I find out later that Pat actually did turn up, but missed me by about 10 minutes.  Bummer about that, but he was as sleep deprived as me, so hopefully he got to go back to his hotel and go back to sleep.

Had more fun and games at the airport when the Australian consulate in Canberra informed the Thai authorities that I was not going to allowed back into the country.  As my ‘permanent resident’ visa is affixed to a now out of date passport, they deemed it not valid.  And of course I don’t have a ‘permanent resident’ visa in my new passport, as I only just got that in London at the start of the holiday.  So, needless to say I had to kick up a bit of fuss to get it all sorted out.  But eventually (after 30 minutes of faffing around) the boffins in Canberra realised their head was up their collective arses, and let me board the plane to come home.

The plane ride was a blur. I had a decent seat and tried to write the Thailand part of my blog, but just couldn’t get into it.  I can’t even recall much of what I did on the flight to be honest.  I know I watched a bit of the last Harry Potter movie on the in-flight TV on the back of the seat in front of me, and I know I dozed a bit. But like I said, the rest of the flight is a blur.

Oh, one funny thing I do remember, was midway through the flight, after buzzing for an attendant for 15 minutes (none showed up) I got up to look for one (still couldn’t find any, it was spooky, like Steven King’s ‘Langoliers’!) I got talking to an English guy from Yorkshire who told me at length about his rugby playing and motorcycle touring adventures (pretty impressive for a guy in his 50s to be honest). And I got to telling him a bit about MT and what I do.  Anyway, several hours later (not long before we landed) he tracked me down to my seat and gave me his email on the back of an old business card, asking me if I could send him details of how he could buy MT, as his missus wanted to read it!  (Well, that’s 3 copies already accounted for! One for SS…one for me…and now Mrs. Rugby-Biker from Yorkshire! – Fame, fortune and literary acceptance, you cannot escape me now!!!)

Back in Sydney I converted the remnants of my Baht into a whopping 40 Oz$ and jumped a cab and headed home.  The biggest and best holiday I’ve ever had had come to an end.  And what a holiday it was!!!!!!!   

Now all I want to do is sleep… J

Now by this point Pat is livid. It’s the second time in as many weeks he’s been scammed. First time was by some turban wearing Indian guy in a dark alley who put on what equated to a magic show, where he told Pat how many siblings he had, and the name of them, etc, without being told.  (A scam Pat later worked out was a palming / false thumb trick)  Now, Pat wouldn’t have minded except he was only just in the country and got the baht to Oz$ conversion mixed up in his head, and instead of giving the guy 400 Baht for the ‘show’ (which is still WAY too much in my opinion for what equates to a 5 minute bit of hand magic in an alley) he gives him 4,000 Baht. Which equates to around $200 Oz (or a damn sight nicer hotel for Pat to stay in…).  But what can you say? There’s a sucker born every day. And on that day, Pat was the guy.  And now, less than a week later, he’s been taken again. This time for $500 Oz.  So yeah, he wasn’t a happy camper.

For my part, I have always prided myself on being the antithesis of that sucker who’s ‘born every day’.  I’ve worked so much in sales that  nothing gets past me.  Because trust me, if there’s a scam to be thought of…I’ve probably thought of it before you!  But, all that experience, and all that bravado counts for nothing when you’re confronted with the Thai equivalent of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, and surrounded by enough faux-naif  to make your head spin like a top!  This was a BRILLIANTLY (yes, caps again) conceived and executed scam.  And, were I not a grand $Oz out of pocket, I’d be giving them a standing ovation right about now!

After breaky we went back to my hotel room for a few minutes while Pat called his bank in Oz to see if there was anyway we could cancel the transaction. They said no.  So, now that we knew we were conned and couldn’t get our money back, it was time to go on the offensive, so I concocted a plan whereby we go back to Voglee, present them with printed pages from the internet exposing the ‘scam’, and I play the ‘heavy’.  I’m a big lad with a face full of thunder when needed, and I knew a visit from us would elicit one of two responses: 1) they would give us a refund (which I thought was unlikely) or 2) they would offer to give us something else for free (much more likely).

The other thing was that personally, I would be happy with the deal (despite the scam) IF I ACTUALLY GOT WHAT I ORDERED.  The price, while not dirt cheap, was like I said, about 40% less than I would’ve paid in Australia for the same items.  And I’m a clothes-horse, so…

The other thing I said to Pat was that when we go in to fight the Voglee scam, he needed to play the part of an Aussie cop on holiday!  As in, they already knew I’d worked in Sales (“so don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter, because I’ve run sales teams of 200 people and know the game backwards”) but they didn’t know what Pat did. So, if getting our money back didn’t turn out to be an option, we had to at least make sure we GOT WHAT WE PAID FOR.  And his being a cop was a good way of ensuring that (as ripping off a couple of tourists is one thing…ripping off an off-duty Aussie cop is altogether another – because one assumes that cops know other cops and can bring down a shit storm from afar if they have to).  Pat wasn’t so sure about this part of the plan, but went along with it when I said, “I’ll do all the talking, mate. Pretty much all you have to do is sit there and look stoic!” (which he can do VERY well!)

Anyway we grabbed a cab from Khao San road to Voglee Scam HQ (getting a great ‘we’ve just been scammed!’ pic in the cab along the way) and in we went with Brian playing the BIG and soon to be ANGRY tourist.  “Get me the damn manager and get him now!”.  With other customers in the shop, the last thing they wanted was a scene so Pat and I were ushered upstairs…then further upstairs to the manager’s office…

We were kept waiting for about 5 minutes (where they plied us with Pepsi – what is it with this country and PepsI?! ) before the manager (a guy named ‘Tommy’, and ‘Frank’ – the guy who’d sold us the clothes originally -appeared).  First thing I did was slap down the internet printouts of other people bitching about the scam.  Then, with nowhere for them to hide, the manager just came out and told us the truth that yes, the way they get customers here is through deception and double dealing.  Yes, all the guys I mentioned where in on the scam. But that they were ‘expert tailors’ who ‘prided themselves on the quality of their work’.  And the subterfuge was ‘just their way of advertising / luring people to the store’.  That ‘the clothes were still of the highest quality’.  And that the clothes were ‘very reasonably priced’.

It was about now I realized that getting our money back wasn’t going to happen, so I gear-changed in a heartbeat into ‘you need to give us something extra to make us happy’. Now at this point the new deal was already done, and both the manager and I knew all that we were doing were haggling details.  So, after some to-ing and fro-ing, we ended up getting a guarantee on our clothes in the form of a revised contract (signed by the manager rather than just by ‘frank’), a free shirt of our choice each (and bloody nice shirts they turned out to be), and free air-mail shipping to Australia. Which, given Pat’s leather jacket is very heavy, saved us a bob or two.

I could’ve gone MUCH harder during the negotiations here, but didn’t because I felt it was important to get a GUARENTEE that we’d actually get our clothes and actually GET WHAT WE PAID FOR. And if I screwed him into the ground by getting an extra suit throw in for me and Pat (which I contemplated going for) then I was sure that, once we’d left the shop (and me the country) that the clothes would never arrive. Or else would arrive and not be what we ordered, or not of the right material and fall apart after a week.   But this way, both sides could feel like they’d come away getting ‘a fair deal’. So, after the initial ‘Angry Brian’ routine to get the manager’s attention, I negotiated the rest of the time with a smile on my face. And, as we shook hands I felt confident that Pat and I would get exactly what we’d been promised / paid for.  And as I said, paying $1,500 Oz for a top-end suit (normally $1,000 to $1,500), a spare pare of pants (normally about $300), 2 business shirts (about $100 each) and a really nice suede jacket (normally $750-ish) all air-mailed international shipping within 14 days. Well, that’s a pretty solid deal with both Voglee and us being satisfied with the outcome. (Though to be honest I am expecting to have to pay another hundred bucks or so to an Aussie tailer when my suit arrives…because I don’t expect it to be tailored to my satisfaction – though hopefully it’s close.)

During these negotiations of course I kept riffing on the ‘Did I mention Pat was an Aussie cop?’ routine, to help cement the ‘give us what’s promised / paid for or else expect trouble!’.  And anyway, with the new deal sorted out, Pat and I went about the business of getting fitting for the actual clothes themselves.  And – wouldn’t you know it! – when I was in trying on my suit (sans arms) in the change rooms, I heard Tommy grilling Pat in the next room about ‘how long you been cop?’ and ‘what like being cop?’.  Pat for his part was suitably stoic. But (he told me this later) found himself blushing and sweating like a stuffed pig at one point during his ‘interrogation’ and had to excuse himself to ‘use the bathroom and get a Pepsi’ rather than be seen all red faced and girly!!

Oh, talking about funny…when Pat’s jacket came back to try on it was a good looking jacket (though he thought a little less fawn and a little too yellow for his taste) but instead of a brown or black lining, they had given the jacket a BRIGHT GOLD lining to match the outside of the jacket!!!  Man, I nearly coughed up a lung laughing when I saw that!!!  Because it had suddenly turned into the suede jacket with the ‘Liberace ‘I’m Fabulouuuuuuuuuuus!’ Lining!!!’ ™ included at no extra cost!  And, if that wasn’t bad enough, the guy showing the coat to Pat was so proud of the lining that he was – with a straight face mind you – telling him that he would, ‘Be opening the coat when he was wearing it, just to show people the lining…’

Oh, I’m sure he will, my little Thai friend. I’m sure he will! J

Voglee 2 – Pat and Brian 2

Match tied!

Anyway, after leaving Voglee Scam HQ we cabbed to the river and got on a boat to head up the scenic route toward the Grand Palace (about 15-20 minutes away).  And, while waiting on the dock were confronted by a German tourist who was completely rat faced in the middle of the day, and a Thai man who insisted on flashing his knob every time somebody tried to take a tourist pic!

The boat ride was fun, but when we got to the Grand Palace (about 3 pm) we found out it actually was closed!  (no, really this time!).  We were then approached by a guy who had a uniform on which said, ‘Tourist Police’ who tried to give us a helping hand on where we could go. But, after yesterday, neither Pat nor I were inclined to believe he hadn’t just made up a shirt with ‘Tourist Police’ on it to con tourists, and politely told him where he could insert his helpful instructions.

We then had lunch at a local market and I bought a cheap wallet and some undies and then back we went to Voglee Scam HQ for a 2^nd fitting and yet more Pepsi.

Pat seemed happy with his jacket when he tried it on, but my suit pants were much too tight and made me look like I was auditioning for Jack’s love interest on Will & Grace.  The material was nice though, so if they get the cut right I’ll be happy. Ordinarily I’d be back for a third and final fitting tomorrow, but of course I’m on a plane tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, so this fitting was it for me (which is why I think I’ll have to pay some more money to a tailor when I’m back in Oz).

After leaving Voglee Scam HQ for the last time (well, for me anyway – Pat’s going back to make sure they deliver on what we’ve paid for) I realized my credit card was gone!  Now, I’d used it at Voglee, and I distinctly remember him handing it back to me. But…when I looked for it a bit later…it had vanished into thin air.  So, we headed back to Khao San road and I tried to contact the Commonwealth bank to cancel my card, but do you think ANY OF THE NUMBERS LISTED ON THEIR WEBSITE FOR OVERSEAS CALLERS WOULD WORK? Of course not. That would be too simple now wouldn’t it… 

After about 30 minutes of frantic (and futile) phone calls, I eventually just sent the bank a long detailed email telling them my card has been stolen in Bangkok and to cancel it. I also told them how none of their bloody phone numbers work from Bangkok! And the ones that do, give a ‘You’ve called out of office hours, please call back…’ message!

So, still having some Baht in my wallet, I let the annoyance of the lost credit card go (though it and everything else had started to give me a bit of a headache) and Pat and I headed on the sky train over to Lumphini park to see some Muay Thai (kickboxing). However when we got there, the first of the two fight bills was almost over, and it was an hour and a half (8.30 pm) until the next one started. Plus they were trying to sting us 2,000 Baht (about $100 OZ) for STANDING ROOM ONLY TICKETS!!!  And quite frankly neither Pat and I were prepared to pay that. So, instead we decided to go wandering around Lumphini park markets. And this proved to be a terrific idea as Pat and I ended up having a wonderful night.  Together we laughed our way around some very cool stalls, bought some cheap stuff (cheap Calvins!!!) and ended up having dinner at this outdoor steak place.

Now, at the table next to us while we were eating were an American guy, his Asian wife and their little kid, and a hot Asian chick opposite them (next to me). And, after dinner was over we all started chatting and laughing and generally having a great time!  During the course of the night I tried my best to set Pat up with the cute chick (as I was leaving the next morning, and he doesn’t know anyone in Bangkok), but it soon became obvious that wasn’t going to happen. But, she did seem quite taken with me (I’m guessing I was easy to flirt outrageously with, as she knew I was flying out the next day) so I ended up moving tables and sitting next to her for the next hour or so.  Though funnily enough, I got the distinct impression that the married woman had the hots for Pat (which he denies). To the point when the evening was over, and we were going our separate ways, she jumped up to get Pat’s contact details while he was in Bangkok…  Now as I said, Pat denies this was a come-on (because he, like me, doesn’t believe in stepping on another man’s toes…) but it looked pretty blatant from where I was sitting!

From there we got a lunatic tuc-tuc driver with a death wish to take us to the nearest sky train stop, and – after lingering long enough for me to buy some more pirate cds (I’d bought a bunch on Khao San road on my second day in Bangkok for $100 Baht or $4.20 Oz per album), we took a quick gag-photo of me coming out of a hair dressing salon named, ‘Gay Cuts’! (I know, I know, we’re easily amused!) and headed back to Khao San road.

Back at my hotel we chatted and said our goodbyes. I’ll miss Pat while he’s doing his Asian back-packing adventure.  But you’ve got to admire the guy for doing it.  Because, as he said to his boss when he quit his job at the start of his trip: “if I don’t go now, when?”

I could never do the sort of holiday Pat’s going to be doing.  The thought of staying in $10 a night roach infested rooms with squat toilets and no toilet paper, and going weeks on end without being able to have a shower (hot or otherwise!) would do my head in.  So kudos to Pat for roughing it and living life large!

Oh yeah, one other thing.  Pat had to loan me a couple of thousand Baht before he left, to get me to the airport. As with my credit card stolen / lost, I suddenly realized I was stony broke! (and I discovered my ‘cheque’ account doesn’t appear on the ATMs here, only ‘savings’ accounts).

Got up in the morning and immediately called the Buddy Lodge to see if they had any rooms. They said, yes.  For 2,400 Baht a night. But only for one night not two.  But, that was nearly half what I was paying so I said that was fine, and figured I’d just have to find yet another hotel on day three of my stay.

But, when I got there they told me that they actually had a room for two nights but it was 2600 Baht a night not 2400.  I took it  (though they insisted I go up and see the room first, and took pains to tell me they only had ‘warm water not hot’ – as word on the Loganator had obviously got around!!).  And to be fair it was a very nice room indeed (pencilled portrait of Tom Cruise on the wall, notwithstanding). Had an outdoor balcony and everything.  Though don’t even get me going on about the lukewarm shower and the toilet that doesn’t flush toilet paper (a ‘rule’ I gleefully ignored – I mean it’s a toilet for f*ck sake!). Basically I just didn’t want to waste another day of my Thailand holiday looking for a hotel, and the actual room was great as I said, so I just sighed and went with the flow.

Pat came to the hotel and off we went for another day’s adventure. And boy what adventures we had!!!

The day started off innocently enough when we walked to see the Grand Palace (about 15 minutes away from Khao San road).  But, when we get there we discovered it closes at 2pm. We discover this when a guy walks up to us before we get to the gates and tells us so.  Now, the guy who approached us is a rather pleasant young Thai guy who tells us he is an ex-monk.  Anyway, he proves to be very helpful to a pair of befuddled tourists, and – for the first time in either my or Pat’s time in Bangkok – we were actually being helped by a local who didn’t want anything from us (everyone’s playing a scam in Bangkok! BE WARNED!!!) so, some guy just coming up to help out a couple of foreigners who are scrutinising a map and looking lost, was really nice of him.

Anyway, he circled some cool temples (standing Budda, sitting Budda, etc) and some other stuff on the map that we should go see.  One of which was a cool sounding place called Voglee.  Now, we had no idea what this Voglee was, but the guy said, “didn’t you see the news last night? It’s a Thai silk exhibition not normally open to the public but has been open for 1 week by order of the government, and today’s the last day”.  And we’re like, ‘Thai silk? Cool’.

He also tells us how to get a tuc-tuc driver to drive us around and stay the whole day for about 100 baht ($4 Oz). He says, ‘Never use the tuk-tuks with yellow license plates, since these were government operated (and more expensive), while the yellow ones are privately owned and operated’ and were much cheaper.

We thanked him and then got a quick pic of the three of us.  A pic in which, the guy suddenly looked rampantly homosexual… (very odd!)

Anyway, we cross the road away from the Grand Palace and dutifully ignore a couple of yellow plated Tuk Tuks and jump into a white plated one.  We show the tuk-tuk driver the map and he’s nodding and not haggling about price or anything.  He sees Voglee is circled and he says, ‘Very lucky! Last day today!’ and Pat and I are like…sure, luck’s our middle name!’

The next couple of hours were good fun as we went to see some temples. Got some cool pics and generally enjoyed the experience.

After visiting the last temple circled on our map, we returned to the tuc-tuc to find the driver holding his stomach.  He excused himself saying he had to ‘go to toilet’.  Fair enough, and thanks for sharing, we thought. Pat and I – happy as a couple of clams by this stage – sat there chatting while the driver did his business.

As we chatted, a well dressed Indian guy lounging on some steps next to the tuc-tuc started up a conversation with us. Turns out he was a ‘tax consultant’ in Leeds (England) for the last 10 years.  Anyway, after a bit of ‘where are you from’ small talk (the STANDARD ‘let’s get a tourist talking’ question in Bangkok – be warned, just ignore anyone who asks this because THEY WANT SOMETHING FROM YOU) he tells us his brother is one of the monks in the temple we were just visiting, and he’s there to see him.  Pat and I wonder which monk he was.  Then he asks us where the tuk-tuk driver has taken us.  We show him the map and he’s like, ‘Ah, that’s good.  The sitting Budda. Yes, that’s very nice.’ And then says, ‘Oh, you’re going to Voglee?  You’re very lucky. This is the last day it’s open to tourists.’  At which point Pat and I are feeling like Lord Muck, thinking, ‘This place sounds wicked!’.  Still of course not knowing exactly what Voglee was, beyond it was some kind of Thai silk exhibition.

To seal the deal he also pulls out a very smart gold embossed customer card that showed how he was a VIP member of Voglee, and had actually bought there himself.  Pat in particular was impressed by this.

So, the driver eventually comes back and we’re all, ‘What took you so long? Take us to Voglee before it closes, dammit!’

When we get to Voglee we find out it’s actually an up-market tailer, not an exhibition of Thai silk after all.  Ie. IT’S JUST A SHOP.

Now, by this stage you’d think we would’ve clicked that something was rotten in the state of Denmark, but…like salmon to the fisherman’s lure, we merrily ignored the signs and kept on biting further and further up the hook.

Once inside Voglee we get show upstairs to a private room full of really lush fabrics and well worn Armarni catalogues. Of course, Brian being the metrosexual he is, practically creams his pants at this stage, at the thought of buying an Armani suit – sans label of course – for a fraction of the cost, and is busily oh-ing and ah-ing at the catalogues like an appreciative gay judge on Come Dancing.

Pat for his part is not really a clothes-horse type of guy. In fact, if Suit-Man was a superhero, Pat would be his arch nemesis, T-shirt-Dude!  But, such was the weird vibe in the air, that even Pat was suddenly thinking of buying a suit! And, if you knew Pat – who doesn’t need to wear suits in his line of work – you’d know that him contemplating buying a suit  is like the Pope contemplating a night out high on ten dollar hookers and crack cocaine. So, even though we were not looking for clothes, and that Pat is at the start of a six months backpacking holiday and is watching every cent he has in the bank.  And I’m at the end of a 6 week, 3 continent, 15 city world trip that set me back $20,000 and don’t have actually have any spare cents in the bank to watch…we were both suddenly BUYING CLOTHES FROM VOGLEE.

How the hell did that happen?

Then the up-sell happened.  Buy two suits, get one for free. Buy one suit, get a dress coat or jacket for a fraction of the (“already discounted”) price, etc.

Now you’ve got to understand that Australia is a warm country, so dress coats really aren’t needed (I’ve got one full length camel coloured cashmere dress coat that I’ve worn all of twice in the last two years). But…confronted with some Armani dress coats in a catalogue, I’m all: ‘You know what I really need? I really need a heavy winter dress coat! My word yes!’.  And while Pat’s head wasn’t turned by the dress coats, it was by the suede jackets…

By this stage we’ve already bought, we just don’t know it yet.  I’ve worked a lot in sales. I know how this works.  So I take over the negotiations and start haggling.  During this process, where Oz$ to Baht to US$ are being bandied about at a head spinning rate, Pat gets cold feet on the suit idea.  “I don’t need a suit” he says.  “I don’t wear suits!”.

Voglee 0 – Pat 1.

But…he is quite taken by the fawn coloured suede jacket…

Voglee 1 – Pat 1.  Result to be decided in overtime!

Much haggling went on at this stage – and many free Pepsis were consumed – during which time I succeeded in getting myself a spare pare of suit pants thrown into the deal (as I’d bought a Oz $1,500 Hugo Boss suit in 2008 and the pants ripped and I didn’t have any spare pants so now can’t wear the suit) I also got the price down to $21,000 Baht for my suit, spare pants and dress coat. And about 11,000 Baht for Pat’s Suede Jacket.  Which in Oz$ meant I would end up paying $850 and Pat about $400.  Which for me is probably about 40% of what the whole ensemble would’ve cost me in Australia. And for Pat is probably about 30% less.

By this stage the air was getting thin and Pat and I were feeling feint.  Feint with the thought that we were suddenly a whole chunk of chump change lighter than we were at the start of the day. Doubly so when the ‘exchange rate’ we were charged by Voglee (plus a hidden 3% fee to them I discover later) made it $950 Oz$ for me and $500 Oz$ for Pat.

Voglee 2 – Brian 0.

Voglee 1 – Pat 1

Voglee win.

When we go outside our ‘stay all day’ tuc-tuc driver had vanished into the shadows, as surely as if we’d imagined him in a Bangkok nightmare.

Pat and I caught a cab back to Khao San road suddenly feeling like we’d been violated by a tall black man named Bubba who didn’t even have the common courtesy to buy us dinner.  ‘Were we just had?’ we asked each other innocently.  Nahhhhhhhhhhhh.  They’re Voglee.  The Voglee.  The Voglee everybody kept mentioning!  The pillow bighting ex-monk.  The tuk-tuk driver with the dodgy stomach. The Pseudo-Yorkshire Indian Tax Consultant.  After all, it would take a 9/11 type organization to pull this off if it were a Voglee scam!  Besides, we’ve now each got this lovely gold customer card from them with a customer number on it and everything.  That MUST mean their legit.  Mustn’t it…

Back in Khao San road, we each went off to our separate hotels to lick our wounds and try to figure out how a day of sightseeing had just suddenly cost us a small fortune in Baht!

A few hours and one lukewarm shower later, Pat and I met up and went for some Italian at a place on Khao San road opposite my hotel. Here we had some exceptionally nice food, nice service, a quiet table, and laughed our arses off thinking about our adventures, as only old friends can.

What a day it had been!  What a day!

When I got to Bangkok, Pat was standing at the airport holding a sign for me (like limo drivers do when they’re picking up someone off a flight).  Only Pat’s sign read: ‘KNOB!’ -  Very funny stuff!!!

Pat was surprised at how weak my voice sounded when I got there.  And to be fair I honestly can’t remember a time when I’ve lost my voice like this, and I’ll be so glad when my voice comes back.  As without words I feel a bit less ‘me’, you know?

Anyway, I was meant to stay in the same back-packer’s hostel as Pat (and had booked a 3 night’s stay there on their website).  A place called ‘The Green House’.  But when I arrived he said that he’d gone there when he arrived (5 days before) and found it was crap, so he’d moved.  And if Pat didn’t like it he KNEW I would hate it!  So, with no hotel to go to, we cabbed from the airport to Khao San road and dumped my luggage at the back packers place Pat had decided to stay in, while we went for some breakfast and looked for a hotel room for me.

Now, I don’t know how bad The Green House was, but if it was WORSE than the place Pat was actually in, then f*ck me dead but it must have been a leper pit!  The room Pat was in had a cruddy old single mattress on the floor that ran the ENTIRE LENGTH OF THE ROOM. That’s right, the entire room was about 6 foot by six foot in size. Beside the bed there was a token half meter of space, and an icky toilet at the far end of the room. Talk about a pig-sty!  How people live like this (when they’ve got a choice and could stay somewhere half –decent) amazes me.  Pat, I take my hat off to you!  (though I refuse to put it down on the floor for fear it comes back infested with lice or cockroaches!) 

Another kicker with this particular room was that you had to climb the equivalent of a ladder to get to it that pretty much went seven foot straight up!  Well okay, it wasn’t quite that bad, but it was pretty damn close!  Which might be okay if all you’ve got to carry is a backpack.  But when you’re lugging a tonne of luggage…yikes.

After stowing the luggage, Pat and I wandered around some of the back streets of Bangkok (pretty cool!) and had some breakfast at a place with really rude service and undersized proportions of breakfast cereal. Then we went hunting for a hotel.  But, after finding every back-packer place booked, we went back to The Green House where – as I told Pat – at least I had a reservation.  Except when we got there they didn’t have my reservation. And of course…didn’t have any rooms. But they did say, come back at noon and we may have some rooms then.  So we killed some time by having a drink in the coffee shop annexed to The Green House, until a very friendly assistant manager eventually talked the concierge into giving us a key to a room (at noon when one became available) so I could see it out before I checked in.

When we got to the room I found that it was NOWHERE NEAR as bad as the room Pat is actually staying in. But I think that’s because we were looking at their ‘expensive’ rooms rather than their cheaper rooms (which is what Pat must have looked at).  I said to Pat, ‘this is okay..very basic, but okay.’ Except it had a hand held shower (which I was none too keen on) which – fully extended – wouldn’t have gone more than 5 foot in the air. And being 6’2”…  

So anyway, I’m like, ‘okay, it’s not the Ritz, but it’ll do for three days, I guess’.  That was until Pat told me about the toilet situation. And by situation I mean the fact that, apparently, Thai toilets are not able to cope with toilet paper. So, what you have to do is (and I still find this hard to believe even as I write this), go to the toilet, use toilet paper to wipe yourself, then put the dirty toilet paper in separate sanitary bag. Close the bag and put it in a bin beside the toilet. Then flush. Then pick up this hand held device (with your left hand, “always your left hand” – though it was on the right of the toilet?)  that’s like a meter long garden hose with a nozzle on the end, and spray your bum with it.  And I’m like WHAT THE FLYING F*CK IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT’S HOLY?!!!!!!   I mean, I’d heard about some places in Asia have squat toilets (ughhhhh!) where you’ve got to take your own toilet paper, but I’ve never heard of this.

Needless to say it was about this time I mentioned to Pat that I wanted to find another hotel.

So, we wandered around some more looking for somewhere for me to lay my head, and eventually found a hotel on the left hand end of Khao San road that looked pretty decent. If nothing else there was a McDonald and a very snazzy internet cafe beside it, so I’m thinking, this’ll probably do.  But of course when we got there it was fully booked. However they did have a sister hotel called the Hotel de Moc, that had some rooms free, which was maybe 10 minutes away, so we went there and I checked in.  The room was nice and had a view of the pool, so I’m thinking, ‘Finally!’ (I was so tired by this stage, you’ve no idea).

Pat then went off to do some stuff while I checked in and got myself an hour long Thai massage in a place that operates out of the lobby of the hotel.  And no, before you ask, it wasn’t a ‘happy ending massage’ from some 45 kg Asian hottie with lips like a drowning trout. It was a proper Thai massage from a 70 kg woman with strong hands (I’ve never had a Thai Massage, and as a trained masseur who ran a massage business for 4 ½ years myself, I’ve always been curious to know what techniques they use – which, as you asked! – were basically acupressure and muscle elongation and balancing).  Anyway, this proved quite satisfying. Doubly so as I fell asleep during a chunk of it, as I was so tired from my long flight, etc. But, as I say to people who I massage, falling asleep is fine, as it’s the body’s natural state of healing (because when you sleep your metabolism is at its slowest, so the body can use the extra oxygen to heal wounds, fight illness, etc.).

After the massage I went back to my room for a long hot shower, before meeting Pat for a night out on the town. Only when I get to my room I find that it doesn’t have any hot water.  And I’m like, ‘you’re kidding me?’.  The water wasn’t freezing cold, but if hot water has a 1 – 10 scale, with about 7 being the heat you normally have a shower; this water was like a 1 or a 2. 

So, I threw a robe on and marched downstairs to the lobby and told them about the problem, and – trying not to get grumpy – asked them very politely to be moved to another room.  Only when I moved to another other room, the water was again, lukewarm.  And so, the relaxation benefits of my massage rapidly heading south, I checked out of my room and resumed my search for a hotel.

I cabbed back to the McDonalds by the Buddy Lodge Hotel (the pre-arranged meeting point with Pat) and stuffed my face with some good old American comfort food.  While waiting for Pat to arrive I asked myself if I was being one of those difficult foreign tourists you read about who isn’t happy until everything is ‘perfect’.  But I thought, bollocks to that! Wanting HOT and cold running water and a toilet that FLUSHES without having to put sh*tty toilet paper in a separate bag, is NOT being demanding. Not even close.  If I’m staying in a fleebag backpackers hostel, paying $5 – $10 a night, I’d expect to get what I pay for and would no doubt suffer in silence. But when I’m paying for a so called 4 star ‘hotel’, there are certain things that should be included in the bloody price!

When Pat arrived at McDonalds and saw my luggage with me, he was a tad confused to say the least. But, once I told him about the water situation he shrugged and said something like, ‘That’s just Thailand, mate’ and off we went looking for a hotel again. This time I let my fingers (err…mouse!) do the walking, and I spent nearly two hours searching for a hotel on the web in the nearby internet cafe, while Pat sat around getting more and more impatient. But, every time I found a hotel that looked any good, it was fully booked when I called up.  Eventually I found a hotel called the Prince Palace Tower that had a room available, so we cabbed there (about 10 minutes), only to be told when we got there that ‘they were fully booked’.  I’m like, ‘But I rang up 10 minutes ago for fuck’s sake!’.  (I was REALLY starting to dislike Thailand at this point)

Eventually after some badgering on my part they tell me that yes, they do have one room available after all. But it’s one of their Penthouse suites.  And I’m like, I don’t care. I’ll take it.  Give it to me. Give it to me now.  Give me the key. Get out of my way. Give me the damn key right now before I go fucking postal!   

However (salesman that I am) I told them that there was no way I was paying full freight for a room that had – I kid you not – 6 BEDS and 2 bathrooms! The girl at the desk went and spoke to her manager and after much hullabaloo I eventually got the room (ROOMS MORE LIKE IT!) for 4,500 bt instead of 6,500 bt.  And, while this was way more than I wanted to pay, I realized (after the fact) that it was only around $230 AUD. And for what you got for the money, it was a very good  price indeed.

So, we take the bags up to the penthouse suite on the 24^th floor and – after admiring the views – Pat went to kill some time at the hotel’s outdoor pool / bar on the 11^th floor, while I get my much needed hot shower…

Or so I thought.   Because once again when I get butt nekid, I find the place had F*CKING LUKEWARM WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What the f*ck is going on with this country! 

Too tired to complain about the water by this stage (I could barely keep my eyes open) I decided I would put up with the tepid water tonight, but find somewhere else to stay tomorrow.

But (you knew there was going to be a ‘but’ didn’t you?) after I’d had my lukewarm shower, I find out that there AREN’T ANY F*CKING TOWELS IN THE ENTIRE PENTHOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And naturally no robes that could double as towels.  Or anything remotely usable as a towel.  So, after my ‘penthouse’ shower I had to dry myself on the dirty clothes I had taken off…

Grumpy now, I went and found Pat standing by what was a beautiful outdoor bar setting (which I might have enjoyed under different circumstances) and we went down stairs.  And, while downstairs complaining about the lack of towels in my room, we overheard one of the girls on reception taking an in-bound reservation enquiry, and saying: ‘Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t have any rooms available that could take 6 people…”  And I was so tempted to say: ‘You want to f*cking sub-rent them the rest of mine, you bunch of twats?!!’

Anyway, from there we caught a tuk-tuk ride to the porn capital of Bangkok, ‘Patpong’.  Why? Not really sure to be honest with you, as neither Pat nor I are ‘strip-joint’ kinda guys. But ‘When in Rome, order pizza’, seemed to be the order of the day. Except – like EVERYBODY ELSE IN THAILAND – the tuk-tuk driver was on the take, and instead of taking us to Patpong, took us to some sleezy strip joint in the middle of nowhere. And we’re like, ‘Dude, it’s the WRONG sleezy strip joint!’  But he just wouldn’t budge. I was all for not paying him, but Pat – ever the conciliatory one – paid him and we eventually hailed a cab and got dropped off at Patpong.

Now, I don’t know what I was expecting Patpong to be, but it was basically just a couple of streets of strip joints with markets (there are markets everywhere in Bangkok, I discovered) squeezed in front of the strip joints.

After walking for five minutes – and already getting bored – we bit the bullet and went into one of the strip joints for, ‘Ping-pong show! You wanna ping show long time?!’  And apparently we must have…

The place we went into was a dive.  A stage maybe twenty feet by ten feet with a U-shaped bar around it, and stools and seats, etc.  Well, no sooner had two tall handsome westerners walked into the bar (but enough about them, let’s get back to Pat and me!) nearly a dozen women ambushed us.  Like: WHAT THE HELL?!!  To give you an idea of what this first five minutes was like, imagine the women as maple syrup and Pat and I as the overcooked pancakes. In fact, to say they were all over us like a rash (and quite probably could’ve given us a rash) is the understatement of the century. Hands everywhere! And not just theirs. Two girls fought over one of my hands, rubbing it all over their breasts, while three or four of them rubbed their naked breasts in my face. And – if that’s not enough! – a third one grabbed my other hand and – while I was struggling to come up for air with my face full of breasts, SHOVED MY HAND INSIDE HER PANTIES AND INSIDE OF HER.  Hey-ho kiddies. Welcome to Bangkok! Land of opportunity. (Whether you want it or not!!!)

Now ordinarily I’m not the shyest of shrinking violets when it comes to the err…physical side of things (my year living Monkishly notwithstanding) but come on, grabbing my hand and…you know…sticking it there…that’s a bit bloody much!!!!!!!!!!!!)

And, let me tell you, if that wasn’t bad enough (and it was – who knows where that thing has been!) when my hand was thrust…down there, I found something hard!  Yes, you read that right. Something HARD!

Fortunately for me, it wasn’t hard as in, ‘Hi, my real name’s Eric, not Erica – just thought you should know before we got all funky’. But hard as in PLASTIC TUBE hard. And there, in one unexpected and unwelcome swoop, we had pulled the curtain back on the Wizard and revealed how the girls do the ping-pong / razors / and other miscellaneous objects in the pussy, trick.  There’s a hollow plastic piece of tubing inside them…

(and yes, I am as grossed out as you are right now, believe me).

Pat for his part seemed to have more luck keeping his hands where he could see them, but his luck ran out when he discovered that the rather attractive gal that was in his face (and had taken a particular shine to him) turned out to be a lady boy!  And, Pat being Pat, rather than causing a fuss or offending the ‘girls’, he coughed up a thousand baht and bought the whole bunch of them a drink each to make them leave us alone!  And all the time I’m thinking, ‘Gee Pat, for that money you could’ve got yourself a MUCH nicer hotel room…’.

Needless to say I never mentioned this to Pat, lest he glass me!!! J

With the swarm – and I really mean swarm – of hookers temporarily focused on annoying someone else, Pat and I made good our escape, vowing never to step into another Thai strip joint again!

After walking around Patpong for another 5 or 10 minutes we stopped at an outdoor bar for a couple of drinks. A bar where one of the barmaids started making eyes at Pat. But, as he said to me at the time, ‘How do you know who’s a hooker around here and who isn’t?’.  And, as neither of us are ‘pay for sex’ type of guys, Pat ignored the barmaid and finished his beer and left it at that.

When we left Patpong we caught the sky train back to Khao San Road.  During which time I fell asleep mid-sentence while talking to Pat!  (Yup, I really was THAT tired) Apparently I asked Pat a question and then – before he could even answer it – promptly nodded off!

Poor Brian!!!!!!!!!!!! J

Anyway, barely able to keep my eyes open, I said goodnight to Pat and cabbed from Khao San road to my Penthouse suite, and – after taking some cool shots of the 24^th floor view, and having a minor conniption over which of the six beds I should actually sleep in! – I hit the sack and slept the sleep of the dead.

Cindy turned up for 5 minutes in the morning with Chris’ cell and my throat stuff, so got to say goodbye to her, which was nice as we’d had a great time together the night before.

I had arranged a late checkout from the hotel today (at 1.30 pm), but by the time 1.30 pm had come around I hadn’t even started packing (time had just got away from me) so I slipped the concierge a $20 note and he said it would be okay to check out by 3.30 pm.

I then jumped into a cab and went to the Warner Brothers lot to meet Francois at 2 p.m.  (Francois remember is the amazingly talented Art Director of films like ‘Willy Wonka’ and the soon to be released, ‘The Watchmen’).  I haven’t been to the Warner lot since I last did a big round of meetings, and that was so long ago it might as well have been another lifetime (it certainly feels like it happened to someone else, not me). So needless to say I couldn’t get the smile off my face while I was there! Not that I’m going to be indulgent and say ‘I felt at home’ when I was back there, or anything. But it did feel surprisingly like easing your feet into an old pair of slippers and remembering how comfortable they were and how happy you felt when you wore them.

Francois – who I’d never met in the flesh before, remember – wasn’t actually French at all (though he was born there) but American.  And what a top bloke he turned out to be. Seriously!  A nicer guy you’re not going to come across.  Especially in Hollywood!

After finding the right building (where he is working on some stuff for Green Lantern) he and I went to the Warner shop (where I bought a new Warner pint glass to replace the very cool one I had that broke) and grabbed a coffee from Starbucks, then went and sat under the shade of an umbrella (it was 80 degrees in LA today – in the middle of winter no less!) and chatted about Monster Town, Myth, The Watchmen, Green Lantern, and – surprise, surprise! – Zorro 2210.  Turns out that Francois is doing some preliminary work on Zorro, now that the court case with Sony has been settled in Sorbini’s favour.  And he was very surprised that I’d actually pitched for it back in 2005 or 2006 (I forget the exact date), and that I came within a hair’s breath of actually getting the gig.  Anyway, Francois very kindly offered to put me forward to the Zorro director, Rpin, for the writing assignment (did I mention he was a top bloke?!).  

During the one hour meeting a comic book artist called Gabriel Hardman (who had just worked on marvel’s ‘Hulk vs Frankenstein’, amongst others) walked by and Francois introduced us, and I gave him an ARC of Monster Town (along with the two I gave Francois), as Francois thinks he’d be perfect to do the artwork for Monster Town.

Anyway, had a terrific time chatting with Francois, and – after grabbing a quick pic together to commemorate the occasion – jumped a cab to WMA to drop off the rest of the Monster Town ARCs for my agent.  This turned out to be peak hour traffic which meant the cab cost a fortune.

Met Ian for the first time when I dropped the ARCs off. He seems like a nice kid. Though to be honest my agent does seem to chew up and spit out assistants so who knows if he’ll still be there the next time I’m in LA!

I’d written a note for my agent (which I included with the ARCS) explaining about Monster Town etc, and what Logan Savile is doing / going to be doing in 2009. So I hope he gets half as excited by it as Steve and the rest of the folks who have read it. Though knowing my agent I would not at all be surprised if he hated it all together. And if he doesn’t like it, oh boy will he ever tell me.  Because there’s one thing my agent isn’t capable of, and that’s being disingenuous.  (The fact that he has the bedside manner of a mortician is a whole other discussion!!)

Got back to my hotel really late (at 4.30 pm) and the got slugged by the hotel with another night’s stay.  Fair enough too.  They’re very nice at the Celebrity Hotel and so far as cheap and cheerful hotels in a great location in LA go, I highly recommend it.  (Oh, and the concierge from earlier in the day – who’d left by the time I came back – was nice enough to stick my $20 tip to him, toward my extra night)

Got a really surly – okay he was a total wanker – of a shuttle bus driver from the hotel to LAX so didn’t so much as tip him a dime (normal tipping is around 15%). He had the shits with me because he was booked to come pick me up at 6.30, but arrived at 5.45. And I wasn’t ready until 6.30. So he, and the 2 other people in the bus, had to wait. None of which was my problem, as the ride was booked for 6.30 pm.

I was at LAX with plenty of time to spare (I’ve proud to say I’ve got this whole ‘airport / flying’ thing well sussed now!), so I grabbed some dinner and jumped on the internet and found an email from Francois saying that not only had he already spoken to the director of Zorro, but that my name was now ‘officially on the ‘writers to be considered’ list’ for the Zorro assignment!  And, furthermore, he’d emailed the director a copy of the London draft of Myth and wanted to know if there was anything else he could do!  (I asked him to forward Feedin’ the Freezer as another writing sample, which Francois also had)

Also a bit of frantic email exchange with Steve about Monster Town, who seems keen to write the Desolation Cove novel before the Monster Town novel, but I’m the complete opposite.  And doesn’t seem that excited by Monster Town the novel version. Whereas I would LOVE to do Monster Town the novel first, because – in all honesty – I really think the novel version will be the one to launch Logan Savile into the mass-market paperback / every bookshop in the world level of awareness. Whereas Desolation Cove will be a very cool genre novel, and a really easy sell for Bad Moon (and probably to Hollywood), but probably won’t gather the traction a more accessible novel like Monster Town could. So the sooner we’ve actually WRITTEN Monster Town the novel, the sooner it’ll be able to be sold to a larger, mass market publisher.  Doubly so because if the novella version doesn’t get Hollywood types excited for some reason, we’ll need to follow up with the novel quick smart so nobody else pinches the idea!

The train to Anaheim was only about 35 minutes as it turned out, and was a pleasant ride with some T2 style countryside wizzing by my window.

Roy and Liz were nice enough to pick me up at the train station, and it was great to meet both of them in the flesh!   Both were very groovy people, with Roy having a voice that sounds exactly like Sam Elliot! 

We go back to their Bad Moon Books office, which is a small 2 room affair upstairs (in a complex that could double for an interstate motel) with the front room having a reception desk and the back room being packed with books.  And it was this room we end up pulling up a few chairs in to chat.

Going into this meeting with several objectives (that Steve and I had discussed) meant that I had to try – if possible – to steer the conversation to the projects that excited us. But, it soon became obvious that the projects that really excited Roy and Liz were Monster Town and Desolation Cove.  Yes they liked all our other pitches. And yes, they’d love to publish them all!  But, first they wanted a novel version of Monster Town (hurrah!!!) and a short novel version of Desolation Cove. The latter because (best guess) it’s an easy sale for them, due to it being a straight up and down genre horror in a very groovy Aussie location.  And the former because, well…because they just love Monster Town!

When we started talking about Monster Town in the meeting, it was originally about doing several Monster Town novellas, but – as excited as they were about the Monster Town universe – they felt that even if Logan Savile could write all the novellas we’d pitched, there was no way Bad Moon would be able to publish them all.  Their feeling being that a staggered release of the novellas would cause their audience to lose interest (even if, for example, a Monster Town novella were published every 3 months, which would be the bare minimum we’d need to keep interest in the series up with the fans / readers). But, they were very excited about doing a novel version of Monster Town! And, the more I told them about all the sub-plots (Cesar, Penguin Roy, The Redcoat Guard, Lizzana the shape shifter, Helen of Troy, et al) the more exited they got!  And to be fair to Steve and I, we have come up with some pretty amazing sub-plots which will take the Monster Town novella to the next level!  A level where writing an 80-100,000 word novel of the story makes complete and utter sense.

Anyway, the more excited they got about a novel version of Monster Town, the more excited I got (and I was pretty excited to start with!).  After all, my half of the Logan Savile equation is to help to bring to market, novel ideas that are ideally ‘High Concept’ or at the very least have a better than average chance of resonating with Hollywood and getting made into movies.  And Monster Town is not only the best idea Logan Savile have kicking around at present (and we have several great ideas doing the rounds) but is an honest to goodness, straight out of the cornflakes box, High Concept crackerjack of an idea! And one that we are going to be hard pushed to beat, even if we come up with a new ideas on the hour every hour for the rest of our life!  (Yes, I think it is THAT good).

The upshot of sitting down for a couple of hours with Roy and Liz was that Logan Savile will, in 2009, be writing an 80,000 to 100,000 word novel version of Monster Town, and a 40,000 to 50,000 word novel of Desolation Cove!  Which means 2009 is going to be a WONDERFUL YEAR for Logan Savile!!! 

The other thing to come out of the meeting was a terrific idea of Roy’s whereby they will now publish both the Monster Town novella and the Butcher of Box Hill novellas, TOGETHER, as a teaser for the full blown novel version!!!  This will be a leather bound and numbered hardcover flip book with Monster Town at the front (right way up) and The Butcher of Box Hill at the back (upside down).  Genius on the part of Roy I thought, to be honest. And I can’t wait to see it!

After the meeting I just made the last train back to LA and got into my hotel room about 6.40 pm in time for a quick freshening up, before Cindy turned up at 7 pm and we went out for the night.  I left the plans for the night in Cindy’s hands, and – as if she’d read my thoughts – she suggested we go bowling at the Lucky Strike lanes near my hotel!  Remembering that I had suggested to Chris that we go bowling in Brooklyn, when I was in New York, but with her shoulder still hurting that wasn’t an option.

Anyway, we went bowling and had a great time!  I bowled a 188 game (with a house ball remember) first up, but then my wrist got tired and I bowled a crap second game.  Though I bowled left and right handed in that game, which proved quite fun!

After finishing our two games, we went and had dinner in the dinning section close to the lanes, and caught up on 4 years of goss!  I hadn’t seen Cindy – who is a real sweetheart – since 2004 remember, so there was a lot of catching up to do!  Only trouble was my throat was getting worse and my voice so low as to be almost a whisper.  And, if that wasn’t enough, the sore throat was developing into an icky dry chest cough which hurt my throat even more.  But, after dinner, Cindy drove me to a Rite Aid (love Rite Aid stores!) and I bought throat spray, cough medicine et al).

We then went back to my place and hung out for a couple of hours before Cindy drove home.  Accidentally taking with her my (Chris’) cell phone (in her handbag) and my bag of throat stuff from Right Aid!

This was another terrifically fun night, I must say!  What a great time I’m having in the US!!!

The hotel is, so far as ‘cheap and cheerful 3 star hotels’ go, a great find!  The staff is very friendly and my room was HUGE, with a queen bed, separate dining area, bathroom and walk in closet. My only beef was that the internet in my room didn’t work for some reason.  Still, no harm no foul, as they had a single internet terminal / computer in the front lobby that guests could use for free.

After settling in I showered and changed and the lovely Laura came by to pick me up (she’d since emailed me) for dinner and a chat. And what a fantastically fun dinner it was! 

You know sometimes when you’ve been really, really, REALLY looking forward to seeing a movie for ages and ages, but when you actually see it you’re oddly underwhelmed?  (Possibly because you’ve built your expectations up much too high)?  Well, meeting Laura for the first time tonight could’ve easily gone like that, as I have wanted to meet her ever since she left a wonderful ‘Welcome to LA!’ message on my voicemail back in 2004, and I stood her up on a date we’d organized, just so I could go out for dinner with the Head of Development at Plan B (Brad Pitt’s company).  But, as it turned out I needn’t have worried as Laura was everything I had hoped she would be and more.  Beautiful, wonderful company, sharp as a tack, terrific film knowledge, marvellous sense of humour, AND a big fan of my writing!  (I know, I know, I should propose to her, or clone her, or at least keep her supplied with high concept writing samples, or…SOMETHING!)

Dinner was an absolute delight, hindered only by my voice which was by this point so low and raspy that I was sounding like a gay Swedish porn star after a night on the town working as a stand-by fluffer.

During the evening (at some groovy ‘Rock’n Roll Thai’ restaurant) we discussed in depth Monster Town, Box Hill, Myth, my satisfaction level with my reps, the feature film she’d just finished producing, and any number of other projects, and I now feel completely comfortable that – no matter what the project – having Laura on-board will be a Godsend.

After dinner Laura dropped me back at my hotel and I hit the sack hard.  My voice by this stage being a thing of the past.  But, lack of voice or no, I honestly can’t remember a time I’ve sat down with a gal over dinner and had so much fun.  Seriously, WHAT A WOMAN.

Checked my email to see if there were any message from Laura about where we’re meeting tonight for dinner (there wasn’t – so I emailed her giving her my hotel details etc).

Bennett and I then chucked my luggage in the boot of his car and went off to have breaky at a local dinner. Had a nice mushroom omelette and some much needed coffee and marvelled that my voice has dropped about two full octaves because of last night, and I sounded like James Earl Jones going down on Darth Vader.

When leaving the dinner I saw a guy in a Chelsea shirt of all things!  (And a guy next to him with a Manure shirt on).  And I’m like (to the blue’s fan), ‘Hey dude, nice shirt!  Did you hear how the Chelsea v Manure game went?’   And he’s like, ‘Don’t ask. We lost 3 nil’.  Bollocks! 

Sill, VERY weird (and cool!) to see a Chelsea shirt on an American in San Fran! 

Bennett and I then drove to LAX and did a bit of verbal log-line gaming in the car on the way, and between us nutted together a terrific idea about a guy falling in love with a woman in a wheelchair. Very cool twist on the rom-com and Bennett is the perfect guy to write it.

Check in at San Fran International airport was a breeze, and I was there 30 minutes before check-in. Just enough time to relax and catch up on a bit of travel-blogging on the laptop.

REALLY had a fantastic time in San Fran with Bennett and have to come back again soon! Of all the places I’ve been to, San Fran is the most like Sydney in both people and culture and I highly recommend visiting.

We then went to North Beach (it’s a trendy suburb nowhere near a beach!) and strolled around taking some cool pics and ignoring the lure of the suburb’s numerous strip clubs etc. Then we had some lunch before the sun went down and drove back to Bennett’s place to dress up for a big night out.

Bennett had heard from a friend about a groovy place in the wrong part of town which had an ‘in’ bar called ‘The Library’. But when we got there we couldn’t find it because there are no numbers and no signs for it anywhere on the outside of the building.  Yup, it’s THAT sort of a club. 

After a while of us standing on the street corner looking lost, a nefarious looking gentleman appeared out of the shadows and asked us what we were looking for?  We said ‘The Library’ and he nodded knowingly and took us to an unmarked door in the side of a wall, which may or may not have been there a few moments before.

Once inside we discover ‘The Library’  is terribly disappointing.  It’s basically one packed room the size of a single garage with a bar at one end, the hidden door that may or may not let you back out onto the same street you came in, at the other end, and a shelf of pseudo-books on even more pseudo looking bookshelves on the left of the room as you enter. Anyway, after a few minutes of being in there, I was approached by a gaggle of women from a hen’s night (or a ‘bachelorette night’ as they call it here) asking me if I would insert my finger in a mock vagina of the gal getting married (by mock I mean, she put her finger and thumb together to make a ‘hole’) for a photo.  Naturally now that I’m no longer a monk I was happy to oblige!  Then one of the women (a cute blonde co-ed type) approached me with a penis shaped plastic thing with different size holes in it (smaller, medium, large, largest), which – so she told me – a man’s penis could fit through. And which size hole would mine fit through? I replied – much to group’s amusement!  –  with: “what is that, like for children?  I’m from Australia, babe. Go fetch me a man size version for Christ sake!”.

Got a great pic of the blonde with her penis shaped plastic thingie too!

After some more flirting I got the distinct impression that if we stuck around I could get lucky with the blonde, but said to Bennett that I wasn’t interested in hanging around until the wee small hours of the the night to close the deal (as their hen’s night was only getting started) so after a while we said our goodbyes and left.

From there Bennett insisted (twisted my arm behind my back I tell you!) on taking me to ‘the most famous San Fran strip club’: Mitchell Brothers’ O’Farrell Theatre.  Now the Mitchell Brothers were, apparently, former kings of porn in the 70s and 80s, who produced many of Marilyn Chambers vids like Behind the Green Door and Insatiable (ah teenage memories…heh!).  Anyway, even though I’m not really a strip club type of guy (neither is Bennett), I have to confess I had a great time while we were there! Though, I might add, not as, um…good…a time as Bennett, err…had… J

We stayed at the strip club for about 3 hours or so, then – while walking back to the car – a couple of big black guys asked us for directions to some place where they were trying to ‘Hook up with (their) bitches’.  They turned out to be an LA rapper named Alcatraz and his manager (from Strong Arm Management). And were both very cool dudes!  We ended up chatting with them for about 20 minutes (during which time we got a couple of great pics together!) before we went on our way.

From there we drove to another bar (called ‘Buckshot’), but we were both fading by this point (and my voice was starting to vanish from talking above loud music!) so it wasn’t long before we headed back to Bennett’s place to crash.

What a fantastic night!!!

Chris didn’t so much as bother to get up to say goodbye.  A walk of maybe 20 feet from her room to mine.

Slept fitfully on the plane all the way to west coast, then Bennett picked me up at the San Francisco International airport.  I haven’t seen Bennett since the 2003 Nicholl final, so it was fantastic to catch up with him!  Plus, his back – while not perfect yet – is a thousand times better than it was when I met him. Which is great to see!

With the bags still in the boot of the car (sorry America, in the ‘trunk’!), Bennett took me to lunch at Max’s Opera Plaza. Where, for $13 I had this FANTASTIC home backed chicken and veggie pie. Really big too!  Now that’s what I call lunch! And served with a smile.  That’s one of the many things I love about America. You always get great customer service.

Weather in San Fran was spectacular, and after so many days of zero degree temperatures in the various cities I’ve been to around the world, it was just what I needed. So, with blue sky as far as the eye can see, and temperatures in the low 70s, Bennett drove me over the Golden Gate bridge! We parked on the Sausalito side and then did something I’ve always wanted to do: I WALKED THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE!!!  Well stoked about that!  (Simple pleasures and all that…)

View from the bridge was AMAZING, and – I’m surprised to hear myself saying this – I found that the San Francisco harbour is every bit as beautiful as Sydney harbour (which many believe to be the most beautiful harbour in the world). And that’s high praise indeed.

After seeing the award winning doco ‘The Bridge’ a few months ago on DVD, it was strange to be actually walking over the bridge itself.  The Golden Gate bridge is – so the doco said – the spot where more people commit suicide than any other place on the planet. And after walking it I can see why: THEY MAKE IT SO EASY TO JUMP! 

When you cross the Sydney Harbour bridge, there is 14 foot  high fencing with barbed wire on top, to prevent people climbing over and jumping.  And there are also numerous guys in uniform walking the bridge at all hours of the day or night  whose job seems to be somewhere between providing information for tourists, to stopping people endangering themselves or others by doing something stupid while on the bridge.  But, on the Golden Gate bridge there are no security or tourist staff, and NO FENCES.  Well, that’s a lie, there is one fence.  But it’s only about four feet high!  Which makes climbing over it to jump off the bridge about as easy as jumping a suburban white picket fence to get into somebody’s garden.  Madness.

Got some great pics while on the bridge and then we drove (still on the Sausalito side) to the Mark Rubben Gallery, which is a boutique shop down toward the water that stocks all these old (and very cool) black and white photographs.  Bennett bought a couple, but with prices starting at $75US they were a bit steep for my travel weary.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

We then went back to Bennett’s place. And, no sooner were we there that my fatigue started catching up with me. But, with only two days in San Fran I had do something and refused to bed down for the night, even though that’s exactly what I felt like doing . But, as I was so tired I wasn’t up to doing anything that required any effort on my part, so I suggested we go to the cinema to see ‘Milk’.  Which of course is set in San Fran in the 70s.  This was Bennett’s first trip to the cinema for the better part of a decade (due to his back preventing him sitting for long periods), so he was quite psyched to go. Especially as he was living in San Fran when Harvey Milk was shot.

The film itself was very good (with Saun Pen in terrific form), and at the end of it everybody in the packed cinema burst  into applause (which is rare in cinemas).  Not jumping up and down, standing on Oprah’s couch applause mind you.   Just respectful and appreciative.

Went back to Bennett’s place after the movie and totally CRASHED!  Like: I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

I got to sleep in a couple of hours more than Chris, but was still very tired when I woke up.  Faffed around her place playing with Hudson and Gracie and surfing the internet until she eventually came back several hours later.

More time past while Chris went through a rigorous ‘taking sick dogs on a road trip’ checklist, and finally we managed to head off for some breakfast . By this time it was – I kid you not – around 3 pm. Now, remembering that it is a 5 hour drive to Baltimore / Washington, which meant that my tourist time in Washington (which was originally 2 whole days) was now going to just be a token couple of hours in the dark.  Not real happy about that, but circumstances had conspired against my visit there, as circumstances are want to do. And, to be completely honest, all the circumstances were completely out of Chris’ control, so I sucked it up and went with the flow as best I could.

Had quite a bit of fun with Chris in the car on the early part of the journey, chatting and playing word games (like the verbal equivalent of Balderdash – my favourite board game!).  But, as the journey wore on, Chris and I both got very tired, and – with nerves fraying – started arguing like an old married couple about nothing and everything.  This was no doubt borne out of fatigue on both our parts, but it still put a real dampener on the road trip (which I’d been really looking forward to). Not assigning any blame for this you understand.  Chris has been living three lives this last week and deserves to be nominated for a sainthood for her efforts.  So her turning surly due to lack of sleep is completely understandable. I just didn’t need it directed like an exorcet missile at me, with salvos going off every 15 minutes.

The drive took longer than anticipated as we had to stop so Chris could walk the dogs (who were in the back seat of the car with us), so we didn’t get to Chris’ parents place until 10.30 pm.  Which meant that I would now not even see Washington for a token two hours. Really NOT HAPPY about that. But again, it was nobody’s fault.  And as I said to Chris when we chatted about it: “I’ll just have to see Washington next time”.

Chris’ parent’s house is a beautiful million dollar multi-room affair in suburban Baltimore. And both her mum and dad were the most gracious hosts you could ask for; being kind and generous to a fault.

The four of us had a light supper sitting at their kitchen table then her mum and dad went to bed, leaving Chris and I up to chat.  Unfortunately that maybe wasn’t such a good idea as Chris just insisted on continuing one of the arguments from the car.  To the point of I just turned and said ‘goodnight’ and walked away mid sentence, and couldn’t put up with her barbed harping a second longer.

Again, this isn’t to assign blame to Chris here.  She is a spectacular woman and fatigue just built up and caused her (and me, I suppose) to say some things we shouldn’t have.  Still, no matter which way you slice it, it was a pretty shitty way to end a really WONDERFUL trip to New York.    

The new plan was that we would go see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island and then I would go to see Wicked during the evening by myself (while Chris went to an agent ‘meet and greet’ somewhere else in New York) and from there we would meet up to leave for Washington around 10 pm, getting into her parents’ place in Baltimore around 2 in the morning.

This of course meant I would lose one whole day of my two days in Washington, but I figured, what the hell, we’d get up around 10 a.m the next day, have a spot of breaky, and I’d still get one whole day doing the touristy thing around Washington, which would be more than enough to see the monuments, White House etc, and get some groovy pics.

So, with lots to do, I got up early (after not getting a whole lot of sleep), to give myself time to get organised.

Went down and had another healthy breakfast then went back to the room and did my packing and checked out of my room, leaving my luggage with the concierge.

Chris turned up a bit later than planned and we jumped in her car and drove to the bottom of Manhattan to get the Ferry to Statute of Liberty in the pouring rain. Though even the inclement weather couldn’t take away from the fact that we were taking a ferry to see the Statue of Liberty, baby!

Once there we paid for an audio tour (headsets that you punched in different numbers, depending where you were) and entered the Statue.  Went inside we got chatting with a couple of female Rangers for about half an hour. That was lots of fun. Amongst other things they showed us what they do when they get bored.  One of which was to hide a small device which gives off fart noises, and when groups of people came in they’d sneakily make the fart noises sound, and cause people in the group to look around to work out who farted! Funny stuff!

We looked at the original torch, which is on display at the base of the inside of the statue.  Then went up to the museum part  and learnt all about how the statue was built, etc.  Very interesting. Only downside to this was that post 9/11 you can’t actually go up inside the Statue. Only inside the base.  Which is a real shame.

Got some great pics of the lady, then took a ferry to Ellis Island. 

As a couple of Chris’ relatives came to New York and were processed through Ellis Island, I knew visiting here was like a spiritual experience for her. So, when we got there, I made some excuse about me ‘staying outside to take some pics’ and said to Chris, ‘You go on inside, I’ll catch up’. Never planning to catch up.  I just wanted to let her have some ‘me time’ as she walked around, without having to play ‘tour guide’ to a guy from downunder.

To be honest, to anyone not spiritually connected with the place, Ellis Island is pretty boring.  A group of renovated old buildings with some pics inside and a big wall with the names of all the people who were processed there.  So, with Chris doing her thing, I sat in on an interesting Gene Hackman narrated doco. Though to be honest, due to lack of sleep, I think I sat through it twice. One time awake, one time asleep!

Got the last ferry back to Manhattan, with both of us being exhausted and cold.

Chris dropped me off by the theatre where Wicked was showing and I went and bought a ticket, then had  a spot of dinner at a Mexican restraint opposite my hotel, then went to the theatre.

This was my first Broadway show, but I have to tell you that as an ex-professional actor I am not easily impressed by stage shows But…Wicked was AMAZING!!!

I hadn’t heard the score (except for  snippets) and didn’t know too much about the book, save it was the prequel to The Wizard of Oz.  But honestly, the two leads were wonderful (and funny!) and the music and staging were FANTASTIC!  I’d spent $111US to be 10 rows back, at the front of the theatre, smack bang in the centre.  And boy was it money well spent! What a night!!! What a show!!!

I get out of the theatre all happy and buzzing and go back to my hotel to get my bags and wait for Chris to pick me up for us to drive to Baltimore / Washington…only to find out that the plans had changed yet again, with Chris ringing me to tell me she had a flat tyre on the way home from dropping me off this afternoon, and had to get it fixed in the morning BEFORE we leave. Which meant taking the car in to her garage tomorrow morning. Which meant that we would leave late for DC. Which of course meant that my ONLY day in Washington was suddenly going to be 1/3 of a day, and most of a night.  Again, NOT happy about that.  But again: WHAT THE HELL COULD I DO?  Nothing.

So, Chris came back into the city (spare tyre on the car) and picked me up after Wicked at my hotel and we drove to her place to spend the night there. Theory being we’d leave early tomorrow.

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

So, with time against us, we cabbed to the National History Museum and looked around the planetarium (Chris’ favourite part of the museum).  In the planetarium they have this terrific show which is projected by multiple (3?) cameras onto the concave ceiling of the planetarium, while a voice over from Robert Redford narrates the origin of the universe.  Really enjoyed that.  Chris did too, though she nodded off during most of it (due to lack of sleep, not boredom). 

After that we had a spot of late lunch (very overpriced) and Chris told me she had to go, and would I mind seeing the rest of the museum without her.  That was a bit of bummer, but of course I said, ‘no problem’.  

The plan of attack for the rest of the day was that Chris do whatever she had to do back at her place, and we meet up to go to the theatre at 8 pm.

So, I wandered around the National History Museum (no Ben Stiller in sight!) for a couple of hours and then cabbed back to my hotel. From there I walked over to the theatre where Wicked is playing to buy us tickets, only to find that while I could get us two good tickets…the show started tonight at 7 pm not 8 pm.  Like, WTF?  When did a theatre show EVER start at 7 pm?

So, with no theatre option, Chris and I dressed up (even though it was FREEZING and pouring with rain and rugging up with 14 layers of clothes would’ve the smarter thing to do!) to go out for dinner. But, cold notwithstanding, Chris looked as stunningly beautiful as a 1940s film star, shot in black and white and backlit through a partially opened set of blinds.  And I, in my pin-striped Hugo Boss suit, hopefully didn’t look too shabby either.

We went to a really nice Italian place a friend of Chris’ had recommended and I had an EXCEPTIONAL well done steak. Like, really yummy!  Chris – vegetarian that she is (for shame!) – had a Caesar salad. Which, it turned out, didn’t agree with her.  Because no sooner had we finished he meal and left the restaurant than she started feeling really sick (and actually threw up later, on the drive back to her place). 

Chris and I drove from the restaurant to the Empire State building so I could try to get those missing ‘pics from the top’ that I missed out on. But alas, visibility was “zero percent’, so we didn’t bother going up.

From here – with Chris feeling ill as I mentioned – I got dropped off at my hotel and we called it a night.

Then went for breakfast, after discovering that it’s included in my room rate.

Had a healthy breakfast of low fat serial and juice, and felt better than I’d felt in a long time.

Chris had some stuff to do today so I went out and bought some shaving equipment (including some clippers, as I am tired of looking like an ape man) and some other bits and pieces, then came  back to my room and  made myself look a little more human with a long shower and a shave.

I was going to go out and about for a wander before Chris came over, but used my free time to catch up with my travel blog (which had fallen a couple of days behind)  and also to work on The Empire Directive, after I was inspired by an email I had from a writer I know who self published a book, which has now been picked up and is going to be in every Barnes and Noble  store in the US and is getting translated into 10 different languages!  VERY pleased for the guy, as the book (Daemon) is an amazingly good read and he deserves every success.

Chris came over about 4.30 pm and we went out to see the Cathedral of St. John the Devine (the world’s largest cathedral).  That was spectacular and I had a fantastic time with Chris.

After that we grabbed some yummie cakes and went to Grand Central station to look around.  That was a great call given how many times I’ve seen it in movies.

From there we went to see some terrific Christmas window displays that were still up at Macys at Herald Square (though why they were still up in January I’ve no idea), and then we went off to the Empire State building!  And BOY was I excited about that!

We then did the Sky Ride, which is a motion ride in the vein of the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studio in Hollywood (showing a tour of New York from the air), which was good except for the annoying Kevin Bacon voice over (not his fault, crappy script).  From there it was into the lift and up up up the Empire State building, baby!

The view from the 86^th floor observatory was SPECTACULAR and shat from on high (sorry about the pun, heh!)  on the view from the Eifel tower. As did the LACK OF QUEUING.  This was a much better experience than the Eifel Tower (which looks AMAZING from the outside though). Partly because I was with the lovely Chris and had the groovy New York Pass card (which gets you in without queuing to a truck load of sights), and partly because it was just a much better organized place to visit.

The only downer with my visit to the Empire State Building is that my camera battery died so I didn’t get any bloody photos!  NOT HAPPY about that, as the view was out of this world and the weather was clear as clear can be and the view going on forever.

After we left we went to the famous John’s Pizza on Bleecker street and had a traditional New York Pizza (which was really nice but very thin and VERY greasy.  Seriously, when you picked up a slice of pizza the fat literally dripped off it onto the plate. Spoonfuls of it!).

Chris and I then took Hudson for a walk on a nearby snow covered mountain which was an amazing start to the day, and I got to make -  first time ever! – a real, honest to goodness snow angel!  VERY COOL!

I loved it out there.  This is the snow experienced that I wanted, but didn’t get, in Are.  Snow, nature, wonderful company to share it with.  I could’ve stayed there all day.  In Are I had a very ordinary time because a) I had the gastro thing going on, and b)  because I felt like an outsider. Like all the people there were part of the skiing / snowboarding winter culture, and I was some foreign guy who’d wandered into the members only club by mistake.  But here, standing with Chris and Hudson on a snow covered mountain?  Well I just felt at home. Really at home.

We took Hudson back to Chris’ place (which gets both wild deer and wild turkeys wandering around the grounds at night,  apparently!) and then went for a terrific breakfast at a local dinner.  Again, really great stuff.

By this stage it was early afternoon, and both of us were starting to flag.  We’d planned to go to see a couple of museums and go up the Empire state building, but all we managed to do was drag ourselves to Maddam Tussauds wax museum.  And even that was a struggle.

We were still planning to go up the Empire State building, but my camera battery died so we had to go back to my hotel room to re-charge it.  But, no sooner had we sat down than our energy drained out of us and we could barely get up let alone trek to the Empire State building.  Consequently we ended up just chatting about some more sombre stuff for a couple of hours before Chris drove home.

Chris and I have been doing a lot of talking and I’d forgotten how invigorating that can be.  You know, just sitting there really talking.  Not small talk.  But about important life stuff. Both the good and the bad.  It reminded me of when I was back in acting college and I was forever going out with folks and having D&Ms (TM -  1988!) until the wee small hours.  I’ve got to make sure I do more of this in 2009. Because, even when it’s personally challenging, these sorts of discussions are good for my artistic soul.  Or to put it slightly less eloquently: sometimes I need to be reminded to  pull my head out of my ass.

After Chris was gone I tried to order some food but discovered that my hotel doesn’t do room service, so chowed down on some chocolate I had in my bag (not very nice, bit stale as it turned out) and some beautiful chocolates that Chris had given me as a present.  Not exactly a healthy dinner choice, but I was too tired to go outside to track down some dinner.

Was in bed asleep by about 10.30 pm.

Chris came over in the early afternoon and we chatted for a while in my hotel room, then drove over to do a boat cruise up the Hudson toward the statue of liberty.  That was cold but FANTASTIC (got some great pics) and was the most fun I’ve had on the holiday by far.  Chris and I just chilled (literally!) and chatted about life, the universe and everything, while beautiful Manhattan went by and the sun set and some guy who seemed to be the incarnation of Ed McMahon delivered running commentary.

Then Chris drove us to her place to check in on her dogs Hudson and Gracie, and then we went out to winter wonder lights, which was in Sleepy Hollow country (close to her place) and had snow on the ground and some great lights and sculptures, etc. 

We then went back to her place after a long, long day, with both of us very tired.  Chris poor thing still had to do stuff like walk Hudson in arctic conditions, and give Gracie her medication.  What a trouper!  I could barely keep my eyes open and she was still going strong.

Then we ordered some Chinese food (which was delivered faster than any home delivery food I’ve ever experienced, and – get this – stayed warm in the packaging for about 20 – 30 minutes , which amazed me as it wasn’t in any special containers or anything!) before settling in for the night.

This was the best day of my holiday by a country mile and I LOVED every minute of it! I honestly can’t remember a day that I’ve been as happy as today in a long, long time.

Anyway, I woke up to find it was snowing in Paris!  Only a very light covering but very nice all the same!  Shame it didn’t snow yesterday as I would’ve got some great photos.

Jumped the shuttle to the airport (27 Euros) which was MUCH better than the coach from the airport to Paris.  This one was just a van that sat 8 people.

At  the airport I found UA straight away and after the obligatory queuing  was extended by one of the X-ray machines breaking down, I got to my departure terminal just as the plane was boarding.  Though we were delayed take-off by about 20 minutes waiting for the other people held up by the security / X-ray problems.

Flight was painless.  Had an aisle seat in a row of two and a surprising amount of leg room. Also had a little TV on the back of the seat in front of me. And the headrest was nice and soft so when I had a bit of nap, it was quite relaxing. I’d definitely fly UA again.

Spent the flight working on The Empire Directive, reading the Swedish thriller Steve and Marie gave me, watching a bit of TV and napping.

Got into Dulles International airport in Washington and all I could think of was Die hard 2!  If only it’d been snowing!

Talking about snow, our flight to JFK airport (which is in Queens I discovered) was delayed because there was supposedly snow in New York!  Yaaaaaaay I thought. But when I got to NY there wasn’t any snow in sight (but I discover from Chris this is because of the heating from under the streets due to the subways or something).

Anyway, the 35 minute flight was SPECTACULAR. Orange lights littered the countryside and we were in a small plane only wide enough for three seats and a narrow isle, and flying quite low, so  it was a beautiful flight and I got a couple of really cool pics.

Got to the airport and Chris was there to pick me up, and we jumped in her car and drove into New York baby!!!

This is my first time in the big apple so I was very excited and a bit like a kid in a candy store.  We drove to my hotel in Time Square and went up to my very groovy room with a KING SIZE BED!!! Which was literally three times larger than the cot I had to sleep on in Paris.  So very, very, VERY pleased about that.

We then went out and had a bit of walk through time square. Bright lights, big city. All very cool, with a lot of Christmas decorations still up, people  skating in Rockafella plaza and the like. Then we went up 30 Rock and boy it was cold!  (a running theme with this holiday!). Got some FANTASTIC  photos, and Chris and I then went out and grabbed some Thai food together before she had to go home to look after her dogs.

It was mighty cold again today, but I rugged up again and braved the elements and caught a line 6 train from Cammomody to Charles De Gaul, then changed to a line 1 to the stop for the louvre.  (Getting the hang of the trains now!)

Got off the train and followed the flow of people and found myself underneath the famous Louvre glass pyramid!  Very cool.  But, when walked to the nearby entrance to the Louvre itself…it was bl**dy well closed again!  ARGH!  So the fates have conspired  against me this visit to Paris, and stopped me getting into the Louvre.  On Tuesday I’ve seen the outside (above ground) part of the museum, but found it closed.  And today on New Year’s Day I’ve seen the underground entrance, but found it closed.  Oh well I say!  It leaves visiting the Louvre and going up the Eifel Tower at night  on my ‘To Do’ list on my next visit (which hopefully will be with someone).

But, determined to see a Museum, I decided to do the next best thing to the Louvre…the Museum of Erotica!  (The perfect place for an ex-Monk to kick off the new year by visiting!)  So I got the line 1 train back to Charles De Gaul, then the line 6 train to Place Du Clichy.

Now, so far as I knew, Place Du Clichy was just a random suburb . But, when I get there, one of the first things I see is the Moulin Rouge.   And a ton of sex shops.  So I’m guessing Place Du Clichy must be the red light district of Paris.

Went to the Museum of Erotica which wasn’t remotely erotic.  But then, it takes more than a nudie pic and a phallic African totem to float my boat.  Especially after a year as a Monk. It was an interesting enough place though, and well worth the 8 Euros to get in.  Oh, one thing I did notice with the historical tour of all things erotic, was that pubic hair has – down through the ages – been well and truly in favour! AYE-CARUMBA!

 Now I personally think the greatest single invention in the history of the world may be the Brazilian wax!  (followed closely by fire, the wheel and post it notes…)  And Lord could these gals have done with a voucher for or two to their local beautician.  I swear, some of the pubic hair was so long you could smuggle lamas in it!  And nothing turns me off quicker than a hirsute woman.

After the museum I went and grabbed KFC.  Now, even though I’ve been living on fast food (which I never eat back home) because it’s so much cheaper than every other type of food you can buy here, it’s still expensive.  For example I bought a meal of Zinger burger, chips, Pepsi and a small Sunday and it cost 10 Euro.  Or about 22 Oz$.  AND THAT’S CONSIDERED CHEAP HERE! (a burger by itself was 7 Euro).

Went across the road from the KFC to a multi-plex to see  if there was a film starting I could watch, as it was about 3.30 in the afternoon, but  there weren’t any English version’s showing at that time (they seem to have French Versions and ‘Original Versions’ – which may have French sub-titles, I don’t know – in their cinemas here).  So I hopped a train back to Cammbont and went back to my hotel and grabbed my laptop and went and sat in a coffee shop working on the second chapter of The Empire Directive.  Though again I felt a little alienated, as when I ordered a coffee they brought me something completely different. And then on the second attempt I got a short black instead of a latte.  And that cost 2.40 Euros.

Had a good writing session, and was quite enjoying the buzz of the French language being murmured around me.  Which worked well as ‘white noise’ to help me focus.

Popped in the internet cafe for a few minutes, then went back to my hotel and found out, much to my chagrin, that they had a free computer / internet in the lounge area.  Though to be honest, it was SO slow it was like using dial up, so I still would’ve probably gone up the road and paid for it.

Went and grabbed a pizza from next store about 10 pm and sat down to watch a dvd of ‘Freedom Land’ which I’d hired from the internet place up the road.  I had hired ‘Breakfast With Sharks’ as well, to get me in a Hollywood frame of mind, prior to going there again.  But the version I hired was in French (despite me specifically asking if it was in English).  Still, Freedom Land was solid enough.  And I seem to remember it got really poor reviews.

Got up, showered, then sat down to work on the opening chapter of The Empire Directive.

My plan today was to climb the Eifel Tower, as yesterday it was raining and I figured the view from the top would’ve been obscured.   And I’d also planned to go to the Louvre and Notre Dame. Hoping this  time to  get inside both.  But the day didn’t turn out that way.

By the time I got to the Eifel tower it was about 1 pm, and with the temperature bloody freezing (literally) I joined a cue that wound its way around to the one working lift (the other wasn’t working for some reason).  This took about an hour and a half.

There’s three levels you can pay for in the Eifel Tower.  1^st level, 2^nd level and top level.  The latter costs 12 Euros, which is pretty decent value.

But, once you get in, your cueing days aren’t behind you – much as you’d wish they were – as you have to get off the lift at the second level and then cue around the outside of the open tower (did I mention it was COLD?) to get into the lift that takes you to the top.  This cue took about 35 minutes as the 2^nd level was totally packed.

I entertained myself during my cueing by listening to some screenwriter interviews I had on my mp3 player, that I’d forgotten I loaded on.

When you finally get to the top, ironically, it was only maybe 20% capacity, and there was lots of space to move around.  Not quite sure how that works, as the cue was bloody long?  Unless maybe they only let so many people up to the top level at one time?

Anyway, by the time  I got to the top the weather had closed in, and the view – while still spectacular – was pretty murky and obscured.  Strangely enough while standing up there and snapping the obligatory photos, I got the distinct impression that the Eifel Tower was best appreciated from the outside. As while you’re up there, it’s just grey metal and wire fencing.  Though I’m sure on a beautiful summer’s day, when you can see forever, and there is warmth in your limbs, one might appreciate the ‘being up the Eifel Tower’ a fraction more.  As would being there with someone.

After about 15 minutes, the cold drove me back down the tower.  Lift to the 2^nd level was quick.  Then you have to cue for another 20 minutes on the 2^nd level to get down to the ground. Oh joy I hear you cry. But, the journey was made slightly more enjoyable by the beautiful femme fetal who was crushed in alongside me! (hey, you spend the better part of 3 hours cueing up in the freezing cold, you look for whatever comfort you can find!)  J

I was cold to the bone by this stage and couldn’t face traipsing to the other side of Paris to see the Louvre and Notre Dame, so just walked back to the hotel, stopping off in the internet cafe on the way back.  Where, I might add, it took fully thirty minutes for me to feel my fingers again.

Bought some food and back to the hotel I went to warm up.  By this stage it was 5.30 pm, so the whole day was shot. 

The guy at the desk, when asked by me, ‘What time do the fireworks start tonight?’ told me, ‘They go from 10 pm right though until midnight’.  And I’m thinking, two hours of fireworks? F*CKING ROCKIN’!

So, with a bit of time up my sleeve I got started on the 2^nd chapter of The Empire Directive.

About 9.30 pm I got ready to go out. This time I was determined not to be so cold, so put on 3 layers of clothes!  That’s 3 pairs of socks.  Calvins, thermals (lower) workout pants, jeans. Thick T-shirt, thermals (upper), jumper, fleece, scarf, leather jacket, gloves.  Heidi hat on standby.

I’m so glad I stayed at this hotel. Well, not THIS hotel. But in this area. As it’s a very easy 25 minute walk from here to the Eifel Tower, with no chance of getting lost.

Got to the Eifel Tower to find it looking spectacular. And I have to be honest with you, lit up all Chelsea blue like it was, the Eifel Tower may be the most amazing thing I have ever set eyes on.  And I’ve been on the planet a while.  W.O.W.

Took some pics and walked across the bridge to the other side of the river to get a better view.  Found a place right by the ledge (river / river bank, below – Eifel Tower opposite bank about 100 meters away) and spread myself broad so nobody from the ever increasing crowd would try muscle in on my turf.

And then I waited for the fireworks to begin.  And waited. And waited.  Meanwhile, the weather got colder, and I became increasingly grateful for the extra layers of clothes.

But the fireworks NEVER CAME. 

That’s right.  When midnight arrived – duly marked by a dozen brightly lit stars in a circle, about a third of the way up the tower, turning off (counting down) one by one – NOTHING HAPPENED.

I mean, sure, the Eifel Tower changed colour again (and very pretty too – but it had already changed colours many times leading up to midnight) – but that was it.  Very odd!  The only fireworks came in the form of tiny ones people had sneaked into the crowd and set off themselves.

So, I guess you could say it was all a bit of a fizzer.  Not that I feel that way, you understand, as I was standing within a stone’s throw of the Eifel Tower, in Paris, on New Year’s Eve. So it was ALL GOOD in my book.  But ya know, throw in twenty minutes of fireworks at midnight and you’ve got yourself a fucking rock concert!

Took a whole bunch of pics during the course of the three hours I was there.  Some real keepers amongst them.  Then walked back to the hotel through the Parisian revellers.  The trip being rather humorously augmented when a cute chick decided that she needed to – as her Austrian boyfriend took pains to explain to me – “Go pee pee!” between two parked cars in a side street.

Got back to my room and, with all the layers of clothes on, felt like I was walking into a sauna in my heated room.  But, once I’d stripped off I sank into my tiny excuse for a bed for another restless night’s slumber.

Went down for breakfast – which was the most plain of all the breakfasts offered by the hotels I’ve stayed in – but did get to have  a bowl of cornflakes and a coffee in front of an open fire which was rather nice.

Got some directions from the guy at the desk and – rugged up to the max – went outside…where it was pouring with rain and cold cold cold.

Spent the next 8 hours pretty much solidly walking around Paris.  Went past the Ecole Militaire and was amazed to see the Eifel Tower looming large behind it like! VERY cool! Then to the Tomb of Napoleon (but didn’t pay to go inside) and Musee de Armee.  Then to the Assemblee National Palais Bourbon.  Across the Seine to the left bank of Paris – YAAAAY, I’M ON THE LEFT BANK OF PARIS, BABY!!! – through the Avenue Winston Churchill  and onto the Avenue Des Champs Elysees.  There I sauntered – I could’ve walked, but it’s the Champs Elysees! – up to the Arc de Triomphe.  By this time the rain had turned into very tiny snow flakes, which made the experience all the more surreal.

Turning around I grabbed lunch in McDonalds just because everything else along the Avenue Des Champs Elysees was SO EXPENSIVE.  Like just popping in for a spot of lunch would’ve set me back 20 to 30 Euro.  And I’ve no desire to spend 60 Oz$ on lunch.  That’s one thing I’ve notice about this travelling caper: your diet goes to hell as you end up eating at fast food joints you never eat at back home, just because they’re cheap. 

Anyway, I walked back down the Avenue Des Champs Elysees to the Musee du Louvre, only to find the bloody thing was ‘Closed on Tuesdays’.  WTF?  Why would you close the museum on Tuesdays?  Not that I knew it was Tuesday to be honest with you. I’ve long since lost all concept of date and days on this holiday.

Went from there and walked down by the water on the right bank of the Seine for a ways – very nice that.  Very romantic. The rain had stopped by this stage. Still bitterly cold, but I was enjoying myself enormously and getting some terrific exercise thrown in.  Walked along the river bank until Notre Dame loomed large on the left bank.  Crossed over and went to Notre Dame (an AMAZING – I MEAN AMAZING Cathedral) but this too I couldn’t get in!!!  ARGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!  I don’t know if it was mass or if it was a concert going on inside (there were some posters outside for a concert, so maybe the latter?) but there was a loooooooooooooooong cue to get in. And I do mean L.O.N.G.  So I just got to see it from outside.

Which means I’ll have to come do this all over again tomorrow or the next day, as I want to spend several hours wandering through the Louvre, and also looking inside Notre Dame.  Which, if it’s anything like the outside, will take my breath away.

By this stage I was starting to get tired. I hadn’t eaten all day and had been walking pretty much non-stop. So, I decided to pull up stumps and head home.  Something that proved a lot harder than I’d have liked.  Bottom line, I walked another couple of hours around Paris getting lost. Then eventually a nice Parisian woman took pity on my when I was trying to make sense of the TINY (why do they print the street names so f*cking small!) tourist map, and pointed me in the direction I needed to go. But, I started feeling a tightness in my left hamstring (my bad for stopping for 15 minutes to read the map, and allowing the muscles to go cold – it must’ve been – 2 degrees by this stage) and stopped by a metro station.  But, boy is the Paris metro hard to make sense of.  I won’t bore you with the boring waiting, getting on and off the wrong train at the wrong stops, that went on.  But let’s just say it took me an hour and a half to travel by train, what I could’ve walked in 20 minutes (if I knew exactly where to go, I mean).

Got home around 10.30 pm, jumped into an internet cafe close by I stumbled across (that also rented DVDs) then rented Back to the Future, grabbed a pizza and hit the sack, totally shagged.

Steve, Marie and I left their place around twelve thirty after I’d had a shower and a shave (and hey, after a shave I even started to LOOK marginally human again!)  and went and had coffee with a mate of theirs, his girlfriend, and a friend of his friend (who lives in Bangkok, and who I’ll catch up with when I’m over there in mid-January).  We were there for a couple of hours and that was great fun! All very nice people.

After we left the coffee shop, Steve; Marie and I then went walking around Stockholm for several hours in the freezing cold.  Thqt too was great fun and with some energy in my body I managed to do it and not have to sit down to rest every five minutes, which is proof positive that I am officially on the mend.

At the tail end of the walk we stopped in a bar for some dinner, then went back to their place for the night.

It turned into another long, long night too, as Steve and I chatted about The Empire Directive, The Butcher of Box Hill, and a truck load of other writer type stuff.  Another great night!

Plus; add into this bile the fact thqt this part of my holiday cost me around 3000 dollars, and I got to go snowboarding once for one and a half hours, and you will appreciate that I wish I had NEVER so much as heard of Are, let alone visited it.

Are was meant to be a place where I came for a picture perfect snow covered Christmas.  A place where I socialized with fellow travellers and locals alike, and had the best Christmas ever! (TM)  Unfortunately this couldn’t be further from the truth.  The only travellers who spoke English I came across where either in couples or families.  And the only locals I came into contact with for any kind of interaction were paid to be nice to me by the fact that they were working in hospitality.

And as for meeting members of the opposite sex?  Yeah, right. The only two women I met who were of any potential interest to me was a cute blonde gal who brought food to my room one night, and a cute brunette who drove me to and from the doctor in Are.  And I was feeling so sub-human, so unclean, so bloated and thoroughly unattractive, that chatting them up (or whatever equates to that in Sweden) was the absolute FURTHEST thing from my mind.  Plus this whole living as a Monk for a year thing may prove harder for me to end that I’d anticipated, as I’m not sure I actually WANT to end it.  I mean, I want to end it, don’t get me wrong; but I don’t want to go back to being the tart I was, otherwise that negates completely the point of the year. So somehow I’ve got to make sure I don’t turn into the guy who – after giving up drinking –  suddenly becomes a raging alcoholic again, just because he has one glass of scotch.

Anyway, let’s get on with this blog entry and get the f*ck out of dodge.

I got up this morning after another fitful night’s sleep, and showered and went down for breakfast.  With my stomach bug getting better – though by no means gone – I managed to hold down two pieces of toast and jam and a cup of hot coffee and a small glass of apple juice.

Yesterday – just so you know – I had 5 pieces of dry bread the entire day. Which was all I could stomach. And by dry bread I mean bread I’d taken out of the packet and let sit for several hours so it was hardened and almost stale. As fresh bread set my stomach off.

So, after breakfast I went back in my room and crushed everything into my travel cases and made a decision that when I get to Steve and Marie’s in Stockholm, I’m going to wash and fold all my stuff neatly, before flying to Paris; as I can’t tell you how sick to death I am of all this disorder in my life. And the inside of my suitcase is a metaphor for my so called life if ever there was one.

Got to the train station at Are with about 5 minutes to spare, and away to Stockholm I went.

I’m looking forward to catching up with Steve and Marie in Stockholm.  As Steve doesn’t drive, we’ll be doing a fair bit of walking around the city.  And I am sorely in need of exercise. Because if my body is a temple, then it feels like one that has long since been abandoned to elements.  I only hope I’m feeling well enough to walk though, as my energy levels have been so desperately low during my time in Are that even getting out of bed to go to the bathroom proved excruciatingly hard work.

My mate Ken emailed me on Facebook the other day, with the crux of his cheer-up epistle being (and I’m para-phrasing here):

 ‘The Phoenix needs to be consumed by flames before it can be re-born’.

He thought that what I was going through was a kind of spiritual and physical catharsis or cleansing, as part of my preparation for all the great things that are in store for me in 2009.

Lying in bed as sick as a dog for a week has given me plenty of time to think about this.  And the catharsis angle really seems the only way for me to make sense of what’s been happening to me on this holiday.  And is something that sits very well with my oft quoted personal maxim, ‘How can you expect tomorrow to be any different, if you don’t do anything different today?’.

Another thing Ken mentioned to help me actually get through the catharsis itself, was:

 ’If you can’t change your circumstance, change your attitude’. 

And that’s something I’ve got to put a great deal more effort into.

The train trip to Stockholm passed surprisingly quickly.  During it I did a little bit of writing on the synopsis of the Empire Directive (one of the new novel pitches Logan Savile is working up).  This is the first bit of creative writing – blog notwithstanding- I’ve done since I left Oz.

I also started the Swedish thriller book Steve and Marie gave me for Christmas.

Steve met me at the Central train station in Stockholm and we went for a coffee and an Are de-brief.  Not that my stomach felt up to coffee, so I had to settle with a glass of tap water.

From there we went back to Steve and Marie’s place and the three of us caught up.  Steve wanted to go out and show me some of Stockholm, but I really wasn’t feeling up to physical exertion, so we stayed in and chatted about books, life, etc, and started to nut through The Empire Directive pitch.

It was 5 am before we got to sleep…

What a totally shit holiday this has been. London = sick. Vienna = sick. Äre = sick. Fan-fucking-tastic effort, Loges. Nice going.

Steve emailed me today to tell me that Marie’s mother has the same gastro bug I’ve picked up… and that she’s apparently on her FOURTH week of the fucking thing.

Oh joy.

Anyway, got up at 12.50 pm today, and took all my rented snowboarding stuff back. I have been snowboarding ONCE in the entire time I’ve been in Åre. That’s right, once. And I paid for everything for 5 days. Though I’ve still got the real nasty red gashes on my calves (see pics) from the ski-boots – and I haven’t worn them for 4 days – so maybe not going snow-boarding has been a blessing.

I’m so glad I got to to go up in that ski lift once, though. That at least was the highlight of my time in Åre. And I got a handful of great photos.

Will try snowboarding (or maybe skiing?) again. Maybe in Queenstown with Pat. Maybe back in Oz. But, I’ll make sure I have some protection on my calves. Or else buy boots rather than rent a pair that obviously don’t fit properly.

Snowboarding was bloody hard work. That’s pretty much what I took away from the experience. That and bruised knees (from falling forward) and lacerated calves. But I’m sure that once you do get the hang of it, and are going down hill at speed, it’d be a hoot. But to be honest with you, I would’ve been happy just being able to jump on a big green bin bag and zoom down the snow covered hill at a thousand miles an hour, like I did when I was a child back home in Wales.

The snow is melting in Åre today and turning to slush. And slush pretty much says it all about my holiday here. A cold, uncomfortable washout that I wish I never had to experience.

All day my stomach was cramping and I was so desperately lacking in energy that I couldn’t so much as get out of bed.

My entire Christmas day was spent alone, lying in a pool of cold sweat waiting for a fever that had no intention of breaking.  I didn’t care that there was snow outside and that I was having a white Christmas, because I was feeling so bad.  Moving my head made me want to vomit.  Sitting up in bed made me want to vomit.  Rolling on my side made my stomach cramp like there was a knife beign stuck in it.

Many thanks to my mates Steve and Marie for the present of the very cool Thriller book.   It meant a great deal to have a present to open.  Sad and lonely guy as that sounds, but I was at my lowest point today so unwrapping a present was really touching.

Roused myself only long enough to watch Frank Capra’s, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on dvd on my laptop.  Thought a lot about Chris while watching it. That put a smile on my face.  At least until the next wave of nausea or sharp abdominal pain struck.

I’m not going to say this is the worst Christmas I can remember. Because I remember the Christmas after my mum passed away.  But that aside I cannot recall a time I felt lower about myself or about life.

Woke up at 3.16 am this morning feeling REALLY sick. Like I was going to throw up.  No, fuck that. Like I was going to PROJECTILE VOMIT.

I took 2 x mersyndol, 2 x travel sick tablets and 2 x indigestion tablets over the course of 2 hours and none of them made a dent.  I felt so bad. So helpless. So far away from home.

Finally lapsed into a coma like sleep with my sweat filled body and temperature spiking.

Slept until just after noon. But instead of waking up feeling better, I woke up still feeling like total shit.  Everything hurt. Hot and cold flushes every two seconds. Zero energy. My stomach so distended that I thought I was 9 months pregnant.

There were people gathered nearby in the centre of Äre awaiting Santa (as it turned out) when I woke up, so I dragged myself outside with my camera and felt like I was an extra at Gobbler’s Knoll from Groundhog Day.  Very sureal. 

In Sweden they celebrate Christmas on 24th not on the 25th for some reason.

Anyway, took some pics of Santa but was so desperately cold I couldn’t stop shivering.

Feeling so ill I bit the bullet and jumped in a cab and went to see the local Åre doctor, which cost me 1800 fucking kroner, or 180 Euro or about 375 Oz dollars!  Holy shit.

Let’s hope travel insurance covers it.

The doc did what blood tests he could (but the lab was shut early for Christmas) but he said it looked like a bad virus.  He also couldn’t even help me with a prescription to stop me feeling like I’m going to throw up, as the chemists are closed here until the 27th…the day I leave.

Oh, yeah. Promises to be a fantastic Christmas…

Went to the supermarket on the way back and bought some fruit and fibre stuff.  I so desperately need to eat healthily.  This entire holiday so far has been a total fizzer.  Far from the holiday of a lifetime, it’s been hamstrung by my feeling sick practically the entire time.

I’m trying to look at it as glass half full, but right about now it’s really hard to do given I am having hot and cold flushes every minute of the day, have a really bad stomach ache that just won’t quit, and feel dizzy all the time, and don’t have any energy to get out of bed let alone ‘enjoy’ my holiday.

Anyway, barely able to keep my eyes open I struggled through my traditional Christmas Eve video message and watched Scrooged (on my laptop). 

What a total fizzer of a vacation.  I just want to go home and die.

So much for the holiday of a lifetime. I’ve been sick practically the entire holiday.

Wasted the whole day in my room. Could barely get out of bed, let alone go outside.  Everything hurt. And it was like I was travel sick (no pun intended) and feeling light headed and like I want to throw up all the time.

Really feeling ordinary.

Still…there’s always tomorrow!

Came back to Are for an afternoon nap, but though I was tired, I wasn’t able to sleep. So, I kicked back and watched some TV. Kinda like the Swedish equivalent of TV1. Frasier, Just Shoot Me, etc.

Went to do a bit of exploring and found a chemist and supermarket and stocked up on stuff to fight this cold.

Had a shower and was about to go out when Turner and Hooch came on TV and I got sucked into watching it (80s movies…addictive viewing!).

Then showered and grabbed some dinner.

Oh, and despite what you’d expect – or hope for! – there were no shower scenes or nudie bits! BORING!!!Went out to the nearby shops to buy myself a local power adaptor, as the ones I’d bought from DJs in Chatswood was left in one of the bags I sent to Pat from the airport. No luck at the first place (big electronics store called Saturn) but then I got directions to a place called Techtronics which was a “10 minute walk” up an ice cold street. After walking for easily 20 minutes I was just about to give up…but then I saw the store on the other side of the road. Once inside I bought myself an adapter so I could re-charge my computer, then – on the way back – stopped into an internet cafe I came across. An internet cafe – you guessed it – that had 7 or 8 people smoking like chimneys in a small room.

What the fuck is it with this country and smoking? As I thought I was only going to the Saturn store to get the adapter, I wasn’t really rugged up, so by the time I got back from my 40 minute round trip up ‘The Street Where Heat Died’, I was practically an iceberg.

After a looooooooooong, hot shower, I felt a great deal more human and so I rugged up for another day walking around. This time however I was determined not to get cold, so put on even more layers than yesterday. That basically meant: undies, 2 pairs of socks, thermals (top and bottom) long, thick t-shirt, thick jumper, workout pants, jeans, fleece, leather jacket, scarf. Didn’t put on my ski-hat today (though I took it with me) because wearing it all day yesterday caused my head to itch like you wouldn’t believe. Also didn’t bother buying another umbrella, as there was only ever going to be one winner between it and the storm.

By the time I got into Vienna it was already after 2 pm, so most of the day was gone. Wandered around in a bit of a daze to be honest with you. Really low on energy, with a dull ache in my head.

Found my way to a ‘Hop on Hop off’ local tour bus and paid 20 Euros to ride it. But, it was only going for one hour as it finished for the day at 4pm. A Czechoslovakian guy named Jan who lives in Dublin, struck up a conversation with me while we were waiting for the bus, and we ended up sitting together during the bus journey and chatting. I’m not really a ‘packaged tour’ type of guy, but I quiet enjoyed this. Headsets provided offered commentary in multiple languages, and we drove past places I’d been to yesterday (with no idea what they were or what their history was) . So it was nice to get a bit more of a sense about them.

After we got off the bus, Jan – a good Catholic lad who, it turns out, had been in Sydney when the Pope visited – wanted to see some churches, so he and I went to the big gothic cathedral I’d been to yesterday. There was some kind of service (not a mass exactly) being held and he asked if I’d mind us sitting in on it for 20 minutes. That was quite nice. Though again, being in German, I had no idea what was being said.

Jan then had to leave to catch his train to Czechoslovakia.

I looked around for some place to eat (that didn’t have any smokers in it) and found a ritzy place (ironically opposite the McDonald’s I’d eaten at yesterday!) that was empty. Obviously at about 5 pm it was only just opening for dinner.

Got seated with a ‘Smoking or non-smoking?”. To which I felt like replying: “How exactly does the smoke know to stop when it comes into this half of the room?” – but bit my tongue.

Sat down and had some nice pasta and soup and bread and OJ. But didn’t really enjoy the experience as the waiter was efficient boarding on officious. And he kept hovering. Like, as soon as the last mouthful of soup was in my gob, the bowl was whisked away, kind of thing. Made me feel like he wanted me out of the place.

After dinner I went looking for a place to get some ice-cream. The commentary on the bus had pointed out that in ‘Sweden Square’ there’s the best ice-cream in Europe. But do you think I could find ANYWHERE that sold either ice-cream, or other more traditional Austrian deserts? Nope. So eventually I gave up and hopped on a train back to my hotel. Then popped around the corner to a petrol station and picked up a couple of regular ice-creams and then back to the hotel to snuggle in the warm while watching a feel good DVD on my laptop (Click). I’d thrown a handful of DVDs into my travel bag for just such an occasion. And with CNN being the only English speaking TV station available – and my being TIRED of hearing about all the financial problems et al going on around the world…talk about fucking depressing – I needed to watch something that put a smile on my face, and reminded me of happy thoughts not gloom filled forecasts.

Was extremely tired after watching the film and, with my head still quietly throbbing – I lapsed into a deep coma like sleep.

Started off the day by going to mass at a staggeringly beautiful church in the centre of Vienna called St. Peters. That was lovely. Though mass in German is quite strange. Oh, that’s something else I learnt today, that Austria doesn’t have its own language and they speak German. Didn’t know that.

Went from St. Peters to see a huge gothic cathedral no more than 3 minutes away. That was enormous with lots of people wandering around. Lit a candle for my mum and a candle for dad. This cathedral would be a fantastic place to walk around with nobody else there. It’s so expansive and full of memories. But with so many people around the experience seemed a bit ‘touristy’.

At various times during the day I tried to seek refuge from the elements for a coffee or a bite to eat, but every single place I went to had dozens of people smoking, so I ended up having to grab lunch at McDonalds (I know, I know) and hot chocolate at Gloria Jeans, which appeared to be the only two places in the city where smoking was banned.

Though I’d planned to go into many of the museums, I only ended up going into one called Alberta. One which didn’t allow any pics to be taken. Grrrrrrrrrr. But it was great all the same, with original works from artists as far removed as Michelangelo, Monnet and Picasso.

I must have walked for six to eight hours today. Got way lost, way wet, but was enjoying myself enormously nonetheless! I had a map, but it was impossible to read it in the rain, so I just walked toward any monuments and buildings I came across. Took some pics. Then headed off for something else in the distance that looked cool.

Night falls early here (around 3.45 pm-ish) so you end up with a feeling that it’s much later than it actually is, with time taking on a strange elongated form that’s a bit disorienting.

Vienna is famous for its ‘Christmas markets’. Which are basically multi-coloured stalls selling Christmas trinkets and food and gifts and stuff. They’re positioned by famous buildings during December. There are several apparently, but I only came across one. Wet and woolly though it was, it was still very cool to be standing amongst the bright Christmas stalls and the fresh faced, smiling Viennese people. Mostly teenagers and families. And all having a good time.

Did yet more walking, but by this stage it was probably around 7 pm (I’d lost track of time) and I was soaked and dog tired. But still I made a valiant effort to try to walk my way back to the U1 train line at Stephansplatz, but…no luck.

Eventually, when I could hardly walk another step, I gave up and hopped a cab – a gorgeous six week old Mercedes – and got dropped off by the U1 train line in the centre of the city. Then back home – grabbed another Turkish pizza – (couldn’t face walking around looking for a different eatery) and stuffed my face back in my room. Was sorely in need of a hot shower, but after lying on the bed to eat the pizza and stripping off, I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed again and – well shagged – fell asleep.

Note: Corfe Castle is a tiny village in Dorset where my long-time-in-development children’s novel is set. And is a place that – before today – I had never actually been too…

Woke up at about 3.15 a.m. this morning. Good night’s sleep, but body clock obviously still out of whack. Still feeling crap.

Spent a couple of hours catching up the blog and listening to the cast recording of ‘We Will Rock You’ soundtrack I bought on Saturday night. When I was done I jumped in the shower for at least 40 minutes. I felt so good to be warm again I really didn’t want to get out. But, when I did, I headed downstairs for my obligatory Big English Breakfast. Which, let’s face it, is the breakfast of Champions! And this breakfast was SO big (feed a cold, starve a fever and all that I guess) that even my mate Wu back in Adelaide would’ve been proud of me! At a conservative estimate I think I went through about three suckling pigs and about eight dozen eggs. And don’t get me started counting hash browns and mushrooms and tomatoes! Let’s just say the moment the breakfast cook brought the food trays out when they opened for breakfast…they were emptied…

Fuelled up for the day ahead I ventured out into the biting cold. (Though at least today it wasn’t raining)

I caught a train at peak hour on a Monday morning in London…that was fun. Not. Then a train to Clapham Junction. Then a train to Poole. But, I got off at Winchester, after the train driver announced that there was a 10.06 a.m. express that anyone going to Poole could get on, which would, “Save you considerable time on your journey”. While waiting the 15 minutes for the express train I was blowing my nose like it was going out of fashion in the bitter wind. Something I would be doing ALL the rest of the day.

On another day, the fact that I was sitting in a quaint train station in rural England – 2 degree temperatures or no – would’ve really pushed my buttons. But feeling so crap tends to suck the joys out of the simple pleasure in life.

During the train journey I noted that I did not see ANY blue sky. As in, it was grey and bleak for as far as the horizon in all directions. A blanket of grey depression as far as the eye can see. At least in Sydney the grey has boundaries.

I alighted from the train at Poole. A barren, windswept place. Got a nice cabbie named Dave to take me to a car rental place. And – with the help of a sat-nav (5 pounds extra) I took my V6 Toyota (33 pounds) off to Corfe Castle.

Like I mentioned, Corfe Castle is the village where my novel, The Rickman Watchers, is set (well, the beginning of the novel, anyway) so I was really looking forward to going there! And I was damned if feeling crap was going to spoil that.

Well, Corfe Castle is every bit as picturesque as I’d hoped. And, as I drove in the Castle rose majestically out of the Purbeck hills and I let out a ‘wow’.  It really is VERY cool. The whole place looks like it’s stuck in a time warp, with every house having the same ‘ancient’ thatched ‘ye olde England’ look about it.

Once there I drove around taking pictures (to reference later when I’m working on the novel again) then parked in the main square for a spot of lunch. Horrendously expensive lunch I might add! (18 pounds for 3 x 3 inch sausages and some mash)

After lunch I walked into the main square and took some more pics. Then by chance (or Fate more like it) I walked into what was without doubt the world’s smallest post office and struck up a conversation with a local gal called Gem, who is going to Sydney in three weeks for a holiday to catch up with her brother who is on holiday there! So, me being from Sydney, her being from Corfe Castle…we hung out. Which was great, and really made my day in Corfe Castle worth while!  She answered some questions that my novel needed answered, and has also volunteered to help me via email when more questions pop up. And, in typical Logan fashion, I will name a character in the book after her to thank her!

Later, after it got dark, I took some more pics of the Christmas lights, then left Corfe Castle and got lost (even with the sat-nav!) , but eventually found the right street (it wasn’t coming up on the Sat-Nav) and dropped the rental car off, then walked to a petrol station and called Dave (the cabbie who picked me up originally) and – just as I got to the train station – there was a train pulling up.

By this stage I was REALLY tired, and feeling so crappy with this cold it wasn’t funny. So when I got back to the hotel I hit the sack. Hard.

This whole London trip has been hugely effected by this cold, to be honest with you. I haven’t done any sightseeing at all. Plus I was going to try to catch up with my friend Fanny while I was here – which I was looking forward too -  but I’ve been feeling so damn bad, that I just wouldn’t be very good company.  So I’ll have to catch up with her next time.

Oh, and that’s another thing. Being in a tiny village like Corfe Castle got me thinking about how close I am geographically to my family being over here. And how much I would REALLY like to see them and spend time with them.  This is somthing I thought long and hard about when I was planning this trip. And ultimately I just didn’t have enough holiday up my sleeve to visit my family AND go to Europe and the USA and Asia.  And basically catching up with my lovely sis, Shelley, and her family and the rest of my relatives is not something I want to rush, you know?  Not after so long away.  I worked out before I left Oz that I need at least a week for that.  AT LEAST. Because not only is it catching up with them, but it’s visiting the village I grew up in, and having to deal with the memories of my late mum and dad and all that goes with that.  And right about now, I’m just not up to dealing with that. So that’s going to have to be a holiday all on its own.

Today is the result of all of these last days, weeks of stress I’ve gone through in the build up to this holiday. But this will pass quickly enough I expect, and will in no way stop me loving every minute of my time in England, baby!

Spent the morning feeling sorry for myself and catching up on the travel blog. About 11 am the phone rang and I thought it was my mate Ken, who was coming down from Ilkley to see the Chelsea match with me today. But it was actually my mate Steve! And gee it was good to hear a friendly voice in the void.

I’m staying with Steve and his lovely wife, Marie, in Sweden, and it just so happens they’re on a shopping trip to London while I’m here. Which is very cool.

Crawled out of bed like the walking dead and made my way to the shower. Which helped, but only marginally.

Went downstairs determined to have a healthy breakfast, as my body needs vitamins. But, they had nothing remotely healthy! So I was forced to have a Big English Breakfast of bacon, hash browns, sausages, tomatoes, scrambled eggs and mushrooms…

WHICH WAS FANTASTIC! (Vitamins be damned!!!)

Popped into the internet cafe to see if Ken had emailed a message, but there was still nothing from him, so I emailed him and messaged him on Facebook in the hope that he’d contact me.

Jumped on a train, changed lines twice – getting the hang of the different lines now! – and met Steve and Marie next to the Kiosk by the station.

Steve is my writing partner in the soon to take over the literary (or at least the ‘pulp’!) world, of Logan Savile. But, in a fact that often amazes people, we’ve never actually met…before today!

And what an absolutely top bloke he turned out to be! Something I’m really glad of, as it bodes very well for the writing partnership. Marie also was also really lovely, and we all of us went off to a coffee shop and had a good old laugh for a couple of hours before I had to leave them to go off to the Chelsea match.

Before heading to the match I borrowed Steve’s mobile and rang my hotel to see if Ken had left me a message, but still no word from him. Though as Steve mentioned when he rang me this morning, this hotel doesn’t seem very good at passing on messages, as he left two or three for me yesterday and I didn’t get one of them.

Anyway I went in to another internet cafe (2 pounds a half hour this one) and checked to see if Ken had responded. And he had (on Facebook). But only to tell me that copywriting work had prevented him from getting away. Which is a HUGE  bummer as I really wanted to hang with him. And I’d flown 12,000 miles after all, and who knows when I’ll next be in England. I mean, it’s not the fact that I’ve paid for two tickets (about $650 all up), one for me one for him. He’ll fix me up for half that. It’s the fact that he’s another really good mate I’ve never actually met, and I was really looking forward to some face time with him, as good friends are hard to come by. And I don’t like being consigned to being an ‘internet’ friend, you know?

But, these things are out of our control, and I know Ken is working his arse off under some extremely tight copywriting deadlines, and that he would’ve been here if he could. And with the current economic climate, he (all of us) have to think about shoring up the old bank account whenever we can.

And after all I will be back to England. So we’ll catch up then for sure! So it’s all good. 

Jumped in a taxi and was taken to within ear shot of Stamford Bridge for my first ever Chelsea home match! And OH BOY was I ever excited!!!

But – and I hesitate to use ‘but ‘ when describing this experience I’ve been looking forward to since I was a wee nipper (literally) – but I didn’t enjoy myself.

Firstly, this cold I’ve got made me really susceptible to the 5 degree temperature. Like I felt it in my bones. And I generally love the cold. Then, when I’m making my way around to the West Stand Lower, I see none other than Roberto De Matteo signing autographs! Just standing there, maybe ten or so people around him. Not a huge crowd. Now he’s a bit of Chelsea legend, and even though I’m not really a ‘get an autograph’ type of guy, I thought, ‘What the heck!” so I pulled out my program and put it in front of him. Now, like I said, there wasn’t a huge group, but there was a bit of jostling for his signature, but only really minor stuff. And I was being polite and waiting my turn – program held out – and then…get this: after signing all these other programs he deliberately – like BLATANTLY – pushed my program out the way, and when I put it back, he walked a meter forward, pushing it aside again, and continued to sign other people’s programs.

What the fuck? WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?

Like what a total cunt. Way to go to sour a lifelong Chelsea fan’s first visit to Stamford Bridge after a LIFETIME of supporting the club you TWAT.

This was inexplicable to me. And if I hadn’t seen the blatant way he pushed aside my program – AND NOBODY ELSE’S – I wouldn’t have believed it.

But, sod him, I thought. I’m not going to let that get in my way of having a great time at my first ever live Chelsea home match (and only my second ever Chelsea match – saw one away match at Cardiff in the old second division when I was a kid in Wales) – so I make my way to the West End Lower, Gate 1 and walk into Stamford Bridge.

When inside I walked up the Gate 1 steps and the very first thing that struck me was how small the ground was! Like, really weird, that. But it ‘s really not a big ground at all (42,000 capacity).

Anyway, I’m grinning like a Cheshire cat now, standing at the top of the steps, looking at the ground, so I take out my camera and turn to a female steward and say, ‘Excuse me, could you take a quick pic of me?”. But…she refused. That’s right. 10 seconds of her time to take a pic of a Chelsea fan who’s turned up on his own to a match. But, nope. That’s obviously not part of her job description.

Strike two for my enjoyment of the match. First De Matteo and now this. Fantastic.

When I get to my seat, I realize they’re FUCKING CRAP TICKETS. There’s two sets of tickets to a match you can book. The two ends (behind the goals) and the two sides of the pitch. The latter is the much better view (but not so good atmosphere). And this is what I booked. But, it was so far to the right it was 3 seats from the very end, and the view was SHIT (especially in the first half). The only plus was that it was right next to the famous Shed End, so I got to appreciate the die hard fans doing their thing, which was a joy to behold.

Plus I was cold. I mean really, really cold. Shivering as much due to my cold as the temperature. And every inch of me hurt. So, to warm myself up, I went and bought a Cornish Pasty (they’re everywhere in London by the way) and a meat pie and a Pepsi for about 8 pounds!

Food was good and warm, so on with the match…

But, in the first half Chelsea were playing toward the other end of the pitch, and seeing ANYTHING down that end was really hard. What shit seats!

Plus West Ham scored through that twat, Bellemy, and we went in 0 v 1.

At half time I went and bought what is quite possibly the single worst hot chocolate in the history of mankind. I kid you not. It was warmed up piss, diluted with mud. And after two valiant sips, I consigned myself to using the cup to warm my hands, and couldn’t so much as contemplate drinking it, let alone bringing it to my lips again.

I also bought some Maltesers which were much needed.

Second half Chelsea were playing toward the Shed End so I had a much better view! And, Anelka scored an equilizer…1 v 1!

And that was as good as it got. Which is to say, not very. Match ended up a draw, and our chance of going top again was lost. Fuck.

So all in all, the whole experience was a HUGE let down. Firstly, Ken wasn’t there, so there was nobody to share the experience with (a REAL downer). There was nobody to so much as take a pic of me to say ‘I was there’. So I ended up having to do the old, ‘hold camera at own face and press click while trying to look inconspicuous’ trick. Sigh. Plus this cold made me feel like eight shades of shit.

On the way into the ground, I bought a program (which I subsequently lost on the way home) and a 10 pound, really nice, Chelsea scarf. Then after the match I wandered around the Megastore, nose running like a tap, and bought a cool Chelsea sports bag (for the gym). A Chelsea water bottle (for the gym) and a Chelsea ‘Brian’s Room’ door-thingie (ya big kid, Loges…).

Walked down the Fulham road and got a train at Fulham Broadway – big crowds, really crowded trains – the two or three stops (same line) to Earl’s Court.

It had got dark about 4 pm and the temperature had dropped to Lord only knows what, so even though it was still early, I couldn’t stop shivering and just wanted to get back to my hotel in the warm.

Once back in the hotel – where I was still getting hot and cold flushes and shivering uncontrollably – I turned out the lights and just hit the sack. This was about 7pm or thereabouts.

Within about a minute – if that – I was asleep.

Do you ever get the feeling that this trip really is going to be memorable?

To-wit: I land in Mother England to be told that my British passport has been cancelled…

And I’m like, “Err…um…no it hasn’t.”

“Yes it has,” they say.

“Err…um…no. I’m pretty sure I’d remember cancelling my passport…”

They ask me to step out of the line and take a seat. Then, ten minutes later, a nice man comes out and – rather apologetically I thought – tells me that yes, my passport has actually been cancelled (HUH??) and that he’s had to ‘impound’ it.

I’m like…’Err…how can it be cancelled when it was good enough to get me out of Oz.  Good enough to get me into Thailand.  And good enough to get me out of Thailand?’

He just shrugs/

He gives me a photocopy of it and a number to call to ‘book an appointment to reapply for a new passport’. I ask him, “What happens now?” but he lets me into the country with a cheery, “You’re still British no matter what.”

With this in hand I get to officially enter the UK.

At the airport I ring my hotel to find out where their shuttle bus is and…they don’t have one. Huh? I go to ‘airport information’ and ask them where the shuttle busses leave from, and the guy looks at me like I’m an alien. “Shuttle buses?” he asks, as if I’ve just made up the term.

Anyway, I jump on an ‘Airport Express’ train into the centre of London and then jump a cab to my hotel.

London weather is foul. Cold and bucketing down with rain. Grey skies for a thousand miles. I get to my hotel about 8 am dog tired and really wanting to have a shower and a rest, only to get told that check out for guests is 2pm, and that my room won’t be ready until then. I sigh heavily and – still in surprisingly good spirits, though – check in all my bags except my laptop bag and head off to get a coffee and to work out what to do about my lack of passport.

After throwing on some warmer clothes I venture back out into the rain and find a phone booth and ring the passport office to try to sort out my dilemma. Here I notice something strange. Unlike in Oz where public phones take say, fifty cents, when using a British phone, you get a set amount of credit which counts down on a small screen in front of you, and which you have to keep topping up. Consequently I ended up spending close to 50 quid (I kid you not) talking to several different passport people from as far a field as Durham and Bristol, to try to get an emergency appointment. Which I was not able to get…but, one nice gal said, “just turn up at Globe House before 11.45 am and I will call ahead to make sure they don’t turn you away at the door.

So…I jumped in another expensive cab (all Brit cabbies seem to be really nice by the way – no doubt something to do with them having to do about 3 years study to pass ‘The Knowledge’ - but they sure as hell ain’t cheap) and turn up at the passport place at 9.30 am, only to be told to come back ‘about 10.30 a.m.’. I go to a coffee shop for a nice hot chocolate and write some of the travel blog to kill some time, then go back to the passport place. When there we go through a metal detector and I end up seeing a very nice and VERY helpful Scottish guy who sends me upstairs (making an appointment – the very appointment I couldn’t get over the phone). Upstairs I see a not so helpful guy who does in fact get to the bottom of the problem by saying telling me that I cancelled my passport in 2005. I’m like, ‘err…no I didn’t? Really.’ He says, “I’m looking at it on my screen. You had long hair.”

HUH???

So fuck me, maybe I did cancel it? By why? But why?  And how come I don’t remember?! I didn’t go anywhere overseas in 2005 I don’t think? In fact I know I didn’t. 2005 / 2006 was the year I took off completely to write full time. VERY strange.

Anyway, the not-so-helpful guy tells me to go down and use one of the internal phones to call and ‘book an appointment for next week’ to apply for a new passport. Something that “Takes a minimum of a week for a lost passport”.

Okay, um…isn’t that why I’m here? I think. You know. To GET a new passport? And isn’t us ‘talking’ already my ‘appointment?’.

Apparently not.

So…I go down and make the call. The woman – also not that helpful – tells me that, yup, it’s a minimum of a week AFTER your appointment, that you get your new passport. And that the first appointment she can get me is Monday. I tell her I’m flying out on Tuesday! She says, ‘Sorry, there’s nothing she can do’. So, I go back to the nice Scottish guy and he says, “Just hang up the phone, I’ll organize it for you. Don’t you worry about it.” WHAT A GUY! So, he books my appointment for me on the spot and back upstairs I go. When up there I pray I don’t get the same unhelpful guy at booth 7…and I don’t . I get a nice woman who takes pity on me and…one hundred and fourteen quid later (!!!) I have a new passport ordered. Pick up on Monday.

WHEW!!!

Again, I can’t tell you how completely calm and unflustered about all this I was. I’m like ZEN AND THE ART OF INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL! It’s eerie how calm and together and unstressed I’ve been over the last 48 hours.

I leave Globe House then go back to Victoria station with a HUGE grin on my face – I’m in England baby, England!!! – and just stand in the middle of the station for fully fifteen minutes grinning inanely to myself and watching people go by, and listening to the accents float over me. So cool.

Get off the train at Earl’s Court and go into an internet cafe which, at 50p for half an hour, is the only value for money thing I’m likely to discover in London I suspect.

That’s one thing about my hotel that is great, is its location. 50 metres from Earl’s Court station. There’s a McDonalds, a Nandos and a KFC, a Burger King, et al, right next to the station for late night (cheap) snacks. Convenience stores. And two internet cafes. All within 2 minutes walk of my hotel.

Came back to the hotel for check in for a quick nap, to discover I have apparently paid over 700 pounds to stay in a closet. There is a 3 meter x half meter long corridor to get into the ‘room’; then there’s a bed that is somewhere between a single and a double in size. To the left of the bed there is literally only 1 foot of space between the bed and the window. And to the right of the bed there is one and a half foot of room between the bed and a little desk and a wardrobe that only just opens due to space constrictions. And at the front of the bed there’s one meter space. Half of which is taken up by a chair and small bar stool size table.

It is RIDICULOUSLY small. (And to think, this was one of the hotels on my trip I was really looking forward to staying in – but the c*nts used some kind of fish eyed lens on their website that made the room look, if not huge, but NORMAL.

My bad for falling for it.

The only up-side to the room is a 42 inch plasma screen in front of the bed above the stool sized totally futile table. The TV has internet on it – one of the reasons I booked this hotel – but I ring up the desk when I can’t get it to work to be told that, “It doesn’t work at the moment”. I’m, like, “When will it be fixed?”.

“We don’t know, it’s been down for ages.”

Also, another whinge about this hotel, which I noticed but chose to overlook when I rang up the hotel from Sydney to book it, is that everyone – AND I MEAN EVERYONE – at the front desk is either Russian or Indian and their English is really hard to understand.

Let’s hope my hotels elsewhere on the trip cause me to bitch less.

Got home and rang up and booked tickets to see ‘We Will Rock You’ for tonight. REALLY looking forward to that!!! Got the tickets for 60 pounds, plus 15 pounds booking fee. Which was about 25 pounds cheaper (and with better tickets) than if I’d booked on-line before leaving.

Slept for an hour. Bed is very comfy, but the two pillows are of the very cheap variety. And they throw a token two 12 inch by 12 inch throw cushions onto of the pillows as if that in some way makes up for buying the cheapest pillows sold by Target.

I could’ve slept for a day, but I somehow dragged my sorry arse out of bed and into the shower to go to the theatre. The shower made me feel slightly more human. Got a taxi to the theatre for about 20 pounds.

The show was fantastic! I’m a huge Queen fan anyway and the way the play is designed and themed made it look like Blakes 7 the musical. 80s inspired costumes and kitsch. Love it!!! Plus, the actors were terrific with great voices. And I must admit a little apprehension on how the lead guy (the rebel leader) would sing Freddy’s songs. But he was great. Well, okay, his singing was great. His ‘acting’ was wooden. And I couldn’t help but think he looked a bit like Aussie actor from The Hulk.

All the other actors were terrific though (and also with terrific voices). So it did kind of make the lead guy’s ‘acting’ stick out a bit. Especially early on in the play when he had a stutter. But this minor criticism in no way impacted on my enjoyment of the show. Not a bit of it. It’s such a deliberately dated 80s style show that if anything his wooden acting could’ve been though as deliberate! (if all the other actors hadn’t been far more naturalistic in their performances, that is…).

Left the theatre and fought the bitter cold to a tube station to try to work out how to get home. This was quite fun for a while as I got lost, and kept getting off on the wrong stations. Because all the time I’m thinking, ‘Hey, I’m lost on a train IN LONDON BABY!”

Eventually got on the District Line and got off at Earl’s Court, grabbed some McDonalds and back to my hotel room.

That’s one thing about this trip so far, is my eating IS CRAP. So tired, run down, and just generally out of sorts, that I’m eating really badly and have probably put on I don’t even want to think about how much weight!

Still, it’s a holiday, so no stressing about such things, Loges!

The airport we landed at in Bangkok was pretty funky looking with a very cool roof. Though the the departure terminal for the leg to London was so far away I was beginning to suspect it was actually in Vietnam rather than Thailand!

Older plane this time, and it was much more comfortable.  More leg room and there were only two of us in my row, and three seats. So we had some elbow room too which was a pleasant change after the cramped conditions of the first leg.

Downside was, no private TV screen. So no movies to watch this leg of the trip (well there was – like Mummy 3 – on the ‘general’ screens, but I didn’t watch it).

Didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. But did manage a couple of hours here and there.  Oh, and I finished reading Nano during the flight and wrote a whole lot of my travel blog.

As I was rushed getting on the plane, I didn’t get to take out my mp3 player, reading glasses (the nanotechnology novel I’m reading at the moment, ‘Nano’, has – dare I say – TINY print!) or the hand-held fan, from my bag before having to take my seat for take-off.  Also, I like to use some nasal spray when flying to ensure I get enough oxygen and don’t over heat and get stressed out by the cramped conditions.   Though to be honest the cabin temperature on the flight was nice and cool.

Thai Air always looks so enticing in their ads.  ‘Fly the friendly sky’ they say. But there’s no mention of ‘…with the surly stewardess who spills coke on you just after take-off, soaking through your Harvard sweat AND your T-shirt.’  Now why the hell wasn’t THAT on the poster?

Also, is it just me, or are Thai women nowhere near as good looking in the flesh as in the ads? Whereas Japanese or Korean or Chinese women look spectacular close up, Thai women…maybe not quite so much.  Beauty being subjective of course, but in my experience their features are much harsher.  Except maybe on the much fairer skinned Thai women.  Actually, maybe it’s a regional thing?  Who knows!

I had an isle seat during this leg which was good. But the top of the seat (where the back of your head rests) was like concrete. Like, WTF?  Also leg room was tiny. And being 6”2 leg room is a must.

One good thing was that the newer plane we were flying on had individual screens for all passengers, and movies on demand. So I ended up watching Ghost Town and something else which escapes me.  Both of which being G or PGs didn’t suffer too badly from the being edited for airline audiences.  They were showing Mummy 3 which I really fancied watching, but no way to do I watch anything M on a plane as it’ll be butchered by the censor / editor.

Yesterday and today blend into one as I was up all night, so let’s kick this entry off by my having my day begin when I got up after my 2 hours dozing (around 9 a.m).  Woke up to discover the vast majority of the packing was done. I figured this must’ve been down to the Christmas Elves, as I had little recollection of having done it myself, so befuddled was my brain.

Anyway, before finishing off the last of the packing I had  to go out to try to exchange some money and to mail Wu his Christmas pressie.  When I get to Crows Nest, the Commonwealth Bank there didn’t have a single English pound for me!  Oh well, the trip wasn’t wasted as – on a whim – I popped into a $2 shop to see if they had any of those little hand held fans (for if I get too hot flying cramped economy for 22 hours).  And, as luck would have it, they did!  In the ‘toys’ section.  (No wonder I hadn’t been able to find when I went shopping previously – who’d look for a fan in the toys section!).  Anyway,  I bought two of them for a grand total of $6 with 4 AA Batteries.

When I got back to my apartment I discovered my new flatmate (who hasn’t even moved in yet) had got her parents and a carpet cleaning guy over to clean her room and bathroom.   Not exactly what I needed when I’m trying to get my act together before a huge trip like this.  But, in an odd way, it was kind of comforting to have some people around.  While packing I also got calls from some mates (Pat, Susan and Carol), and that was really nice as I was feeling a little overwhelmed, and – is lonely the right word? – Feelings no doubt fuelled by an accute lack of sleep.

Anyway, I had planned to leave the appartment by 12 noon to make my time before my flight nice and calm and relaxing.   But, as the rain started to come down right across Sydney, I was still there until 1.30 pm.  By the time I was ready to leave I had 5 bags packed. My laptop bag and a small carry on case.  My big case. My suit / coat bag. And a Calvin Klien sports bag.

Had a nice old cabbie on the way to the airport but some bad traffic. But, my flight wasn’t until 4.40 pm, so I still had plenty of time up my sleeve and was surprisingly unstressed.  And, given what followed, my retaining my sense of calm (and I did) was remarkable.

Here is the cluster-fuck of events that followed:

While in line with Thai airways (a nice short line, due to my being so early) I decide that I should put these little locks I bought the other day, onto all my open pouches on all my bags. 

Then  I go up to check-in and get hit with the none too surprising bombshell that I’ve got excess baggage.  No biggie, I think. I’ve never in my life been charged excess baggage (flirting is a wonderful gift to have!).  However when confronted with a small Asian man of indeterminate origin – he looked more Indian than Thai – flirting wasn’t an option.  And he hits me with the fact that I am 18 KGS OVER THE LIMIT and it will cost me at $45 per kg, OVER $800 to get my 5 bags to London!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And no talking my way out of this one, my’lado.

Now, I am pretty proud of how I handled everything from here on in.  This may be due in part to all the Event Management experience I’ve got (where things go wrong at the last minute all the time, and you have to deal with them or the show comes apart. But mostly it’s probably due to my being innately a ‘Big Game Player’.  As in I have ALWAYS been at my best at the bottom of the ninth when the bases are loaded.

Back when I was a professional actor I was always at my best, not during the laborious and often arduous rehearsal process, but when confronted with an audience or someone yelling, ‘Action!’.  Or when I used to do martial arts, how I was never comfortable with all the sit ups and push ups and patterns ad infinitum, but suddenly ‘came to life’ when sparring.  I guess it’s just the way I’m hard wired?

So anyway, gear-changing in a heartbeat, I go to a public phone near the Thai Airways check-in (no mobile with me as I’ve lent it to another staff member at work) while lugging 43 odd kgs of stuff around with me.  Half of which I had to dump!  So, with the clock ticking I ring my best mate Pat and arrange for me  to throw my spare bags into a cab and for him to collect them and drop them off at some stage at my place.

I write down his work number, mobile and office address (it’s all in my mobile phone…) on a scrap bit of paper I find and hang up the phone.  Only to discover that I can’t get into ANY of my bags as I’ve accidentally locked the key into one of the pouches!

Right-o-then-boyo…

Running around like a headless chook I find some airport guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows where to get hold of some bolt cutters…and voila! He cuts off all my brand new, never before used, locks like the cheap assed $5 a lock they were.

Back across the airport to the front, I find a quiet bit of floor where I can sort through my bags – with a modicum of privacy – to work out what to take and what to leave behind (yup…back to answering that old chestnut again!).  But, the more I decided to leave behind, the more I think that this packing milaky is for  the birds! 

It took me 15 – 20 minutes to go through my clothes to work out what to keep.  For  example, I had packed 4 pairs of shoes. Some new Nikes that I was wearing (which are for all the walking I plan to do on my holiday).  Some sexy black dress shoes I’ve brought, but can’t really walk in because they give me really bad blisters. A pair of black boots to wear with jeans, that are a little more dressy than wearing the Nike (good to wear with a black leather jacket). And a pair of old Collarado hiking boots (for traipsing through the snow in Are).

So anyway, pressed for time – and aware that I have to get rid  of approximately 50% of my packed luggage – I end up keeping only the Nikes (on my feet) and the black dress shoes that look good but I can’t walk in (have to have something nice to wear if I go to the theatre, etc).

Same goes with coats.  I had the big brown bomber style leather jacket that I deliberately wore (due to it weighing a ton) rather than packed. And which is VERY warm. A trendy black leather coat for wearing with jeans and black boots. A mid-cut black leather jacket for wearing to night clubs, etc. And a full length camel coloured Cashimire dress coat to go over the Hugo Boss pin stripped suit when I go out to something more formal.

But, confronted with the ‘lose half of everything’ edict from the luggage Gestapo, I dump everything save the super warm bomber jacket I was wearing (and thus didn’t count toward the luggage limit).

I know this whole ‘what to take, what to leave’ debate will probably come off as the trite ramblings of a metrosexual whose watched too much Fashion TV on Cable. But I consider these kind of things when going out. And, sometimes the practicalities outweigh (literally!) the required asthetic.

Any-hoo, bottom line is I dump a load of stuff and go outside to hail a cab to send the excess bags (1 sports bag, 1 suit bag – sans suit – and one camera tripod.  Where I’m standing there are loads of cabs dropping people off, but do you think one will take my money? Nope.  Apparently they’re not allowed to pick people up where they drop off.  I’m like, “You’re not picking up a person, you’re taking some luggage from here to Bondi Junction.” But…no way would they say yes. So, I had to go back into the airport, go to a completely different floor, and out through what is now pouring rain, to where the cab rank is.

When I get there the cab rank is fortunately stocked with cabs and empty of people. But I search my jacket pocket and discover I’ve somehow lost the paper with Pat’s delivery and contact details, so I have to borrow the cabbie’s mobile to call and get it all again.  A service for which he attempts to extort $10 from me (I give him $3).  So I ring Pat, get the delivery details again, pay the cabbie $50 (it’s like max a $35 fare). Write down all the cabbie’s details in case he does a runner with my stuff – stick his details behind my licence in my wallet so I don’t lose it! -  and back into the terminal I go.

When I get back to the Thai air check in, for some reason the gal can’t check me in. But, the guy who originally told me about my excess luggage, helps her out and with luggage of 22 kgs, my big case gets checked in and I and my small case and laptop bag finally get to pass through immigration.

Epilogue: as it turned out, despite everything, I got to at my departure terminal at 3.30 pm. So I still had an hour and ten minutes to spare before the plane boarded!  Go figure.  So, with time my friend again, I have a spot of lunch and log on to an internet kiosk near my boarding gate…and promptly lose all track of time, and was made aware of it when a “Paging passenger…” announcement broadcast my name!  Jumping up I jogged the mere 35 meters to gate 59 and yes (as if you need to ask!) I was the VERY LAST passenger to board the plane… J

After work last night I had to go to Chatswood to buy some last minute stuff for my trip.  And, though I had planned to take an early mark and leave at 2pm, I was still finishing off the last of my freelance copywriting until 3 pm, then I had to take it to the client for sign off. And of course there were the inevitable changes…plus of course the obligatory ‘things to do before you go on holiday work admin.  It was just lucky I only had one appointment today, otherwise I don’t know how I would’ve got through everything. As it turned out I didn’t leave work until 5.30 pm.  So it was 6 pm by the time I got to Chatswood.

When I did finally get home from my last day of work for the year around 7.45 pm, I faffed around on the computer for a while, before getting stuck into packing.  Because to be honest, I just didn’t know where to start. I’ve never had to pack for a trip that is the better part of 40 days in length, and I found the question that consumed me was less, ‘What to take?’ and more, ‘What shouldn’t I leave behind?’.  And  I tell you what, this packing lark is no fun at all, as I was up practically the whole night (except for 2 fitful hours sleep from 7 – 9 a.m. – and even then I woke up before my alarm). And…I still didn’t get it all done! 

Of course the longer into the night I went without sleep, the foggier my thinking became. And eventually I decided that the best compromise on the taxing ‘ do I have to pack a fresh change of clothes for every day of my trip?’ question was to pack a change of clothes for 15 days (as in 15 sets of sox, 15 sets of Calvins, etc).  This way I would have to do only one wash when I was away. Maybe two.  My logic being, getting things laundered when you’re staying at a hotels is prohibitively expensive, and if I could go 15 days before I had to do this, I could then get it done when I stayed with Steve in Stockholm and with Bennett in San Fran.

Shows how inexperienced a traveller I am, huh!  Because the only question that should’ve been consuming me was, ‘How little can I get away with taking so that my life doesn’t become a living hell when I get to the airport?!”   Ah, if only my mate Gav were on hand to advise me on this travel business!  He’s the King of travelling and has literally travelled the globe dozens of times over .  Or Becks even.  She’s done a heap of globetrotting, and is always full of good, practical advice.  But,  as always in my life it seems, it ends up being just me flying blind (pardon the pun)  and muddling through as best I can.

For those of you who know me, life is never dull.  And this 5 week, 3 continent, 17 city trip was no exception, heh!

So, now’s the time to read about my travelling around plague ridden Europe in the dead of winter, and getting so sick I just wanted to curl up and die!

Now’s the time to read about my going from coast to coast in the fantastic United States of America and hanging with some of the most wonderful people a guy could ever hope to hang with.

And now is the time to read about my ending up in a Thai scam that could have come right out of a Coen Brothers movie about diminutive grifters with narrow eyes! 

As you’ll see when you start reading, I’m pretty candid about what was happening on a day to day basis.  So when things were crap, I tell it like it was.  When I’ve made an idiot of myself (often!), I tell it like it was.  And when things were fantastic and I was having the time of my life…yup, you guessed it…I tell it like it was!

Happy reading! (and roll on my next big adventure!)

Enjoy… J

PS: just follow the link and (right) arrow at the top of the post you’re reading, to go to the next post in the sequence… (‘The Last Day of Work’ being the next entry…)

PPS: excuse typos and spelling mistakes.  The blog was written while in airports, hotel rooms, et al, and I didn’t have time to proof it at the time (and haven’t had time to go back to edit it since…)