Honduras - Laundry mishaps, sand flies, snorkel injuries and trash!

Hola from Bocas del Toro, Panama!!

Much has happened since we last spoke back in Antigua some 23 days prior! This blog has become my nemesis. The whole idea of writing it fills me with unspeakable dread. That said, the alternative - going radio silent - has met with considerable approbation, and a fair deal of filial guilt on my part! So, deep breath... here goes!

Later the night I wrote (September 17th for those with an obsessive eye for detail), I joined the folks at Black Cat Hostel in Antigua for a mustachio party which lasted until 2am. Earlier that evening a raised eyebrow from sensible Roge, who was headed to bed, warned me that the words "don't worry, I'll sleep on the bus" would later come back to haunt me. The party was huge fun, but getting up 2 hours later for a collectivo to Copan... less so.

The bus to the Honduran border was predictably sleepless (due to the bone jarring potholes and madcap driver) but otherwise uneventful. We reached the border on schedule, and were channeled into a no-man's land corridor with 50 or so banana trucks coming from the opposite direction. Most of the vast juggernauts were parked with their engines off, some with hammocks and sleeping drivers slung beneath the undercarriages, suggesting no one was going anywhere fast! A merciless sun cooked us quickly and efficiently as we waited for over an hour for the medieval traffic management to create a gap through which to affect our escape.

When it finally did open up, we sped into the Banana Republic and on tthe beautiful, sleepy town of Copan Ruinas and after checking into a beautiful hotel (Via Via) we walked to the famous Mayan ruins. There we found a flock of tame technicolor macaws, a torrential downpour, a flat camera battery upon reaching the gate (the 5th temple in a row where I had managed to achieve this!), and finally a rather underwhelming set of temples, which upon closer inspection (well, a climb of the highest temple...) yielded the most fabulous view of an oasis of lawn, studded with ruins and surrounded by thousands of acres of rain forest. Overall it was well worth the entrance fee, but a distinct third best to the towering Tikal and Palenque.

The following morning our attempts to leave Copan for La Ceiba (on the Caribbean coast) were hindered, first by the bus office being closed (never leave this last minute... doh!), then by our laundry being held hostage (never do laundry when you need to leave in a hurry... double doh!) and finally by lack of seats on a full bus once the office was open (always pre-book tickets... triple doh!). The bus when we did get it (having ignored touts' clamorous claims that the bus we wanted was broken down miles from the city, and having spent a good hour tracking down the elderly owner of the bus company and walking with him at snail's pace through the sweltering heat back to the shuttered ticket office... phew!) turned out to be a chicken bus of the highest order. The 12 seats were quickly filled, first by 12, then 18, then 24 people etc until it was impossible to count the number of heads, let alone see the floor. We arrived knowing more about our neighbours' eating and sanitary habits than we might have imagined, but largely intact, and with some relief emerged from the scrum and bedded down at the rather rundown and absolutely empty "popular traveller hangout" (thank you Rough Guide!) Banana Republic hostel.

The next day we caught the ferry to Utila in the Bay Islands, the capital of cheap dive courses and Caribbean parties. As we disembarked, the haunting words "say goodbye to your beautiful skin" floated across the breeze.

Puzzled, we checked into the Mango Inn, a beautiful hostel with swimming pool and strict (and sadly oft-ignored) rules on late night partying. We reunited with the Aussie girls, Suli and Lorraine, and the Irish lads, Liam and Lee, and headed for the beach.

Within 5 minutes of setting up camp on the beach, putting on our beach volleyball hats and buying a beer, my legs had erupted with some 50 sand-fly bites. Roger was similarly afflicted. Upon closer inspection our fellow players and folks populating the bar were bleeding from multiple puncture wounds from the waist down - as if they had all repeatedly thrown themselves onto a particularly spiky cactus. This was going to be fun!

Sand-flies aside though (and they were the bane of my very existence!), our time on the island was largely filled with the following activities, events and states of being:

1) Rum and Noise:
We, the Irish and Aussies made so much noise on the first night that fellow hotel guests left early the next morning in disgust. I happened to be sitting in the hotel reception checking my emails when the staff started discussing which guests might be to blame. They seemed to think it was the Irish. Ears burning I hunched over the keyboard not daring to look up! Night number two, the noise reached new proportions thanks to enthusiastic drinking games, excited temperaments and a good deal of singing... and we (mainly the oft-blamed Irish) were first shushed by the night watchman, once we finally answered the knocking on the door, and later told off the following morning (the Irish copped the blame) for "behaving like a bunch of 13 year olds". Night 3 was similarly epic, though we managed to get through the night unscathed and it was with considerable relief that the management checked us out the following morning!

2) Nakedness:
This follows hand in hand with the drinking, but was to become a bit of a theme of the trip!


Self evident really. Chased by the sand-flies I chose immersion in raw sewage and trash over spending any more time on the beach.

4) Epic Snorkel injury:
In a head to head contest with a reef, I emerged from a deep snorkel dive with blood gushing from the top of my head. It was bad, as I dizzily floundered back to the boat trailing clouds of blood in the shark infested water, but you should have seen the reef!

5) Narrowly avoided skirmish and a lost t-shirt:
At one point on the first evening a drunk local staggered up, pointed his finger in my face, and said "get the @#$% away from my women". I was dancing with my two Aussie friends at the time! Somewhat bemused I attempted to clarify what exactly he might mean, before being dragged away by the two Irish lads with the accompanying words, "the locals carry guns and knives and would love an opportunity to use them". I walked back to my chair only to find that my favourite T-shirt from Laos has been lifted - doubtless by the Angry Local - so somewhat mournfully I left the club shirtless but otherwise intact!

6) Abortive Spanish Language Course:
I enthusiastically signed up for a week, knowing that I couldn't reasonably continue butchering the language as badly as I was. Sadly the sand flies chased me off the island 1 day in!

7) Terribly Slow Breakfasts:
Each morning our much needed Breakfast of Champions would take some 2 hours to arrive at the table, by which point we had usually resorted to eating the napkins, flower decorations and any sauce sachets close to hand.

8) Our Ignominious Retreat:

I became increasingly obsessed with escaping the rock, as my 50 itchy bites had become 500, until we were chased off the island three days into our planned week of paradise. Somewhat gleefully we echoed the same "say goodbye to your beautiful skin" warning to a couple of bikini clad girls arriving at the island with perfect smooth tanned legs and not a bite in sight! They looked gratifyingly bemused.

We overnighted in La Ceiba before hopping on a long (4 and half hours became 8) bus to the capital Tegucigalpa. En route I got chatting to a beautiful Honduran model, who amongst other things is "The Face of Barena Beer". Within the space of the journey I had secured an invitation for a night on the town, a great meal (one of the largest and best cooked steaks I have ever eaten), and a lot of (bad on my part, great on hers) salsa dancing. Roger gracefully ducked out and left me to it.

The next day we bused it down to the Nicaraguan border (this time it was smooth sailing) and on to Leon, from whence I will start the next installment of my blog!

Belize & Guatemala - Human Sacrifice, Drunken Cowboys and Saddle Sore(s)!

So it's 10 days since I last wrote to you from sunny Caye Caulker, Belize. Each passing day has made the thought of writing this more onerous. Hopefully that doesn't come through in the telling!

The morning after I last wrote, we awoke hungover from a night of drinking games and illicit swimming in a hotel pool, picked up a couple of extra passengers (two British sisters we'd befriended back in Mexico) and grabbed a boat with them from Caye Caulker to Belize City, a strong contender for worst city in the world! Between the jetty and the bus station our taxi driver regaled us with tales of shootings and stabbings. Was he going to go and celebrate the Independence Day of Belize? No, he was going to stay at home where it was safe! A 4+ hour bumpy chicken bus ride later we reached San Ignacio where some other friends (two Aussie girls) had found us a hotel. Mr John the owner was quick to make us welcome and sell us on the expensive Mayan cave tour starting early the next morning. We swam in the river and then passed out as our week long Caye Caulker hangover caught up with us!

The cave tour that I was decidedly luke warm about turned out to be mindblowingly AWESOME! And you know I don't use that word lightly! We donned crash helmets and head torches, trekked through the jungle, fording a river three times in the process, swam in a fantastically cold pool at the cave mouth and then spent 3 hours or so exploring the partially submerged cave complex, getting thoroughly wet, ogling at skeletons belonging to victims of Mayan human sacrifice and ceramic pots, fireplaces used in the rituals complete with original ashes, all preserved exactly where they were found with no glass cases, de-humidifiers, or even restrictive barriers to stop us stomping all over them. We were accordingly careful, though this didn´t stop our guide Carlos from repeatedly lecturing us on the stupidity and clumsiness of Western tourists and academics who had taken turns destroying the natural environment and posing bogus theories about the Mayas. I suspect he may have had a point. The tour ended deep in the caves with us all extinguishing our torches and talking about what had moved us most, in the pitch black. It was corny beyond belief, but there was something magical about that inky darkness.

The next morning we 4 (minus the Aussies) hot-footed it out of San Ignacio in a taxi for the border of Guatemala. We crossed at 11am and promptly bought a huge swag bag of beers and snacks to celebrate our arrival in "Guat" before commissioning a taxi, piloted by the affable Rudolfo, to take us to Flores from whence we would explore the Mayan ruins of Tikal. One beer down, Rudolfo suggested we stop for more, and before we could all chorus our assent or indeed air our misgivings, he had pulled over at a roadside shack, populated by 3 drunken cowboys, several chickens, some scrawny kids, a bewildered barmaid and a slightly deranged dog. The cowboys were downing a mixture of tomato juice and Gallo beer. They were already 5 bottles down. Before we knew it they had bought us (and our driver!) a round and from there it descended into madness. Five or six beers later, having survived a run in with an angry cow (I may or may not have been coated from head to toe in cow shit), possibly the worst toilet of all time (I considered pissing against the back wall rather than entering that foul shack), the best (or worst) Guatemalan country music and accompanying dancing cowboys, we clambered back into the taxi and recommenced our trip to Tikal.

Rudolfo's driving had seemingly improved with the beers, as he piloted us smoothly through every pot hole on the 2 hour drive from the middle of nowhere to the ruins of Tikal. We arrived mid afternoon, somewhat hungover, and commissioned a guide to take us round the ruins. Abel "the Monkey Man" was worth the money, giving us not only an informative tour through some of the most beautiful ruins I have seen, but also conversing with the howler monkeys, joking throughout and successfully avoiding the park wardens who would have kicked us out at closing time had we not been treading the secret jungle paths between the temples.

3 hours later we clambered back into Rudolfo's taxi. Rudolfo had seemingly passed the time drinking more fine Guatemalan beer and as we crawled into the island city of Flores late in the evening, it became apparent that he didn´t have the first clue where he was, or where we were going. Having circumnavigated the island´s one road, three times, we got out and walked to our hotel overlooking the lake.

The next day, the four of us clambered on an 8 hour bus from Flores to Guatemala City (via a much needed Burger King, which we defaulted to after finding scores of ants seething on the surface of a slice of pizza we were considering at a shack by the bus station). We rode through some beautiful countryside as I attempted to brush up my Spanish on yet another dubbed Hollywood movie or two. We arrived in Guatemala City dangerously close to the Witching Hour. Dangerously because GC is one of the most dangerous cities in the world, close because our bus had been phenomenally slow. Needless to say we jumped out of our bus and into the closest taxi without letting our feet touch the cursed ground. We drove through the eve of Independence Day watching scores of torch-bearing rallies jogging along the main roads as we bumped our way down to Antigua, again having severe difficulties finding our desired hostel. Several missed turns later we got out and walked, argued with a difficult doorman, and secured beds in the biggest party hostel of Antigua - El Gato Negro. I was lucky enough to stay with a Californian friend I had met in Belize in a private appartment just down the road so didn´t have to suffer the bed bugs, cramped conditions, late night revellers and other associated horrors of the dorm room!

We spent 4 nights and 3 days in Antigua enjoying not doing very much at all. Day 1 (Sep 15th) was La Independencia and we celebrated with the locals in a huge parade made up of marching bands, majorettes, dancing school kids and other assorted revelries. The choice of music went from inspired (think Greece - leather jackets and ra-ra dresses) to downright bizarre (Lady Gaga), but the atmosphere was electric. Day 2 we schlumped and then threw a house party at the appartment that night. Day 3 we climbed Pacaya Volcano which was underwhelming to say the least. The highlight of trudging through miles of monotonous grey volcanic rubble, was roasting marshmallows over a hot pit. Day 4 we clambered up a local hill overlooking the city and then, as it was everybody's (and we'd picked up quite a gathering) last night, we partied like it was 1999 that evening and woke up suitably sore headed the following day. Drama dogged every minute of that last night, and it was with some considerable relief, tinged with sadness, that we enjoyed a last lunch in Antigua before grabbing a collectivo to Lake Atitlan with our Californian friend.

Any hopes we had entertained of seeing the lake that afternoon disappeared in the mist, as the "2 and a half hour" collectivo crawled into San Pedro FIVE hours later under the cloak of darkness! We had been somewhat slowed by terrible roads, multitudinous rock- and mud-slides and the driving rain. We checked in to a hotel with the rest of our bus-mates (a Portuguese couple, an Argentinian jewelry maker) and were delighted to discover that the somewhat basic rooms held a price tag of 2USD a bed!

The following day I awoke at 5:50 and strode out to the balcony, grabbing Roger and Cali girl en route, to behold one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen, over undoubtedly the world's most beautiful lake. We passed the rest of the day on horseback exploring the jungle (two hours of alternating between a gallop and an uncomfortable trot were enough to give me saddle sores the size of two fifty pence pieces) and then exploring the bar menu with our new Argentinian friend Uriel the Jewellry Maker. We were somewhat staggered to find out that the guy was just 23, had travelled all over Europe in a camper van living off handouts (unwanted supermarket food, booze, free gasoline from good samaritans), lived illegally in Barcelona - overstaying his European visa by a year and a half - and was now supporting his travels up through Latin America by making jewellry for keen gringos in hostels. Needless to say Roge and I both joined the queue for our own specially commissioned wrist bands.

The next day (yesterday you'll be pleased to know if you've made it this far!!) I woke up early again, dragged Roger out of bed and together we found a guide to take us up Volcan San Pedro. Climbing the Volcano was one of the toughest things either of us have ever done. The hangover and equine excesses of the previous day probably dind't help. We scaled it in 2 hours and 10 minutes (beating the Lonely Planet recommended time by 2 hours!) with the help of our trusty guide, Mingo. Mingo, we found out early in the climb, had lost his entire family, wife and three kids, in a landslide only this March. He didn't dwell on this for longer than the time it took to say it, and I admired his huge strength of character as we climbed through the path of destruction wrought by the very same landslide, as indeed he does every day of the year.

Whilst both Roge and I were unsure we'd ever make it to the top (Roger's back was giving out and I was having difficulty constantly shouldering our shared pack, overstuffed as it was with every conceivable heavy object we'd been able to find that morning), we did... and it was worth it. The clouds parted for brief windows to show slices of the vast lake below us, and whilst we waited for the absent view, we lay collapsed on the rocks eating and drinking the heaviest items in our bag, and posing with Mingo's vast machete.  The way down was also tough, but we raced down in an hour and 20 minutes, again half the Lonely Planet's suggested time - leading me to wonder exactly who they are writing for - and collapsed again in a restaurant at the foot of the volcano, passing the rest of the day somewhere between coma and sleepwalk!

This morning we took the boat across the lake to Panajachel, the largest town on the lake, and from there a private collectivo to "The Place to Stay" in Antigua where we will sleep the sleep of the dead! (Much needed given that we have booked a 4am bus to take us to the Copan ruins in Honduras tomorrow).

Adios.
R x

Belize - Lobster, reggae and coconut rum

So for what it's worth this is Day 21 in LatAm ( and Day 5 in Belize). Or my and Roger's 3 week anniversary if you're of the romantic bent ;)

We left Isla Mujeres in the Yucutan Penninsula 5 days back, taking the ferry to Cancun and then a 4 (read 6!) hour bus ride to Chetumal on the Mexican border with Belize. We decided to get a boat to Caye Caulker, Belize. As the boat was to leave the next afternoon, we had no option but to overnight in Chetumal, a rather typically soulless border town with next to NOTHING going for it other than its proximity to the beautiful Belize.  Sunday evening nothing was open, no restaurants, no bars, nothing. Our hunt for food ended at the docks, where we ended up wading through crowds of locals down by the docks clustered around Covent Garden style street entertainers, to join a queue for churros, the Mexican staple party snack. A dinner of churros (sticky, oily, and cloyingly sweet), washed down with luke warm Coke, was enough to drive us back to our motel room where we holed ourselves up for the night.

The following day we got hold of the boat tickets, Belizian currency, whole roast chicken, and surprisingly delicious Taiwanese bubble tea before heading to the pier to set off for Belize. Our bags were inspected by a squad of somewhat intimidating Mexican army personnel and a sniffer dog, which I later found out took a perverse joy in tipping people's water bottles over to spill the contents across bags and ground alike. The boat ride was two hours of butt-numbing bouncing to the island of San Pedro where we went through the most chilled out immigration procedure I have ever encountered - a passport stamp and a big smile, followed by a first taste of the local brew - Belikin, yumm! - and a second open speed boat ride to the island of paradisaical island of Caye Caulker...

Caye Caulker is a beautiful place, full of beautiful people. We have been chillin' here for 5 days enjoying warm seas,  speaking English for a change, hot sun, shrimp sticks, coconut rum, local beer, whole grilled lobster every night, lots of Reggae music, street parties, and most of all the incredibly laid back & welcoming locals.

Amongst all the chillin, which is hugely hard work, we also managed to fit in a day sailing to and snorkeling on local reefs, where we swam with eagle rays, giant sting rays, nurse sharks, turtles, giant barracuda etc etc etc. The snorkelling was mindblowingly good. Thank you Black Hawk tours.

We plan to leave tomorrow. That or risk never leaving the island. I'm devastated already! I'm about to find out if  we have enough people to charter a sailing boat from Ragamuffin Tours for a 3 day cruise down to the southern cayes, with loads of snorkelling, fishing and camping on tiny islands along the barrier reef. Otherwise it's straight to San Ignatio in Western Belize via boat and bus for caves/trekking before crossing the border to Flores, Guatemala. Watch this spot..

x

Mexico Day 15 - Blistering heat and (whale) SHARK!!!

So the last time I wrote, I was sitting in a sweltering internet cafe in Tulum on the Caribbean coast of Mexico. Five days on nothing much has changed. Wé`re still in the Caribbean, this time on Isla Mujeres, and the heat of this particular cafe must be verging on Death Valley levels.

Tulum was hugely relaxing. We stayed for 3 days in a romantic cabaña for two, opening right onto a pristine iceing sugar beach lapped by inch high blue rasberry Slush Puppy waves.

Night one disabused us of any notions of romanticism. The cabaña was a perfectly efficient suntrap, the electricity switched off with the generator at 10pm, and the fan ceased to revolve. I lasted about 5 minutes before decamping to the beach armed with a sleeping bag liner and a determination to sleep in the cool, under the stars. Four hours later I crept back in, somewhat rattled by the clouds of mosquitos, the large animal in the bushes and the drunk Mexicans stumbling by observing that they suspected I was a corpse. To see a living camper I suspect would have been a once-in-a-lifetime event! Following investigation in the morning, the bites were extensively tatooed across my body, and the large animal was in fact a plastic bag caught on a branch.

The next day we climbed into the boat of Captain Tabasco on the promise of turtles and two hours of snorkelling joy. We couldn´t understand a word that issued from his toothless mouth, but his enthusiasm and uncanny grasp of timings spoke volumes. Some twenty minutes later we headed back to shore having seen about ten fish, not so much as a glimpse of a turtle`s flipper and having drunk at least a litre of sea water due to a leaky mask. We thanked him equally enthusiastically!

As Roger rightly said: "I'm not going to complain about the quality of the fish in the most beautiful azure Caribbean sea, though."

I must have spent 3 hours in as many days lying floating on my back on the surface of that clam blue sea. I have now kicked the habit, aided by the unforeseen gift of sunburnt eyelids and a face that we overheard today being compared to a tomato. Roger hasn`t got off lightly either, repeatedly frying deep magenta through his "Apply Once Waterproof Factor 50". Points to Boots for an overclaim worthy of the Gringo Trail!

Tired of paradise, we jumped on a 5 hour bus to Cancun, home of the all-American Spring Break. One MacDonald`s later we felt ready to take on the boat to Isla Mujeres, which was all well and good but the ferry schedule didn´t appear to allow for our fast food fix. We paid a local fisherman in Rolexes and British cheddar to take us across and 30 minutes later, after a near-miss with possibly the worst hotel room I have ever seen, and a run-in with possibly the rudest bell-hop (do they still exist?), we checked into Hostel Poc-na, home of the 24-hour party people.

Night one was hot, sweaty and bookended by our dorm mates drunken entry at 4am and their clamorous egress some 4 hours later. We checked into another hotel within the hour! We did however manage to squeeze in possibly the greatest game of jenga ever played, several dozen weak Mexican beers, and one or two tequilla cocktails much to Roger`s disgust. I may or may not have learnt how to Salsa too (I woke up somewhat vague on the steps).

Yesterday we did nothing. It was bliss. We did however achieve an incredible 50% discount on the whale shark tour, which we jumped out of bed for at 7 this morning.

I wasn´t really that excited about whale sharks. In truth I had never heard of the things. Five hours on they are possibly one of my five favorite animals in the world (a list I may treat you to at a later date).

The things were HUGE! We spent 2 hours losing all sensation in our backsides as the Captain wildly piloted us through huge ocean swells, the boat being more often out than in the water! When we asked how exactly we were going to find the whale sharks (imagining electronic tagging, sonar, advanced tracking techniques) the Captain pointed to his rheumy weather-beaten eyes. We exchanged a glance and started to frantically scan the waves with our fellow crew mates. Just as we began to lose all hope, the cry went up on the radio, and we bounced our way over to the melee of snorkellers and cirling motor boats, queuing up for our own 5 minutes of contact time.

Time slowed down as the (thankfully vegetarian) maw of one of the beasts bore down on Roger and I, before plunging past us with a nonchalent flick of its tail. Even widespread sea sickness couldn`t dampen the contagious excitement of the encounter.

A snorkle on the way back threw up(!) fresh delights and we stumbled onto shore elated and high on nature.

Next stop Belize. We´re leaving here tomorrow. Buses may take a couple of days. See you on the other side!

Adios for now.

Day 10 in Mexico (Food poisoning, epic distances, temples and books)

I´m sitting in an internet cafe in Tulum sheltering from the searing midday heat. It must be 38/40 degrees Celcius, hotter than it´s ever been according to our taxi driver. But the beach and our cabaña by the Caribbean sea are Perfect! White sands, clear azure water, palm trees, cabañas and fish that tastes like it has jumped out of the water an straight onto the grill!

I´m pretty damn content. Quite the change, then, from my freshly ripped off, grumpy self of 4 days ago. We have covered a fair bit of distance in the meantime.

From Puerto Escondido we caught a sleeper bus to Oaxaca where we spent a day doing cultural things (and writing the rante which was day 6 of my blog...) That evening however we both came down with a bad case of Montezuma´s Revenge. I blame the enchilladas at Betsy´s Kitchen in the Mercado de 30 Noviembra with it´s buzzing flies, searing heat and overly quick serving time (given that later in the day we ate in one of Oaxaca´s best restaurants... the fantastic Olla), but whatever the reason I was shivering and achey in the Oaxacan heat and crashed into my half of the bed wearing All of my clothes and even a thick blanket on top.

It lasted 3 days.

The bug didn´t stop me from enjoying an action packed second day in the area of Oaxaca where we piled into a minibus, befriended a couple of Californian girls and headed East to visit El Tule (a 2000 year old tree, inpsiring though we had more fun jumping the gates and climbing onto the roof of a neighbouring church), then a carpet factory (I couldn´t have been less keen but I emerged an enthusiastic embassador - ask me about Indigo), then the slightly underwhelming Zaptoteca/Mixteca ruins of Mitlan, then a Mezcal factory (good if you like tequila, but I was sick as a dog!), then an hour or more of rush hour traffic back in Oaxaca before finally breaking through to the West side and driving through the mountains to Monte Alban - a spectacular abandoned Zapoteca temple/city complex perched on the top of a very large hill and crucially never discovered by the Spanish, who had been busy knocking down every other major pre-Spanish temple and re-using the stones to erect temples on the same spots.

That night we abandoned Oaxaca on another 12 hour sleeper bus headed to the city of San Cristobel de las Casas. This was like a smaller version of Oaxaca (a sleepy colonial town) and we gave it exactly two hours - just enough time to grab a breakfast in the square - before jumping on Another 6 hour bus to Palenque.

At Palenque we checked into a hotel complex situated IN the jungle on the drive up to the Mayan ruins of Palenque. The cabaña looked lovely, located next to a swimming pool surrounded by giant trees dripping with condensation, the air humming with the drone of insects and the wild cries of monkeys and exotic birds. We shelled out a fair bit for the room.

The night was passed playing Scrabble (Roger only beat me by a single point this time), eating safe food and listening to the live bands play local takes on Spanish songs on a plethora of instruments (an 8-stringed Mexican bango, the guitar, the panpipes, a wooden flute and rather fine voices to boot).

I nipped back to the room to find 1000s of ants swarming my bed, but thankfully they had lost interest by the time I finally let my weary body collapse into it´s warm embrace!

The next morning (yesterday) we woke early and headed to the Mayan ruins. They were spectacular. One of the most special places I have visited. We explored before settling on the top ledge of the highest temple and sitting in quiet enjoying the shade and the panoramic view stretching for miles and miles. Our spot inspired others to do the same and soon 20 or so people sat side by side in relative silence enjoying the loneliness of a crowd.

That afternoon we were bused to two waterfall complexes. At Misol-ha I was able to climb behind the 35 metre waterfall and up into a cave pool which also fed into the falls. We then swam in the plunge pool. We got rather wet. The bus driver was less than happy that next to no-one had followed his "No Swimming" rule, as wet backsides were plonked down onto each of his 15 seats!

Not wanting to slacken the pace, we caught another nightbus last night to Tulum where we plan to do a whole lot of nothing by the beach!

Adios.
R

PS. I´ve been getting a lot of reading done. Hear´s what I´ve read so far...

1. "The Child Garden", by Geoff Ryman. Beautiful, moving and strange. Loved it.
2. Mark Man´s "The Gringo Trail". Funny, shocking, sad and full of facts about South America. Would happily recommend as essential reading for anyone thinking of making the trip.
3. "Freedom From the Known" by J. Krishnamurti - wonderful, simple philosophy. Should be read by all.
4. "The Poisonwood Bible" - work in progress but liking the first chapter!

PPS. Click here for the map of our route so far

Day 6 in Mexico (or How I learned to stop worrying and love the thief)

So we saw a rather plump Mexican girl wearing a T-Shirt bearing the confused slogan "Serial Butcher Ready to F%ck You". It seemed to sum up a lot about Mexico.

Mexico is a land of contradictions. On one hand you have a nation of cheerful people who will bend over backwards to help out a foreigner with a limited grasp of Spanish. On the other you will be cheated, robbed, hoodwinked and taken advantage of at every turn!

Take Miguel Pepe for instance. On our penultimate day in Puerto Escondido we headed to the very end of the beach. Warned that going into the waves along the length of Playa Zicatela would lead to "Certain Death", Roger and I decided that we probably should first learn to surf. Accordingly we headed to a shack named Natua at the end of the beach to book a surf lesson in a quieter bay. An old and slightly sun- (dare I say drug?) addled man eventually understood what we were looking for and sold us a 2 hour surf lesson for the princely sum of 600 pesos (30 quid). The transaction took the best part of an hour. Even with our limited Spanish, we understood we were to come back at 12:15 to meet Miguel our instructor who would teach us to surf. At five past one, Miguel slumped up phenomenally late and hurried us into a taxi without the hint of an apology.

The taxi delivered us to Playa Carrizalillo a beautifully sheltered bay where we would learn to surf without breaking our necks. One look at the water however and Miguel started asking questions like "Are you a very strong swimmer?" whilst shaking his head and doing his best to persuade us to come back tomorrow. We agreed to meet at 8am the next day back at the shack. Miguel must have repeated "ocho hora" about 15 times. We promised to be there and watched rather forlornly as he departed clutching our 600 pesos.

We spent the day swimming in the fantastic waves, eating the best Mexican food we've had to date (pescadillas can't be recommended strongly enough), drinking ice cold cervezas and later swimming again in a deluge of tropical rain.

The next morning we arrived at the shack at 5 to 8, somewhat sure that Miguel would be a couple of minutes late. At 9 our sense of misgiving was such that we abandoned hope of meeting Miguel and jumped in a taxi to the beach hoping to catch him there. Needless to say he wasn't at large. Biting our frustration we signed up for a lesson with Donovan another instructor who claimed to know him. The money we understood would not be an issue.

An hour later, elated and exhausted we crawled out of the water only to be frog-marched to a taxi with the instructor to recover the money. The only hitch... no one seemed to know where Miguel might live.

The taxi driver perked up however and proffered that he knew Miguel the instructor and that as luck had it he was a minute's drive away. After banging on the door of a derelict building for a while, the door swung open to reveal a very different looking Miguel. He had aged by 20 years and acquired a fine dusting of construction dust in the process.

Somewhat dejected we handed over another 600 pesos to our surf instructor and sent him on his way.

Over lunch I decided to head back to Natua, the surf shack, and see if I couldn't track down Miguel and cajole him to hand back the pesos. What luck! Not only was the old guy who had sold us the lesson there, but also none other than an extremely hungover Miguel, curled up in a fetal crouch in a hammock, stinking of a 600 pesos binge!

Miguel of course had neither the money, nor an excuse, but promised to meet us at 3pm armed with the cash. He even proffered his number.

Needless to say, 3 o'clock came and went at the now deserted shack. No old man. No Miguel. The phone was occupado each time we rang, and after an hour of waiting in vain, feeling ever so slightly foolish, we left Puerto Escondido behind us, grabbing a night bus to Oaxaca.

I did however leave a huge somewhat offensive message for Miguel daubed in the sand, which, though I'm sure will be like water off a duck's back, made me feel a hell of a lot better. (Photo will be posted shortly!)

Miguel is forgiven but not forgotten! Lesson learnt - never pay for anything in advance... A lesson I seemed doomed to learn over and over again!

Rx

ps. Now installed in a basic hostel in Oaxaca, having traded down from the relative luxury of Aqua Luna boutique hotel in Puerto Escondido. Shared bathroom aside, it's been a great base for exploring. Today we saw grand Cathedrals, museums, street markets, drank the best hot chocolate in Mexico (good... but not all that) and ate Chapulines (fried grasshoppers... which were actually pretty damn tasty).

Hasta luego for now!

Day 3 in Mexico (Tropical Storms, dodgy food and slow buses)

Hola from Mexico!!

Headlines:

1 - Mexico is beautiful but stupidly rainy. We have come for the rainy season... and when they say rainy, they mean non-stop torrential deluge.

2 - The airport announcements are not to be trusted - we missed our first flight (from Mexico City to Acapulco) in spite of being at the boarding gate an hour before our flight. Roger blames the airport. I think jet lag may have played some part in it!

3 - The food is also somewhat underwhelming - or at least NOTHING like the stuff they serve up in "Mexican" restaurants in the West! Everything is bland OR smothered in powdery cheese, chillis and alien spices. Help!

The trip so far:

Having stayed an unplanned night in Mexico City, we flew to Acapulco where we spent a day finding our sea legs. High rises by the beach, pouring rain and dirty sea had limited appeal so we spent day two on a luxury 8 hour bus (rickety, third class, 9 1/2 hours...) to Puerto Escondito - one of the surfing captitals of the world.

Unfortunately it has rained since our arrival yesterday evening. Yesterday evening we swam (well, paddled) in the sea, awed by the scarily big waves. We are staying in a lovely hotel with pool and a hot tub on the roof overlooking 360 panorama of beach/mountains/jungle. Awesome.

The plan was to next head to Mezunte a beach 40km south of here where my friend Sarah, who I met in Goa, is working, then on to Oaxaca and San Cristabel for olde worlde colonial charm, before hitting Palenque for Mayan ruins and waterfalls, and then out of Mexico to Belize for Caribbean coral diving. However... we have just heard that Tropical Storm Frank is working His way up the coast towards us, which sucks so we're about to start working out where the sunny weather might be... in the entire region of central america!!

Bus journeys also take longer than previously imagined... Mexico is HUGE and the roads are BAD!

Watch this spot.

Adios!

Ryan

Wise words

It seems like it's never, ever going to end. Wrong. It's going to end. Not on your timetable. But it's going to end. I promise. You'll hear the birds sing. You'll tell a dirty joke and laugh till you hurt, you and your friends, howling together, maybe a cold beer in your hand, or not. You'll see the green in the grass, sometimes it's almost blue, in the light of a soft summer sun.

Happy I got my bike to the pier before the rain started

Macc Attack

Just saw The Maccabees in Camden. Had so much fun - reminded me
why life is so crazy awesome. x

Ryan is sad the 3 day weekend has come to an end. 8am meeting tomorrow - anyone know any good work avoidance strategies?

My 1st msg from ping.fm - broadcast blogging is clearly the future!

Great take down of Ben Stein's pro-ID documentary

Folow the link for a fantastic Roger Ebert review.

less than 2 weeks till I get this for real

Where the Hell is Matt?

I love this guy. He was sponsored by Stride gum to dance his way around the world. The video just peaked in the viral video chart, though it's been around for a while, so I thought I'd repost for anyone who might be reading!



www.wherethehellismatt.com

Exciting mini-feeds upgrade on Facebook

Believe it or not having gone Facebook cold turkey for several months now, a new killer app sucked me back in!

My last.fm loved tracks, Google shared items, Flickr photos ans more will now automatically be posted in my Facebook minifeed - meaning that people get my updates whatever I'm up to, without me having to lift a finger. Let alone actually log in to Facebook!

Ryan x

The Misadventures of a Global Rogue: Devil Child

This new blog is written by my friend Matt Biggers who is currently teaching in Korea. I find it hilarious.

R x

click me

Lust, Caution

Excellent review of excellent new Ang Lee film for the Guardian. Go and see it!
x

--

Lust, Caution (Cert 18)


Peter Bradshaw
Friday January 4, 2008
The Guardian

The title gets it the wrong way around. What we have here is first a lot of caution, then an explosion of lust. Ang Lee has followed his magnificent version of E Annie Proulx's Brokeback Mountain with another love story - more explicit in many ways, though more complex and oblique - and it's a movie that showcases Lee's flair for period detail and genre stylisation.
For his sheer muscular verve and ambition, Lee deserves a standing ovation. Orson Welles was described once as picking up a play with the confidence of a marksman picking up a rifle, and that is exactly how I felt Lee handles this source material: a short story by Eileen Chang. He has given Tony Leung a chance to shine with one of the most charismatic and memorable performances of his career, and in the twentysomething newcomer Tang Wei, he has made a tremendous discovery. Fiercely intelligent and hauntingly beautiful, she gives a passionate, courageous performance that deserves a shelf-full of awards; it's already made her an Asian movie-star to rival Zhang Ziyi.

Lust, Caution is an erotic espionage drama, a little like Hitchcock's Notorious in its plot, set in Japanese-occupied China in the second world war. Tang Wei plays Wong Chia Chi, an unassuming young college student who in 1939 finds herself left behind in Hong Kong when her father flees to England. But Wong is to find her calling when she is invited to join a theatre troupe performing patriotic plays, the purpose of which is to raise cash for the homeland's defence. Her performances are electrifying, and the collection tins are chinking, but their leader Kuang (Wang Leehom) is impatient with mere play-acting. He wants to use their talents for more direct action: namely, an elaborate sting that will ensnare the hated collaborationist police chief Yee, played by Tony Leung. Wong will seduce him by pretending to be a bored married woman in search of adventure, and once Yee's guard is down, he will be assassinated.

The plan ends in bloody catastrophe, and Yee gets away, reappearing in Shanghai in 1942, where Wong also fetches up and the official resistance contact her with a message: they were impressed with her amateur attempt and the plan is back on. She must begin the seduction anew, but this time both hunter and hunted are older and more careworn; idealism has become clouded with fear and exhaustion, and does each suspect what the other is up to? There is a whiff of sulphur in the air along with the whiff of sex. The conditions are in place for a love affair of intense eroticism, obsession and betrayal.

The sex scenes have a glorious impact, all the more so for the long, burning fuse that precedes their detonation. Wong's sexual pre-history is made up of earlier, tragicomic scenes in which the poor innocent volunteers to be deflowered by a member of her resistance group, so that her virginal state will not give the game away. The spectacle of the young man doing his bit by doggedly thrusting away on top of Wong's tense, miserable body is horribly funny and un-erotic, a mirror image to the deadly serious sizzle of her later, passionate bedroom athletics with Yee. And whatever the ambiguity of her feelings for him, they assume a poignancy and even tragedy when we learn that Wong's emotions could have been engaged elsewhere, far earlier in the story.

Arguably, the sex scenes do not have the subtlety and nuance of Wong and Yee's flirtatious dinner in Hong Kong and the tension of their automobile ride home together, wondering whether or not Wong would be inviting Yee in for coffee. The ferocious, destructive passion, however, confers a retrospective intensity on these moments, and a piquancy too: a sense that in those days their dangerous game had, if hardly innocence exactly, then a more manageable kind of pleasure.

There is tremendous sweep and potency here; the streetscapes in Shanghai are spectacular and it's a wonderfully satisfying experience, though it has to be said that the film does not offer the same unmediated insight into the minds and hearts of its lovers that Brokeback Mountain did. Fundamentally, we all felt that we knew, really knew, what it felt like for the two cowboys to be in love; here the question is a little more difficult. Of course, it is a different sort of film, and this alienation and emotional occlusion is a central part of what Lust, Caution is about. It is another resounding success for Ang Lee, whose film-making has such mass and substance. His movies are like huge, exciting new buildings for us to gather round and wonder at.

The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of NiggyTardust!

New Saul Williams album available $free/$5 from his website following in steps of Radiohead's latest...

Carling Beer in Space

New TV ad from Carling. Absolutely mint.

Safe driving

Courtesy of adland.com

Neverending page from Orange

Sportsday Megaphone live at Bestival

Web 2.0 in Plain English (with a white board and some pens and paper)

Follow this link!

Arcade Fire are now gracing my facebook profile

Jeremy Warmsley - The Art Of Fiction

Great (positive) album review of a great new UK talent from the respected Drowned in Sound.



read more | digg story

Einstein was right: space and time bend

90 years after he expounded his famous theory, a $700m probe has proved that the universe behaves as he said. The early results from Gravity Probe B, one of NASA's most complicated satellites, confirmed 'to a precision of better than 1%' the assertion Einstein made - that an object such as the Earth does indeed distort the fabric of space and time.



read more | digg story

Deviant Artist of the Day: Stephane Halleux

Awesome robotic sculptures.



read more | digg story

My Daemon - is now open to votes

Click here

I appear to have broken my blog...

I highly doubt anyone is reading this anyway, as the blog currently doesn't have a point. Hopefully will be sorted by the time you read this!

Ryan x

My BBC Radio 1 Music Cube...

How cool is this?!

My latest project

OK Go - Here It Goes Again

This is awesome! OK Go and my new heroes for making an extremely cool music video. Check it!

Cheers!

Easter Sunday with Pops and Nic.

911 - Officer we have a problem!

Watch this and then try to tell me I'm being paranoid. This documentary is absolutely essential viewing. More essential than any news you've watched this year. Really.

Chinese character etymologies

Trawling the web today I rediscovered www.zhongwen.com which is an amaaazing site which allows you to explore Chinese character etymologies. They have a featured word of the day, and I thought I'd add it to my site to pique your interest:

Previous words have included 孝 (appears in: 忠孝 - filial piety) which clearly shows a child (子) supporting the aged (老). It's wierd how one can read and use these characters for years without stopping to think why they look the way they do. I think if Chinese was taught this way from an earlier stage then characters would cease to be such an abstract memory game... Anyone taking notes?

Firefox Fanatic? Well, yes until Microsoft get their act together...

Having just spent several hours getting used to tabbed browsing on Internet Explorer 6 courtesy of the (downloadable add-on) MSN toolbar, I can honestly say that the browsing experience on Firefox is infinitely more versatile, and dare I say user-friendly?

Likewise, it seems that Microsoft is playing catch me up with Google at the moment. The personalised and customizable Google homepage or Gmail service are streets ahead of the Micosoft equivalents my.msn.com or live.com and Windows Live Mail. In terms of funstionality and content, Google will not be beat. The one place where Microsoft can hope to win over consumers is simplicity. The spartan betas on offer from Microsoft at the moment certainly couldn't be accused of being complicated to use.

The explanation is simple and the problems an inevitable consequence of the Microsoft business model. Because of the sheer size of Microsoft and its commitments to the business community, it cannot hope to keep pace with smaller firms that release patch after patch in response to user demands. Now I know that IE7 is coming out soon, along with a watered down version of Longhorn - now Vista, and that no doubt the tabbed browsing feature will be one of many to be improved upon, but I am not holding my breath.

In the meantime, I will be using Firefox and the Google tool suite, not because they are faultless, but because they are a damn site better than anything elseon offer from the likes of Microsoft.

Sex tips and Chinese practice

Ladies and gentlemen, it doesn't get much better than this. For your viewing pleasure I have found a stimulating article that will not only improve your Chinese, but your sex life too! (Assuming you A. speak some Chinese and B. didn't know this stuff already)...

在性交过程中达到性高潮通常都是由于女性有意识地主动参与，在性交过程中她们会将感觉最敏锐的阴蒂的某一部位置于与男人肉体接触的中心，通常会使之与男性的阴部相接触。所以，从根本上讲，性交过程中这种阴蒂刺激可以被看作女性在性交过程中对自我的刺激。归纳起来，在性交过程中达到性高潮的基本方式有以下六种：
　　
　　（1）女人主动的性交体位女上位应是最有效的方法，可以让女人获得寻求自我满足的充分的运动自由。这种体位同时会使女性把双腿收紧，并在一起，或可以调节阴茎插入的幅度，以适合女人自己的方式使其阴蒂与男人的耻骨相触。
　　
　　另外可以采用女人肚腹贴在下面的体位，这是对很多女人都有效的方法。女人脸朝下趴在床上，男人从后面将阴茎插入阴道，这样可以使女人以她所习惯的方式贴在床上和单子上摩擦，在她上面的男人也为她增加了更多的快感。
　　
　　（2）一起摩擦耻骨部位/阴部的方法这种摩擦法，与女上位很相似，但可用于任何体位。磨压包括完全的插入，仅留少许阴茎在阴道抽送，或使阴茎完完全全插入，而不抽动，一方一圈一圈地旋转扭动身体，于是男女的阴部会紧密地贴在一起，互相摩擦，尤其是女人的阴唇和阴户会得到极大的非常惬意的摩擦刺激。
　　
　　（3）在性交过程中，男女双方的耻骨互相接触用男人的耻骨紧紧贴在女人的阴蒂上，随着每一次阴茎的抽送来对阴蒂加以刺激。在大多数情况下，男人做身体的运动。其中最常采用的体位是男上位，也可一方或双方取坐位。女人的腿可取任何姿势，如大腿分开，向上、向后弯曲，大腿伸向空中均可。原则是使阴茎的抽送对阴蒂的刺激不要太困难，女方自己的身体运动要自由。
　　
　　在“男女阴部一起”进行摩擦刺激时，女人偏爱以下方式：缓慢、温柔、敏感、有力。不是一种持续不断的猛烈撞击。要缓慢轻柔地插入，在插入完成之际对阴部进行挤压。总的来说，只有那些在性交过程中不能达到性高潮的女人才会喜欢粗暴的对待。
　　
　　在“挤压摩擦”刺激过程中女人偏爱以下方式：
　　
　　温柔而又深深地插入-几乎没有抽送，就只是一起躺在那里，深情地拥抱，阴茎深深插在阴道中。但同样也应铭记的是女人需要连续不断的刺激以达到性高潮，与男人需要适度的间断性刺激刚好相反。由于必须保持一种有效的运动节奏，在每一最短的时刻中都要有这种节奏。
　　
　　（4）将阴茎留在阴道里，不让它来回抽送阴茎的头部刚好位于阴唇中，阴茎的根部被向上推向阴蒂的部位，好像要把阴门盖住一样。但矛盾的是，让女人感觉很好的东西有时会另男人感觉不好，这种姿势，阴茎插入不深，会使某些男性感到不尽性。
　　
　　（5）用阴茎对阴道重复插入在这种性交中阴茎的插入比上一种姿势还要少。即阴茎只是在外阴唇的内侧缘附近运动，或者甚至每一次抽动都会完全离开阴户，这样来，阴道入口和阴唇就会不断受到牵拉和刺激。
　　
　　（6）在性高潮之前充分地给予阴蒂刺激或其它形式的刺激，然后阴茎插入阴道，稍后女性即达到性高潮在阴茎插入阴道前，充分地进行前期爱抚。因为在性交中女性获得的刺激实际非常少。而在大多数女性的手淫中并不存在什么“前期爱抚”。对此男性应引起高度注意。只有这样你才会使你的性伴享受到令人迷醉的性高潮，你也会体会到动人心魄的销魂时刻。

来源： 千龙网

Johnny Cash - Hurt

Here is Johnny Cash's cover of Nine Inch Nails' singer's "Hurt". Enjoy:

Africa 2005.12.15-31

I haven't quite worked out how to display thumbnails of pictures that link to fullsize ones. Bear with me. Until then though, you get this "neat" collage courtesy of Picassa. Hooray! 

Mincing around in the "Real World"

Well now, I have been mincing around in the UK for a few weeks now. I am bored out of my mind. I mean, don't get be wrong, Winchester's got a lot going for it - if you are over 60 and haven't experienced the cosmopolitan delights of locales such as Taipei and Tokyo. I admit it, I've become a urbanite and am in love with most things big cities have to offer. Convenience for one, and then there's choice of nightlife.

I am beginning to think that my hasty exodus from a life of simplicity in Taiwan just wasn't such a good idea. I mean the West has lots going for it, but everything here seems so serious - as if my stint in Taiwan was some immaturity I needed to get out of my system before returning to the "real world"?

I am being tempted by the lure of Shanghai. Watch this spot.

Narita scribblings

Am busy packing my life into Taiwan Post cardboxes for my return to Old Europe. This is proving to be a lengthy process - as my nature demands that every item be carefully scrutinised and categorised before entering a box! As I flicked through my Lonely Planet guide to Tokyo, I came across some rather pseudy scribblings in the notes section at the back. This is what I wrote as I walked down the snaking corridor between the airship and Narita firm ground:

June 15th 2005, Wednesday

As the wheels touched down, jets sending up plumes of water, the slick black mac and endless expanse of grey skies with replenishing trucks ferrying between the gunboats on the runways, majestic in their stillness, nothing seemed to distinguish the place from any other airport. Yet here we were, it seemed to be crying out to us louder than a scream - TOKYO.

As I queued for customs I seemed to feel a hum of excitement. A Cheshire grin spread across my face as I imagined a polyglot making his way through this infinite community - Mandarin, Japanese, Cantonese, English all within my reach.

Ungrammatical and unedited though it be, I feel it would be a pity to leave the passage languishing in the recesses of a guide book that I might never again have reason to open.

Internet filtering in Tunisia and China, and the dubious morality of Google & co.

The issue of filtering information on the internet particularly caught my attention during the recent UN meetings in Tunisia discussing the future of the internet - specifically ownership, policing and filtering (ed - meetings in which the US is trying very hard to stake a claim to ownership). Tunisia itself has an ironclad policy of restricting popular access to sensitive content - a fact that has not escaped the notice of the UN delegates and assorted world press. In an interesting twist the Tunisian government has taken a hammering from the world press, after banning a reporter of Reporters Sans Frontieres from entering the country, and censoring the Swiss President's call for an end to imprisonment for writing/accessing sites critical of the government.

In related news, I thought I might point you to a study on internet filtering in China, linked to by The Berkman Centre for Internet and Society (part of Harvard law school). The survey summarised below, points to largescale, effective filtering of internet content by the Chinese government. More worrying still is the collusion of various Search Providers (Google, Yahoo etc) who bow to the PRC Regime's wishes to un-list "innappropriate content". I quote the conclusion of the report below:

Internet Filtering in China in 2004-2005: A Country Study:
China makes a systematic, comprehensive, and frequently successful effort to limit the ability of its citizens to access and to post on-line content the state considers sensitive. At the level of legal regulation, China has a complex, overlapping system of laws, regulations, and informal methods that attempts to prevent the creation and distribution of banned material. At the technological level, the state employs a sophisticated infrastructure that filters content at multiple levels and that tolerates overblocking as the price of preventing access to prohibited sites. Importantly, China’s filtering efforts lack transparency: the state does not generally admit to censoring Internet content, and concomitantly there is no list of banned sites and no ability for citizens to request reconsideration of blocking, as some other states that filter provide. The topics defined as sensitive, or prohibited, by China’s legal code are broad and non-specific, and enforcement of laws such as the ban on spreading state secrets discourages citizens from testing the boundaries of these areas. China’s legal and technological systems combine to form a broad, potent, and effective means of controlling the information that Chinese users can see and share on the Internet.

Moreover, the research we have conducted over several years – both individually as institutions and collectively as the ONI – demonstrates increasing sophistication of China’s filtering regime. Its filtering system has become at once more refined and comprehensive over time, building a matrix of controls that stifles access to information deemed illegitimate by authorities. Considering that China’s growing Internet population represents nearly half of all Internet users worldwide, and will soon overtake the United States as the single largest national group of Internet users, such extensive censorship should be of concern to all Internet users worldwide. China’s advanced filtering regime presents a model for other countries with similar interests in censorship to follow. It has also shown a willingness to defend and even promote the principles of its filtering regime to international venues governing global communications, such as the World Summit of the Information Society. While there can be legitimate debates about whether democratization and liberalization are taking place in China’s economy and government, there is no doubt that neither is taking place in China’s Internet environment today.

I believe this to be an issue worthy of much attention, and would welcome comment or further discussion from anyone interested in the development of the internet, the politics of China, and human rights at large. Ryan

The latest iPod must-have

I stumbled accross AdFreak, a natty blog concerned with the more interesting bits of advertising. They had this to report on the latest must-have iPod accessory:

iBuzz: This one goes to 11

For the iPod user who has everything, think about this new accessory as a possible holiday stocking, er, stuffer: a sex toy called iBuzz. The new bullet-shaped device (studded attachments optional) pulses in time to the music, and the louder the music is played, the faster the unit vibrates. The toy is being sold in the U.K. for about $40 by LoveHoney.co.uk. The U.K.’s Sunonline.com quoted LoveHoney’s Ali Carnegie as saying the item was a huge seller capable of providing customers “big smiles on their way to work.” But don’t look for a sizable marketing push from Apple. As you might imagine, it’s not an authorized Apple product. (A call placed to Apple went unanswered.) Nor is a joint venture with Herbal Essences expected. But if ever a device were made for buzz marketing, it’s the iBuzz.

—Posted by Steve McClellan

No comment.

myPod woes

It seems that every time I get close to laying my hands on an iPod, something goes awry. Now, God-forbid I resort to divine intervention as an explanation, but it honestly does seem that events have conspired to keep me from prostrating myself before Steve Jobs' alter until now.

To explain:

1. When MP3 players appeared, they were utterly impractical, and were only capable of holding an album of songs which you'd then need to replace each time you fancied a change of scenery. I prayed for something like the iPod.
   
2. With the advent of harddrive-based MP3 players, I considered and failed to buy the first generation devices, figuring that the technology would be bug-ridden and quickly rendered obsolete my resourceful competitors. A lack of immediate funds helped this decision.
   
3. The competitor's never produced a comparable product. With the appearence of larger capacity iPods with click wheels, I again considered trading in my tired (but "smallest in the world") CD walkman for a bite of apple's pie. In fact, I was gearing up to buying the player when the iPod photo hit the shelves.
4. The arrival of the iPod photo, and my reading of many an internet article, persuaded me that whilst the gadgets were not only beautiful designed, but also incredibly practical, they were in fact too simplistic and lacking in the kind of extras (that should be standard) such as record functions and radio tuners that other inferior technologies (tape and minidisc) had been able to offer for years. The articles also alerted me to the fact that Sony were designing gadgets hoping to rival the iPod in style, simplicity and functionality. And so I once again held off puchasing an iPod and insteaded opted to await the offerings from Sony with baited breath.
5. Now, truth be told, the Sony iPod alternatives failed to please. They lacked the ease of use of Apple's offerings, whilst forcing users to transfer all tunes to a proprietary Sony audio format using a truly awful piece of corporate bloatware known as SonicStage (the words literally send shudders down the back of my spine!). So finally it looked as if I had been sold on Apple's stylistic and simple offering.
6. Along came iPod nano (to replace the capacity-scarce Mini) and video, to please the Christmas-present-hungry punters. I have been sold on the iPod video in spite of its tiny battery life and lack of genuine video support, purely because of its ginormous hard drive and tiny form factor. Furthermore, a hugely generous donation of the moneyworth of a 4Gb Nano cemented the deal. I ordered an iPod video and eagerly awaited its arrival.
7. Imagine my horror when I called in today to see what time I would receive the unit, only to hear that the units seem to have sold out, island wide.
   

At the time of writing, it looks as if I am no closer to owning an iPod than at any other time in my history. Perhaps I am doomed to miss out on the iPod craze, and forever mumble bitterly about its stupidity?

Quicksilver Review

I have just finished Quicksilver a fantastic work of historical fiction (not sure if you'll shudder when you read those words...) by Neal Stephenson. It is the first of a quartet, and spans 30 or so years of a mid-17th century Europe in turmoil. Europe and its various and ever-shifting republics, kingdoms and principalities are in the process of a revolution, in which papists and puritans vie for power, and great men and paupers change places within months not years. All in all a highly recommended read.

I look forward to reading the lot!

Watercolour from Claus

Birthday Card from my brother Nic

The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes (2005)

This has to have been the worst movie I have ever seen. As part of my packed Taipei Golden Horse schedule, I sat through 2 hours of a movie by the Shaw Brothers (noted animators) which had the tenacity to start at 1:50 am! I have never felt so lost, unsure of myself and genuinely freaked out in my life. Bizarre motifs of an animated doll hacking at a tree with an axe whilst laughing maniacally did not help to elevate my mood. I advise everyone of my readers to watch this movie, because only then will you appreciate how relatively good all the previous movies that you have crowned "king of bad movies" were! One to avoid. Or a must see, depending on your ability to stomach truly awful cinema.

Babies

I spent today acting as chauffeur for a Taiwanese mother and her 2 month old baby. Got me thinking that there's more to life than mindless self gratification. Though didn't get as far as working out what that might be. Is spontaneous procreation the answer?

My recent trip to Gaoxiong

From left to right: Mr. Tsai, David and myself.

I recently went to Gaoxiong to visit my dear friend David. When there I enjoyed spectacular Taiwanese hospitality and learnt how to drink iced milk tea with no straw. Difficult when it is served in a heavy tankard with a 2-inch whipped cream head. Trust me.

I also learnt that 高雄 used to be known as 打狗 (or Da Gou) - literally beat dog. I felt glad to set foot in the animal-loving city. lol

My friend David's myspace... Crapizanagi's stupid thing 

Harry Potter is tortured by the good folks at Anti Wizards Inc

This is rather unpleasant, so look on only if you want to see a Harry Potter Doll being mauled by a dog... Please note that I didn't conduct this test myself, and neither do I endorse harming dolls in any way other than those devised by imaginative children! Enjoy:

CANINE ASSISTED TORTURE

Date Completed: July 10th, 2003
Materials: 1 canine, butter PAM
Objective: To entice the local canine with the doll and persuade canine to destroy the doll.
Damage expected: Torn clothes and lacerations from the canine's teeth.




She went right for the clothes and extremities, she seemed as eager to torture Harry Potter as we are. Now I did not want my precious Harry Potter destroyed just two tests into the AWI torture chamber saga, and preceded to chase the dog around the yard with a tattered Harry Potter in her mouth. We eventually recovered Harry, and his various severed body parts in one place and began evaluating.



Damage Report:

Harry Potter was nothing short of mutliated. He expeirenced heavy trauma, more than what was expected, sustaining lacerations and puncture wounds all over his body. The most noteable was the dogs attention to the limbs, all of which had been gruesomely severed from their according areas. Re attachment may be possible. The most troubling part is that Harry's fashionable clothes have been ruined by butter PAM dog slobber and extensive ripping and pulling. This is surely a tragic day.

Why we should all hate Harry Potter... (or bring light to his fans)

In another related article, BBC journalist Robert Winder writes:

You will probably see nearly as many Half-Blood Princes as you see Da Vinci Codes on public transport for a while.

But what is it that appeals to adults about what is essentially diet-Lord of the Rings?

I myself have seen normally intelligent people reduced to gibbering wrecks, babbling incoherently about Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Author AS Byatt said that adult Potter fans are actually "reverting to their inner child" when they read Potter, and that they were "for people whose interests are confined to the worlds of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip".

One of the BBC News website's very own readers has the perfect response to that one, though - "I've never heard of AS Byatt," he said in a recent Have Your Say on the issue.

Now it seems to me that whilst the combined forces of Robert Winder, the author of ihateharrypotter.com and Reason iteself will have not even the slightest dampening effect on the wave of plattitudes that JK Rowling is bathing in, whilst also having no hope of persuading her ardent fans that what they're enjoying is not in fact great writing, these forces can still play an important role in providing a balm for the tired of hearing the dark words "I love Harry Potter"!

camera tossing

xmaslights
Originally uploaded by analoguerock.

I came across an interesting group on Flickr. The "camera tossing group". It seems simple enough to do - a case of throwing your camera into the air near a light source and then hopefully catching it (with your hands, a bungy or a catch net, as suggested by the disclaimer) before it smashes to the ground. The group is highly specific that it must be a "toss" and not simply a case of jiggling your camera around!

Amusing though this sounds. The results can be beautiful.

Diniwid Bay

 

Photos from Boracay

Fishing boat at southern tip of boracay 

Your China Update

My good friend Henry is running a blog over at: www.henrysanderson.com. The guy has written for a host of great publications before deciding to delve into the world of blogs.

Click on over if you fancy cutting edge reportage on China issues.

Free Publicity.org

Tokyo Trip

Nipple Lanterns, Tokyo

Maybe I should mention that I spent a fantastic few days in Tokyo with my (now former) colleagues at Ogilvy & Mather Taiwan back in June. There are far too many excellent photos to be shared, and I haven't space to put them in this blog. However, you may peruse them at www.flickr.com/photos/ryannell if you are interested.

Hong Kong Noir

I spent a day wandering around Hong Kong on a visa run several months ago. This shot presented itself near the Peak tram terminal, HK Island

My inaugural blog

Well I'm not sure I have anything of value to add to this space right now. Oh dear. In fact blogspot forced me to sign up for an account in order to be able to fire a witty retort to my friend over at Taiwhat?

Out.