Category Archives: Travel

Cancun Holiday 2011

Posted on by
Reply
Swimming Pool and Sea

My Caribbean Coast holiday is almost over – it’s time to start thinking about heading home. It has been a delight to leave behind the cold, wet weather and enjoy some sun and luxury in Cancun; a truly relaxing break for the mind, body and soul.

Back home, the UK is in the grip of winter. It’s winter here in Cancun too – both places share that in common. However, that is where the comparison stops. Winter here means balmy temperatures of 26c compared to England’s 5c. The liveliness factor is also very different. I live in a town where a special offer on denture cream at the local pharmacy is considered ‘breaking news’. Hardly comparable, then, to yesterday’s news from Cancun – a lady being bitten by a 9ft shark as she stood waist-high in the sea.

As i come to the end of my Cancun holiday, I look back with fondness on the time that I’ve spent here. I count myself lucky to have enjoyed a holiday made so special by the people I have met and the experiences I have shared. Granted, they weren’t all entirely pleasant; thinking back to the incident with a transvestite hooker at 4am outside Coco Bongo. He/she grabbed my hand and wanted a piece of me for $15. I gave some to her for free – some lip, my middle finger and a clean pair of heels.

Coco Bongo

Despite that ordeal, Coco Bongo was a definitive highlight of my trip. Now into my thirties, I no longer enjoy the experience of loud clubs and dancing next to perspiring drunks; pre-vomit. However, this club was delightfully different – a mixture of theatre and some classic music. Truly spectacular and highly recommended.

The great night at Coco Bongo compares to a fairly average night at another club called Basic (Cancun is full of clubs). The venue was nice enough, situated as a pier on the lagoon, but it’s the people I’m with that helps make the experience. At Coco Bongo, I was accompanied by the delightful Natalie and her brother Andre. At Basic, I was with a group of strangers and over-fussy bar staff with OCD. Leave your drink for 10 seconds and you’d come back to find it gone, the table empty and wiped and the chair tucked neatly underneath the table; your very existence expunged from the scene. I just about resisted the temptation to defenestrate members of staff into the lagoon outside, giving the crocodiles a late-night snack.

I must confess that I haven’t found it entirely easy in Cancun. The first week felt very daunting because of the mixture of cultures and languages; making communication tricky and frustrating. However, perseverance (and learning to talk slowly) was the key to overcoming these barriers.

Food-wise, I’ve eaten a lot of delicious meals in Cancun. The steak here has been mouth-watering and tender. I’ve also kept up my tradition of eating strange food when the opportunity arises. Leaping enthusiastically onto my list of unusual foods is the humble frog – delicious.

I’m going to talk about some of the people who have made my trip special. A series of serendipitous meetings has led to some truly memorable moments. For me, the enjoyment of a holiday is hugely dependent on the people I share my time with. So it proved here…

Chichin Itza
  • Christian, my business partner. It has been a pleasure to experience his life in Cancun and get to know all of his friends.
  • Natalie, Christian’s niece, with her warm smile, and her brother, Andre. Our trip to Chichin Itza (the Mayan archeological site dating back 5,000 years) was one I will always remember. Not just for the amazing, mathematical constructions and the strange ideas for flattening foreheads of the upper class children (Wikipedia), but also for Natalie’s decision to buy handmade napkins from the little, old, Mexican native ladies. The problem with that idea was that, having bought from one, others quickly appeared (her twins – they all looked the bloody same!). I think Natalie went home to Brazil with a suitcase full of napkins (if her family are reading this, they know what to expect for Christmas this year).
  • Sofia, a young Argentinian lady. Having only been learning English for 1 month, I was impressed by her understanding and use of the language. We ate a lovely Mediterranean meal together and had a great night out.
  • Nicolette, a delightful, young, American lady with a bright future (though, not at ping pong!). I met her following her deft little dodge through the lift doors, as they were closing. We subsequently struck up conversation, bumping into each other at regular intervals. I have to admit that I’m grateful for the snow storms that hit her home city of Chicago; delaying her return flight by two days. She left yesterday and it’s very quiet here without her cheeky banter and endearing smile. Still, at least she now has the opportunity to finish reading her 1000-word book – A World Without End – without interruption. What she doesn’t know is that I ripped out the last page – it’s now ‘a book without end’… ;)
  • Paola, the cute Mexican lady who is part of the Riu Hotel’s entertainment team. She has been tremendous fun; always greeting me with a big smile, despite me murdering her favourite Sinatra song at the karaoke event (serves her right for choosing it for me – :-D ). Paola has grown an innate hatred of my name because she struggles with pronouncing it properly. I gave her the option of calling me Frank (after the karaoke), but that just confused her more. At times, she resorted to calling me Nigel, though she doesn’t quite know why. Whatever, I’ve enjoyed spending time with her.
  • There are many, many more people that I’ve met and spent time with during my trip – too numerous to mention – but all of whom have contributed to my time here.

So, as the curtain comes down on my holiday in Cancun, what are my overall impressions?

When you get over being hollered by taxi drivers and the annoyance of being addressed as “amigo” when walking past street sellers. When you get away from the ever-present, grotesquely Westernised commercialisation in the hotel zone. When you discover the real beating heart inside and start to soak up the warmth, the atmosphere and the sunshine. That’s when it becomes truly cleansing for the soul; diminishing any levels of stress and leaving one totally relaxed.

Chatting to one man in the hotel lift, he likened Cancun to the scene at the end of the movie ‘The Shawshank Redemption.’ I was pleased to note that his partner was with him in the lift. So, he wasn’t comparing himself directly to the movie’s lead character who was jailed for murdering his wife, later escaping to the sun-kissed beach the man was referring to.

There is something very quaint about Cancun, the beaches and the sea. Indeed, as I strolled out to the sandy beach on my last night, with the sun setting and the sea lapping against the shore, it was hard to imagine a more romantic and delightful place to be. Almost perfect, with only one thing/person missing…

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)

Karaoke In Cancun

Posted on by
2
Karaoke

I can’t sing. I like to think that I can, but I really can’t. In addition, I hate watching other people sing when they’ve clearly got the musical talent of a drunk Labrador. So, imagine my quandary when I was approached by a gorgeous, Mexican lady and asked to participate in a karaoke evening…

Let’s start with some background on where I am. I’m on holiday in sunny Cancun, Mexico – the only place in the world where buses have a bus to catch (they speed around, competing with one another for passengers). I’m staying in an all-inclusive hotel, where food, alcohol and entertainment are thrown at you and ingested like feeding time at the local crocodile park. It really is modern debauchery at its finest.

Yesterday, after a day of relaxation mixed in with a tragic attempt at pool-side salsa dancing and some beach soccer, I was relaxing in the bar with a drink. It was at this point that I was approached by the gorgeous Mexican lady, Paola, wearing a stunning dress. With my brain distracted and tongue half hanging out, I heard her mumble something about a karaoke show. Alarm bells sounded in my head. I did the only thing I could think of – I nodded enthusiastically (to seem bold and brave), before running off to hide in a corner where she couldn’t find me. Unfortunately, she sought me out and discovered my hiding place.

Sitting down next to me, she had her book of songs at the ready. I flicked through the pages, trying to buy some time to figure out a way to say “no” without looking like a boring, spoil sport. However, my clever brain had deserted me and been replaced by a giant, wobbly jelly. Glancing through the book I stopped, quite by accident, on a page of Frank Sinatra songs. “Fly Me To The Moon – sing that, I love that song,” she boomed from next to me. “Here, write your name and I’ll do the rest.” Foolishly, I agreed (my jelly brain had turned into a trifle by this point). Whilst she ran off excitedly, I ran off in terror – towards the bar. The only possible way to make the experience less painful was to order a few quadruple vodka and cokes. Reaching the bar, I signalled the barman in desperation and then glanced around the room. I felt a little more at ease – the room was half empty. Great!

As my imminent demise approached, the room was filling up. Word was obviously getting around that somebody was going to die horribly on stage. The karaoke show began and from that moment, every time the announcer read out a name that wasn’t mine, I sat back, swigged another vodka and coke and took a deep breath.

After 3 singers, my name was read out. This was my moment – I strode up onto the stage; faking confidence. The introduction to the song began and I started singing. It was bad, very bad – I could hear it, yet could do nothing about it. To make matters worse, the song had no backing vocals – Sinatra never needed them to distract from his amazing voice. So, it was just my voice and an almost-silent instrumental. A break in the vocals allowed me to try and win the crowd back with a little dance – it worked – but then I had to start the final verse and that meant singing again.

I didn’t just murder the song, I butchered it into little pieces and fed it to the cat, before having it vomited back up with a fur ball. The only consolation I can take from it is the thought that Paola won’t be able to hear her favourite song again without remembering my performance, so there is some kind of revenge there. Still, I think I’m now deserving of the nickname The Butcher Of Bexhill.

Despite my singing being awful, I wasn’t the worst singer of the night and I didn’t take it seriously. So, although it was as painful as having teeth removed with a cordless hammer drill, I did come out of it with a sparkling smile and a little piece of dignity. I think Paula appreciated the effort… ;)

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)

Bulgaria

Posted on by
5
Bulgaria

When I was deliberating over whether to write a blog article about my time in Sofia, Bulgaria, I considered putting it to a public vote. It would have been simple – shake your head to vote ‘yes‘ or nod your head to vote ‘no‘. Notice the problem with that? No, don’t nod for your answer, that just confuses things…

I was in Bulgaria for one week and I must say that during that time I felt both baffled and bemused with the whole ‘head nod’ means “no” and ‘head shake’ means “yes” idea. Bulgaria is, apparently, the only place in the world where this is the case – it’s the opposite of everywhere else. I have to say that I’ve never felt so popular with women and then been hit by such esteem-crushing realisation… I wish women in the UK would give me similarly enthusiastic head-nods when I ask THEM if they want to sleep with me… ;)

I find myself puzzling over where this communications concept came from. I mean, Great Uncle Bulgaria (the womble who founded Bulgaria as a nation) must have been smoking pot when he decided:

Great Uncle Bulgaria

I know, let’s switch things around and make this country like no other in the world. Let’s make the head nod mean no… oh, and let’s change the body language so that when someone says ‘yes’, they shake their head and act utterly miserable and pissed off! Yeah, that’ll really confuse the foreigners and keep them out of our country and away from our rubbish bins… (ok, enough of the womble jokes!)

On to transportation now. The tram and bus systems seem quite well organised in Sofia. They go underground, overground (wombling free…). However, their ticket systems really do need a re-think. You buy a book of ten tickets and use one ticket each time you get on the tram / bus. You punch it using the little machines attached to the sides of the bus. Obviously, when I say you “punch it”, you don’t stand there in the middle of a crowded bus jabbing it with your fist… “take that you little bastard!” Instead, you subtly lean across the seated passengers, thrust your armpit in their face, push the ticket into the little hole punch and then push down on the puncher. If you’re very unlucky, a miserable-old-bastard ticket inspector will get on during your journey, look at your ticket and then demand to see your next / previous / previous year’s ticket in order to satisfy himself that you do own your ticket and that someone else hasn’t given it to you in an act of amazing hospitality rarely seen anywhere in Bulgaria (no, I am being unkind there!).

hotel condiments

Onto the subject of sex now (well, I like to include the subject in most of my blogs). During my Bulgarian experience I noticed that the hotels like to accessorise their rooms with little luxuries – some expected and some not quite so expected. I took a photograph of some of them (left): soap, shower cap, shower gel, condom….

It’s a Bulgarian’s mini prostitute bathroom kit (prostitution is legal in Bulgaria). Get em to have a good shower beforehand… (I don’t mean a bathroom kit for Bulgarian midget prostitutes, by the way…)

When it comes to patience, Bulgarians seem to have little of it. I experienced this first-hand with my plane flights. No sooner had the plane touched down on the runway than the seatbelts were off and people were up on their feet opening the overhead lockers (which were crammed to bursting with cases). The fact that the aircraft was still travelling along at 80mph was seemingly unimportant. However, their desperation to get off the plane was not matched by their attempt to get to Passport Control. Indeed, their enthusiasm seemed to dissipate as soon as they took a step off the plane… switching to a slow-motion amble. Having waited until last to leave the plane (for my own safety), I found myself weaving in and out of people like a formula one car overtaking milk floats.

The impatience of Bulgarians is also demonstrated when it comes to driving. From weaving taxi drivers, whose idea of screenwash is to stick their arm out of the window and throw bottled water across their windscreen, to drivers who will not be defeated by steep hills covered in ice. They’ll find a way to do what they want if it kills them. And if you get in the way, you’ll get the horn (so to speak)…

I very much enjoyed my trip to Bulgaria and meeting the people there. But, I have to say that their mannerisms took a bit of getting used to. Honestly, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry… ;)

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Posted on by
Reply
Travel

I realise that I normally write humorous articles. But, for once, I’m going to go against the grain and write a personal story – an account of my long journey home for Christmas. Unless you’ve had your head stuck up Rudolph’s bottom, you’ll know all about the severe cold weather that has hit Europe over the last week.

On Tuesday morning, I arrived back from a week-long trip to Sofia, Bulgaria. I had originally booked to fly back last Saturday. However, on Saturday morning the skies over the UK airports opened and dropped what can only be described as a “shit load of the white stuff”. The whole of the South East of England looked like a scene from the movie ‘The Day After Tomorrow’. Airport chaos followed, with runways closed and flights cancelled on a mass scale. I spent the next two days wondering whether I’d be home in time for Christmas. Thankfully, I found and booked a flight back to a different London airport, and so began 15 hours of travelling in an experience that contained both frustration and exhilaration.

So, why exhilaration? Well, the trip truly made me realise that when people face a common goal or a common enemy, they really can come together to face it as one. My 15 hour trip took in 1 taxi, 1 plane, 2 trains, 2 coaches and an automobile. But, more importantly than those statistics, it allowed me to meet and talk to other people, all of whom had the same goal – to get back to their families in time for Christmas.

First was Frank, who I met on the Bulgarian Airways flight to London Heathrow and who was, coincidentally, scheduled to fly home to London Gatwick on the same two flights as me that were previously cancelled. Throughout the four hour flight, we chatted non-stop, almost in relief at being with someone in a similar predicament. It turned a frustrating, slow flight into an interesting one as we chatted about our time spent in Bulgaria and our funny experiences of Bulgarian people (more on that in my next blog post). Our mini-friendship continued once we arrived at the airport, as we collected our luggage together and found our way onto the train network. It was at that point that I bid him goodbye and we set off separately on the next stage of our journeys. Continue reading →

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)

24hr Hot Meal Vending Machine

Posted on by
2
24hr Meal Machine
With thanks to mejh for the photo

Coming to a service station near you soon (possibly), it’s the 24hr Hot Menu (from frozen) vending machine. These are popping up all over Japan, so it may not be long before you spot one in the UK. You might see two machines alongside each other – this one for “casual frozen foods” and another one for formal chilled foods – a cornish pasty dressed in a tuxedo, for example.

So, who would use this sort of service?

Picture the scene… you’ve just crawled out of the local night club at 2am and are desperately craving some meat (as are the two hookers leaning on the lamppost across the street). The local kebab shop was fire-bombed last week and the only place open to you is the local service station. However, because you live in the roughest location in the entire world, they are not allowing people into the shop area; choosing instead to serve customers petrol and small snacks whilst cowering behind a screen of 12-inch-thick bullet-proof glass. If only there was a quick and simple way of getting some hot, fast food…

Your luck is in, as they’ve just installed a new vending machine on the forecourt that allows you to buy a hot meal. You approach the machine and stand there, swaying, whilst trying to focus on what each meal photograph is supposed to represent. One is shaped a bit like a fish and another looks like a pair of battered testicles. One thing is for certain – they all seem to come with chips. So, you opt for the cheapest one (sparrow and fries). Now then, where’s the vending machine for the condiments…?

Would you eat anything from one of these machines?

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)

The Humorous Side Of Japanese People

Posted on by
Reply

“If I was to punch that rich looking guy, would he sue me?” That was the question I put to my brother whilst we were walking around our Onsen Hotel in Kotohira, Japan. His response was quick: “No, he’d probably apologise for walking into your fist.”

It’s funny, but it does actually make an interesting point about how friendly Japanese people are. My brother is right – the man would probably stand there and apologise and bow profusely. To get him to stop bowing, I’d probably have to punch him again… harder… somewhere in the chest cavity… with some knuckle dusters… Continue reading →

As an amateur writer, I enjoy reading your comments. So I'd love you to leave one below. Oh, and please follow me on Facebook by clicking through to my Facebook page and hitting the 'like' button. I'll give you a big, sloppy kiss if you do. :)