W O R L D C U P 2 0 1 8

P R A G U E

A retrospective blog is never ideal, but I left my laptop at home as I didn’t want to do work on this holiday. Not sure what to expect however listening to everyone’s opinions on Russia I decided to leave the Breitling at home too. Not sure where the opinions stem from however as I felt Russia was safe.

Sitting next to me on the flight was a man Fadl who was a consular official of Yemen. He was so nice, gave me his number should I have any issues in Prague. I didn’t. As soon as I landed and got to my hostel, it felt like I was in Bali. I was staying at a swish hostel with a pool, sauna and apparently every bogan Contiki and Busabout Aussie in town there.

I called an early-ish night after watching the games on TV and decided I’d do the walking tour the next morning. It was there waiting that I met a Kiwi guy Eddie and his mate Ali and the hotel socialiser (some American dude) who took us to a walking tour, which I had hoped it would be with my Aussie mate Matt that I met in Tel Aviv.  But the outrageous hostel socialiser had other ideas and took us to some other boring group. Enroute he was telling me how he was a Marine and I told him I also was obvs taking the piss. And then I said ‘where are your shit tattoos?’ and then he showed me ‘duh’ foot in mouth.

Anyway I managed to bring it back and after convening with Eddie and looking at the dull walking tour group and no potential hot things for Ed and Ali, we decided to bail and try to find my mates tour group instead of this one the dickhead marine socialiser had brought us to. So we took off with good intentions and joined the new walking tour. It was about the third destination that we realised Ali had disappeared and it was just Ed and I (and the tour group). Our tour was great, but we were starving, so half way through when we were given a break, we took off to find food. Our intention was to re-join but we got lost, and despite our intentions to re-join we ended up losing our tour group! So I decided as it was my second time in Prague, I had to see the castle this time so we set off for our self-guided castle tour. The next faux pas was skipping the queue and jumping in front of a Chinese tour group. It wasn’t until we were in the castle that we felt the wrath of our actions when a lady shook her head at us and goes  “that was not cool, NOT cool” ha-ha I laughed it off, I mean, how many times have I been pushed in front of by rude Chinese?  I think that’s karma. Whatever it is we had a massive day walking, and I was stuffed so had a nap at the hostel and chilled until the next footy match.  

 

I was sat outside of the bar when I got a message from Ed saying he was inside at the bar. He had managed to find two mates, Aidan the 20 year old that reminded me of Girthy (though due to his age and being unable to apply the half your age + 7 to this, I cannot confirm he is exactly like him, though he was from Canberra, had a Mo and a tattoo of Canberra on his back!!), and J the token loud American who I’m sure produced porn for a living. We sat separately hating on the rude Aussies (also the new short arse butt crack fashion when applied to 18 year old overweight girls is not nice to look at!) and watched the footy. We also committed to spending the whole next day together and got up the next day to find a breaky place. We didn’t entirely fail but we didn’t entirely succeed, i.e. we found a place that sold breakfast closest to what we Aussies were used to, but the breaky menu had finished, so we had to go somewhere else to eat, though the place we were had a massive paddle pool in the back and island chairs. So it was a natural progression (or regression) back to that place for Aperols upon completion of our breaky and beerskis were had until I was so drunk, we decided to go back to the hostel for a sauna and some travellers before my flight.

S A M A R A, R U S S I A

My flight to Samara was on the world’s oldest plane. It was made marginally better when I was upgraded to business, and then extremely much better when a tall hot top knotted Danish guy sat next to me – Bjorn, became the first person I fell in love with on this holiday. It was a miracle when we found out that we were on the same flight to Moscow after the Samara game and I was super excited when he and Anders (his mate who was the awkward third wheel wedged between us) told me they would message me and we could do dinner at a Top 100 restaurant in Moscow. I chose to ignore the fact that they met at some socialist camp and was a little bit crushed when I didn’t hear from them in Samara. 

It was a late 3:40am arrival and 38 degrees in Samara – so was super relieved that everything was super organised at the airport. Had money, a 5£ unlimited data mobile sim card and my driver there in no time. The most stressful part arriving to the hostel at half 4 and the lady photocopying every stamped page of my passport, which is nearly every page in my Aussie passport!!

Mathilde and her brother Kristoffer had arrived before and kindly made and left me the bottom bunk. The next day we took in the sights of Samara … which meant the local shopping centre McDonalds, before seeing some history (a WW2 memorial tanker with the dates 1941-1944 lol) and then we

headed to the game.

Walking in to the Stadium the atmosphere was incredible. I quickly met up with Whitey and his mates from Dubai and Oz, and randomly saw some of Sammy’s mates from London. We frantically searched for an Aussie Jersey for me to no avail as the whole country had sold out. I had so many beers before the game, I think we were all very cut by the time the game started, I actually heard rumours we drank the stadium out of beer.

The draw was the best result we hoped to get. I suppose I would have loved to win, but I appreciate how awesome the Dane’s are and was just grateful we didn’t make a fool of ourselves. (That obviously was to come in Sochi). After the game, we got the team bus to the fan zone and partied till the early hours this itself wasn't without drama when suddenly there was a mad rush to evacuate. I suspected the Canadian chick that was holding it in couldn't hold it in anymore, so when i actually realised the bus engine had blown up, I also cottoned on to scurry off in a hurry (this and the fact the driver came up with a pocket knife to the smokey engine and was like "I can fix this" sure you can buddy! We unsuccessfully tried to catch up with Pags, but caught up with Whitey and his mates, Dimi who looks like an Arab, long haired Jason, dorky Dave (who is mates with my mate Walshy!) and some other non-descript dudes drinking vodka shots till the early morning. The UBER back was painful, the chatty driver talking to Dave about what we thought of Samara. Dave, was so patient, "oh, it’s beautiful", we inside chuckled as our group WhatsApp earlier that day was something along the lines of “you guys are lucky you didn’t come here early, this place is a shit hole!

When we got back though the hostel lady had water for us (I had a cheeky vomit from the god awful food!) and stole 3 hours sleep before our rude airport awakening where I said bye to Mathilde and Kristoffer who headed back to Denmark and hello to the airport bean bags and the hot top knot Dane man.  

M O S C O W

Unfortunately unlike my Dane friends, I was not upgraded this time so we were separated and I’ve never heard from Bjorn since. When I boarded the plane however I was not too fussed as I thought the other plane was the world’s oldest, I was wrong, this Utair flight was most definitely the oldest almost shittest plane I’d been on (albeit Lao Air and a short flight to BVI from Miami.) I was glad to be so tired I slept through most of it and was greeted at the airport upon landing with two things – a text message from Bec’s German mate Benny telling me he was in Moscow, and my driver – Vlad

(he was very Russian, so this name I’m just guessing!)

Lots of traffic and heat was what I first noticed, the other thing I noticed was that the women were smoking hot, but the men were fugly. It was an hour in when Vlad got out to have a dart in the middle of the highway. Thankfully I was too tired to really care a great deal and again relieved to arrive at the hostel and able to check in early so I could have a kip before exploring. When I woke up I walked in to Moscow town and had a look around. It seemed like a really cool place, everywhere was buzzing and the Tunisians were chanting. For some reason Putin had closed the Red Square and the too many crowd was condensed in to a small area so it was also quite claustrophobic. I was so tired though so decided to head back for another snooze.

Upon waking I had a message from my old favourite temporary Kiwi housemate Timmy that they

were heading to the fan zone. So I decided to bite the bullet and catch public transport for the first time. Man I was happy I did so. The tube station was beautiful; the train was stunning and clean and even had phone coverage and a TV showing football!

I pretty much arrived when the boys wearily hungover decided to boot for dinner. But not before trying my luck to get an Aussie jersey as they had completely sold out of Samara and I didn’t fancy my chances of seeing any in Sochi. There were three Smalls left in the shop so £70 later we got the tube again, the wrong way though, so after the slight hitch, we headed back in to the Red Square. We finally found a place to eat and watch football, a Turkish place and had a hearty dins before we made plans for the walking tour the next AM and parted ways.

The next morning was a particularly hard one to awaken to even though I’d set my alarm for 9am. Every day so far i’d been up by 6am and not asleep before 2am so was literally living off adrenalin. I caught the tube back to town and met the again weary but good looking boys for the walking tour.

Moscow is stunning. I expected ugly communist buildings, but they have re-built many of the intricate decorative buildings destroyed during the communist era and the place was buzzing.

We booted the walking tour this time deliberately at half time as the boys had to get to the Belgium game and I wanted to go try the modern restaurant place near my hostel called ‘Little White’. It may be the best idea for a venue and definitely the most suitable for me ever in

Benny & I

existence. Their motto simply reads ‘Breakfast and Wine Bar’. Inside I had the best food and next to my loner table was a table full of hot Brazilians. WIN. One of them, Sandro used to live in Oz (for two months on the Gold Coast LOLS), gave me his number to catch up after the game. He was the second person I fell in love with on the trip (I say second as obvs didn’t have to fall in love with old housemate Timmy, as still held a strong torch after all those amazing smoothies he used to make me for breaky, our fun tube trips to work together and the fact he meets all my criteria except the blue eye one which I’ve become lenient on). I sort of even forgot that Brazilian women are mental because the men all treat them like shit and make them that way. I didn’t care. I went back to the hostel for some chill time and then back across the road for an early dinner met Benny boy there for a feed and some Aperols. We then made the world’s worst decision to head in to the Red Square to watch the Germany game. Again in the Red Square Mr Putin had called for the square to be closed off. Benny and I missed the first half before we found a bunker craft beer café televising it. It was really cool inside but temperature wise reflected a sauna. I felt like after the game and the stress of the late Germany 94 minute mark goal I’d sweated off a few KGs and I was most certainly drunk. Unfortunately the Portuguese and English barrier meant that Sandro clicked rather late that this night was my last one. He was in the Red Square when I was back in bed (circa 1am), waiting for my 4am wake up to get to my half 6am flight to Sochi. The UBER to Moscow airport was one of the most memorable and scary UBER trips of my life but I was sort of too tired to care. The guy was Uzbekistani Ali G type guy, quite rudely dressed but his car was quite neat. I sat in the (no word of a lie) shag pile carpeted and cushioned backseat. Probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in my

life. He drove on the highway like he was keeping the tyres warm of an F1 car- so the kms felt to go particularly slow. He then decided he wanted a cigarette, so wound down the window and had a dart. I wanted to sleep but had to stay awake to ensure I wouldn’t end up in Kazakhstan. I also was messaging my Aussie mates I was meeting in Sochi as V had jetlag and was awake at the ungodly hour and gave her a rolling commentary of what was happening. Then the guy asks me what time my flight is. I showed him. He looked and looked particularly like he thought we didn’t have much time. So nearing an hour to go until my flight you could notice my surprise when he gets off the freeway and enters a petrol station, leaving me in the car...

The next fun experience was the Moscow airport as it was the first time I noticed how rude some Russians could be. I suppose as it was the first time other than the ladies toilets where the hot Russian chick had shockingly failed to wash her hands and the hotel check out that I had actually interacted with Russians. Not one smile, but I didn’t really mind, I just wanted on the flight so I could sleep so the one hour delay was particularly unhelpful in this instance. That and the fact our flight was full of Peruvians. I sat next to one from Chicago. He told me they sung the song for the whole duration of his 8hr flight. Some had sold their houses to come to this world cup = absolutely, unbelievable.

S O C H I

My biggest regret leaving Moscow was not buying a Putin babushka. Never again did I see the one as beautiful as the one I had seen in Moscow. Sochi was described to me as the Russian med, and a place that Russians went to holiday. This time I didn’t have a transfer so used an Uber to get to the hotel in Adler. The lady on the desk was a particularly dropped pie faced sour bitch. She wouldn’t let me check in. So tired beyond words I went for a wander along the sea front and found an almost Parisian restaurant aptly named ‘La Parus’ to charge the phone battery. Ordered my fav holiday dish ‘eggs bene’ and took in the ambience until I could check in and enjoy the stifling hot weather poolside until my friends joined me. That is exactly what I did upon check in, and as the Swedes had not yet checked out, it was fair to say I thoroughly enjoyed the view. I chose the vacant pool deck chair that was next to the world’s hottest man who didn’t look dissimilar to Jamie Redknapp (now the world’s equal hottest man). When the sun went down and I was almost positive that V and Andrew’s flight had landed I head inside, again for a nap. I know you probably think I nap a lot but again 2am to 6am for 8 days running had def taken its toll. That and i was running low of antihistamines and was dying of hay fever.

My token Russian Aussie friend V and her Hubby the 2M tall Andrew came in and I was well overdue for a feed so after our awesome reunion we headed to a place I’d Trip Advisored called Pizza Fisht for dins. It wasn’t amazing, because we were plonked in the kids’ corner but we were all celebrating our reunion, so after a few cocktails we left for an early-ish night.

Next morning we headed to Parus for breakie, and stopped enroute at the coffee shop I had also discovered earlier, for a roadie. Again Parus did not disappoint and we stayed there until we decided to UBER to Sochi and check it out. By now I was accustomed to the stinky UBER drivers (it was like being back in Oz with the Indian and Pakis), but at least he had half decent music taste and we got to listen to Roxette’s Joyride album the whole way which kept me happy as it reminds me of my sister. Andrew and I were getting V to ask if the Uber driver could take us to Georgia, noticing it was only 14kms from where we were staying. It was strange when he said that just across the border from Sochi was a different country and they had their own passports. Andrew and I were zooming in on google maps going ‘yeah it’s Georgia’ but this guy was adamant it was not Georgia. Having since completed some research, and mindful I would like to return to Russia, I will leave this with you:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abkhazia. 

Sochi was a cool place, and naturally wanting some respite from the sun again we found a wine bar for some tapas and Strawberry daiquiris. We caught a cab back to Adler and went to Parus for pre-game dinner. Enroute we saw (and heard) thousands of Peruvians outside a hotel singing their repetitive Peru fan song (equal parts as annoying as England’s ‘It’s Coming Home’). It gave me chills and we instantly felt the presence of the Peruvians which had waited as long as the Geelong football club premiership in 2007 to get to the world cup.

Walking in Parus we realised that all the staff from this morning were still there, in fact they were doing 15 hour days. So it was quite embarrassing when the CEO of football Australia’s David Gallops table guest was a complete arsehole to the staff having waited (as we did) for an hour to eat. Apparently he thought he was the only one that had to wait and was very vocal in doing so by slapping away the complementary bottle offered to him and storming off just as the food arrived. I believe David looked rightfully embarrassed by his guest but I especially was grateful they left hungry.

I left Parus with the intent of meeting Whiteys group and the elusive Pags at Vinograd to see Stafford Bros when I received a call from Pags a little bit pissed, telling me he had arrived and should asking me if we should go to Abkhazia on our way home! On our way back to the hotel however we doubled back passed the hotel and it was when we heard the chants again that we suddenly worried that the Peruvians were out the front of the Aussie hotel keeping them awake before the game. Andrew and i were ready for a fight but we were assured by three different groups that it was the Peru hotel and we carried on our way (BTW we were told it went on till 4am!) I was in an UBER enroute on my own at 11pm and my driver got pulled over by police. At first, I was fine I was sitting there hoping it would all hurry up so I could get to the concert. But too much was going on in my head and as I was sat there a good 20 minutes unsure what they were saying in Russian, everything went through my head, including that recent murder in Carlton. I decided, as I could still see my hotel that I would politely get out and go back and wait for Whitey to grab me enroute. When Whitey told me it was 100 Russian Yams out of his way and he was going straight there Dimi/ Arab knight in shiny armour offered to come get me, but I was well tired and called it once I was safely inside.  

We couldn’t book pre-game at Parus, the closest place to the ground so instead went to the second closest - Pizza Fisht for 15 or the WhatsApp group consisting of Whitey and his mates, Robbie Gore’s group and us lot. We arrived to a stressed staff member informing us there was a problem and a restaurant full of no necked Peruvians (V pointed this out and then I couldn’t unnotice it). I realised that they would leave to get to the game early (as Pags did) so we chilled and had cocktails while we waited for them to clear. They did, then the staff put 4 tables together for our group then I anxiously sat there with V and Andy stressing no one would show up for 30 mins until Dimi put his head through the door and Robbie and his mates come, soon there were 16 of us and we had taken over the whole restaurant. We got some travellers after a feed and headed for the game.

 

We didn’t leave near enough time to get right around the other side of the ground – God knows why they couldn’t just let us in at the gate closest and we had to walk around, but it was at this time that Robbie told me he was robbed in St Petersburg and they had skimmed his account clean. I was quite shocked by this as I had felt Russia to be really safe comparable to anywhere else I’ve been, I was sympathetic I think but I was also drunk and Sette was stressing we wouldn’t make it in time for the anthem, I was stressed I wouldn’t get a pre-game beer so we joined forces and sprinted in.

Not having enough time to get beer, I was grateful Andrew had sorted me out. I sat down near the no necked Peruvians who were everywhere and all we could hear was their song resonating, vibrating through the stadium.       

The game itself was quite hard; it was quite dejecting letting a goal through despite having a lot of the possession. The sound was piercing, I knew what had happened even though I was at the bar getting beerskies. I was quite angry at the blonde headed black man (who I didn’t know even existed until I saw Geelong debut our new player Narkle who IS my fav player already) who scored the goal as he was one of those players like Neymar that loved to roll around. Then I realised there were two blonde headed black guys and I got really confused and I was quite drunk and the only excitement for the game for me was when Timmy Cahill came on… then Peru scored again and their song by now was giving me the shits so as soon as the whistle chimed post game we legged it (at a slightly slower cripple pace due to Andrew’s bung knee) and headed to our meeting place Parus. 30 thousand Aperol Spritz’s later and a three course meal we settled the $45k Rouble bill and went our separate ways. I had a small vomit in the garden and walked home.

The next day came and we went and chilled at Vino Grad. Dimi cancelled our previously planned date from the night before and instead offered me a night out in Fulham for our first Premier League home game to which I was happy to take up. By now my body was starting to give way, so I ordered a soup despite the temperature being 100 degrees outside. We had dinner local and were re-iterated that my decision to leave the UBER the other night was a good one when we met two Peruvians who were taken out bush and robbed of their money by a taxi driver when their phones had gone dead in the celebrations the night before. My flight out the next morning was a stupid o clock 4am one to Sofia Bulgaria.   

Well in to page 6 of my longest Blog to date, I’m not going to even write about Bulgaria. Apart from the decent food (I had Indian and Spanish), the weather was crap and the country reminded me of Romania (probably because my borrowed umbrella was flogged at the store) a little boring and the world’s worst 4 star hotel. The business class flight home on the world’s worst business class airline British Airways, and me being drunk before the take-off (as we were tarmac bound for an hour in) becoming mates with the old guy next to me which I kissed goodbye at the baggage carousel – it was all very boring and non-descript! Russia 5/5 spuds, and probably up there with one of my favourite ever holidays!

PART 2 – THE SIDE

I was up super early on Day 2, and after a brief breakfast headed to the meeting place. But not before stopping for a coffee. “One flat white please” I said. The man looked at me stupidly. Do you want a long or short espresso, white or black? Right mate, I’ll teach you, then gave the barista a “how to make coffee lesson” before boarding the tour bus to Jerusalem.

The tour started completely differently to the previous day, with our first stop at some divvy Elvis bar. The tour guide was a 7 language speaking sleazy Israeli guy. From the outset the youth of the country isn’t something that is mentioned. It is the fact that the Jews are getting back what was theirs from thousands of years ago. He showed us the 9/11 memorial which to me seemed weird (why any country needs a memorial for something that happened outside theirs and not specifically involving that country is strange, but each to their own i.e. France). Then we were shown the wall from a distance, which was built in 2000, spanning over 700kms it was built to protect the Israeli people from terrorists and suicide bombers (none of which I saw yesterday), however these are the words of my tour guide. He also advised that this wall is the first time that Palestinians were actually recognised and given their own country. I’m unsure at this point, why this man hasn’t been given a medal. The other thing I’m unsure of, is that if the Jews were there thousands of years ago, where were the Muslims? This is answered to me at out next stop – the Jerusalem old town.

Going through Jerusalem old town I was in awe by the history. There is an element of craziness as you see the Jews, Muslims and Christians living harmoniously, and crossing over in to each other’s quarters.

We started off in the Armenian quarter which was stunning, the women WOW! Upon our arrival to the Jewish section we were greeted by a middle age Jewish woman losing her marbles because some of the girls in our group had just walked through the gates and were yet to pop their shawls on to cover their shoulders. We had just passed security so our tour guide was like, "rack off crazy lady.. calm your farm!" – well at least, that’s what I think our guide said to her! I was showing my defiance by wearing a shawl with sculls and flowers / actually it’s just the only one I own. We then went on to the Western Wall, which I thought was called the Weeping wall as everyone was crying and touchy touchy intense… mindful that Jesus was Jewish I was respectful, however I’m Christian and therefore was happy to keep my distance and let them do their crying touchy touchy thingy.

We meandered through to the Muslim section, and through the stations where Jesus carried the cross as we went towards the Christian section. The markets, falafel, clothes and scent - everything felt Middle Eastern.

I felt again al tingly and close to my home boy when going past the stations where Jesus fell carrying the cross. Our next stop, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was breath taking. Created in 300 AD, the church is over the tomb where Jesus is believed to have been  buried. I again skipped the line to see the Sepulchre and went to another tomb, where it is also rumoured to be a potential burial site. I felt nothing except claustrophobic there though. 

We were given free time, so I tried to see every corner of the church and made my way up the stairs (the one without the massive Filipino worshipper line up. I bought a candle and said a prayer and tried to have a moment to myself in the crowd, praying to Nonna to bring me a hot, single 6'4 man with brown hair and blue eyes... just joking ;-)

Later we were taken to all the overrated expensive tourist traps by our dodgy tour guide that took us to his mates place for commission. I got over his marriage requests and started openly mocking him.

We then hopped on the bus for our trip to the Dead Sea. Don't ask me about the scenery. I spent most of my time catching up on sleep. 

Descending towards the Dead Sea, I looked for the familiarity of someone I knew from the group to mind my things. Namely there was no way my Breitling was going for a swim in 10 x stronger than normal salt water salt water. I was lucky to spot an American couple from the tour the day before. They too had had a different tour this day than yesterday. We decided that floating in the sea we couldn’t solve the world’s problems nor figure it all out, except I did say perhaps it would be better for the world if Trump stayed off twitter. Andrew replied ‘he did broker a deal with the nuke man’… this is the second time in two days I’d heard such a thing, the first time was the Spaniard yesterday. I myself didn’t have the heart to explain that Hitler himself committed  to then British PM Neville Chamberlain that he would not invade Czechoslovakia and on September 1938 he did just that starting WW2.

Feeling 10 years younger I was super tired and messaged the Aussie born Prague living guy i'd met the previous night to see if he was keen for dins. We went to a place local and ordered the largest pizza I’ve ever eaten. I called it early as was super tired from two 6am starts in a row.

The next morning I decided to do a brunch date so headed local for some eggs Bene. It was one of those places where you left your name on a list even though there were still available seats visible, and they made you wait anyway. This was when I saw the aforementioned plain clothed, automatic gun man... Not necessary at breaky dude! Also, the place was like Starbucks and stuffed my name ( I broke my own rule and gave them my actual name), so I lost my space in the queue and some other guy who hadn’t waited near as long was given a table first. Super hangry I told them this was absurd and they were going to then make the guy wait longer, then I forced myself on him and was like “I’m sure we can sit together!” Turns out Nico was Italian, it was his last day in Tel Aviv, and we had a lovely breaky together where we talked mostly about our Nonnas. Nico still had his so I was super jealous.

After breaky I tested my luck to see if I could check in to the nice hotel early and got there at midday. I was in luck. And almost instantaneously put my bikini on and hit the pool deck. I asked for a cocktail and was given a tequila based cocktail on the house. Again, a first. That night I treated myself to the second best rated restaurant in Tel Aviv. You can read my review here: https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g293984-d10101992-r578973776-Salva_Vida-Tel_Aviv_Tel_Aviv_District.html#SHOW_USER_REVIEW  the only reason they got 3 stars was because of the free tequila shot.

Jaffas crappy flea market

The next morning I got up early to walk to Jaffa and check it out. Dirty and average after you’ve seen the Jerusalem old town. Think it is meant to be like the edgy Brunswick vibe, but I found it more North End Road. I headed back, watched some surfing and then did some more baking before booking my GET to the airport.

I arrived at the airport and joined a massive queue. Whilst I had carry on size bags, I decided as I was so early I would join the queue and check in my liquids rather than line up. I was told by my housemate that security going in was strict and he got questioned quite a bit. Well I walked straight in, the security officer didn’t even ask me where I was staying. It was the complete opposite when I was leaving however. First the lady saw my Turkey stamps – when did you go to Turkey, why did you go to Turkey, who did you go to Turkey with. Where did you stay? “I was sailing on a yacht, we stopped at many places, went on a Medsailors tour”. Then the eagle eyed lady spotted my Morroco stamp! ‘why were you in Morocco, where did you go, who did you go with?’ Me: “I went with 6 friends… she ‘’name the friends” me: “Bianca, Tosh, Robbie, Ben, then there was me, then I can’t remember the sixth person!” Sorry Nev, the pressure!!! How could I forget Nev?!

10 years Younger?

Tel Aviv

Boarding the plane I myself was a bit taken aback when I was asked to move seats as a Jewish man didn’t want to sit next to a woman. Made me say out loud, it is 2018 and reminded me having been in Dublin last week that next week is a big date for them – to vote for abortion, for vote for female rights. I am Catholic, and I have myself walked out of mass when the sermon by the priest was about living the ‘Catholic way’ and ‘if anyone you know is thinking of having an abortion’ you should guide them. What I say to that is who cares what some old Indian priest says about a woman’s body? Please sort out the indiscretion of the Catholic Church themselves before you preach to me or other women in your sermon. Perhaps extremists in all religions and walks of lives should realise it is the 21^st century and time to move on, get a new hairstyle and suit while you are at it old mate and no worries, I didn’t need a ‘thank-you’ for moving chairs, however general manners should be taught regardless.

Weird place, though I had a ball. I say 100% if you are heading to Tel Aviv, you must MUST make at least a day trip to Jerusalem to see the Old town and if you can, get to Palestine, it is so Middle Eastern compared and the people were all super friendly. See what you too think about it all. 5 spuds.

PART 1 - THE OTHER SIDE

I landed late in Tel Aviv –after mid night in 38 degree heat on a holy day where public transport doesn’t run, Friday until Saturday evening. It was 1:30am before I got to the hostel to check in. I asked the man at reception what time my tour left in the morning, and he said which tour? I said “the best of the West Bank” and he replied “half 6”, to which I replied “grim” and he replied “you’re going to the West Bank what do you expect?” I left that there and it was nearer 2 when I was trying to put the sheets on my upper bunk bend without waking everyone up. The upper bunk deserves a mention in itself as it has no edge piece, so I spent the night awake, scared to move, in fear I would fall to my death, though merely rolling over. It was also stifling hot – apparently one of the ladies couldn’t sleep with the air conditioner and fan on, so we all had to die in 38 degree heat that rose. Bearing in mind I had come from shitty miserable London (though I’m told it came good as soon as I left and has been sunny and 27 ever since).  

So on no sleep (was a mixture of too hot to sleep, too scared to roll over and too scared I would miss the alarm that prevented me from sleep), I woke up for my half 6am pickup, it was in my haste of the evening prior to leave the airport, that I remembered I didn’t get any money out. Was super lucky I was befriended by a (I was going to say hot Spaniard, but realised he may read this as we are now facey friends, however for benefit of the story…) named Fernando from Madrid wearing a Stussy T-shirt (cue Stussy sign S in 1990 Grade 1 with Miss Bryce) for the journey, and he paid for me the whole day until I got money out to pay him back.

A brief pick up at Jerusalem, where our Palestinian tour guide joined us. This is rare, as because it was Easter and he is Christian, he was able to meet us on the Israeli side, and go through the check point to Palestine with us.

I must say, I expected more security there and back, but it seemed as we are a bus, and our number plates matched according to whatever regime place we were going to and from, we were exempt. The middle ground is eerie. Barbed wire and war like. In case you can’t be bothered Wiki-ing: ‘the West Bank is an area of 5,628 square kilometres, which comprises 21.2% of former Mandatory Palestine (excluding Jordan) and has generally rugged mountainous terrain. The total length of the land boundaries of the region are 404 kilometres.’ The area is divided in to three areas:

• Area A: 18% of the West Bank exclusively administered by Palestinian Authority
• Area B: 22% of the West Bank and home to 2.8 million Palestinians, administered by both the Palestinian Authority and Israelis, this area is being geared up to be handed over to the Palestinian people.
• Area C: all other areas totalling more than 60% under full Israeli civil and security control this area is restricted for any Palestinian development. This area was supposed to be handed back in part, and basically Israel reneged on the agreement and since 1999 the population has increased from minimal numbers to more than double at 350k, interestingly it is also the home to many of the natural resource – perhaps its best if you carry on the research from here... 

Ramallah

We started the morning Ramallah. Described as the ‘modern, vibrant, cultural capital’ of the West Bank, I’m not entirely convinced by the modernity however was impressed to see there was a KFC (culture). It was then I asked Fernando if there was a Maccas. (My query was later answered at the West Bank Wall where the graffiti artist had created my favourite piece inscribed with “When McDonalds is on the other side of the wall of your outdoor prison… Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.”) 

Yassar Arafats tomb

Enroute we stopped at the tomb of Yassar Arafat. This is a sacred place to the Palestinians…. (apparently as we were told they line up and fill the tomb)…however when we were there, we were the only ones there, except for machine gun hot guard man! Now apart from googling afterwards and the one sided version I heard from our guide, all I remembered of Mr Have a fat (sorry had to be done!) was the man who wears the towel on his head and a picture came to mind where he was shaking the hand of an Israeli politician in front of Bill Clinton. The USA and France are my equal favourites to hate when it comes to politics. Without going in to great detail I believe this picture to be very relevant as both those men won Nobel Peace prizes in 1994, before Arafat was held for 34 months by the Israeli military in his compound/ almost martyred. The French have a memorial in France in honour of Arafat... Of course they do. They also have a memorial in honour of the 9/11 victims. I wonder if they should build a memorial for the Aborigines…oh wait, there is no political motive to. You see, that is why I can’t stand France and politics.   

Jericho

More bus time before heading to Jericho/ aka. the/ or one of the/ oldest places on earth, Jericho has walls dating back to 9,000BC. It is certainly one of the hottest places I’ve been to (and thank the lord, literally it was a cooler day)… The whole time in my head I was thinking about Jericho from the WWE’s “Break the walls down” (insert crying with laughter emoji). It was amazing to see the Mount of Temptation from below. For those playing along, that is said to be where Jesus was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:8). I was most in awe by the little city etched out in the mountains.

Next we went to Qasr-el-Yahud, the ancient baptism site of Jesus on the banks of the Jordan River. Here to my hilarity we were 5 meters from the Jordanian border, which was a pool lane separator thing. I didn’t get in my white gear and dunk my head in to feel re-born, though I did put my feet in to the muddy water and say a prayer to Nonna. In fact, she was on my mind constantly. The water was delightfully cool against my skin and I’m glad to say my post easter sins are now gone since my feet were baptised. 

Next off we went to the city of Jesus’s birth, Bethlehem. Here, I saw my favourite Banksy piece of a Palestinian extremist throwing flowers on the side of the Walled off Hostel. 

The first thing you notice about Bethlahem is the rubbish everywhere. I was told that the rubbish tip is located in Area B which is in the Israeli dominated mixed zone, and there is a charge for each tonne of rubbish. Again, I’m hearing one side, I will try and explain the other side in more detail in the next blog. The first stop was the Church of Nativity, here it is said Jesus was born. To say I felt close to my home boy is an understatement. I couldn’t stop feeling tingly and thinking of my Nonna, who spent her life believing but never got to see. I didn’t bother to line up to see the cave or grotto that is marked by a silver star as there was a couple of hours line; however we did peek a boo from an adjacent cave that led to that place, from the 15^th Century Church of St Catharine next door, a beaut in herself. The church of Nativity itself has been restored to its former glory and you can tell how beautiful it once was, lots of gold mosaics cover the walls, and mosaic tiles are shown from the original building from the 6^th century. 

Finally we walked through the old city, adjacent to the separation barrier seeing the graffiti art of the likes of Banksy and my local man Lushsux. Our tour guide informed us that the wall was a segregation wall, status wall, the like. It shows supremacy. It was daunting to see the sheer mass of the wall – I would estimate 30meters tall; with guard towers. Ironically it reminded me of the war camps I had visited in Germany, and made me wonder whether we had indeed learnt from our mistakes of the past. I don’t know if I’m reminded of the hunger games or my dear own country that imprisons many seeking asylum on foreign land. I have started to lose faith in humanity and all I care to say is that my belief it that ‘hate breeds hate’. Locking up the majority in hope you are locking up terrorists, makes the general majority that are suppressed become spiteful of their treatment. Generations that are born in to this will be bred with more hatred and dissolution.  But hey, my little blog won’t be the saviour of many. And I will try my best to convey the other opinion in my PART2 BLOG: THE SIDE.

Many people told me or asked me to be safe in the West Bank. If I’m honest I never felt unsafe while I was there, I felt more unsafe at breakfast in Tel Aviv when a plain clothed young man brought his machine gun to breakfast.  I nearly said something, i.e. is it really necessary to bring your machine gun to brunch? I mean this brings me back to part of the reason I felt unsafe in Egypt – who polices the police? Palestine was certainly an eye opener and I am super glad I went and saw it.

Lushsux 

That night I reconvened with the Spaniard – Fernando and we went and bought beers at the off licence and went to the beach to watch the sun set, we then went to have dinner and had cocktails at the Tacorea and drinks on the roof at our hostel where we met some more Spaniards and the Aussie Nowra born Prague living tour guide I went on to hang out with the next night. Was a great ending to a tiring, draining and humid night. 

The Fatherland, and the Borderland to the Fatherland

An eventful couple of weeks and a couple of great getaways to close out my annual leave for the year at the half way mark.  Basically I thought I would move back to Oz at the end of the year so front loaded my leave... then decided I wouldn’t move home, so now have no leave!

Anyhow it started with me flying to the fatherland; Italy, to surprise mum and dad the second weekend in June. I hadn’t had the opportunity in my life to date to see my dad interact with many of his cousins, and none of his male ones, even though I myself had had the privilege of meeting them a couple of occasions prior, it has never been all together.

On Nonna’s side there is one particular that looks a fair bit like Lino and he is a massive joker like dad so I was super keen to see them all together. It was great too to surprise mum as I had joked I was going over but then I told her I couldn’t make it as it meant that I would miss my flatty’s 30^th. But all good Patty understood how cool the experience would be and this also gives us the opportunity now to keep the party going on until next month when I take Patty out for her birthday dinner! I spent my days in Italy starting early on the spritz’s early with Cugina’s at a local wine bar. We went there every morning just before noon, spent the day there socialising, enjoying a 'lock-in' during siesta too which was great fun. I was also very pleased to see Maria’s cugina Barbara too, who as per usual, made me

La Familia

feel very welcome.

It was fab to see everyone a year on, Zoe had grown up so much. At one stage she got very animated and disappointed when she found out I wasn't staying at her house this time and i was staying at a hotel as she thought it was because I didn't like them or the house, bless!!

Our dinner party in the twelve disciple tent at Giordano's was just lots of wine and plates and plates of prosciutto and the leaving lunch BBQ at Mauro's were my highlights as they basically involved stacks of meat. To give a quick synopsis of Bortolin/ Feletto family history - half my dad's mum's side (the Feletto's) went to Argentina, and dad's cousin Mauro is now back living in Italy. He is an Italian baker brought up in Argentina, so he is the best cook in the world - cue BBQ photo now!

Meat!

Dad w/ Mauro & Giordano

After another emo goodbye with the fam bam, I had a working week before taking off on Friday to fly to Split Croatia for the sail. Jimmy – Alice’s little brother had been staying in London and was also on the sailing trip, and as he was out getting lucky the night before the departure and I got stuck with some awful tube strike at home, I sent him out on a mission to get our lunch kebabs so I could maximise my working from home the Friday rather than waste time getting food. (That and the kebab guys now have seen so much of me not only do they remember my order by heart - but I’ve bulked on the KG’s.) Jimmy described me as 'podgy', whilst dad described me as 'fat' he caveated it by saying that it's because I always call him fat, which I cannot honestly recall. Thanks guys.

La Cuginas

And so, we jetted off from Gatwick on an A320 Croatian Airlines plane. It was quite hilarious when I said to Jim; I just wish they would just give out Olives that would be the best meal because I love green olives. It was like the Croatian airline God's were listening because next thing you know, the meal tray comes along and there were cheese and olives. My Italiano self was loving life. Jimmy was super gentleman and saw me salivating, so saved me some of his olives even though he was starving!

We arrived in Split, Croatia quite late so we got a transfer to our fabulous apartment and went out for dinner. Dinner was tiring, those Croats took their time. Jimmy trying to be posh ordered the cloggiest pasta I’ve even seen. It was basically cheese and cream.

Waking up the next day we headed off to have a chill morning, walk around, see some Game of Thrones shit and then meet the girls around midday. So on the boat there was Jimmy, Me and my mate Nicole, and Nicole’s mates. Although they are really nice people, they like me, have big personalities and are quite opinionated so often we clashed (surprise surprise). There was one random on our boat – nicknamed Gator *or Spider sometimes for me as he looked like Boom Boom’s old housemate Spider, and a sick skipper called Toby – who doesn’t quite meet my minimum requirements for half my age plus seven.

Our Boat

We arrived at the boat, had our meet and greet and then went to buy booze and floaties, the staple for a week at sea. It was at the store that I first used my initiative to buy the display donut floaty as I was dreaded to blow that thing up with my crappy lungs. I was stoked when the lady at the shop let me have him and set the precedent for Gator buying his Gator blown up also. The first day of the sail was awesome. I love being on the boat. It’s my fav place. Second to my niece, I miss the beach and ocean the most; especially Torquay my fav place (Australia and not UK). I just love the freedom I feel there, and that’s exactly how I feel on the catamaran, (though I probably felt it more on the 58 ft catamaran we had in Turkey as opposed to the 48 ft one or whatever it was we were now on!).

The days were spent tanning, the nights were spent partying. My favourite thing is to wake up with a hangover and dive in to the ocean. The only thing better is to wake up without a hangover J Poor Toby was sick the first few days so was in pretty poor form, he was well impressed catering for a glutard, one vegan that was lactose intolerant and two fake vegetarian/ vegans! Jimmy was in love instantly with Gator, and then dumped him and exchanged his man love for Gator for a blonde skipper named Harry.

Skipper Toby & I

The scenery in Croatia was awesome. The food was exceptional, I literally cannot count the amount of times I ate grilled squid. Second night in Hvar, it was bloody awesome. We peaked early and had a ridiculous speed boat ride back to the marina in an intense storm. There were chicks freaking out telling us not to use our mobiles, but really apart from getting entirely drenched, it was exhilarating counting the time between the thunder and lightning.

The third night in Jimmy had a big night. In fact we lost him, and I was super paranoid that Alice (Jimmy’s elder sister) would crack it at me for losing her little brother. I think the paranoia was what led me to set the alarm for 7am so I could go and look for him if he didn’t make it back to the boat. He rolled in at 6am; having passed out in some seedy laneway probably... thankfully he was in one piece and not chopped up like my nightmare, so Alice and I are still friends. 

The next day was the roughest, the whole day I spent at the front of the boat- trying not to vomit. I was super jealous Jimmy was passed out all day. Dinner though i can't remember, was most probably grilled quid, the staple for my time in Croatia. The next morning we got up and I was in some of my best form on the paddle board on the back of the boat, in a crystal blue lagoon when a speedboat from a super yacht came past. I was yelling out “Ice Cream” and they came up and were like “sorry, what did you say?” to which I replied “I would really love some ice cream” before they said they would bring soft drink to my disappointment and left back to shore. We had an amazing lunch from the now recovered but still sulky Toby, and had just pulled up anchor to leave when the speedboat returned waving their arms for us to stop. They then proceeded to hand me a plastic bag (whilst concurrently trying to lift me on to their speed boat!) I ended up trading a kiss on the cheek for the full plastic bag, great choice cos when I opened the bag I found two bottles of wine and some soft drinks! Whoop whoop! That night i obviously won sailor of the day. It was hard not to beat me scabbing gifts for the boat from strangers. 

Jimmy & I

The final night on the boat, just before heading out I was just walking over the net, and sprained my ankle. Thankfully we had some first aiders who tied an ice bag around it and I was on my way out and about. That night was eventful, I went out, came back to the boat, and decided it was too boring to head to sleep, so went back out. By the time I got back, Nic and I had had a gut full (literally) and had a tiff, then the next minute we’d made up and she decided to tell Jimmy to sleep elsewhere cos she was sleeping with me, then she came in to the room said good night and slept on the deck! So I scored the last night sleeping on my own. We did have a little expedition to an undisclosed boat to drop off a mobile phone to remove evidence that person had been on our boat too.

Our final day on the boat was spent flashing the boats enroute to docking in Dubrovnik and doing flips in Dubrovnik port. Again I had to tip the skipper big as I’d been a massive creep most of the trip –despite the fact he was 20 and didn’t meet my half age + 7 year minimum (Look out Toby in three years’ time!) and for compensation for seeing more of mine and Nicole’s nipples than he saw other boats.

Jimmy and I checked in to our other amazing air bnb and both had really long showers. We piked early and decided to save our energy for a massive explore on our final day in Dubrovnik.  After heading to the beach at Dubrovnik for two milkshakes and a dip, we were delighted to catch the Cats game after scamming some nearby Wi-Fi and met fellow boaties – our famous beat boxing mates

Squid

The Steps where we spent half a day

from WA with whom Jimmy had a beat box off the night before and might I say I was a very proud guardian as he very much stood his own, just wish i could find the vid to post!

We spent most of the final day trekking the walls with my injury, which was hard work and the remainder of the day sitting on steps, whilst Jimmy filled out his travel journal and I snoozed and people watched. My last supper was seafood gnocchi.

Our transfer back to the airport was bitter sweet, obviously we were leaving a great place, I was saying farewell to Jim too to continue his adventures elsewhere in Europe, but Nicole had found love with the transfer driver, though he wasn’t quite old enough.. See we have different age criteria us two, the range of difference being circa 25 years!!! I'm sure we will go back as we promised. It as my second time in Croatia, and each day was still breathtaking. 

Special couple of weeks in the fatherland and the border to the fatherland. 

The United States of Awesome - Pre Mexican Wall and H-Bomb

Three years in London and what better way to spend my anniversary than flying over my new home city and landing to a cool 9 degrees and slushy snow? Three years in the land of the monarchy, where coffee has only legitimately existed for the last three years, where escalator etiquette is at its finest where the average summer temperature is 19 degrees. Yay me X 3 !


So much world news, Assad being a dick, Trump being a bigger wanker than usual, and Kim Jong Un is threatening to drop some H-Bombs = it’s all happening. So it was timed perfectly to take off to the centre of the universe and self-proclaimed leader of the western world – the United States of Awesome.



Miami Penthouse

All exciting times the last few weeks... I’ve been aggressively sick with Asthma, but persevered through with some whinging, turboing through Miami, Mexico and Coachella as a weapon of massive consumption. To give some insight in to my holiday lead up, I was quite busy at work and didn’t end up organising the middle portion of my trip till I arrived in Miami. I was just too busy, and so my last minute FOMO holiday was super unorganised, apart from transferring Boom Boom some coin for my ticket; I still hadn’t worked out if I was headed to Canadia or somewhere else in the states. What I did decide was that I didn’t want to be with people I didn’t know or make new friends, so that cancelled somewhere else in the states – especially when I couldn’t get some steal of a deals to visit Caz or Meat Axe. So, I decided to fly to Mexico post Miami and see Boom Boom and Meady.

 

Heat Game w/ Bec!

First up was Miami - meeting up with my fav ginger ninja and one third of the Fulham BFF’s , culminating in two thirds of the BFF’s and double the fun whilst the other third of our Partay slumbered up with both Becs and my Familias in Oz. To give you some idea of the shenanigan’s - think two penthouses, a Miami Heat basketball game on arrival, copious cocktails and a coconut bong made by a Colombian we met Uber Pooling. Miami was next level.




Wynward

One half of our Colombian Carpool

Everything is larger than life; the people, the boobs on show, the booty, the alcohol slushies and the pizzas.  Cue – Do not to leave the pizza ordering up to me, especially when I am hungry. Three separate deliveries of 5 extra-large pizzas later we were due a hangover and skipped the morning Flywheel for some poolside action. Speaking of Flywheel- I broke my Flywheel cherry, and had a great class, busting out my lungs I was super impressed with the class - mainly by GinjaNinja’s ability to flog the pants off everyone else in the class and equal parts really confused.. I.e. I didn’t know Torque was gears, nor did I realise there were like 50 gears on a bike, so hence my confusion. The second class was much better, I felt like my lungs were actually getting better by this stage – but then again the partying was only just starting. We had a final cultural day at Wynward and an emo goodbye before I took off for Mexico.  





Mick, Me, Ryza & Tim from the Gym

I was bloody exhausted when I landed in Mexico, the hour or so kip in the transfer vehicle to Playa Del Carman helped and I arrived to very confused hotel staff and Mick explaining that I was his wife – Peter Boylan (who actually is Mick’s dad). I was equally confused as I thought Meady was in Mexico but no, I was given a Prosecco, added to Mr Shawn’s booking (Shawy) and guided to the pool to meet the other two passed out accompanying holiday guests – one of whom Tim from the Gym bore a striking resemblance with Bernie from Weekend at Bernies. It was fair to say the all-inclusive resort was a bit of a nice to have, especially when we were given a blow up pineapple for the pool. The first night we went out I wore my Batman top and met a bunch of superheroes - that ended up chasing Boom Boom down the street as we didn't pay for our photos - here I was expecting it to be normal to be dressed up as a superhero as I was! I organised the second day to go to Tulum with the other dude – DJ Ryza, who was mildly more sensible than the others and became my most trustworthy travel companion - which is weird – as he is a Richmond supporter, and we all know they suck (just joking MUM!!!).



The final night we paid $70 to go to some theatre club place that Boom Boom recommended, with pre-drinks at a place that made me dance on tables for my free tequila shot (that is the story I am sticking with) we were taking a chance as we had pretty much got kicked out of there the night before as we both accidently broke glasses! Anyhow the club was pretty squish and sweet and I decided to get my monies worth of included drinks as did the others. It wasn’t too long before the others had all got kicked. Actually Boom Boom got kicked out before the show started, then Shawy left sympathetically, then Tim from the Gym went to look for them, then he got dragged out and then it was just Ryza and i. I think he got himself deliberately kicked out so he didn’t have to babysit me. Regardless we all made it back in time to the hotel just in time for our 3:30am transfer to the airport to board our separate flights to LAX.

Coachella Crew, Canada, USA & Aussie Represent

This flight was probably up there with one of the worst. I was so cold for three and a half hours, and suffering the onset of a hangover. I was relieved to land, but so anxious about getting through Trump’s borders that I was glad I had invested in my manicure and didn’t feel the need to bite my nice nails to the tip. I was out of the airport in lightning speed (It helps when you flirt with immigration staff I find.) I waited bloody two hours for the boys before I succumbed to the need for internet and logged on to see Boom Boom had told me Budget rentals and they had gone to a different company. All was forgiven when they arrived in a Paedo White van with 6 In-&-Out Burgers, fries and thick shakes. Then begun Boom Boom’s awesome driving to Coachella. If anyone has been in the car with Boom Boom – you will understand. I think if he were an Uber driver he would have a great rating for personality but terrible one for jerking vehicle, erratic throttle usage and vibration from the side line that notifies you that you are swaying. Anyhow we arrived in one piece, full and entertained.   

 

I know most of my trip is about Coachella; however it is probably the thing I have the least to write about. The house was much fun, with a lovely pool, cramming 14 majority new friends in to the 8 bed place. One night Shawy was worried he couldn’t find Meady and I found him sleeping in the laundry! Coachella itself was such an awesome environment, like a new fun planet with circular dancing and colourful characters. I decided on Day 2 after having an amazing dance to Two Door Cinema club, that I would never go to slow music again, and I suddenly regretted wasting my time seeing / sleeping to Radiohead when there were other DJs I should have been dancing to ( It didn’t help that I suffered badly Day1 from sunstroke and vomited during The XX), concurrently Bon Ivor was thrown to the scrap pile and instead I saw Martin Garrix, Royksopp, Tove Lo, Hans Zimmer, lady Gaga, and so many

Boom Boom, Meady & I

other cool cool acts and I haven’t even mentioned my favourite place - The Simone tent – which was a 30m circumference cooled tent of house music!  It came to the final day and I broke my own rule, but it was justified for Kendrick Lamar’s new album, gladly made it post Humble to see the back end of Rufus and Boom Boom dancing on stage with him (this was actually funny cos Ryza goes, Mick is at Do Lab somewhere, and I was like ‘he is probably on stage with him knowing Mick and then I saw his rude leggings ha-ha).

The next morning I was picked up by my lovely new Boisey based friends Leah and Halle who came armed with bags of McDonalds breakfast for Ryza and I (the former of whom was coming off a high from watching the Tigers win whilst I had a glorious sleep). I squeezed in the back for the journey back to LA and slept most of the way to their mate Chris’s house. Chris is too cool not to mention. He has yellow hair

Chris, me, Halle & Leah

and a whole bloody music production studio in his house. We all semi unpacked the vehicle and went to Venice Beach for some people watching and lunch before heading back to Chris’s to meet his friend (who was equally as tall as Chris and much cool also as he had different coloured trainers on each foot). Jorge my Mexican Uber driver picked me up at 6pm to head to LAX. My final airport hours were spent catching up on the basketball playoffs, eating fish tacos and drinking beer. I took a hallucinogen sleeping tablet for my big jet ride out of there and that coupled with two movies saw the 9hr flight dissipate in to nothing. I actually watched the end of a Moonlight which is a very shitty weird movie, took the tablet, skipped my dinner, woke up with less than two hours till I landed then had to choose a short enough movie to watch. I looked out the window in time to see London clear and at its finest but by the time I got the tube to Hammersmith, slushy snow was falling on my shoulder.

 I know people get holiday/life envy from me. I’m not surprised actually my life and holiday times are second to none. But I must say now with all my mates away without me for Nic’s 30^th in Ibiza- some of my FOMO is kicking in again. It’s not like me to stay home and relax. Actually I don’t understand people who enjoy staying home, or having time off to chill at home and relax. I am so bored I am writing this blog / watching TV /trying to organise if I can justify going out ‘just for one’ even though my Asthma is consuming me. Anyhow wallow over… America – apart from the fact you never say “please” and your President is a C U Next Tuesday...  two thumbs up (in a V the wrong way round)!