unusual for something of this genre, which I find tends to be guitar and techno-ish keyboard effects. Auvernia have taken the different step of adding in extras like bells and harpsichords and other random instruments. This is especially prevalent in the final track You Will Come, where there's an acoustic breakdown. Their instrumentation and power metal style is quite similar to the Japanese outfit Wizard's Hymn.

For the most part, the tracks sound like a power metal version of Children of Bodom, with such riffs as the opening of The Successor. However, to add a touch of variety, they've also added in lashings of high-speed power metal like Dragonforce. There're classical influences too, much like the band Demons & Wizards. This comparison goes a little deeper still because of the twin vocal singing, a stylistic element unusual for the genre. In a similar vain is the track In The Fire on the Roadrunner United compilation.

The vocals are worth mentioning; part of the time they're almost a parody of Iron Maiden, whilst at other times it descends into the unwittingly terrifying croons of melodic black metallers Cradle of Filth. But there is also a bit on You Will Come that sounds as cheesy as Dream Evil - a jokily grim voice proclaiming odd things.

All-in-all, it's power metal, but it's surely not as we know it. Traditional power metal bits, sure, but it's got the stylings of Swedish death metal as well as some melodic black metal and just a smidgen of thrash. Naturally there's a healthy dose of cheese thrown in, but it's not an explosion at a gorgonzola factory as some power metal can tend towards. It's a great little EP, and I'd like to hear a lot more of these guys. In fact, frankly, if this is the sound of Argentinian power metal, then all of us European power metallers should be heading south west. Soon.

Immortal Enemies

2007-01-07T15:57:00.000Z

I feel bad about yesterday's tirade. I meant to come online to blog about the films I watched with my parents last night, but in the end it just turned into a pointless rant about how my ex-girlfriend supposedly ruined things for me for a while. Yeah, it was super-pretentious, and it's not really on. Sorry, reader.

Anyway, onto the films; The Shawshank Redemption and The Sixth Sense. The sublime, and the gorram ridiculous. In that order.

Shawshank is a classic, it goes without saying. Morgan Freeman is excellent in that film, and it's well-scripted and well-cast otherwise. Apparently it's based on a Stephen King short story, so I might have a quick look for that at some point. It's a really good film, and, more to the point, it's okay for a man to cry at that film.

The Sixth Sense, on the other hand, is a pile of wank. For two films that received high accolades and ratings, it's bloody weird that the latter is such a pile of tosh. Bad acting, an awful script, and it gets ruined for you the first time anyone lets slip the plot twist to you. In my opinion, one of the most awful films ever made, but I guess I'm not much of a filmy, so maybe I can't really be much of an effectual judge of these things. I thought it was crap, anyway.

I'm listening to Hatebreed. It's making me feel quite good about myself, despite being the most angry CD I own. Excellent stuff.

Sublimating & Ready Callous

2007-01-07T01:24:00.000Z

I've just had a highly unproductive day, unless you count half-heartedly tidying my room as productive. I don't. I'm trying to clear the clutter to streamline any future moves away I might make, but it's not happening. I'm an emotionally attaching hoarder, and it's getting more and more painful to move away from my childhood.

There are reasons and reasons for this. The last year or so I've really matured alongside my family, because my friends had made a quantum leap in this area and it was impossible for me to get to catching up with them without some other kind of maturing...Something like that.

Look, it's not easy to explain...

Basically, I spent two years of my life in a very demanding and intense (I imagine) relationship which took everything I had and made it difficult for me to advance. This is probably why my friends found it a little bit difficult to get to grips with who I had become once that relationship ended. It also explains why it took me so god damn long to get over it.

I'm being a little unreasonable. And this is all with hindsight, that wonderful double-edged sword. I'll admit it freely - I loved her, or at least by my own definition of love. We did everything together. I was almost entirely dependent on her. When she left me I became absolutely devastated - I fell back hard on my family, and it took quite a long time for the friends I had all but neglected to get used to who the fuck I had become.

It's cruel of me to say these things, but it's a warning, a stark warning, to anyone who thinks that the relationship they have aged 16 or 17 is going to last. You have to prepare yourself for the worst. Trust me. I've been there. I wouldn't wish the experience on anyone.

Except that...it does help shape who you become. It makes you stronger, and now more than ever I feel I have one up on my ex. I hold no bad feelings to her - merely that with the crutch of my old friend hindsight it did seem remarkably convenient for her to break up with me and then start with her next boyfriend in the space of a few months. But that's cynicism. No. We're still good friends, or so I like to think. But she lingers and wonders and ponders about her future. I work hard and make sure that it will happen, and I will not allow myself to be distracted from that. Not by what's happened historically.

So yes, ex-girlfriend of mine, thank you. You've made me stronger, and yourself, well, I'm not sure you've changed. Maybe I've hardened now - I certainly don't fall in love with strangers anymore. Maybe you've become more extreme in your old ways. But our destinies were different from the outset. And that's something that separation will not change.

I am being a dick, and bitching, and generally nasty to all involved in what was quite a messy and tearful and never straightforward breakup. It's not right. But I needed to get that off my chest, before I could let myself carry on. It was to tell the reader - This is who I am, and this is where some of it has come from. This is why I'm not looking for love. This is why I hate emo. This is why I value friendship, and denegrate letting loved ones come between it. This is why I love metal, and anime, and roleplaying, and video games and reading and languages. This is why I'm going to South America. It's not because you have driven me to it, it's because I am driven by myself.

How pretentious. But, if that's how I feel, "so be it, Jedi."

Sleep is the Enemy

2007-01-01T20:12:00.000Z

It's New Years Day. What better time to discuss the importance of family, friends and outlooks for the year ahead?

Well, frankly I think that's utter bollocks. I have resolutions, but as I've said before, I'm pretty good at making plans and pretty awful at implementing solutions. So I'll tell you what I plan to do; I plan to stop making resolutions that won't get implemented. It's easy to be all talk. It surely is.

Last night, naturally, I went to the third annual Greenwell New Year's Eve party. The first year I remember nothing of, except of rolling around in my boxer shorts in the hall. Ahem. The second year I was insane with rage and...basically in a foul mood. At some point I sat up from my temporary bed to feel a repetetive banging against my head. Yes, it was. Yes.

This year I feel I drank rather too much but still succeeded in having a wonderful time. An excellent time was had the day after, i.e. today, because I helped tidy up and generally felt good about myself. It really was rather nice. Plus we had pizza and watched Family Guy and ripped the piss out of someone who'd made some fairly bad mistakes in the night before.

2006 was mint, don't get me wrong, but I'm hoping to high hell that 2007 is far superior. I get the whole Ecuador experience, and going to University, and basically being a proper human being as opposed to the bum I was before. But to achieve this, I'm going to have to make some resolutions, I imagine. And yes, implement them.

So: I'm going to stop drinking as much. According to my bartender friend, I'm an alcoholic. Also my guitarist called me the worst binge-drinker out of the lot of us, which offended me somewhat. So yes, I'm going to limit my intake. How? Well, when I went straight-edge for a month (aha, I didn't really!) I had loads of fun and no beer. So it's surely possible to just have J2O and other non-branded soft drinks.

Also: I'm going to help my mum out around the house more. I know, it's lame, but it needs to be done. I have to learn about how to live by myself, and what better and kinder way than to do it in a mutually benevolent manner? It was suggested by my colleague, who seems to think I'm an arsehole, but I really think that if I just washed and ironed my own clothes, the world would be a better place. Maybe.

Anything else? Well, obviously I want to do more for charity. Maybe the WaterAid lottery is a good idea. I can do that without even thinking about it...which isn't necessarily the point. Maybe just more time browsing charity shops indiscriminately.

And of course, spend more time with my old friends. My time with them is running short, to be honest. It's gotta be done. You know; just ring Greeny and Mark and Jon every so often. Just to arrange a trip to town. Where I will drink moderately. Yep.

Needs, wants, implementations, solutions. It's all there. Read it and weep.

Happy Films for Happy People

2006-12-29T17:41:00.000Z

I'm posting because my aunt's downstairs talking to my mum and my sister. Normally I'd like to think I was a sociable kind of fellow but there's a bit of an overload of females in the house and I'm not fully sure I can cope. So it seemed an apt time to blog.

Watched a couple of films last night, or rather about 1.8 films, since we missed most of the second. In fact, I watched a film the night before as well. So, I might as well give three brief reviews of them all.

The first, on Wednesday night, was Starter for Ten, a film about a freshman entering University Challenge. I like University Challenge, and the film was fairly interesting. It served to show me what I was missing out on by not going straight to uni, but, I also reckon that whatever people say, I made the right decision for me. Anyway. Film. It was quite good. Lots of great cheesy Eighties music, including Motorhead (who I have seen live this year!) and The Cult. Lots of. It was also pretty well cast with some fine looking females, and lots of geeky looking males. And a cross-dresser called Marcus, which was apt. Not a bad film.

Last night my parents decided to watch a film called Sideways, which featured a couple of guys going on a wine tour around California. Music for this was all lovely jazz, which I actually quite enjoyed, and it was also rather well-cast. It made me think that as a single guy, I could be having so much more fun. It also reminded me exactly why no-strings-attached sex is a very bad idea. Krsna had it right, I guess.

After that I flicked over to Channel 4 and watched most of a film about Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, which was extremely funny but not really very relevant to my life. Unfortunately. It's given me the urge to listen to ancient radio shows, which I'm fairly sure my father'll have on tape. Oh, by the gods, I'm turning into my father!

So that's about it. I quite like films, but I'm not overly fussed. I'd rather watch anime, anyday, so last night I did; three episodes of Chobits and the first two episodes from Arc 1 of BLEACH. Good stuff; I finally have full surround sound again.

The title of this post, by the by, relates to the Mogwai album Happy Songs for Happy People, which I first heard on the legendary John Peel's radio show back when it was released. May the Gods bless his soul, and push his boat far into the underworld.

A Healthy Change

2006-12-28T12:16:00.000Z

Yesterday I made a decision. Well, no I didn't. I implemented a decision I made a few months ago, which I assure you isn't common for me. Sometimes I'll make a decision and not follow it through; sometimes there'll be an implementation where there never was a decision. It's only occasionally that you'll get this two-fold process that life trainers seem to advocate so much.

Well, I made it, anyway. I made the decision to improve my skin. Yes, it's no secret, especially if you know me well, that I have bloody awful skin. It's greasy and dry and riddled with acne and I know for a fact that if I don't clear it up soon, I'll never be rid of it. True, some of it is due to my beer-guzzling, cafeteria-eating and SFC-cheese-and-chips-scoffing lifestyle, but I don't necessarily want to change my lifestyle purely to improve my skin...

I tried to stop drinking, actually, and managed it for a month, but then I broke and got hilariously drunk at my work's Christmas party. It was a little bit embarrassing, not least because it was in front of people I respect and have to work with, and also because I was speaking in square numbers. Strange.

...But yes. I went into Boots and spent nearly eleven squids on stuff I don't necessarily need, in a vain hope that it will help to improve this bad condition. It probably won't. But the fact remains that I'm now doing something towards this goal, this challenge. I want to do it. So maybe that'll help.

Yeah, I was on medication for the acne. It was pretty awful stuff. I had to take a pill every night and apply stuff that dried up my skin and smelt like vinegar. My ex hated it, and I kept it a veritable secret what I was using it for. Quite immature. Since I'd now have to pay for my prescriptions, I've somewhat gone off the idea, and have gone back to quack advice from Boots. I don't think it'll work out at much more.

Oh, who knows. Maybe it'll help. I might look a little less teenage. I might feel more confident about myself. True, it won't make me any more attractive, but in some small way, it might make me feel a bit happier about one of the only things I'm unhappy about.

Blurgh. I think I'm being a bit selfish, eh.

Boxers Day

2006-12-27T00:25:00.000Z

Today is Boxing Day for the UK. Since a lot of things have happened lately which remind me of lots of things about who I am, it seems like a good time to talk about who I am and what it is that makes me tick.

Most obviously, today is the day following Christmas. It's not a time of year I like, to be frank, and there are many reasons for this. One of them is the over-commercialisation of Christmas, but this is mirrored in many parts of our society and at many times of the year. It's not just now, but this opposition to commercialism is something that is quite deeply sown into me. I'm no longer a faux-communist like I used to be, and many of you will be glad to hear I'm no longer deluding myself in this sense, but I am a staunch believer in justice, and there can't be any justice whilst we're overindulging. In my opinion, any road.

Secondly, my family aren't hugely Christmassy people. Well, my sister is. And I'm sure my niece will be once she's older than the four months she's managed up until now. But my older brother and younger brother, and me dad, and most of all me mother, are certainly not huge fans of the festive season. This has certainly rubbed off on me. In the year since I became single, I've fallen back on my family, and adopted many of their habits and peculiarities. It's odd that it's happened, but I quite like it that way. I imagine I've become a bit of a family man.

Another one is the weather. It's just not cold enough, save for that awful cold snap with the Fog last week, for anyone to feel festive. This year is hotter than any previous year on record, and despite my obscenely fervent attempts to become an environmentalist, it's not making any difference. The planet is dying, man! We have to do what we can to save it, and we have to do it soon. Otherwise, there'll be nothing left for our children, and we'll feel guilty as hell. It's very close to my heart.

Finally, there's my age. True, my older sister is still very exciteable about Christmas, but, you know, I think that's unusual. Or maybe I'm unusual. I'm nineteen now, and I've never felt particularly festive since I was about thirteen. Maybe I'm just a grumpy sod, but that seems to be how it goes. Festivity just doesn't seem to be the done thing for a fella of my age.

Today we went to a friend's house. We've always been to his parent's house on Boxing Day for as long as I can remember, so today was a bit of a break from that tradition. I think I ate too much and I certainly felt quite tipsy, but it was lovely. As usual, they handed over the traditional presents of calendars for next year - mine architectural, and even though I'm no longer heading down that path, it's always nice to look at these buildings and think, "ooh, how in the name of God did they design that building?" The couple whose house it is put on a little performance for us, which was really nice. It made me wish that I could sing like that. I mean, I do okay - or at least I like to think I do - but I'd really like to be able to impress people with my voice. Not shock them or just "get by". I want to actually be able to perform.

That aside, all day I was the only single person there. Yeah. I make no mask for this. I'm single. I like to tell people, too, probably so they'll feel sorry for me. And yeah, I have been single for a long time, more than a year now. I have just about given up the feelings I have for the previous girlfriend, but nowadays I just have a bit of a longing, a bit of a pang, for the fairer sex. There is, of course, the additional feeling that I'm going away soon, to South America no less, and then to university somewhere, so getting myself a serious girlfriend isn't worth the heartbreak. And I just don't think I could bring myself to have a non-serious relationship. I mean, I'm not religious in the general sense, but I have morals about that kind of thing. It's damaging, and besides, Krsna wouldn't approve.

After a while my little brother and older sister left the party, along with all the other people around my age. It was just the happy couple and two sets of parents and me. I felt a little awkward, but I feel like that with people of my own age too, because I've become a bit middle-aged since I started working. A little time passed, and I'd already become tired of being the youngest there. I walked back, alone in the dark, and looked in bar windows. I didn't feel sorry for myself, because that'd be far too emo. No. I just felt a bit silly.

When I came in, the house felt empty. My brother, as usual, was out, and my sister was...somewhere with headphones on. It seemed a little strange. It was just any normal evening in. Not Christmassy, not even festive. Just...

What better time to begin a blog, anyway?