A Travellerspoint blog

leaving the americas


Firstly a big thankyou to Sasho. In the last (North American) months I managed to treat him like a brother and only get the same treatment back. Crazy Bulgarian though he is, he remains my favourite communist. Engaging, funny, political and mental all in one half hour session in the spa. Good work. I owe a debt of gratitude. Raise your eyes to the sky and be thankful for people like Alex.


Well, how was the continent? Continents in fact. In continents I was. hehehe. Sorry. Diverse beyond imagination. If you need culture shock after tremor after building wobbling ground shaking intensity then head this way. Civilisation as we would call it in the north, madness in the middle and general stripey coloured dancing the further south you hit. I am repeatedly and happily an admirer of the madness that takes place across these fair lands. I will probably never fully digest the experiences that I have been fortunate enough to enjoy on this extensive and rambling lump of earth that was formally a chunk of pangea.

Spanish lessons by the lake, the honduran club, the dive at night with friends, road trips for no reason, a night in panama with the craziest fucker you have never met, more animals than David Attenborough dreams about in the Galapagos, altitude sickness and trains up a mountain, the andes hungover, chilean boat trips with new friends, argentinian steak, jumping off mountains, paraguayan hospitality, Brasilian beaches that make you want to move there, drinks at dawn, che for breakfast, slums for desert. Mexican madness, buses that run for ever or never, nights that never ended, days that never began. Fat boy slim, tacos a gogo, jazz and crawfish, stupid amercians, crazy canadians, no need for punctuation or spelling. Friends that are more than a number on facebook. People that will always remain a mystery to me. Californians that will probably never have a significant thought in their lives. The neo-con twats that will always have too many. Good times that spread like ebola but taste like honey. I would not take a day and change it. Not one. Not sure if I managed to get the message across but it is outstanding. In all of the 11 available dimensions and potentially in a few yet to be imagined. Go, see, feel the warmth, get upset about it. No need to question too much.

If I missed some stuff then I apologise. If the trail was laid bare by low quality puns and stories from the worst seat in the bar then forgive me. It was as good as I could do and I could never do it justice anyway. I would tell you to check it out before it changes but it, like everything, changes every day so check it out when you can.

Many smiles. Good times. I feel some continental shift occurring. You may not feel it but there may be a whiff of it on the wind. Don't try too hard, you may strain your nostrils. The days not done til the cock crows for morning and I think I ate that particular cock in Honduras............ (unable to believe that I just wrote that down I now find myself unable to delete it - slip of the pen though not of the tongue if you get my literary shimmy - apologes to all for laughing at my own "joke".... to continue).

The days not done til the fat lady sings and although I am sure she belts out a fine tune I have already managed to outrun her in Brasil, twice, Chile once and in various guises in Portsmouth since I was a young man without fear of the consequences.

And yes, I am a lucky boy. Lucky in many ways. Got a t-shirt that says so, so it must be true.

So in memory of all those who travelled with for their company, their jokes and sharing some excellent times.


And something for you to copy, paste, watch, consider, forget, re-discover anew, assimilate patchily into your sub-conscious and then potentially be reminded of in old age as the laughter of generations new fades on the summer breeze, rhythmically replaced by the creaking rocking chair our aged forms follow, our laborious breathing catching at the back of our throats, dry, rasping and slow; slowing, slowly, as lost focus returns to long blurred eyes to see nothing more before us than the eternal darkness of the yawning abyss....

Or alternatively just a bit of fun from some dude called Clemens that means little but sounds cool. Unsure myself. Your call.


Posted by lidster 03:10

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good times dude. so nice to have had you around. and most importantly mate- portsmouth won the cup. hasta la victoria siempre.

by Sasho

vid of marco driving at the bay in la paz baja california

by Sasho

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