Moments I Need To Remember, Bolivia 2009
Date of entry: July 12, 2009
- The startled look of cab drivers as Thom would tell them square in the face – “You can fuck off mate, you know what, you’re a fucking cunt.” 🖕
Of course this is vile, foul and absolutely despicable behaviour. Having guffawed and almost splits my sides laughing in the background though, one might argue I was encouraging him.
- Having Yantze, the American 34 year old that I didn’t know incredibly well (but arguably well enough since I was travelling), piss out of the balcony in our first floor room in Cusco and onto the sidewalk. The passers by, were not amused unsurprisingly.
- Having a can of Old Spice deodorant this same evening, it was the most awful thing in that it took almost a herculean effort (I´m talking two handed finger and thumb action here!) to spray anything. Yantze, not being amused, then proceeded to chuck it over the balcony he had already pissed over.
Not that he asked me or anything. The funny part (not at the time…) was me running down the stairs in the dark of this family owned hostel, banging my head hard on the stairwell, and crashing out the front door. Arriving out on the piss filled alleyway, I found a local Israeli backpacker trying to lob the dented can of deodorant up to the crouching Yantze…while I looked on bemused.
- Having the lovely lady from the hostel in Merida, Venezuela point to my lush copy of lonely planets, to the indigenous on the front and then at me and giggle. She then proceeded to exclaim “negrita, tu y el negritas”…..Felt Amazing! 😁
- The moments at the beginning of this trip when my Spanish was very cagey, and in those seconds that I got confused I would begin mumbling words in Hindi, confusing the listener even more…
Little did I know, the same thing would happen with my dad on the phone, when calling him from South America. I had to be apologetic as I could as if we could continue in English.
Having tried to talk in Hindi I ended up swapping my words for Spanish. Every listener to my “Spindu” was left somewhat scarred for life…
- Having been inspired by Alexis in Colombia, Ciudad, Perdida, I thought I would go for it and try and grow my hair and beard for as long as I possibly could. I had this same brainwave when I was 18 years old and backpacking the STA Travel route.
Of course I grew a lot less hair then. Having been asked if I was Israeli three times, refused at the border for being an illegal with a fake British passport 🛂, and called a terrorist by my arresting officer…that plan kind of went out the window…
- Jasmine, one of the girls in the homestay in Sucre, telling me the second day we had spent some time together that when she first met me she thought I was on coke.
She was concerned with asking where I got it from. I was concerned with the impression I give to people I meet. My inability to have a clear coherent thought, rather settling for the use of the word “Whatever” to finish as my final thought, is apparently not as clear as I seem to think in elucidating my train of thought.
This is made the more amusing given at La Senda Verde I was seen as the anti social gimp, given I chose to read at the dinner table whilst drinking and poker was in full motion. I know, I am such a fascinating bastard. Bite me.
- Having been offered a slap up dinner by a couple staying in a hostel in Bolivia, I gave into the vice that is gluttony, and made an impulse buy, when wandering past a dinky little shop that pumped out the smell of freshly made bread.
Doing a u-turn to revel in the delights of yeast and dough bread, I then managed to persuade the little old lady to make scrambled eggs from the eggs 🥚 she was trying to sell out.
Out came the frying pan, in went the eggs, and there I stood as I had egg yolk dribble down my delicious pan con juevos as I scoffed down three sandwiches in around five minutes. Along with the cola I spilled all over my shows. And it was bloody worth it…