Where is Small?

End of P2 Holidays: Cambodia and Thailand

2007-05-06T14:22:00.000Z

It has been really quite a long time since I wrote anything here but my recent trip around Asia has given me a little free time to put some thoughts together. Talking about INSEAD in any detail is impossible. It's wonderful, hard work, fun and utterly bewildering at times. One of the very many wonderful things about being here is the trips away to local countries and that is a more manageable task.

My most recent trip was to Cambodia and Thailand. I decided that it was finally time to see Angkor Wat and since we were granted a full 6 days holiday by the school I sandwiched the cultural bit between Phnom Penh and Bangkok. I make it sound as though I organised the trip when in fact it was fully planned and managed by a delectable Spaniard named Antonio. He was kind enough to bring along two fabulous friends who, apart from being handsome and charming, treated me like a princess the entire time.

We started in the Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, with a fairly upsetting visit of the killing fields and the city prison. It is essential viewing for any visitor to the country and a terrifying reminder of what can happen when evil and power combine. As a fairly naive European I had assumed that the world had learnt its lesson with the Nazis but clearly malignant dictators can pop up anywhere, at any time. It's astonishing to think that in 1979 the regime was killing off anyone who was educated, spoke a foreign language or even wore glasses to the tune of almost 20% of the population. Even now, with Pol Pot dead and the regime disempowered, the country struggles to provide any labour to the professional segment. It's a tragic situation for a nation whose ancestors lived in a conglomeration of around 1 million and worshipped in exquisitely carved temples while London was still only a 50,000 people town.

Phnom Penh also has a happier side: a gilded, sparking jewel of a Palace and the Silver Pagoda beside it. There are hundreds of smiling buddhas bringing serenity to the place and a wonderful riverside promenade lined with restaurants and bars. The first night we dined on, among other things, deep fried frogs. It was a little reminder that the French had colonised the place and now at least partially justifies those who insist on saying that I am "Half Frog". They don't really taste like chicken, by the way.

From Phnom Penh we drove at terrifying speed to Siem Reap which was our base for visiting the temples. Angkor Wat was spectacular, obviously, and even though I knew it would be, the place still took my breath away. The temple is surrounded by a vast moat which reflects the building itself and protects the visitor on arrival from the buzzing tourists inside. Across the long stone bridge is the rambling temple itself with its labyrinthine passageways and intricately carved walls. Angkor Wat is the largest and most famous of the temples but there are scores of smaller ones and energetic Alberto, renamed "The Motivator" soon moved us on to more wonders. The temples are reminiscent of those in Tikal and equally ghostly and exotic. What is delightful is that there are still functioning shrines to the buddha and benedictions from elderly ladies who hand you josh sticks, a piece of orange string to wear as a bracelet and mumble at you in return for a couple of small notes. Somehow the fact that they are still in use, and the locals come to pray too, makes them even more enchanting.

On our final day in Siem Reap I got up at dawn, woke the boy who was sleeping in his tuk-tuk outside the hotel and got him to drive me to Angkor Thom for a final glance around this second large temple. It was wonderful to get there before the tourists, before the hawkers had become desperate to sell their wares and simply shooting photos to try and take it all in. When I ran out of battery power I simply sat and enjoyed the tranquility of the morning sun and tried to imagine how it might have looked before the giant roots of the trees bore through the stonework and toppled the columns. Part of the pleasure is trying to conceive what grandiose buildings they once were and their delapidated state leaves a lot to the imagination. Like a great book they reward time and reflection but sadly the schedule was tight and it was time to move on.

Bangkok is already one of my favourite cities in Asia. It seduced me with it's shopping, restaurants and nightclubs on a previous visit but this stay was to be a little more cultural. First stop was the Royal Palace which although similar to the Cambodian one (this pagoda is Golden) is better restored and, as they say here "Same, same but different". Apparently the princess was due to make an appearance later in the day so the Thais were out in force and wearing the royal colour, yellow. From there, The Motivator whisked us off to the Giant Buddha who, at 43m long and entirely gold coloured, somehow manages to still look serene. This was followed by the greatest scam of the century which involves buying a little pot of old coins and then throwing them into brass pots for luck (and so that they can collect them again to resell). Replete with luck and serenity we rushed over to the river for an hour tour of the canals which run throughout the city and give an interesting view of how the people (and some scarily large lizards) live.

Later, at the cool bars on our street the Thai capital was true to its reputation with the boys worriedly checking out the girls and wondering if they were really boys. I now have the solution to this problem. I have discovered that all the lady boys work at Paragon department store make-up counter. The day of a night out the boys need to have a walk around the shop and remember the faces of those that they find attractive while still under the bright lighting of the store. Later, on the dance floors of Q bar and around the tables of Bed Supper Club they'll know if their target is a man if there's a strange feeling of deja vu.

There was more fun to be had with Paragon's staffing choice. Someone at NARS has an interesting take on lipstick names resulted in the wonderfully naughty experience of my asking a transvestite for "One orgasm".

Insead Integration Party

2007-01-21T16:12:00.000Z

This weekend was the Insead Integration Party. It was held at Km8, a beach and pool (as in swimming) bar on Sentosa Island. The island is a natural park and so we drove past signs warning us of "Monkeys Crossing" and drivers were warned that parked cars might suffer peacock attacks. In fact the most worrying thing was the apparent lack of sunshine.

Even though it rained it was hard not to feel pretty pleased with ourselves for choosing to start the year on the Singapore campus rather than in Fontainbleau. P1s (that's us) and P3s (those who graduate in July) attended and the aim was to "integrate". There's nothing like polysyllables to create an excuse for a party.

Singapore - INSEAD Start

2007-01-11T15:24:00.000Z

I arrived in Singapore about a week ago after a marathon plane journey which took me via Doha (capital of Qatar of course) and Hong Kong. I thought I was flying Quantas but after wandering around Heathrow terminal 3 unsuccessfully trying to find their desk I looked closer at my ticket and realised it was Qatar Airways.

I'll admit that I was slightly nervous at the prospect of a fourteen-hour journey with the mysterious airline. I was wrong to worry - they were amazing. I watched MY choice of films when I wanted, had loads of leg room, was served delicious food and no one was too strict about the seats being upright for take-off and landing. The stop in Hong Kong was not planned but the result of a missed connection in Doha - no one's perfect.

On arrival in Singapore I called my new flatmates who met my taxi to help me with my luggage and were duly impressed when I produced a bottle of champagne and three flutes from my suitcase. Celebratory drinks were indeed in order as the flat we had all paid for without seeing was exactly as described. This was no London property agent we had been dealing with.

The following day was "Flatmate bonding day" as we ate together, shopped for mobile phones, swam and went to the gym together. Guillaume the French trans-atlantic sailor and Brazilian Pedro aka "Borat" are my new living companions and since we hadn't met before it's amazing how well we get on. We even decided to host the first house party of the year on Sunday night which was really easy to organise as most of the other students live in the same building complex.

Staying in Singapore is brilliant, not just because I get to go swimming in one of the building campus' 3 pools when I don't have class (here's where I live http://www.singaporeexpats.com/singapore-property-pictures/condo/heritage-view.htm) but also because I get medical check ups from people like Dr Pondy Lee Pong Ding whose hilarious name almost makes up for the needles. Of course it's hot, and also very humid, but there are thankfully no mosquitoes. Everything is really efficient and clean which somehow makes it a really relaxing place too. Insead is just a short walk from home and the campus is stunning so it seems there are really no excuses at all for not doing any work while I'm here... oh, apart from the parties of course.

Canada

2006-12-01T07:06:00.000Z

Back in July flying from Buenos Aires up to Calgary to ski Lake Louise in December had seemed an exciting prospect, a way of making the most of my year off: combining the best of latin glamour and champagne powder for the best of the American continent. It would be fabulous!

As the date of the flight moved closer however I began to question this wisdom. I was genuinely terrified at the change of temperature I would endure. In Buenos Aires I was basking in the glorious sunshine of a summer at 30+ degrees but in Calgary it was -30 degrees, with windchill -40. Even someone who hasn't worked in the financial markets can look at those numbers and make some predictions. I was not acclimatised in the least and I was going to feel VERY cold.

I was not remotely prepared. I had completely forgotten what it was like to be cold and could remember only that I didn't like it at all. I stuffed my Bolivian alpaca sweaters into my carry on along with my hat, two scarves and three pairs of socks. These were all the warm items I owned and I waited with apprehension to find out whether they would suffice. Of course they didn't. I don't think there is a fabric on earth that could have saved me from the pain of the biting cold. The Canadians were very unsympathetic on the whole. Connie, my host, very kindly gave me clothes and turned up the heating in their houses but most just laughed. I discovered that it is a great pride among Canadians to be resistant to the cold. I had expected more from them and I was dissapointed at their endless stories about going to college in flipflops in -25.... yawn.

Connie, a friend I had made whilst volunteering in Madagascar, met me at Calgary airport. She very kindly hosted me in her wonderfully cozy home. We skied Lake Louise together and then she left me up in the mountains as she had to go to work and I wanted to enjoy the snow. Did I mention that there is snow in Canada this year? There is snow and it's the best they have had for years.

Lake Louise is a magical resort, the views are stunning and the lifts are ample and generally fast. I took a day off skiing to see the lake itself and go snow shoeing. Some of the photos from that trip are on this page with a larger album available here: http://insead.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16&l=b1d5a&id=227600076

After a few days I went to stay in Banff and skied some other resorts in the area. From there I went to Vancouver to visit Lori, an ex-colleague who had moved back to her home town. She and I have travelled a lot together and it was great to meet in yet another city. Vancouver is an incredible place to live because of all the outdoor sporting activities and has some fun night-life too. Lori is proud of her home town and did a great job of showing me around and getting me invited to parties.

The snow beckoned once more I and went back to the rockies to ski Kicking Horse at Golden. Apart from having a very cool name the resort is just amazing. All the sloped are black (I think there is one blue) and it boasts the highest restaurant in Canada at the top of the gondola. Those who are so inclined can arrange to go up in a VIP gondola and listen to CD whilst relaxing on leather seats. Unmissable.

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia 2

2006-11-27T15:31:00.000Z

More photos which have been cleverly tweeked by Andrew (who is apparently quite good at it). The scenery is spectacular even without the striking colours.

Salta, Argentina

2006-11-23T16:05:00.000Z

Someone else conveniently blogged it for me...

http://globaltransmissionmedia.blogspot.com/2006/11/ah-salta.html

Sucre, Bolivia

2006-11-21T21:37:00.000Z

I travelled to Sucre to meet a fellow INSEAD classmate, Carlos. Apart from being incredibly good-natured about my announcement that the school had awarded me a scholarship when he was facing funding problems, he turned out to be a great tour guide.

Close to Sucre there are some petrified dinosaur footprints and a museum. The footprints were discovered by the cement firm that Carlos worked for and would have been turned into paving if the wall had not had a too-high magnesium content. Happily, the wall (which used to be a floor until some tectonic plate movement changed things around) is now open to visitors and an outdoor museum with models of the dinosaurs has opened in recent years. There are over 300 different types of dinosaur footprint preserved here which have allowed scientists an insight into how the creatures moved. It´s also pretty impressive to see footprints made hundreds of millions of years ago of course.

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

2006-11-20T20:09:00.000Z

Here are some photos from a 3-day trip I did in the salt flats and desert in Southern Bolivia. The two girls are from Taiwan, Marcus (the pink flamingo) is English and the three others are Americans travelling the world and recording it all for the rest of us. http://www.globaltransmissionmedia.com

Buenos Aires

2006-11-15T08:49:00.000Z

Isla del Sol, Bolivia

2006-11-14T00:26:00.000Z

Isla del Sol, birthplace of the sun, the moon and the stars according to the indigenous people of Bolivia and magical island on Lake Titicaca. Here, time stands still as the indigenous people still carry their wares around on their backs or, if they are fortuanate, by donkey. I went to this peaceful place to relax and enjoy the views after the madness of Cusco, Peru.

While I was there the "Day of the Dead" was celebrated with feasting and dancing in the cemetaries. Families unite to pray for their dead relatives and give food to friends in return for prayers for their loved ones. Women who married in the past year carry plastic dolls on their backs and perform a special dance which is supposed to aid their fertility. It is a happy day and the locals were happy to share their customs with the tourists. Traditional costumed are worn, as usual, but new clothes are often worn for the occasion.

On the island I met a group of people who are filming documentaries in South America for a US channel. I would eventually travel to the salt flats with them and into Argentina for around two weeks.

After spending four days staring out at the beautiful blue of Lake Titicaca and watching the ripples of wind on the water I felt compelled to hire a sailing boat for an afternoon and enjoy the silence from a different angle.

Cycling "The Death Road", Bolivia

2006-11-14T00:17:00.000Z

The road from La Paz to Coroico received it's memorable name after some NGO statisticians decided that it had the highest number of deaths-per-kilometre (or whatever the unit of deathliness is...) of any road in the world. The real appeal of death on this road however is not the likeliness (which of course is alarmingly high) but the drama of it. If I am going to go in a road accident then surely better to plummet off a 1,000m cliff with views of cloud forest and waterfalls on the way down rather than expire quietly into an airbag beside a suburban lampost. This at least was the risk I was eager to flirt with as, apparently, were the other tourists who joined the tour to cycle down this spectacular path.

A few numbers about this road. It's 64km long and almost entirely downhill with a drop of just under 3,500m. We began at an altitude of 4,700m in the freezing fog and ended under glorious sunshine and almost unbearable heat. The first part is paved but a large part is dust track which is frequently just 3 metres wide. The road is essentially single track although there are some passing places, thankfully. Since the vehicle on the outside runs the risk of falling off the side of the road the car with the driver side on the outside goes on that side to better judge the distance. This means that the driver takes the opposite side of the road to normal which adds an extra "will they or won't they remember" aspect which makes it a little more fun.

Cycling the road is a social activity too. The more dangerous parts are manned by human traffic lights, women or children who hold out flags or signs to aid drivers in return for tips. Other indigenous fauna are the wild dogs who live on scraps donated by supersticious drivers who believe that feeding them will somehow aid them safely on their way. All the inhabitants seem slightly bemused by the fact that tourists enjoy their perilous workplace but are friendly nonetheless.

Apart from the frisson caused by proximate danger the scenery is spectacular and there are some wonderful outfits to be worn for the occasion. The agency provided an attractive yellow lycra number for us all which sadly (fortunately?) is covered by my fleece in the photo below. Helmets were given to all although their use must surely only be decorative if a rider does plummet 1,000m off a cliff edge. For the last 20km or so we were equipped with dust masks to cope with the clouds created by lorries and cars which completely block all vision and make breathing inadvisable.

Apart from the occasional physical discomforts (such as the forearm pain that is the result of braking continuously for 3 hours) the experience is wonderful. We rode through and under waterfalls and watched the vegetation change from high altitude brush to lush cloud forest in just a few hours. There is also something hugely satisfying about having cycled 64km and pedaling for only around 10 minutes. Oh and of course I gazed off the edge of spectactular cliffs while heavy goods vehicles rumbled by and managed not to fall off.

Peru

2006-10-31T16:10:00.000Z

From Bogotá I flew to Lima in order to visit Cusco and Machu Picchu. After spending an uneventful 24 hours in the capital I headed South to see some Inca ruins. My plans to head straight to Machu Picchu were thwarted by the exhausting altitude of Cusco but since it´s a very beautiful place sith fascinating museums it wasn´t so bad.

Cusco has magnificent architecture and walls dating back to the Inca settlement which started the city. There are indigenous people walking the streets with their llamas (although most of them want to be paid for a photo) and a spectacular Andean backdrop.

While I was people-watching on my first day a school trip arrived to visit the sights. This being Peru, they were all dressed in colourful cloths and intricate embroideries and arrived in a cattle truck. I was able to get some great photos of traditional costumes and my subjects were just as fascinated by me as I was by them.

From there I visited some of the museums which demonstrate the extraordinary potting skills of the various indigenous culture and also some very impressive jewellery. After fishing the shark on the way to Colombia the crew had made a necklace and bracelet from the vertebrae and I was interested to see that the indigenous cultures of Peru did just the same with their prey. Apart from adorning themselves with items of bone, shell and precious metals the Incas also deformed their skulls using metal strips. According to the museum, this practice doesn´t affect brain function and simply demonstrates the nobility of the subject. Having soaked up some of the culture, it was time to visit some ruins.

I had received instructions froma Dutch guy who had lived in Cusco about how to get to Machu Picchu and avoid the tourist rip-off. The trip involved a bus and then a taxi to a village with thermal springs. In the taxi I met up with some French and German tourists who were taking the same route and we decided to travel together.

We all left Santa Teresa at 4.30 am and the adventure began as we crossed a huge, frothing river by pulley. Once on the other side we got in the back of a lorry to the local electrical plant which is linked to Machu Picchu by rail. From then on we followed the railway tracks for 2 or 3 hours until we arrived at Machu Picchu. On the way we met some Peruvian boys who were all taking their mothers on an outing to the ruins. Together we all visited the ruins and climbed the Haynu Picchi, an adjacent mountain which gives spectacular views of the ruins.

The Incas were very keen on steps I have learned. After an exhausting day of walking up and down them and checking out the various temples we decided to stay in thearby village of Agua Calientes.

At dinner the waitress informed us that we could walk to the next town in 4 hours, again along train tracks, and that the hike would allow us to see some spectacular scenery. After a day of walking for 13 hours, the prospect of 4 short hours seemed like a great way to end our time in the Sacred Valley.

The following day we visited the thermal springs in the morning, bought some snacks and set off at noon. The scenery was indeed very beautiful but after 5 hours of walking, with night approaching, we began to get worried about when we would arrive. When we came across some railway workers they infromed us that we had another 12km before the nearest village, which was still 15km from the town we had planned to walk to. Since there are no roads in the area and the trains were unwilling to take us, we had no choice but to press on and grit our teeth against the blisters and aching muscles. At 7.30 we finally arrived in the first village that had a road and as we spotted a delivery van we magically summoned the strength to run and catch it. Providence smiled on us as the delivery driver agreed to take us halfway back to Cusco if we didn´t mind sitting in the back of the open truck on packets of rice and pasta.

The grocer´s van dropped us at Urubamba, some 2 hours from Cusco but on a popular bus route. So popular is the route that there was no space in any of the buses. Emboldened by our luck with the van earlier in the day we approached a man who had parked on the roadside to take a phonecall. Again we were incredibly lucky as he was going to Cusco and agreed to take us. Luis, the driver, told us tales of his two sons Luis and Luis, his father Luis and his grandfather and great uncle, also both Luis. To add to the confusion they all live under the same roof in Cusco. After leaving gifts of football cards and pens with integrated lights for the Luises we parted happily in Cusco and ready for bed. It was time to dream of the next stop: Isla del Sol, Bolivia.

Colombia

2006-10-27T23:21:00.000Z

I started my land travel of Columbia in Cartagena. The city was the main Spanish port for their colonial empire. From there they shipped the gold and other riches that they plundered. The wealth allowed the Spaniards to build some stunning buildings, many of which still stand. Success also attracted pirates and there are fabulous stories of seiges and sackings. The city´s hero is Blas de Lezo the one-armed, one-eyed pirate who defended Cartagena against the Englishman Edward Vernon in a spectacular battle in which his men were hugely out-numbered. He died ruining Vernon´s plans for Prime Ministerial glory but is revered today as the man responsible for Colombia remaining Spanish. There was, however, little time for Cartagena because Manu Chao was to give a free concert in Bogotá a few days later.

Olga, a friend from the boat, and I headed off to the capital. The concert was amazing with thousands of people braving the strange security arrangements which involved removing your shoes and walking 30m barefoot before being searched.

From Bogota I headed South to St Agustin, a place where 5,000 year old statues have been discovered. Nothing is known about the culture that created them beyond the fact that they traded with the Incas and Mayas since items from both cultures have been discovered in the area. The area is magnificent and I would loved to have spent more time there but Cali, city of salsa was calling.

In Cali I fell ill with a fever and became extremely worried because Cédric, a friend with whom I had travelled in Honduras, had fallen prey to malaria. I headed straight to hospital for blood tests, after which of course I immediately began to feel better, and they came back negative as suspected. Following a day of recuperation I headed out to the salsa bars with some other people from the hostel to join in the flailing.

Once again it was time to move on, to the highlands and the coffee growing area. Since the region is so close to the equator it´s not actually cold and there is the most incredible light. On the first evening, just before sunset I witnessed a beautiful rainbow. Apart from great coffee and some of the kindest people I have encountered on my travels, La Zona Cafetera boasts extraordinary cloud forests replete with palm trees and hummingbirds.

I visited the area on horseback (although it could be argued that my mount was actually a donkey) and met a friendly Colombian couple from Cali who showed me the sights. the ride took us across rivers and up and down mountains teeming with life. Once again I had to say goodbye to new friends and head back to Bogota as my flight to Lima would leave the following day.

Sailing from Panama to Colombia

2006-10-26T17:17:00.000Z

I had planned to got from Panama to Bolivia directly but at the last minute decided to cancel the flight and join a boat sailing for Cartagena in Colombia. All the travellers I had met raved about Colombia and I had to thow caution to the wind and go and see it for myself.

We followed a coastal route which was fortunate since the North Koreans decided to test their nuclear weapons while we were in the water. Although we were on the Atlantic side, and in relatively sheltered waters, we still experienced waves 8 metres high. Apart from the risk of tidal waves caused by errant dictatorships the San Blas islands are also the area in which most yachts are struck by lightening in the world. I was quite worried about this risk but apparently it is very rare that people are hurt even if lightening does strike. All this was in marked contrast to the the reality of being on the water which was tranquil and frequently breathtaking.

After leaving Portobelo in Panama we would head to the most beautiful border post in the world to get Panamanian exit stamps and then onto the San Blas Islands. The whole experience would last 6 days in total.

The trip was magical, stopping at deserted islands and beautiful beaches along the way. The San Blas islands between the two countries are owned by the Kuna, indigenous people of Panama, and are fairytale white beaches complete with palm trees. Most are uninhabited apart from a few birds and are very small - small enough to walk around in less than an hour. Frequently they were surrounded by spectacular corals and fish so the snorkelling was amazing.

Along the way we fished for our dinner, and one day the skipper caught a beautiful feathered snapper (which is actually a wrasse - for those of you who did BV). We constantly ran a fishing line off the back of the boat and managed to catch a small shark which we ate as ceviche.

We stopped in a small bay where South America begins, just after Cabo de Tiburon (Shark Point) and there experienced the wonderful Colombian hospitality. This coast, which inspired Gabriel Garcia Marquez´s One Hundred Years of Solitude, is truly worthy of Magical Realism. Apart from the beauty of it all the joie de vivre of the people is really special. We hadn´t beenon land 5 minutes before a Colombian bought us drinks to welcome us to Colombia. He then gave us a ride to nearby Capurganá, plied us with rum and then when he went to take a phone call. In the man time he forgot that we were with him and drove back to the yacht without mentioning a word to the skipper about where he had left the crew.

Two days later we would arrive in Cartagena, the beautiful walled colonial city, to a sunrise.

Photos from this trip are here:

http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&friendID=98429512

Not on Blogger due to technical problems.

Mosquitia - Pictures

2006-09-28T03:05:00.000Z

After Antigua

2006-09-25T22:46:00.000Z

After leaving Antigua I went to the ruins of Copán in Honduras. The ruined city was a centre of culture and civilisation in the Mayan world and provides the only known example of Mayan hieroglyphics. The ruins are much smaller than those in Tikal but are well preserved. The visit was a really enjoyable way to spend a few hours.

The ruins include a famous staircase which tells the story of the Mayan kings who lived there. The staircase fell into ruin and the first archeologists to discover the site reconstructed it but put the stones in the wrong order. Now only the first ten or so steps are in the correct order and as yet no one has been able to understand their system of writing from such a small sample. This pyramid is normally covered by a huge tarpaulin but we were lucky enough to visit on a day on which the archologists were changing it and got some great photos.

Copan also has wildlife including a large number of scarlet macaws which are very tame.

After the ruins I visited the Bay Island, Utila, to dive and in the hope of seeing a whale shark. It is late in the season but none have yet been sighted and many divers were there hoping to catch a glimpse of the huge beast. I was not lucky but got some great diving and experienced Garifuna culture. I was also there for the festival of Central American independence for which village entertainment was arranged. There was a road race, boxing matches for willing volunteers and a chance to climb a greasy pole. The pole, perhaps 30m high, was covered in thick engine grease and there was a prize for the first person, or persons, to climb it. Amazingly someone made it after attempts lasting several hours. The winning technique involved covering the pole (and spectators) in flour.

Julio´s 7th Birthday Party

2006-09-17T18:08:00.000Z

Julio, my host family´s son tured 7 while I was in Antigua. The family held a huge party at their house, with 100 invitees to celebrate. They expect this to be the last year for which he wants a piñata (a large paper shape which the children hit until it breaks and the sweets inside fall to the ground). Therefore, all his friends, their parents and all the cousins came to the house for a party. Because of the rains, which usually occur in the afternoon, the party started at 10am. The two piñatas, in the shape of cars, were a huge success. I was the only "gringo" but was made to feel very welcome by all.

2006-09-17T17:17:00.000Z

I have neglected the blog for a number of reasons. First, I was a bit boring and stayed in Antigua a long time. Then I fell of a horse and had my finger in a cast for 2 weeks. Then I travelled and was busy, or there was no electricity etc.

2006-08-24T17:16:00.000Z

On Saturday morning five people from the Agua trip, including me, made our way to the central square to meet our driver for a road trip around Guatemala. Jordan, the youngest American on the hike, was travelling with his mother around the country and had invited us. Since we all felt we had spent too much time in Antigua we hired a larger vehicle and tagged along.

From Antigua we drove out East to Quirigua and visited the Mayan ruins for a couple of hours. The main Mayan site in Guatemala is Tikal and the other sites are less touristed so we had the area more less to ourselves. From there we pushed onto Rio Dulce a river and lake area which links onto the Carribean Sea.

Again the views are beautiful, particularly as the river winds towards the sea among jungle, and the people clearly Carribean rather than Mayan or Hispanic. The local people speak a percussive language and many look African. We hired a boat and driver and drove to the port of Livingston, stopping on the way at some thermal springs for a well earned rest after 8 hours on the road.

In Livingston we sampled the local fish soup, Tapado, which has a whole fish, a crab, shrimp and plantains in coconut milk.

The following morning we met our driver to visit Siete Altares, a series of waterfalls and pools where we could swim and jump from the largest waterfall. Here too here were few other tourists and we were free to try all kinds of different diving methods. Sebastian´s back flop was probably the most ill-advised and did not result in the desired photo of him "lying in the air". From the waterfalls we visited some other pints of local interest such as the local Statue of Liberty which locals claim is Martin Luther King but clearly pre-dates him and is white. It is probably a saint of some sort. There is also a 17th century fort built by the Spanish to fight the pirates of the area which still stands at the entrance to the lake.

From Rio Dulce we headed North towards Tikal but made a stop just over halfway at a hotel which was highly recommended in guide book named Finca Ixobel. Here we were able to go riding with a guide who positively encouraged novices to gallop, eat some fabulous food and enjoy a fireshow in the evening. The receptionist was celebrating her birthday and had invited some friends to come and perform with her. The show was really impressive and we were told that were recently asked to perform in a large televised event.

From the Finca we still had about 4 hours drive to get to Tikal and after an exhausting night of partying I took the opportunity to sleep. When I awoke it was with a start and I was face-down in a puddle with broken glass in it. Since I am not at my most lucid when I have just woken up it took me quite a while to realise that there had been an accident and I was in the bus which was lying on its side. I did not seem to be hurt but needed to find my shoes as there was broken glass everywhere. As I clambered out through the back window and slid past the post we had hit I saw a man lying in the road surrounded by onlookers. He was seriously hurt and had a large cut on his head. Someone had called an ambulance but it would take 40 minutes and although the man was still breathing he clearly needed urgent medical attention. It was a harsh lesson in the culture of the local people when I understood that many were not surprised to see him hurt as he is the village drunk. Many simply did not care, they gossiped and gawped at the latest village attraction. I asked a man "Where is the local doctor?" and he told me that there was a clinic 5 minutes walk away. No one had thought to go there and it wasn´t until I told him to show me the way that we finally ran to get some help. Unfortunately there was no doctor, only nurses, and they were unwilling to get involved. I insisted and one Canadian volunteer eventually stood up to her superiors and insisted that they go. Stephanie was a great help as she stopped the locals from moing the man who was unconscious. There was little to do but wait for the emergency sevices and unfortunately the police came before the ambulance. They simply picked the man up and put him in the back of their truck to drive him to hospital. Meanwhile we checked ourselves for injuries, nothing serious thankfully, and tried to work out what had happened.

The consensus was that we had not hit the man but that he had fallen after being startled by the car and a child who was running after his ball in the road. Our driver, Domingo, had done his best to avoid the people in the road but had lost control on the wet road and the bus had tipped over and hit a post. The bus would now need to stay at the site of the accident and wait for assessment by the insurance company. A Canadian man approached us an offered to help us organise alternative transport to Tikal. He explained that he was the local Menonite pastor.

The pastor lived in the village in which we had crashed with his wife and adopted children. The children come from broken homes or in one case street children with no family at all. As well as running the local church he has established the medical clinic and a school. The family were very welcoming towards us, giving us lemonade and introducing us to visiting relatives while we waited for our new driver. Ishmael arrived and took us in his new bus to Tikal at the sort of speed that people who have just been in an accident like.

At Tikal we got up early to meet our tour guide, at 4.30. We wanted to watch the sun come up and listen to the jungle wake up. The walk through the park in the dark is spooky and we had to take care not to tread on the enormous nocturnal caterpillars which were crawling across the path. The ground was wet and slippery and the sky completely black. Eventually we got to Temple IV, the tallest temple in Meso America, and the place where we would start our visit of Tikal. We experienced another misty sunrise but it was still very beautiful to see the pyramid-shaped temples poking out of the top of the clouds as the sun came up. We then went on a tour of some of the main ruins in the park. The park is huge - hundreds of square kilimeters - and most of it is unexplored and the ruins still covered by jungle. The site, after bien abandonded, was undiscovered fro around 1,000 years. It has been under restoration since the 1880s but progress is slow and there is still a lot of work to do. Looters have damaged some sites as they have pillaged burial grounds for ancient relics. As well as the breathtaking ruins we also saw monkey, macaws and huge trees.

From Tikal we headed Southwest towards Coban and Semuc Champey a stunning National Park. We stayed in a grea riverside hotel and in the morning headed out to visit a local cave. The cave has a river source in it so that water flows through it. We took candels for light and at times swam with one hand to get through the maze of tunnels. Cavers have installed ladders for some of the harder climbs and we were able to cover quite a lot ground in the two hours (although nothing near the 11km to the end of the cave). From the cave we floated down the fast flowing river to the bus and drove to the Semuc Champey National Park but not without the boys jumping off the bridge at around 20 metres above the river. Semuc Champey is a natural bridge and series of clear water pools which covers a very fast flowing river. It was a stunning spot and an ideal place to take our final dip before heading back to Antigua.

Volcan de Agua

2006-08-14T21:33:00.000Z

At the weekend a group of us hiked up the highest volcano in the area, Agua. I organised a group of people from a few language schools in Antigua and we ended up with a nice mixed group of two Americans, two Germans, one Swiss and an Australian. Most hikes up the volcano are done in one day in this season because there are frequent rains however we wanted to camp in the volcano crater and watch the sunrise from the top.

Jose, our guide met us in the central square of Antigua and took us to the small village where we began our hike. It is a small place inhabited by Mayan peoples and it was market day on Saturday. We walked past the stalls and piles of fruits up a street which gradually became a dusty path up the mountain. The mountain didn't seem that big but we would climb up 2,000m that day.

Jose walked fast and we had to ask him frequently to slow down. We were told that the hike would take 5 hours but some hikers we met on their way down took 7. They also had all their belongings stolen by robbers in balaclavas who had jumped out of the bushes waving machetes. It was not the sort of story we wanted to hear.

The hike is pretty steep up rocky paths which were still muddy from the rain. There were some interesting passes and occasionally we would share the tiny path with a Mayan and his horse. The views were extraordinary as the volcano towers 2000m above the plains to the North. We could clearly see Antigua, Guatemala city and the volcanoes and lakes of the area.

At the top there is a refuge in which we camped and warmed ourselves on a small stove. We arrived too late for the spectacular view of the Pacific and the Atlantic but managed some fairly magnificent sunset photos.

We had hoped to see the sunrise and set our alarms for 5am. In the morning however the top was covered in cloud and it was still dark. We checked periodically to see if the cloud had cleared but as the sun came up the visibility did not improve. It can happen but we were disspointed not to experience the spectacular views we had been described. Of course every day since then the volcano, which I see every day as I step out of the house, has been clear.

Rumbling rocks

2006-08-11T21:35:00.000Z

The last couple of weeks have been eventful geologically. Almost two weeks ago Pacaya volcano, which I visited earlier in my trip, erupted. The new flow of lava came down below the tree line but did not reach the villages. Visits to the volano are continuing in spite of the "Yellow alert", and my housemate was brave enough to go, but the scenery has changed dramatically and it now isn´t possible to walk on the lava. the authorities have not yet decided to evacuate the surronding villages but are monitoring the situation. The news story is here:
http://www.prensalibre.com/pl/2006/agosto/01/148277.html

On Wednesday night there was a tremor in Antigua at around 2am but since there hasn´t been an earthquake since 1976 here no one seems too worried. This morning I was woken by what I thought was a house falling down - after all we had just had a tremor - but in fact it turned out to be Fuego Volcano grumpling.

There are three volcanoes in the area surrounding Antigua: Fuego, Pacaya and Agua. Fuego and Pacaya are both still live and periodically emit smoke, lava or debrit. Agua last erupted in 1541 and destroyed the ancient capital so that it was moved to the current location of Antigua (it was moved again to it´s current site in the 18th century after a large earthquake).

I have organised a trip to Agua with some other students from the school this weekend. It is the largest volcano at 3,760m above sea level and takes about 5 hours to climb. We plan to hike up on Saturday, camp in the crater overnight and then come down on Sunday morning. The mornings tend to have clearer weather and the sunrise promises to be spectacular. If the visibility is good we may be able to see both the Pacific ocean and the Carribean sea from the top. We may also get a bird´s eye view if Feugo or Pacaya decide to errupt.

Weekend on Atitlan Lake

2006-08-07T20:01:00.000Z

This weekend I visited a lake a few hours from Antigua which is in the centre of a volcanic zone. I wanted to get out into the country side, breathe some fresh and get close to nature. Antigua is beautiful, and many see no reason to leave, but Guatemala also has many natural wonders and interesting wildlife so I felt it was time to see them. I travelled with two American boys from my language school, Aaron and Dylan, who are on their summer holidays from college.

Lake Atitlan is on the site of an ancient volcano which exploded millions of years ago and is 300 metres deep in the centre. The explosion was enormous and rocks were found as far away as the Southern United States and Panama. This event left behind a huge crater in which the lake now exists. Inside the crater hole a number of smaller volcanoes have sprung up in the intervening years (the site is still live) and this has disrupted the perfect circle of the original lake. The lava beneath heats the mud at the bottom of the lake - a phenomenon which can be felt by divers.

We caught the bus on Saturday morning from Antigua and then a water taxi to one of the villages on the lake named Santiago. There is a shrine to Maximon there. Maximon is a wooden statue which the local men wail at and burn incense for in a religious ceremony. From what I saw he apparently likes to smoke a cigarette now and then too. A very odd experience which our 12-year old guide did little to explain - probably because there doesn't seem to be any consensus on who he is beyond a deity. Here is a link to a site which explains a little more (in English): http://www.timshome.com/maximon/default.htm

We visited a couple of other villages on the lake side and admired the highly embroidered clothing of the local indigenous people. Although many of them speak Spanish their first language is Mayan and includes clicks and a sound called the "double glottal stop".They are also very small people - most about 4 feet tall - with seemingly fragile bone structures. Although some young people wear Western clothes most people, including children, dress in their original costumes which they make by hand in their homes.

In spite of all this interesting culture we decided to stay in a waterside hostel called La Iguana Perdida which is owned by an American and run by some Brits. Their Saturday night parties are legendary and include a compulsory dress code of clothes from their dressing up closet. There are dozens of ball gowns to choose from and Aaron chose a fetching sequined number while Dylan preferred a more subtle peach dress.

The party was wild and long and, since my swimsuit was part of my costume, I took the opportunity for a dip in the lake. We had bought a bottle of rum which and at intervals we took shots of it sitting on the floor of our hut. At one point Dylan shouted to me "Get up! Get up right now! Get up!". Apparently the rustling I had heard behind me was a large scorpion which had crawled under my leg - I was more or less sitting ON it. In the commotion the scorpion ran away and we were unable to catch it. I was concerned but there was little to do but face the fact that the hut would also be home to animals. Little did I know that the desire which had prompted the trip -to become acquainted with the indigenous fauna- was only beginning to be fulfilled. In blissful ignorance I continued with the festivities in the bar for several more hours before finally going to sleep, exhausted.

In the night I felt something scampering on my head. I could feel little paws stepping rapidly over my hair. I think it was probably a mouse, or a rat, or possibly a lizard. It was awful thinking of the possibilities but I had no torch and there was no electric light to actually find out what it had been. I adopted the "Latin Driver Technique" which I developed earlier in my trip and ignored the problem.

Later in the night I was awake and staring into the blackness when another little scampering beast used my head as a footpath. I was sufficiently cogent to be infuriated by the impudence and began shaking everything vigorously to get rid of the beast: my head, my pillow, my blankets. Just to make sure I repeated the frantic convulsions until I was thought it was gone. In spite of these efforts I felt powerless since there was no way of checking exactly where it was.. or what it was...

The following day Aaron and I dragged ourselves out of bed early to go diving. It was the first time I had dived in a lake and I found the experience really interesting. The water was pretty clear but we could only go near the edge of the lake since it rapidly gets very deep. We dropped down to an area where the heat and gases of the lava beneath can be felt and seen. In places there are small bubbles rising up through the mud and patches of green and brown indicate areas which are warm. We had expected the mud to be hot but it was actually only slightly warm which was a bit disappointing. Nonetheless there were some fish and incredible volcanic rock formations which were fun to swim around.

After the dive I was finally able to relax and decided to enjoy some hammock time on the terrace of the hostel. The view of the lake from there is stunning and the visibility is never better than in the early morning. Already the hostel dogs were awake and playing in the water and a few people were leaving for new horizons in the water taxi. I admired the vista, dozed, and relaxed with The Sunday Times Magazine from April. Just as I mulled over the perfection of the moment, a large black creature, which I later realised was a dog, leapt into the hammock. He had just been swimming in the lake and was so happy about it that he had decided to celebrate with a face-licking session. Pushing him out of the hammock did little to dent his exuberance and he bounced off happily to share his joy with other tourists. In my blissful state it was difficult to object to such earnest affection but as the odour of wet dog hit me, and the water seeped through my clothes, I had to concede that it is possible to get too close to nature at times.

Pacaya Volcano Lava Video Link

2006-08-03T22:48:00.000Z

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=1003060271&n=2

You need the latest Macromedia Flash to view this. There is a prompt to download it if you don't have it.

A Recipe for Fluency

2006-08-03T21:58:00.000Z

Last night my spinning head dictated that I should speak no more Spanish. I obeyed and went out, with my new house mates, to a local bar named Riki's because we had heard that there would be a concert there.

It was no ordinary concert. The remaining members of the Buena Vista Social Club, Ibrahim Ferrer and Ruben Gonzalez, were playing along with a supporting band. They live in the outskirts of Guatemala city and frequently play this tiny venue which is really just an annex to a bar here in Antigua.

When we arrived the room was completely packed full of hot and sweaty people. Some were at tables but most were sitting on the floor or standing. It was very cramped but the atmosphere was electric. After some negociation we managed to get a space on a table right at the very front. The view was incredible and I wished I had brought my camera to the bar. These old guys really know how to perform.

Towards the end of the first set they called for people to come and dance and somehow a tiny space was made at the front of the room and a couple danced salsa. They spun and flailed seductively on the postage stamp-sized piece of floor.

After a short break the band started again and everyone started to dance. Few knew how to but that wasn't the point. The band loved it!

The second half eventually ended but we stayed for a while to finish our drinks. Sometime later I found that my spinning head had eased and my linguistic skills returned. I decided that it was time to try out my Spanish on the Cubans.

Ibrahim Ferrer and I chatted about Havana, the National Hotel where he worked for many years and the terrible Chinese bicycles that I remember overtaking uphill when I cycled in Cuba. The very basic machines only have a single gear and are bought very cheaply in parts from Asia to be assembled in Cuba. I told him about my trip, the people I met and my impressions of Havana and the countryside. Clearly drinking and dancing, not books and exercises, are the key to speaking Spanish. I must sign off as I have "homework" to do.

The Language School 2

2006-07-31T23:59:00.000Z

Most of my lessons are held in an arch in the garden of the school (see photo in previous post) but at times we also go on trips with our teachers. Last week I visited Chichicastanangua and Panahachel which is a town on Atitlan Lake about two hours from here.

Chichicastanangua, or "Chichi", is a market town where the indigenous people sell their highly embroidered fabrics, masks, food and electrical goods. In the centre of the town is the only church in which the Mayan rituals and Christian faith have been combined. The local people light a series of candles and stick them to the floor of the church, they scatter petals and burn alcohol while saying prayers for dead loved ones. The original Mayan ritual involves slitting the throat of a chicken and sprinkling the blood but thankfully that part has been omitted in the church.

On the steps of the church Mayans eat, talk and sell flowers to shoppers in the market.

People told me that Atitlan Lake is famous for its beautiful views but as it rained very hard when I was there I'll have to take their word for it.

My Weekend: Missing Buses, Live Volcano and Ruins

2006-07-31T23:12:00.000Z

This weekend I had arranged to go to Copan in Honduras to see the famous Mayan ruins. The only method of transport in this country is the bus which can easily be arranged in the many travel agencies in town. Since many of the long journeys leave very early in the morning they come to your house or hotel. That is how I found myself learning my first lesson in Guatemalan efficiency while standing in the street from 3.40am on Saturday morning until 5.10 waiting for a bus. The bus never came and I went back to bed.

With a weekend in Antigua ahead of me I decide to explore one of the nearby volcanoes, Pacaya. The hike up takes about an hour and a half and takes you past a lake in a colapsed cone and views of the surrounding volcanoes, including Agua which is beside Antigua.

Pacaya is still live and has a "Lava river" flowing from a fissure below the volcano cone. Treading carefully, we were able to walk on the lava which had solidified although I found that my feet got very warm even through the thick soles of my walking boots.

The lava is viscous and makes a wonderful crackling noise as it makes its way down the mountain. I have some incredible video footage of this but don't think I am able to post it here.

The air was incredibly hot, although I was at 2,600 metres with quite a strong wind, due to the constant stream of lava which is at 1300 degrees. Even the solidified parts are warmed by the lava beneath so that when I put down my pack for a moment to take this photo it was very warm when I retrieved it. The local wild dogs have found that the heat can provide a comfortably warm bed.

Later in the day I visited a local monastery which is now in ruins due to a huge earthquake in 1771 in which the city had to be abandoned. The ruins are open to all and grass and trees grow in the areas which used to be paved. Visitors are free to clamber over the walls and through the windows and local children like to write their names on what is left of the 18th century plaster. It is a wonderfully tranquil place to read a book or dig around for pieces of old pottery. One of the students from my language school found items from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries which he dated from the exhibits in their museum.

The Language School 1

2006-07-25T16:53:00.000Z

El Proyecto Linguistico Francisco Marroquin is my Spanish language school in Antigua. Most students come here to learn Spanish although a few are studying the language of the various Mayan tribes which exist in the country such as Q'eqchi' and Pocomchi'. In fact the objective of the school is to preserve these languages by producing dictionaries and grammar reference books.

Classes are from 8am until 5pm with a two hour break at lunch time. This allows me enough time to eat with my family and practice my new vocabulary.

My teacher, Rosa, lives in Antigua and grew up here. She speaks very little English and therefore all of our communication is in Spanish. It was very difficult at first, partly because I had to forget the Spanish "th" sound for "z" and change some of my vocabulary, but I have found that it has enabled me to learn very quickly. I still rely heavily on my dictionary not least because she asks questions like "Why does Britain have a queen?".

In the lessons I learn not only the language but about the culture and history of Guatemala. We talk about the pagan rituals which exist among the Mayan people and the reasons for the civil war which ended only 10 years ago.

Why oh why...

2006-07-25T00:15:00.000Z

.. didn´t I get my hair cut while I was in Chicago? I though about it, talked about it and friends with beautiful hair recommended places... but I just never got round to it.

How bad can a Guatemalan haircut be I asked myself? Well, frankly terrible. The first was pretty awful. "Shorter?" asks the hairdresser surprised "Yes, I want you to actually cut my hair.". Now that seems a slightly rash thing to have said. Apparently the only shorter she could do was the Guatemalan version of a "bowl cut". I didn´t dare ask her to change it again, on past record things would only get worse.

Tomorrow is a Guatemalan national holiday and a designated hat shopping day for me.

My Family in Antigua

2006-07-23T23:22:00.000Z

I had arranged a homestay for the time I would spend studying at the language school in Antigua. The school arranges everything and I knew nothing about them when I arrived here.

The entrance to the house looks like a garage but is in fact an old school in a small cobbled street off one of the main roads. The large wooden doors of the building have a smaller door cut into them which is used as the entrance. Inside is a courtyard where the children play with their friends and is the centre of the home. My room faces onto it and is simply furnished.

Patricia and Julio, the proprietors, have two children, Julio (6) and Patricia-Maria (10 months). The family are charming, patient with my attempts at expression and tolerant of my dislike of bananas. I could not ask for more. Here is a photo of them with Patricia's mother who lives nearby.

Chicago Photos

2006-07-23T22:54:00.000Z

To see all the photos from my trip to Chicago follow this link:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=8hqq27c.6tlcixv8&x=0&y=-gla719

Guatemala city to Antigua

2006-07-22T17:15:00.000Z

I arrived in Guatemala City a day later than I had expected due to storms that had lasted all day in Illinois. I had spent the night in Houston, Texas but was now finally making my way in a bus to Antigua where I would find my school and my host family. I was tired and dozed against the window enjoying the breeze.

I was woken by rain on my face: big drops of heavy rain that would not be ignored. The thuderstorm that had delayed me seemed to have followed me here. In moments the streets flooded and as we braked torrents poured down the windscreen. The streets were rivers dotted with rain and the pavements were suddenly empty. Cars edged slowly through the water spraying fans of brown water on one another. Suddenly the big 4x4s didn't seem so ridiculous in this urban setting. A few people were trapped under awnings or huddled under bus stops, their days suddenly interrupted by the storm.

As we left the Guatemala city for Antigua the rain slowed and the road was visible once more. Volcanoes surrouned us. My driver was happy and shouted excitedly on the phone. He sped up. I was glad, I was tired and wanted to arrive. The road became winding as we descended into a valley. The speed limit said 40kph and large signs urged drivers to slow down "Frene con motor". I glanced at our speedometer... over 80kph. I was not so glad. I had heard that South American drivers could be reckless and this was really dangerous. The winding road was slippery and wet and we were careering down hill at over twice the speed limit while he talked on the phone. There was only one solution: I shut my eyes.

With my eyes closed I soon forgot what was happening and fell asleep once more. I was woken some time later by the driver who announced proudly "This is Antigua!".

The Not-so-windy City

2006-07-22T16:03:00.000Z

It was the first time I would see Chicago since leaving there in 2000. I was visiting friends I had met in my year studying in Illinois - that was six years ago. At that time I had spent some time in the city but among my friends' families and now I would be a tourist. A few of my friends had visited me in London and Paris but most I had last seen as beer-obsessed Freshmen. Now we would meet again and these young professionals would be my hosts in the big city. I mulled over how they might have changed on the plane. Would the boys still wear gigantic baggy trousers? Would we all pick up where we had left off or would it be awkward? Would I even recognise them?

I had arranged to stay with Kristin, a friend from my halls of residence, in North Chicago. She is outside her house in this photo (right) with her flatmate, Heather (left).

When I finally made it to the city after delays in New York my first impression was that it was incredibly hot. And humid. Where was the famous breeze? Luckily this is America so almost everywhere is air-conditioned of course.

The heat wave decreed much of what we did - we chose which film to see on the basis that it was the longest out (Pirates...) and I spent so many hours in the Art Institute that my eyes hurt. I can recommend the air conditioning in that museum but the art is not bad either. They have the iconic "American Gothic" by Grant Wood (left) and a beautiful collection of Homers as well as an interesting exhibit about early American decorative arts.

When we were tired of museums we visited the stunning Millennium Gardens and listened to a concert given in honour of the "Gay Olympic Games" which were being hosted in the city at the time. Ruth, my old room mate, had just won a three-year scholarship for law school so it was time for celebration too. Before leaving the gardens we went to see "The Bean", an enormous metal sculpture which is highly polished. The cityscape reflects at strange angles in the curved surfaces and the effect is powerful because it is such an angular city.

China town held a festival during my visit. There was traditional dancing in full costume and many Chinese artifacts on sale such as fans, parasols and carved jade items. I bought a bamboo flute and hope to learn to play it on my travels.

Kristin and Heather threw a party on Saturday night in a temperature of 103 degrees. The Pimm's I had brought was a huge hit "It's sooo good but what is it?". Good question. Again the weather dominated the evening - the sweaty look was compulsory and it was almost to hot to talk. Here I saw many people I had not seen since college and was relieved to recognise them easily. We chatted about our current lives and reminisced about our days in Champaign-Urbana. One friend is moving to London in a few months with his girlfriend. The huge trouser trend is over also, so perhaps boys will soon stop flashing their boxers in London too.

The guidebook said that the best way to see the Chicago skyline is from the lake. I was lucky enough to be invited out to race on a J133 on Lake Michigan by Ryan, Ruth's boyfriend. The racing was normally fairly relaxed but it was clear that the crew was tense about the Mackinac race in which they would participate that weekend. "The Mac" is the longest fresh-water race in the world at 330 nautical miles and would be the first big event of this new boat. Our race the "Round the beer cans" race was a prelude to the big even and a magical way to spend my last evening.