Posted 2:12 PM by Gobbler
Look Whos Blogging Now
Or: Brave New Blog

Firstly, an amendment. 1000 pesos isnt 13 pence, its 96. about 1 dollar and 60 cents. glad we got that crucial one sorted out.

Firstly, to continues from where i left off, Humberstone. humberstone was interesting and for once a genuainely original experience for this particular travelling ducky. it was a shame for me that, international tourism being such an extraordinarily big business, they are rebuilding this attraction. like machu picchu, like Angkor Wat, etc etc. The only major site of the sort that is not to the best of my knowledge being restored is the Pyramids at Giza. This is due to two possible and in my opinion plausible reasons. 1) the pyramids are invincible. Theyve lasted 4000 years, theyll last another 4000 without any help from anybody. 2) they have been an attraction for so long that they were rebuilt ages ago and so nothing changes.

The deserted factories and houses and administration buildings and so on were fascinating to walk round, and the whole experience was well worthwhile and made more interesting because of the two competing guides. Jorge, who had more or less adopted me as his pet tourist, was very keen that i unbderstood the guide, who only spoke spanish. the trouble is that jorge doesnt speak much english. By which i mean he knows a few words but sentences are a struggle. He was so very keen that i understood what she was saying that he usually translated, a process which consisted of saying a similar thing in Spanish with a few choice and a few not so choice english words thrown in. Sometimes it helped, often it didnt, but it was good of him to try. and that was humberstone.

The egyptian lecture was a bizarre and worthwhile experience. The New Acropolis organisation is possibly the friendliest in the world. Not since the last grand family reunion have i kissed on the chee so many people that were completely unknown to me. "Hello nick." "Who the blinking bloody hell are you?" I sat at the back in the lecture, which was a mistake, but i didnt want to be at the front as i was still nursing a nasty hangover for which i blame chilean mateys who bought me free drink. not my fault at all. so, sat at the back, but the oh whats the word, the acoustics were awful, and i could not hear the prof clearly. and he was talking technical and my mind off teh ball; i did not understand much, but like a child with his first book, enjoyed the pictures immensely and felt all grown up at doing somewthing intellectual.

so last night i got the bus ok and it was a beauty. Five star (ive found out what the fifth star on these buses is for: air conditioning), Pullman buses, reclining chair, comfy. But, as you may be able to guess from this initial rosy picture, it all went tits up in the end.

Couples are great on buses as they usually snuggle up and shut up. Couples with babies are a nightmare and the lot last night were the most diabolical of the lot. Beelzebub himself gave this lot special lessons on being irritating. If the baby wasnt kicking or otherwise prodding my chair then mummy was fiddling with the cushions and bottle and wipes and whatever else she had shoved down the backl of my chair, and exerted more pushing power than the baby itself could have mustered, which was not inconsiderable. If the baby wasnt screaming, crying or moaning the father was making concilatory gurgling noises in some pre-linguistic communication with the baby. Coochy-coochy-cooo. Ah-burbla-burbla- burr. Ah-ga-ga-ga-ga. Why do people do this? In some years time, if i can convince someone its a good idea, i may have a little blighter of my own, and the chances are i'll b doing the same. we love it! why does making incomprehensible noises to someone who is only capable of responding with squeeks, giggles and burbles (like the sun-baby in teletubbies) provide so much satisfaction? No-body knows. I just long for the day when Aldous Huxleys 'Brave New World' becomes a reality and all babies are moade on the production line and raised in nurseries. It neatly cuts out the cuchy-cooing, squeeking, burbling middle man.

Being such a nice chap and, although wanting to, feeling that i9t would be poor form to recline my chair and thus have a stab at smothering the baby, i had seven hours of this misery and after a time had to resort to madonnas 'Like a vir-her-herher-gin' and other old favourites at what would normally be excruciatingly painful volumes just to escape the screams from behind me. I did get some sleep i think.

arrived at a little past six at calama from where i had to get a different bus to san pedro my desert oasis destination. some taxi guy tried to flog me a 25000 pesos ride to san pedro. Thats 25 quid, sod that for a game of soldiers. bus is only a pound. told matey where tyo shove it and eventually accepted a lift to the bus station for 2000, still a lot. It was dark, i was freezing (air con on the buses may lower the temperature in the day but it does not initiate the opposite action at night. the doctor has said that my toes do not need amputating but i am not so sure) and the bus station was closed. I asked him if there was a warm cafe nearby. he took me to an unheated petrol station shop and charged me another 2000. Later it cost me another 1500 to get back to the bus station. bloody taxis. Got the bus and got here. And you'll never bloody guess. Its full of thai dyed juggling damned hippes. But heres the worst, most frightening and disturbing part: i was glad of it.

Because, for all their well chronicalled sins against the world, damned thai dyed hippie clothing wearing damned hippies ahve a number of redeeming features. They speak english, they are inoffensive and very frequently not even foreign. After a high degree of what is probably technically called cultural immersion its something of a relief to be in the middle of what is basically a travellers hang out. A total rip off, but you know where you are and everyones friendly. for a couple of days at least this will be an excellent spot to relax. theres plenty ot do around here too, which is nice, but i cant be bothered to explain what just now. Suffice to say that San Pedro is by an oasis in the Atacama Desert, the driest desert in the world, and its whitewashed adobe buildings and colonial layout are charming. the atmosphere is very laid back (partly no doubt due to the damned hippies) and it is likely that tonight will be entertaining. I'm sharing a room with a bearded Canadian from alberta who left home for the weekend to drive south to calgary in his motor, adn ended up here. thats liquid travelling. He's a lumberjack in the winter and whatever he can be bothered to be in the summer, which this summer is a traveller. He seems a fine fellow. Also i bumbed into Rob today the guy i tried to meet in iquique. everybodies here. i'd better finish up here and go see whats what with teh world, after a little talk backage.

I found this one nestled in an old blog, by evil uncle R.V.V.E. If you havent seen Thunderbirds this may be quite lost on you, but in short its damn funny Lady Penelpope addressing her manservant Parker:

Parker take off my dress..

Yus m''lady.

Parker take of my bra..

Yus m''lady

Parker take off my pants

Yus m''lady

And Parker..

Yus m''lady

If you wear my clothes again you''re fired


moral for the day: Cross dressers should buy their own clothes?

Rachel: yep, my very own linkage. i have to admit that Ninjamin told me how to do it but thats beside the point. Laura: yeah my life is revolving around mega bus missions at the moment. curse chile for being so insanely long. and i believe further explanation of this dry valley would be appreciated. isnt there any ice? interesting.
Hockey Rich: Berties back in town berties back in town! Congratulations comrade. Your skills and tactics and bravery in the face of the enemy have made you a Hero of the Soviet Union. Or something like that.
Evil Unc: Should be off to argie for some steak. i'll make sure the locals know whos going to win this one. I heard somewheree that we beat S.Africa in the cricket as well. Its quite clear whos side the lord is on. As for the lady from leith, i believe i heard my godfather tell me a similar tale some years ago. Youve beaten me for now, i cant think of any more. but i'll remember one soon.
Kat of terminatorville: i love tanks. anyone who drives around in a tank, especially to market, gets my vote. It makes haggling so much easier. "Three for a pound guvnor, cant say fairer than that. come on, your killing me at these prices!" "GIVE THEM TO ME NOW OR I BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF PEASANT FOOL." So youre soon to be a rev eh? will you get your own church and everything? As for smoking, drinking and copulating well i really think i mean i think i mean really. Mississippi. Ah. Were you around when i went to Tulsa? i believe thats on the mississippi too, tho tis quite big and i imagine you were referring to the state and not the river. And if the UN ever came up in the lecture it quite passed me by. Matte in argie. gotcha. When i'm not mocking the argies for getting beating in football and rugby and wars and stuuf, I'll be sure to guzzle a couple of jars. In fact the two can probably conbine nicely. Does wende study divinity too? then you'd be a bevvy of revvies getting bevvied.
The_Bro: working through the word count. now as far as the old testament, ezekiel 25:17... and ah yes, the moral for the day, what a quality idea. made a stab at one today, but all recommendations welcome. Nam, nam, nam, back in the nam. tho twas grim i came to no harm. i remember one time, twas grim, at a farm, we splatted them gooks with a spot of napalm. nam, nam... enjoy the reunion, i rememeber '68, twas grim, that old tet offensive, grim grim. And no, i dont really speak spanish well at all. my vocab in crap and i'm largely restricted to the present tense. but i know the basic stuff pretty well. certainly havent advanced to philosophical debates on the egyptians yet.
Wende (another *goddess* in waiting): Katy did what? a (as i believe it is fondly called on your side (and mine for the time) of the pond as a) poop? I much prefer your American Nonsense to 'American Wedding' which was American nonsense, if you follow this English nonsense. Right.
Arunsun: the only film you will find on the internet of me in are the ones in your possession (which i should emphasise, in order to prevent a general uproar are non-pornographic) if you have decided to put them there. unless of course you are referring to 'Mr Bankit strikes again' in which case fair point old chap. but that was way back in the sixties and that sort of thing was common then.
kat: Yes, it would seem to be fair and proper if Harry got done for smoking or porn or drinking or something like that but i have my doubts as to whether Miss Bowling will oblige the realism seeking audience. And you do seem to be a descent sort of an egg. In the future I might go so far as to call you a stirling old fruit.
Mirt: I thought for a moment you said 'behind' and not 'mind'. It nearly gave me a coronary.
Kazahkstan: yes, i will admit that i was quite pleased when that one came to me. all my very own you know.
Kat at work. shh.: yes well. Im afraid that when one is forced to scrape the barrel the result is often cheese. now that is also nasty:
All the rest: im too knackered after this long blog to explain to you the technicalities of being a punk, so see if you can work it out for yourselves.

Posted 3:15 PM by Gobbler
Harry Blogger and the PC riddled by Porn

I'd like to give everyone out there advanced warning of the next installment in the famous Harry Plotter series by JK Bowling. As harry reaches adolescence he uses his wizardly powers to access more porn sites than he has hitherto had hot dinners. This charming, x-rated story will keep readers on the edge of their seats as harry discovers the truth about the world, and what daddy wizard really uses his wand for and why mummy witch really has a cauldron...

Im only joking. at least, i dont know that to be the case. it seems possible that that old goat jk bowling may have a story somewhere up that particular alley but i really cant say. the reason i mention it is because i have for the last half hour or so been battling in vain to rid my computer of porn sites that keep popping up on my screen. but now i surrender. sometimes when i close one down it goes away for good, but then i close another down and two come up instead. Harry may be onto a winner because there surely are more porn sites than hot dinners in this world. the sheer number of sites means there are hundreds of thousands of people out there, usually good-looking young people of the female variety who sporting some shade of blonde hair who are quite happy to bare all and get banged for a few bob and i suppose an exceedingly slim chance at fame in some ill-conceived twisted path to the top is truly frightening. -hooray i just got rid of one! i'm still periodically trying- what do all these people do the rest of the time? Where do they come from? "Hi mum, yep, thought id be a pornstar. college just aint my bag" "see you later honey, just going off to get rogered by several different people for the evening. Be well. Pizza for dinner?" "yes well you see, because i'm a liberated young person and this is the 21st century and all and its only sex and i cant be bothered to work in an office and its well paid i think i'll be a pornstar. thats nice and worthwhile isnt it? that'll be one to tell the grandchildren and have a good chuckle round the old fire at christmas..." every internet machine in chile that i have thus far visited has some direct link to a site, and this machine just went right ahead and shoved three in my face before i had typed www. for a while i was completely overrun. i seem to have stopped the tide a little now, but every time i switch windows i am in danger of being engulfed. i dont need to provide any details on this subject because, unless youve got a firewall the size and strength of belgium (and by that i mean very big and strong, dont let the outward appearance of belgium fool you) you will have some idea what i mean. Try Iquique in Chile and you'll be just spot on.

Thats the interesting story behind my current internet session. nothing to do with harry potter to be honest. sorry if i got your hopes up. and of course im only being prudish and adopting the correct moral tone as befitting a clean loiving and upstanding member of the community such as myself. secretly i too want to be a porn star. As long as its a train driver or conductor one.

today, finally i feel in the right frame of mind to tell the anxious world about my day. i got up at an early hour that gave me the wobblies. and dont give me "whats are wobblies?" Wobblies are wobblies, clear as day. any time i can only see one number on the hour meter and not two i instantly reconsider my actions, but on this occassion up i got and out i went. I met up with Jorge, the chilean fellow at half 8 and went off to try to find a tour. after the lecture last night (im getting to that) we walked around town for a bit (ok this doesnt sound good after what i just said about porn - he suggested going to a titty-bar and later enquired whether or no i should like to employ the services of a lady for the evening. and dont start, the answer was no.) and aside from a couple of bars we found a travel agency that advertised a trip to the ghodst town humberstone (funny name but it is in chile. it was run for a time by a chap called Humberstone from Dover, England) and some dinosaur footprints and some llama pictures and some gheysers, and other generally interesting things like that. We figured that the tour would probably leave at 9 so it was important to head down there at a reasonable hour. Off we popped.

Not only was that agency closed but the other three tour agencies we tried turned out to be all agency and no tour. one of them had internet and jorge wanted to check his so we turned there to regroup and forge a new cunning plan. that internet proved even crapper than this one as the only thing we could access was porn so we soon left there and found another. this proved more successful.

Afterwards we strolled up to the central market for breakfast and then organised by boleto to Calama, leaving at 11 this evening. a lovely 8 dollar 7 hour number to bring me in at 6 tomorrow in dubious fettle for the trek across the driest town on earth (and at this point laura i must ask you about this 'dry valley' malarky. as its in antarctica, isnt it covered in ice? doesnt that put a slight dampener on the 'no moisture' claim?) to get the next bus to San Pedro where i hope to find some traveller types who do not belong to strange philosophical entities, have haircuts as bad as mine and sandals equally impractical. thats the plan. travelling by night doesnt help the sleeping thing much but it does mean that i dont have to pay for a nights accommodation making the journey markedly cheaper.

Having organised the bus we took another up to Humberstone. 1000 pesos each, 20 cents, 13 pence, i paid. in this way i have discovered that local mateys are a bit like girlfriends, at least girlfriends in the days before the post-modernist world my philosophy lecturer once suggested we live in, with womens lib., (a subject i have mentioned before and a concept i am largely in favour of) sexual lib., mod. lib., bod. lib. and other libs where as far as i can gather we (male gentleman types) dont have to pay for the female lady type any more and said type may decide to become a pornstar and encourage us to do the same. I'm thinking of the old style female accomplice where we (male gentleman types) did have to pay or stuff and stuff like that. local mateys are quite happy to accompany you around the place (Jorge, despite being a sound iontelligent 30 year old fellow does not appear to have a huge deal of work to do) as long as you pay their way. so i payed the bus and entrance fee and even bought the fellow a bottle of water. dont get the impression that he was sponging millions off me, the whole affair must have set me back ooh almost a dollar, and in any case it was my party and i was glad of the company.

i am wittering on. that lady on the bus must have rubbed off on me somehow (no pun intended, no dirty comments please.) Humberstone is a town founded in the 1830's i think (havent got round to reading the instructions yet) because of the nitrate boom in northern chile. nitrates were mined and then exported for fertilisers, and chile did rather out of it, being the worlds major supplier, until some cunning german in the 30's worked out how to make artificial fertiliser from oil. having worked for the german pharmaceutical company Bayer i can tell you that the germans can make anything from crude oil, probably even kitchen sinks, but thats a serious tangent to be saved for a more arid blogging period. Because of the decline in demand, humberstone was finally abandoned in the sixties, and left to rot. walking around the town, through the old theatre (restored), church (restored) hotel, housing, swimming pool (made of iron, curious, vertical diving distinctly discouraged and oh lordy arse and shucks, ive run out of time. have to meet jorge to say toodle pip in spanish, so thatll be the good old adios then. i'll comntinue when i can, tho that preobably wont be ti?l tomorrow. if i hadnt spent so much time going on about porn it would all have been so easy.

Talk acks when i can. Punks, when you can.

Posted 4:56 PM by Gobbler
Those egyptians, now they new a blog or two.

All i want to do is go and visit the ghost town of humberstone and get the hell out. i dont have tinme to fanny about in these parts, i did plentyof that back in peru. but oh no. not me. yesterday i loitered around the town hoping for word from rob the american guy but he went off and did it without me so clearly he wasnt around to meet up. tits. then yesterday evening i ran into a couple of chilean fellows who invited me to a philosophy lecture on the ancient egyptians. i dont know if anyones ever heard of them but they're part of an international organisation called the 'New Apocalypse' oh no hang on i dont mean new apocalypse, that would be bloody scary, i mean New Acropolis, thats the one.

You may wonder why the hell i am going to a lecture on the ancient egyptians when i should be heading south to the glaciers and doing normal travelling things, and to be honest the thought has occured to me too. i can only say that it seemed like a good idea last night and the guy will be upset if i do a runner. and there4s a fair chance it will be interesting. but it means another day gone, i didnt have time to go to the ghost town today, and i'm rapidly running out of time in these parts. oh the woes of it all. i didnt even make it to the agency today to arrange my tour, so i'll have to get up early tomorrow, track down the agency and try to get on a tour or thats another day gone. tick tick tick the days trickle away.

as for the bus ride he other day, there was a film, enemy at the gates, in english, good quality and at a pleasant volume. the reason i didnt mention it i guess is that there was nothing especial to complain about. it was good, i enjoyed it. if the damn woman next to me wasnt wittering away with useful advice the whole time (tho in credit to her she did shut up for large sections of the film) it would have been thoroughly ordinary.

right, i'd better go to this damned lecture. in spanish in case youre wondering.

Posted 12:53 PM by Gobbler
This was the blog that was
Previous Title: The Blog is Dead. Long Live the Blog!

Due to a minor technical fault the like of which i will not be repeating, i just lost the blog i had been working on for the past half an hour. this is on the one hand no huge blow as it wasnt hte most scintillating bit of blog i ever did scribble, but it is nevertheless i is annoying. it was, in brief, an explanation of the 'other lovely bloggers', a list of which is to be found in the left hand column. It was a brief explanation of the decease of 'Varsity Life of Spice', a description of the other splendid sites to be found there, and an introduction to the two new sites there found. As i hadnt yet written it i will do so now.

'Anna Reynolds' blog is an account by an old frined of mine of a year working as an English teacher in Xian, China. It is interesting, literate, often entertaining and i'm fishing for a similar link onto my blogspot. Some of you punks out there may remember her as that funny american type from school, and furthermore it is the same Anna Reynolds whom i had the pleasure to visit back at the beginning of August. 'Random Creature' blog is a blog by another literate albeit random creature currently holed up in San Francisco, California studying something that is presumably of some interest to aforementioned random creature, who goes by the name of Kat. From what i have seen of it, it too is worth a good look, (I dont knoiw at this time whether the same can be said of the author) its author seems a descent sort of egg and again i'm fishing for a link to my blog on hers. Cheers Kat.

Hot and Cold
I'm now in Iquique, Chile. For years i thought that 'chile' was one of the silliest names ever conceived for a country. Admittedly it doesnt have any place names (that i have so far discovered) as unfortunate as 'Cape Knob' which the enterprising reader will find if he gets out an atlas (Tulsa Hilton: the old times atlas has never seen such use!) at a page where he/she can peruse the south west corner of australia, for that is where Cape Knob is nestled. But you see, Chile is actually a cunning genius of a name. Because Chili can either be takn as 'chilli' as in blinking hot, or 'chilly' as in blinking cold. In the north of the country, which for the most part is one long strip of desert, we have such places as 'Calama'. They say it rains every two hundred years or so there, but it has never rained. they only say 'once every two hundred years' because they (the mysterious and unknown 'they') figure that one day it might and they dont want to look stupid by saying 'never'. this makes it the driest place on earth. having come from what is popularly believed to be the wettest place on earth (England) this place is a must see and thus one of the next places on my list depending on how Bolivia works out. so up north it gets fairly warm. Down south, among the glaciers and ice and cold related effects of that nature, it is decidedly chilly. Having only bought one fleece with me (tho i do have three t-shirts) i might get quite cold, and will therefore probably have to buy a sweater. i could have bought one in Peru but the tourist pieces peppered with llama designs arent really my bag so i declined the offers. I'm regretting it a bit now, llama or no llama, and will try to pick up a cheapy in Bolivia.

Changing money
Going from Peru to Chile it made sense to swap my Peruvian Soles for some hardcore Chilean. But chilean whats? i didnt know. its hard to confront a tricksy scheming moneychanger when you dont know what it is that youre changing into. "I'll have some of them there Chilean wotsits please madam." would surely only have invited her to rip me off more than usual. a quick retreat to the lonely planet earned me the information that chileans have pesos. But how many to the dollar and, in these days of turmoil, how many dollars to the pound? my LP, two years past its born on date, could give me no assurances of such information. It still thinks that one argentinian peso is equal to one dollar, whereas in fact it is nearly three. It claimed there was 600 pesos to the dollar. Asking the taxi driver on the way to the bus station (I was going to take the train but i was running a little short on time. apologies, it is all about the train but on this occassion the train just wasnt the ticket. but i will visit the train station (abandoned) in this town to make up for it) how many pesos to the sol, i received an incomprehendable answer that unsurprisingly got me nowhere. I thought he said 150 odd but that sounded improbable. oh well.

In the bus station i had to chance it. I was drawn over by a gold tooth clad -coatless so she didnt look too bad - lady waving enticingly. i placed my 149 soles on the table, she waved the calculator in my direction, excitedly pushing buttons. She handed me about 24000 pesos. i was dumbfounded. i asked for a receipt, she returned a gold encrusted smile and shook her head. It suddenly struck me that she was wearing a coat after all. i left.

I had been accosted by a happy and extremely keen fellow who offered to take me across the border for 10 soles. seemed alright to me so i took him up on the offer. he whisked me through the station, took my passport from me, something i had been prepared for, and took me to his collectivo, some aged, huge american cadillac type motor. he left me there and ran off to try to find new customers. i bought a bottle of drink to test how far my 24000 pesos were going to take. 1.5 soles or 300 pesos. unwilling to do the maths i was still unsure how much money i had but it didnt seem too bad. if she had asked 3000 for the drink i would have really worried. Off we went across the border, ripping up the panamerican in a mad dash for arica. matey clearly wanted to bring back another cadillac full as soon as possible.

i nearly missed my bus from arica to iquique. despite being on the same line of longitude the arses in Chile seem to think they have the right to change the time zone. by not one but two hours. ui mean how dare they? this is an outrage. It does however explain why the first bus i could get a ticket on left two and a half hours after the time indicated on my alarm clock (oh, my watch packed up on the bus to tacna. It took me four hours to work out that the time wasnt really still 7:42. thats watch number three lost to the woes of travelling. i guess thats what you get for buying cheap crud in indonesia.) I only just made the bus. as it turns out, in some ways i wish i hadnt...

But before i go into all that, i'll just say that there is a marked and instant change in wealth when you come into chile. gone are the adobe (mud brick) houses, and fewer the ramshackle brick and reinforced concrete uglities. More tarmacced roads, more vehicles, most of which look quite new, in fact more of pretty much everything to remind one of the west, or home if you like. now then, back to the bus.

Don't these damned foreigners know that i'm a damned foreigner?
The bus last night from Arica on the peruvian border to Iquique some distance further south was a deluxe number that advertised getting to Iquique in four hours. All the people i spoke to including the lady next to me were similarly convinced of this. As its 350 km i was quite sceptical about this claim and indeed it took more like 5 1/2 hours which meant we got in at half one in the morning. after we had been going for four hours the lady next to me still said the bus took four hours even though we plainly hadnt arrived. In fact its the lady next to me that i want to talk about. Now, i speak a little bit of spanish, usually enough to get my point across and engage in lightweight friendly banter. Chileans do speak spanish, but its a different spanish to that spoken in peru and guatemala. the accent takes a bit of getting used to. The lady next to me decided that she was going to talk and i was going to listen, and more importantly respond. Wittering away at full speed i had to concentrate hard to understand her. no way was i going to understand every word (i only know about 50) so i tried to decipher, as much from her hand gestures and intonation as from her words, what the heck she was going on about. she didnt slow down to give me a bit more of a chance, at least i hope not because if that was slow i'm buggered if i'll ever understand fast. On the plus side she did give me her comlementary ham sandwhich and those of her two friends, a lifesaver because as we got in to iquique at 1:30 all the eateries were firmly firmé.

Hockey Rich: Ah, close combat. those were and indeed will again be the days. all i need to do is get the cd off dan, if he hasnt lost it, and were in for a real treat. I hope for missions as dastardly cunning as 'Last stand of Bertie Woo'. Excellent work mate. may have to sack of rellies for chrimbo and come and see you instead. Holly Spice MkIII: sorry to hear that you have quit your previous accommodation. where next i wonder? Your site has been disconnected from my blog. you going to have another one? take care old girl and remember that works overrated anyway. just look at me! Cowboy out. All the Rest: If i could think of a witty ditty to make you feel shitty i'd scribe it then sign it but i cant so i shant and instead i'll just say: if you're reading away all this infinite bunk then may i just say that you must be a punk.

Posted 7:12 PM by Gobbler
Tune in, Turn on and Blog Out

Video Time
I had an interesting time today on the bus. The ride from Puno, just on the bolivian border (I had planned to head into Bolivia from here but as theyre getting all upset with each other adn killing each other and things ive called a temporary halt on the advance into the country. the president has now stepped dwn though and therefore things have a good chance of calming down soon. I'm going to try and get in via the chilean border in the next few days.) to Tacna, just onn the Chilean border. the trip, crossing the Andes and dropping about 3300 metres, consisted of ten hours winding through fantastic and indeed i would have to say awesome mountainous desert.

we watched two films. the first was one of the most painful pieces of film-making ever to be put to video. Unlike my last long bus journey to cusco where they blared out appalling peruvian music at an impossibly loud volume all blinking night long and nearly drove me insane, this time there was a video of appalling peruvian music at an impossibly loud volume that was if possible even more impossibly loud. but it was the actual video footage that was the most frightful aspect of the whole diabolical package. This music video was not MTV material. it was atrocious. A wobbling camera as the cameraman tripped on some tuft of grass (all the videos were shot outside), a middle-aged, middle-weight and middle-looking Peruvian lady (which by international standards means that she appears a little past average in each of the preceding three categories) in a screeching wail of a voice that seems to popular amongthe lady folk of these here parts. i am not alone in this below par assessment of the video offering. when the video first came on there were numerous loud cries among my fellow passengers of "otro video" (another video). given the usual standard of peruvian programming and the considerable tolerance that peruvians have fr it, this outburst did not bode at all well. The only saving grace was that this was a day bus and therefore i was only trying to sleep half the time. The next film, some hours later, was Gladiator which tho in spanish and obscured by some gits head for the last 20 minutes, went soe way to repair the damage of "Irritating peruvian music that all sounds the same in an appalling video format by performed by talentless artistes (the keyboard player had skills reminiscent of a twelve year old at school - one finger of each hand viciously stabbing keys - tho this guy clearly thought he was a pro and lent the camera generous grins) for the enjoyance of a trapped bus audience" sa i have decided to call the video.

Getting done by the dodgy travel agent
From now on their is a certain type of travel agent that i will avoid. it is the middle aged lady agent in the large usually dark blue coat with numerous rings and jewellery that has perfected the i-am-your-mother-and-will-not-do-you-over look and demeanour. it was with a lady of this ilk that i yesterday booked a bus to tacna for 26 soles, 7 bucks or so. not a bad deal, and i got a pick up from my hotel. but little did i know that i had to pay an addtional 3 soles for the taxi (i gave the receipt for my bus to the coat clad lady who met me at the hotel. we arrived at the bus station. she stretched out her hand: "3 soles taxi and tax." Tax? Tax!? what kind of foul woman are you?, i thought as i handed over the three soles without a word. what was the point in arguing? "Cough up or no bus sonny jim" would have been the response were the sentiments of her spanish reply translated into English. She sat me down at the waiting area and went off to get my ticket for me. why she didnt just hand me my ticket and get on her merry way i discovered only later. let me assure you it was not from some deep hearted desire on her part to ensure that i got on the bus.

It was not the luxury tourist effort that she had promised, as you can imagine, and as i confirmed after coat clad lady saw me onto the bus and then quickly scuttled away. i was sat next to a pleasant elderly peruvian lady who, i'll wager, had more clothes on her person than i have in my rucksack. but thats by the by. As i sat down i investigated my ticket. there was a sticker on it that cnfirmed i had payed my 1 sol bus station fee, and it looked as though it had been moved. peeling it partly away i discovered the true price of the ticket: 15 soles, which means that including the taxi and 'tax' coat clad lady had almost charged me double (29 soles). There werent even any other tourists on the bus to share my experiance, tho thats not necessarily a bad thing. Poor old me you may say, but look at it this way: I got to see more local colour (of particular interest was the grim looking tho perfectly chirpy lady who didnt get a seat and so sat in the isle chewing for about an hour on some dried yellow fish) and if she hadnt been a lying, cheating, low-down coat clad lady then i would never have had the chance to see a fine rendition of "Irritating peruvian music that all sounds the same in an appalling video format by performed by talentless artistes for the enjoyance of a trapped bus audience." Hang on a minute...

So now im here in tacna. the taxi guy who apprehended got quite confused when i said that i would not be heading straight for Arica (on the Chilean side of the border) but staying in Tacna for the evening. it isnt the most popular stop in the world, theres nothing of special interest here except arguably an old british locomotive from 1856 which hangs out in the imaginatively named Locomotive Plaza, and indeed under usual circmstances i would have moved straight on. but one of the Peruvian guys i met in Cusco lives here and i promised i would stop by if i could, so here i am. i havent managed to find the restaurant he claims to live/work in yet despite the best effrts of my taxi driver, so im now holed up in the bland tho inexpensive hotel Florida a couple of blocks from the main square. i have his number and so after i finish this little session i will give him a call and chug a cerveza or two with him. always a treat conversing with someone with zero english skills. and oh bugger ive just realised that i left my dictionary in the hotel. Its just going to be ripping conversation this evening...

Tomorrow i am seriously considering taking the TRAIN to Arica. again, its slower and more exensive than the bus but its got something the bus cant provide i.e. it is a train. Then i plan to head straight to Iquique a little further south, for two reasons. One, its a jumping off point for Bolivia, which i will again attempt to enter, and two, its got some abandoned towns thereabouts. An interesting American (and as far as i can gather, literate (so thats two anyway Kat) one, as he claims to be some kind of writer) guy called Rob emailed me saying that was his plan and it sounds quite a splendid one so i'm planning to join him. After that i'll pop to argentina and Mendoza for some fine wine and juicy steak. then of course im off to the falklands to talk to the sheep and penguins and freeze my buttocks off... But thats all in the future and will be related in its proper place. Right now I will attempt to work through the disturbing back log of unanswered talk backs. i did promise id get there in the end.

Restaurant Shmeshtaurant
Whoa now, i dont normally do this, but this is a real life and genuine 'edit' of my blog. i couldnt be bothered to write another one. tha clearly makes no sense but im not going to withdraw it now. what im slowly building up to say is that i havent been able to find Roberto Carlos Basurto the guy im supposed to meet in tacna. Despite his claim, none of teh three taxis ive asked or the two people on the street admit to hearing of el Restaurant Casique, and as i said i couldnt find it with taxi man earlier. Its now 10:46 and i dont want to stumble around the streets looking for a restaurant which at this time of night is probably closed. as its sunday i cant imagine many bars let alone this restaurant are open. but on the other hand i did promise this guy that i'd pop in and say hello.

its one of lifes silly quandrys. I feel like i should go and look for the guy but at this time of night frankly cant be bothered, dont want to (not in the mood for heavily socialising in spanish with a load of punters i dont know etc etc). Either way I'll feel bad, this is a lose lose situ. its also a ridiculous one to feel bad about, it has blown up out of nothing. some nice guy (roberto) offers to show silly foreign tourist (captain blogger, I, Yo) his hometown. tourist duly turns up, cant find the restaurant and cant get through on the phone. Nice Guy Rob (has black hair not ginger unlike Nice Guy Eddie, and is actually nice) wonders why tourist wont say hello, and feels bad. tourist feels bad about nice guy rob feeling bad, and so on in a vicious cyclone of bad feelings. now its eleven and really too late. i'll email him again and attempt to explain, and tomorrow i'll try and find the restaurant again for luncheon. Restaurant Casique, anyone heard of it?

Other news
In other news, it occurs to me sometimes to explain a little more about the place i am in. well, im in an internet cafe. i'm sitting in a booth surrounded by frosted glass so that i can view whatever i please in peace. A permanent addition to the toolbars at the top of my screen is one offering the various services of the site that calls itself "Cam Girls Live", all in a rather fetching and enticing pink. from the booth to my right i hear loud gunshots, explosions and screams with the occassional "blip" sound which leads my practiced and veteran ear to the conclusion that he is or was playing some version of that old classic "Syndicate". from the booth to my left i can only hear screams and moans which leads me to the conclusion that he has given in to the aforementioned enticements. I am doing neither of the above. Being your humble, non-violent, clean-living and upstanding blogger, i am only blogging. And if only i had had a nice glass booth like this back in Lima methinks i may have avoided the perils of boiler suit girl, and all the associated horrors... ------End of Edit--

Hockey Rich: 10/10: havent yet had the chance to check out dobbys acceptance speech or matrix thingy, (i feel that to do so at present would put me in neglect of bloggy) but will do so one day. as for the machu picchu fireworks and laser show extravanganza, of course! it seems quite probable that they did, i mean, as you say, it would have made sense and those incas were a sensible bunch. for example, why build a city in a nice flat valley when you can put it on the top of a mountain? i reckon they can still teach us a thing or two. 13/10: Yes matey, its all about CCIII, yu know it makes sense. Did you get it? Bertie Woo rides again!
Arunsun: 11/10: Famous Belgians, well i'll be. Its all coming together nicely. didnt i say that they practically ruled the world. And as for Belgium only being around since 1830, well thats clearly truffles, else how could they have built Machu Picchu? 16/10: If i was holed up anywhere (ha what a ludicrous suggestion) it would be Pat Pong in Bangkok where i could watch the ping pong with Mae Wong from Hong Kong. In fact i was just saying to her yesterday in the sauna that... Errm, wheres that match report?
Evil Uncle:12/10: Urgent HMG advice to all wives and related personel: steer clear of Belgians. 14/10: I dont know about that rhyll bird, and no solid evidence found of her yet, but:

There was a young actress from Crewe,
Who remarked as the Vicar withdrew,
"The Bishop was quicker, slicker and thicker,
And two inches longer than you."

16/10: not sure yet, reasearch continues. 18/10: yep, john must certainly have developed some interesting habits. no doubt a fair bit of target practice took place in zero-g... And no, dont think i have heard the "parker take of my dress" story, please oblige.
Tulsa Hilton: 12/10: Yep, Peru's not a bad place really, hopefully Chile wont disappoint either. As for that weapons facility, well, well, well. 15/10: You need escapism in Tulsa? What next. For escapism close to home, have you tried that fine religious university, the one started by that guy who chatted with god, who told him to build a university and people gave him millions for the task. doesnt sound like youre doing too badly. Hope mr blue button bucks his ideas up.
Kat: 13/10: Trains. Not only trains but i've just realised that as youre from SF and as i occassionally get world news, i know you are now governed by the Terminator. Thats marvellous. What can i say thats appropriate? "Phase Plasma Rifle in the 40 Whatt Range", while always entertaining, hardly seems fit for the occassion. Perhaps "Come with me if you want to live."? or his recent comment about his boss (after he ws vicously wounded by a pretzel): "If it bleeds, we can kill it."? 14/10: Glad youre enjoying the blog, no hang about, my usual fee is ten of Queen Elizabeth II's Great British Pounds Stirling payable to my swiss account. What do you study anyway? And how the hell did you get from NJ to SF? And how is SF these days? I've only been to the airport and the greyhound station but i hear good things. 19/10: Oh now i'm not coming across as that harsh am i? i dont mean to be. sorry. But, if i may add a little story which somewhat goes against what i just said, but which is highly amusing, a friend of mine while working in the states (coincidentally in California) did chat to a guy who exclaimed, once he found out that my friend was from england: "I know where England is! That Sh*ts next to Spain!" To be honest, and if this helps, brits arent much if any better. Sorry about the carrots as well, but i dont make the rules. i am a slave to them. As far as being tagged is concerned, i have tagged someone else on their blog. I hope this is the appropriate way to proceed, but if not please tell me and i will forthwith implement remedial action. Will stick a link on shortly.
Laura: 14/10: cheers for clearing up the murray walker problem. i still cant think of the yogi bear guy. and i know bernard manning isnt pc any more, but i did hear a cracker of his last year: "Forty years ago, thirty white men chasing a black man was called the Klu Klux Klan, nowadays its called the PGA Tour." And yes, i did enjoy the train. thanks. 17/10: i believe the postcard issue has already been resolved. 19/10: apology accepted, but in the immortal words of Deputy headmaster Mr. Sheridan: "Thass ass nort akseeptable beehaviour Mash Harper." Good luck quitting. have you tried acupuncture? (sorry)
Patrick: nice yto see your still alive mate, was getting a little worried about you. i dont suppose you got anywhere with sonyas email address. i appreciate that whatever she wanted to say back in june is probably a little stale by now, but anyway. glad to hear the works going well, i'm back the 21st December, unless i prolongue my trip... Cool it rellies, only jesting. say hi to oscar, alex, louise, your family and all for me. And finally, head is down, chin is out, pecker is up, and all inches accounted for.