Posted 10:45 AM by Gobbler
The Falklands Blog.

Its 15 dollars US an hour here. i had hoped to be able to find somewhere rather cheaper but that no joy yet. As such this may be my last post for a while and talk backs will have to wait on.

After Dutch Christmas and Rugby-world-cup-woo-hooo action, i boarded the plane haveing had no sleep at about three oclock. unless you count kmost of the second half of the rugby, which i 'decided' to 'skip' as i was confident of the final result. rock on enlgish fellows.

So im here on falkland and due to the hideous prices (higher prices to be found in the MGM Grand hotel Casino at Las Vegas where the internet prices, very much like vegas, are comical and hard on teh wallet) and this will probably be my last post til next weekend due to the prices.

i was alittle bit anxious, some might say nervous (but i wouldnt) about coming here. Port Stanley, the capital, is a bustling metropolis of just over 1,750 people (no noughts missed off) and so is the sort of place where everyone knows everyone else etc and 'bloody froeigners' might not be wlecmome, not my sort anyway. I slept on the plane and was last in queue for customs, as i couldnt be arsed to get off my arse and queue. Furthermore the lady in customs gave my bag a thorough going over, which meant that by the time i was finished i had missed the bus to port stanley, a forty odd minute ride. i hadnt booked you see, i didnt know. the bus was 17 quid (pounds) anyway and i was fresh out of pounds, hjaving spenmt my last 20 pound sterling note on a bemuised but grateful (for the money if nothing else) prostitute in Chiang Mai, Thailand, so the bus really wasnty much of an option. The walk was not tempting, but other option nigh on nil. I resorted to stumbling around a bit looking lost and in due course found a truck driver willing to give me a lift to the 'city', the 'big smoke'. Quite an entertaining ride through the barren moors was had, past the minefields (vaguely reminiscnert of the 'bodia and the 'nam except that here they know where the mines are so the locals dont get blown up every day. the argies werrenty all bad.

so we chatted about rugby and the island a but and he dropped me off right at my b&b which was good of him. i offered to pay but fortunateely he declined - i had nothing to pay him with bar chilenan pesos.

In i went and celia the landlady was expecting me and weelcomed me at the door. thats pretty good work if you ask me as i booked six months ago and never confirmed. I took tea and enjoyed Celias famous home cooking. I had reflected, when i read the brochure before i arrived highlighting 'Celias famous home cooking', that a morre accurate title migt turn out ot be 'Celias infamous home cooking', but the original description was quite accurate; the sausage rolls, cakes and buscuits were all a positive treat. With no money and tiredness setting in, i soon went to bed and was asleep by 9:30/

Next day started off with a first for this entire trip: a full blown, genuine Full English Breakfast replete with two fried eggs, toast, fired bread, fried tomato, fried bacon (the real stuff, not the stipey nonsense (tho quite tasty) the americans serve up (the palce where i had hitherto come closest to a good fry up), beans, and sausages. It was all good, bar one critical error for which i am unable to forgive Celia for. The sausages.

Almost all sausages taste nice. even the crappy cheapo economy 'meat' sausages you get from supermarkets taste all right if prepared in the correct way. But a tin of 'beans and sausagges' serves up, every time and without fail or exception, a revolting sausage shaped mushy thing. Occasionally a little bt of gristle reminds the consumer that the item under consumption may have originated from an animal of some description. A true let down, but overall, if we ignore the sausage travesty, a fine breakfast, topped off twith cereal, orange juice and tea. Way-to-go-dude.

I am unfortunately out of practice with mammoth sized breakfasts and the whole affair left me feeling rather full indeed bloated. It was a sunday, i could get no money, there are no cash machines nad the banks are orf course closed, and nowhere accepted my chilean peso things. I had just one source of money (oh apart from my credit card which a few places took) which was my highly secret and only-to-be-used-in-an-emergency 100 dollar supply, and eventually i broke into that. i went off to explore the town, and had a nice chat to teh gheezer in the church. The wlak around the capital must have taken almost half an hour, quite extraordinary, and i looked for a place to eat. but all the pubs looked a bit grim and i went home to celias ckaes (free) instad.

Crickey got to go. chao