Beer... mmm lets explore that...

Proud Galleries...

2010-11-21T13:01:00.000Z

There was plenty of beer.... and there was also this:

Apparently the act was called "Wizard Sleeve" - not that it's important...

No sense of humour allowed in this workplace

2010-03-25T11:19:00.001Z

To Blog or not to Blog

2010-02-21T23:58:00.001Z

So uh, its been a while... I don't really have much to say, that's probably a sign that I need to go out and do something interesting I guess.

Obligatory Superlatives in the South Island of NZ

2009-03-05T15:50:00.014Z

Leaving behind the bright blue sky to be swallowed by the Bluebridge ferry did little to dampen the spirits because within minutes of leaving the car in the belly of the ship our view from the ship’s bar was clear and we were already one beer in to the trip. Next stop Picton!

The waterfront in Picton was at its usual picturesque best, so with a bellyful of fish ‘n’ chips, shoes and socks were discarded allowing the calm and cool waters of the Marlborough sounds to gently lap around our sweltering feet. Once satisfied, it was onward to Nelson.

Sunny Nelson greeted us with an evening swim and an impressively photogenic sunset while motel owner Mark attempted to bamboozle us with his wheeling dealing accommodation deals. A few beers plus nachos polished off our night.

Under 35+ degree heat we made for Motueka – it was time to test our mettle in the age old Man vs. Gravity challenge! We were going skydiving! As predicted the first 45 seconds from jumping out of the plane Gravity was in complete control, Man had reached terminal velocity and was hurtling to certain death – but then, upon deploying the parachute Man began to fight back – for the next five minutes Gravity did its utmost to upset Man’s descent but it was Man who ultimately won the day suffering nothing more than mild nausea, fist pumps, and obligatory superlatives. Man had landed safely from whence he came. IN YOUR FACE GRAVITY!

Once the superlatives’ had all been spoken we pushed on and with ice-cream in hand traversed the Motueka Valley Highway, pausing only in Reefton to fetch the Service Station owner off the golf course so we could fill the tanks enough to make it to Greymouth. Our meal at The Hong Kong Restaurant was polished off with a warm tin of Ranfurly Draught. There’s simply nothinglike a cheap meal and a crap beer to make you feel young again!

The following morning the world famous in New Zealand Monteiths brewery reminded us that all that beer is equal, but some beer is more equal than others. A sophisticated look at a brewery allowed us to see how far our beer drinking palettes have come since our Ranfurly Draught drinking student days.

Fox Glacier was as huge and impressive as ever; and despite a brief dalliance beyond the safety ropes we survived and are still here to tell the tail. Later that afternoon we hit the Haast pass visitor centre where some intensive study on the surrounding rain forest took place, oh, and we saw this sweet Eel too! After some white bait fritters on bread for lunch we swam – or more accurately – got pounded by the waves at Haast beach – once refreshed we made our way towards Wanaka.

In order to break up the drive to Wanaka along the Haast Pass highway, we stopped at a rest area and undertook what was supposed to be a pleasant 30 minute return bush walk – what actually happened was quite different – it was a 20 minute dash through sand-fly territory – particularly perilous was the rope bridge where one simply could not spare a hand to swat away the marauding blood suckers. Still, what doesn’t kill you…

The backpackers in Wanaka was holding a BBQ for the paltry price of $6 which included a two for one drink deal. Not only was this to our liking, it was just what we needed. A good five or six hours of drinking followed – just enough for us to really feel the effects while kayaking LakeWanaka in the stinking heat the morning after.

The journey to Dunedin was largely uneventful although several rouge Riders of Rohan were claimed to have been spotted. We ate Thai food, coffee, dessert, and then proceeded to play games of pool before settling down on couches/floors of old friends for the night. The DunedinMuseum live butterfly exhibit occupied most of the next day before we hit Christchurch later in the evening.

Christchurch was a bit disappointing – but what do you expect from a city largely founded by the English, so we ploughed northwards sighting such wonders as the Kaikoura seal colony before setting up camp early evening in Blenheim. In contradiction to our basic camp ground accommodation, an extravagant dinner at an Italian Restaurant was devoured and enjoyed.

Waking up with sore bodies due to minimal cushioning the night before did not depress us for today was the day of the Marlborough Wine, Food, and Music Festival! Needless to say, much wine was tasted, food eaten and music danced to. Happy times.

But the trip would not go down in history as being complete just yet, oh no, not without a game of Mini-Golf! So before boarding the ferry back to Wellington, nine holes were completed with victors victorious and defeatists defeated.

The End

Interesting Facts about Gardening...

2008-11-27T22:21:00.004Z

In Cricketing Heaven (Devon)...

2008-09-10T12:25:00.000Z

As I wearily finished up a week-long and rather complex session on [insert complex insurance concept here], my mind wandered to the coming weekend – the sites, sounds and smells of leather on wood await! 30 minutes to go.

I droned on, my clients struggling to stay conscious as their mind wandered to their own version of the perfect and now rapidly approaching weekend. 15 minutes to go.

As I wrapped up, the obligatory thank yous’ and handshakes were gratefully interrupted by the horn of the waiting taxi.

“Well that’s me, best of luck!”

“Thanks”

“Don’t worry, you won’t need it”

*cordial polite laughs*

The train grumbled out of Bristol parkway station, the aisles brimming with passengers like me unable to find a seat on the overcrowded train. Yet spirits were high, conversations jovial, it was the weekend! It wasn’t just any old weekend; in fact I was on my way to Exeter, to me an unheard of town on the south coast of England for my cricket club’s end of season tour.

Blessed with fantastic weather on the Saturday we trounced an under-strength Axminster Town CC, and in the gloom of the Sunday we bulldozed our way to victory over the hapless Farley CC.

As we downed our celebratory beers in the van back to London, our labours were amplified, and our journey grew epic, we had vanquished our enemies and returned home triumphant.

All photos can be found here:

Yoda

2008-07-30T16:02:00.003Z

Warszawa!!

2008-07-13T22:22:00.006Z

I set off in search of a chilled out holiday, I found myself returning to Warwsaw, Poland...

This time I was in a five star hotel and this time I met up with the lovely Basia - she likes beer, this is a good thing.

See the Warsaw photos here:

Read what happened last time I was in Warsaw here:

And see the Warsaw pictures from two years ago here:

I went to Madrid and ate some seafood...

2008-06-09T18:36:00.001Z

Discovering Stockholm (Syndrome)...

2008-04-20T17:48:00.013Z

As light snow started to fall I began to doubt the wisdom of Shay’s choice of city for our Easter break. Why couldn’t we go somewhere sunny and warm?

My fears were quickly put to rest the moment we found ourselves tucked up and warm inside everyone’s home away from home, i.e. a bar! Shay, Rony Vamsee, and I had come to Stockholm in search of many things, however what we found consisted of equal measures of beer and eye candy, and this was good enough for me!

What followed was basically a three day booze bender, and as such the memory is a little hazy but I’ll try to outline the highlights which included:

Seeing Rony (who is the owner of the worlds most dodgy Bangladeshi passport) try to explain to the border control guy that he only wanted to enter Denmark because he was hungry.
Vamsee spending 40 minutes picking up some Greek women in a museum.
A visit to a club called the ‘Spy Bar’ where the boys finally got a dose of the hip-hop music they were craving, and Vamsee despite his best effort failed to pick up the young woman manning the blackjack table, though in retrospect he seemed happy enough to just win lots of cash.
Me losing Rony at the most pivotal moment in the Spy Bar.
No one and I mean no one, understanding what the hell Rony was saying. ‘Nuf said.
Using the worlds worst pasta sauce to cook dinner and in the end stealing someone else’s from the fridge in the hostel just to make it edible.
Rony travelling to Stockholm in winter without a jacket.
Me farting loudly as an Italian woman walked past in the hostel.
The next ten minutes wondering why the Italian woman and her friends were looking at us and talking disapprovingly in Italian.
The numerous jokes at Rony and Shay’s expense at the time it took them to do anything.
The frequent misunderstanding of Rony, in fact to this day I’m still confused as to what I can get when I mix a fat chick and £2
Rony’s reaction to being in a gay bar.
Rony’s reaction to seeing two guys kissing in a gay bar.
And finally, Rony’s reaction to getting his photo taken with two guys kissing in a gay bar.

Until next time fellow travellers... photos here:

Principat d'Andorra…

2008-01-05T23:09:00.000Z

Glancing at the time while opening the curtains to a dark and chilly December morning, I smiled, it was 5.30am and it dawned on me that I was finally on Holiday. My smile broadened to its maximum as the plane took off because with every meter gained in altitude a little bit more of the frantic and demanding pace of London was left behind.

And then it was PAIN.

As it turned out I wasn’t exactly as fit as I once was and attempting to take on 7 days of Snowboarding straight was, well downright silly! Come day three, making generous use of what little youth I have left, I was able to handle the jandal as they say, just fine. I’d like to make a shout-out to my close personal friend muscle memory.

Waking every morning to the sound of the icy stream below the hotel window we were met with hangovers, croissants, and crisp clear blue skies – the perfect combination for Snowboarding.

Alas all too soon we trudged back to London our luggage lighter on our backs, and our smiles wider on our faces. The flight of fancy we departed on had landed firmly back on earth.

Photos here:

Life sux... Get over it...

2007-10-03T21:11:00.000Z

It's been a crap fortnight or so.

1. Lost significant other
2. Complications with ex landlord
3. Chased by muggers in Brixton
4. Seychelles trip cancelled
5. Homeless
6. Fractured a bone

I thought things were supposed to come in threes, not groups of threes...

<*Update*>

7. Found out parents have separated, It just doesn't end...

/<*Update*>

The end of the golden weather?

2007-08-23T17:33:00.001Z

With cricket season coming to a close my thoughts navigate towards the impending winter and reflect on the summer that never really was. Thanks England, thanks a whole f*ckin lot.

Like all dark tales of tragedy and despair, this summer has but one bright light, one golden glow at the end of the tunnel, indeed one last tiny sparkle. Ladies and Gentleman may I present *drum roll please* The cricket tour to the Seychelles! *insert trumpets here*.

28th September 16.00 hrs GMT: Ben mutters under his breath words to the effect of "So long suckers!" to his beleaguered work colleagues.

28th September 21.05 hrs GMT: Ben scowls in the general direction of London as the plane takes off bound for fairer shores.

29th September 10.15 hrs GMT+4: Exiting the plane, basking in glorious sunshine, Ben sets about developing his taste for the local beer.

The end of the golden weather? No, this is just the beginning.

Ben (1) Diabetes (nil)

2007-06-30T11:36:00.000Z

After a recent panic caused by a week long insatiable thirst I have decided that I am not in fact diabetic, just extra thirsty. Its probably the overload of air conditioning that I can't live with or without as things finally warm up over here in crazy town.

When I say warm up, I really mean its a bit warmer than it was in the winter. Most days of course I work so its not a problem, however considering my recent successful foray in to a cricket club, the weather has become that incy wincy bit more important, at least on the weekends. As Thursday rolls around I can't help browsing the BBC website for weather predictions for the coming weekend. I don't know why I bother, this is gloomy England after all.

So in search of better cricket playing weather, the bold decision has been made to sucker up to people with money to fund an all expenses paid trip to the Seychelles, for get this... cricket!! In case you don't realise the Seychelles are those little tiny islands somewhere off the coast of east Africa and the national Seychellean cricket team is apparently in need of opposition! I know I'm up for the job, but we'll have to wait and see how it all pans out.

Meanwhile back in the real world, work, office life, the daily grind, another day another dollar etc. etc. Work on the whole is going pretty well, the supply of free soft drinks in the staff fridge never appears to dwindle, there is always enough bar tab for a third pint at Friday drinks, and now there is almost enough people in the company to necessitate birthday cake every day for everyone. Everthing else that doesn't fit in to the soft drinks, beer, and cake category can be neatly summed up by Dilbert cartoons so there really isn't much else to say.

I hope you are all well, please send food parcels I'm desperate for some L&P, 2 minute noodles, and anything Watties.

Cheerio

Island in the Sun: Grenada, the spicy one.

2007-04-20T12:00:00.000Z

As jealous laser eyes slowly bored holes in the back of my head, the little clock in the bottom right corner of my screen clicked over to 17.30

I stood up, smile beaming "see ya in a few weeks guys". My work mates muted responses were understandable; they weren't the ones leaving the gloomy confines of London, they weren't the ones who in about 20 hours time would be sipping the Caribbeans finest on a beautiful white sandy beach. No, they were the ones that would be getting up at some ungodly hour to commute to work in an overcrowded tube shoved up under some guys smelly arm pit...

Yes, its good to be me.

I arrived in Grenada halted only slightly by immigration to a rousing display of affection from eternal good mates Guy and Tony, a beer later and the sweat and jet lag kicked in.
The cricket was pretty run of the mill to be honest, but Grenada more than made up for that. Try to imagine a morning swim in the ocean followed by the Grenadian fresh fish breakfast, a Carib (beer), and sitting at a bar so close to the water you had sand at your feet.

A memorable afternoon was spent wandering the markets and knocking back a few bottles of Carib and having a good old yarn with Guy and the infamous one (new-found friend Lance). Grenada is a place with the kind of heat that made you thristy, really thirsty, this had the uncommon effect of making each cold beer just as refreshing as the last, needless to say, but we had many refreshing beers that afternoon.

Between swimming, beer drinking, and cricket we found time to have an evening out at a resturant followed by a night out at a club called Fantasia. Tony and I cut up the dance floor as only we can. Around 3am that night, Tony's snoring reached 747 levels and Guy and I decided to have yet another beer on the beach. Waking up hours later I prodded Guy awake, we dusted off the sand and headed back, assuming the spoon formation and slept like babies.

Grenada, you spicy Island you. I will return...

The hot girl from work...

2007-03-28T20:48:00.000Z

The weather has been rather cold and miserable lately, so it was with a nice surprise that I sat down on the loo at work in the morning, paper in hand, to discover that the seat was pleasantly warm. It was only near the end of my turgid visit that I pondered who it was that took the time to part with their hard earned body heat to increase my comfort? I smiled as I imagined the taut bottom of the hot girl from upstairs...

As I dried my hands meticulously using the fancy yet ecologically unsound paper towels, three things sprung to mind; this is a toilet, and a male toilet at that, AND I passed the office fat-guy on the way in... Watching the mirror curiously, I saw a young man's smile fade...

I hope all is well in Hammersmith...

2007-03-13T21:24:00.000Z

...said a friend of mine

My life is like playing poker and always getting the "Ace Of Spades". Drinking alcohol, trying to "Stay Clean" in the "Metropolis" that is "The Hammer". Fell off but got back up on the "Iron Horse / Born To Lose". Living in a middle class area but I got "No Class" because I don't wannabe "Overkill". Fortunately "(We Are) The Road Crew" are cool though one is a "Capricorn". Paranoid like everyone about tube suicide "Bomber"[s]. Just wish I could go to the Apollo for "Motorhead (live)"...

Laughing my ass off...

2007-02-20T19:33:00.000Z

"You know what's getting really tedious? All these time travelers. It seems like two weeks don't go by without some jerk with a time belt and a bad attitude blinking into my living room and trying to zap me into molecules, usually right in the middle of House."

Rest of article here.

It's my country's party and I'll drink if I want to...

2007-02-06T19:29:00.000Z

In a fantastic return to form, I've started drinking heavily again and the world has become a better place.

So begins the famous Waitangi day circle line pub crawl. It was a mission to end all missions and it would be undertaken by approximately nine thousand cold and home sick expatriate Kiwis, and I was one of them.

I arrived among throngs of silver fern clad Kiwis at Paddington tube station to the sight of the Kiwi, the sound of the Maori strum, the taste and smell of beer, and the feel of fellow Kiwi's up close and personal in the cramped but festive circle line tube. Simply put, All five senses were buzzing.

Due to thebeereffect motor control steadily declined among us all and the "no sitting and no holding on while riding the tube" rule became steadily more fun. Akin to the concept of antipodean dating, i.e excessive beer equals chatting up which in turn equals score; add a moving train to the mix and everyone has ample excuse for the odd tender caress.

The circle line tube, notorious for its unreliability, subsequently shut down. Fortunately yet uncharacteristically for the UK, the weather matched our sunny dispostion. As we merrily wandered along in the sunshine through a rather affluent area of London, the locals looked on confused as to why thousands upon thousands of singing silver fern-clad revellers wandered through their usually quiet streets.

[English accent] "Erm you're all off to a sporting event are ya?"

"uh yeah"

[English accent] "oh who's playing"

"um we all are"

[English accent] "eh?"

Ahh the English, don't they know that a pub crawl IS a sporting event?

As the Big Ben clock struck 4pm the Haka shook the halls of Westminster and the Kiwis dispersed back to their usual hang outs in and around west London.

Quite a day really... here is what I was up to last year and here are some photos.

It's kinda cold over here...

2007-01-27T16:00:00.000Z

So here is the view from my bedroom window of the light dusting of snow we received...

Also here is some views from inside the house:

Some more photos taken in Jan can be found here:

Stupidity etc.

2007-01-13T14:26:00.000Z

I don't normally bother to comment on such things here because its not really in the fun loving nature of this website but this made me scared and laugh at the same time:

"FEDERAL WAY, Wash. — The school board in this suburb south of Seattle has restricted showings of Al Gore's movie on global warming, including requiring that it be balanced with an adequate opposing viewpoint".

"The information that's being presented is a very cockeyed view of what the truth is," Hardison told the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. "The Bible says that in the end times everything will burn up, but that perspective isn't in the DVD."

The rest of the article can be found here:

All I can manage is to shake my head and wonder what's the damn point...

As a side note, I have noticed that the fun loving nature of this website has been lacking a bit perhaps living and working in the UK has made me more cynical?

Working is like... so uncool man...

2006-12-05T15:36:00.000Z

Void of positivity and enthusiasm lately, I decided to do some cliched soul searching. After going in to a zen like trance for what seemed like seconds I was able to extract myself from the lotus position and make lunch. While dipping my toast in to a particularly spicy bowl of vegetable soup possibly cooked by Chef from South Park; I found myself on a chilli induced "time travelling" dream sequence with a kind of "Ghost of Christmas past character". This character gave me the impression that I was conversing with the naked Indian and Jim Morrison from Wayne's World and for some reason there was a touch of the Grim Reaper from the 'Bill and Ted' movies thrown in to the mix

After wandering aimlessly over sand dunes for what seemed like seconds, I came across a water cooler and drank deeply. From behind me a voice told me that usually the answers I seek could easily be found by looking within myself and examining the root causes of my lack of enthusiasm and positivity using a series of Hollywood produced dream sequences. Only problem was that the voice was really busy lately with double bass lessons.

The voice paused for what seemed like seconds allowing me to ponder how a mere voice could play the double bass without fingers, before I could come to a conclusion the voice simply said, "If you book them, they will come." I explained that this didn't really didn't help my situation so I asked the voice to clarify "God damn woman, I'll stop bein' all cryptic an' shit and tell you the god damn answer, didn't I just give you sweet lovin' five minutes ago?"

Confused, I continued to listen, and then in a loud and serious tone the following words of wisdom were issued from the lip less voice "If you quit your job, you will be happy". Genius!

I woke up lighted by the kindly glow of my old friend patiently and gently force feeding me pop culture full of characters and tag lines stronger and more poignant than anything the "real world" ever gave me. Pausing for what seemed like seconds, I hugged the TV.

So after a rather hectic, stressful, and ultimately depressing two and a half months in a job I didn't really like, I decided to cut my losses and re-join the hordes of anti-establishment TV-hugging hippies. My only complaint was that I didn't get to play twister with my movie-like dream sequence guy... but I guess that only happens in the movies.

Screw the stiff upper lip...

2006-11-30T17:56:00.000Z

Its pessimism that will get you a long way in London...

I arrived in London, it was raining, my holiday was over and like an incontinent relative my bank account was experiencing serious leakage at a surprising rate. I needed money and I needed it fast.

I didn’t immediately discount selling my soul and or body until I realised that from the customers perspective, they would be getting what they payed for and I as far as I was concerned the only part of me for sale was my toe nails. After extensive market research the best price I could get was a pat on the back and a concerned look thrown in for free, they didn’t even want the toe nails.

As the toe nail business just wasn’t working out I decided that it was time to dust off the old CV and eminently adaptable cover letter or as I like to think of them “those trusty, ingenious, well constructed, adeptly presented, half truths on three bits of A4”. In my opinion CV’s are simply a whimsical art form, they have no realistic reflection on a persons skill, experience or ultimately what they are like to employ.

Either way, armed with my incredible and whimsical piece of art I was unstoppable and the phone was ringing off the hook. I had job interviews galore. I prefer to liken a job interview to a first date. Both parties make ego-centric conversation about themselves before deciding if they want to jump in to bed with each other but in this case there is no food and wine to occupy yourself during the awkward silences.

Within a week I had started working for “the man” and had ended up selling my body and soul after all, of course that depends on if you consider the soul anatomical or intangible which is a whole other conversation that I as an agnostic don’t want to get in to with the caped crusaders. Yes you, you know who you are you lewd naughty dirty devout belief in the absolute little so and so’s. Oh sorry did I question the validity of something you hold dear and make you feel guilty? I feel like masturbation, in the noun and verb senses of the word, oh my god quick hand me The Cloth.

I think I’m going to... sooo get fucked by Catholicism for that.

Swiss army knives/watches/chocolate etc...

2006-10-07T19:47:00.000Z

It was time to cash in on another generous offer of free lodgings, this time I was off to Switzerland to visit the lovely Amanda.

As it turns out, even the efficiency of the German trains couldn't’t help the fact that the journey from Copenhagen took an entire day and cost a shitload. Still it was totally worth it.

Incidentally I met quite possibly the nicest German guy in the world on the train. No honestly! It turned out that my ticket was wrong and I had to pay extra, having no cash I was pretty much fucked until the aforementioned ‘nicest German guy in the world’ offered to pay it for me. Now it was no measly sum, a full 30 Euros had to be coughed up. I was incredibly grateful. I arrived in Zurich where again ‘nicest German guy in the world’ proceeded to buy me a beer and a sandwich while I waited for my train change.

As I left there was handshakes aplenty and promises to spread the goodwill of the Germans, because around that part of the world, God knows they need it ;-)

After a first class journey between Zurich and Lausanne (no really it was first class, oh dear, wrong seat again Ben, tut tut tut) I arrived late at night and met up with Amanda and her friend Laura who makes a great Thai green curry by the way.

Amanda and I undertook many adventures in and around Lausanne, the first of which was a hilarious bike ride to Morges. Mainly hilarious for the fact that Amanda could hardly reach the pedals, and the ‘Amanda versus hedge’ incident which I’m sure the nation of Switzerland will be talking about for some time.

A short train ride to Montreux, town of the rich and famous was made especially interesting by the fact that it had an official Freddy Mercury celebration day, on discovering this I of course was immediately sold on the place.

In between times Amanda, Laura and I proceeded to drink cheap wine, eat well, and generally be merry.

Eventually I made it to Geneva to see the UN headquarters, but as usual due to being subject to veto by the powerful few it was closed to the weak and helpless masses that day so we just went to a Thai restaurant instead which was equally as satisfying.

With a large block of Swiss choolate under my arm it was off to London to search for a house/job/wife/life etc. Wish me luck!

Swiss photos here:

Amandas blog here:

Copenhagen: Party central, not to be confused with the Democratic Republic of Congo

2006-09-30T18:36:00.000Z

Firstly, let me set the scene: After an e-mail to my Danish friends sent around lunch time that I would be arriving at 11pm I set off cursing my usual unorganized self hoping that they received the e-mail and that at least one of them would meet me.

Fortunately as I arrived so did a bicycle and on that bicycle there was Jonas. As all the hostels were full I slept on the floor on an air bed at Jonas's place, hilariously it took about two hours to blow up the air bed as we lacked the proper equipment, lung capacity, and determination to actually do the job properly. I suppose the two of three beers we downed didn't really help either. Bring back any memories Paul? Stu? deja vu man.

I stayed at Søren's flat the majority of the time. His flatmate Nana is a musician; no let me rephrase that, an awesome musician. So to give her due credit we went along to see her play solo at a small cafe an d then play with her 80's band the following night which was awesome even though the beers cost 60 kroner ($15NZ). It was at this point I realized that Copenhagen was Scandinavian geographically and Scandinavian in price.

This seemingly insurmountable barrier did not stop us having a good time, and since this website is called TheBeerEffect an entry would not be complete without a few stories involving myself and some fellow travelers getting seriously boozed up.

The unfortunate thing is, I'm writing this a full month later and Copenhagen treated me well, far too well so there is inevitable gaps in my memory, but for you my loyal reader, I will soldier on!

Søren's friend was celebrating something to do with clothes, I'm not sure why but it involved beer and 'Joy to the world', the song... Yes after months of searching I had found a karaoke bar. The problem was I thought that it was the first time I had done karaoke in ages, I was wrong. My memory had proved fallible, fortunately there is one thing karaoke bars the world over have and that is a long lasting memory of me and this place was no exception.

As I walked in pissed off my nut seemingly for the first time, I was greeted from the stage by the MC in English, "Hey everyone, its Ben, he's from out of town". At this point I was thinking, how the hell does that fat fucker know my name? and considering we're in Denmark, why the hell isn't he speaking Danish?

Immediately I guessed.. "ahhh, thought I had a big one last night". I rode my bike back to Søren's... wait a minute... I have a bike?

Moving on: Near the centre of Copenhagen is the 'free town' of Christiana.

Christiania's Mission Statement: "The objective of Christiania is to create a self-governing society whereby each and every individual holds themselves responsible over the well being of the entire community. Our society is to be economically self-sustaining and, as such, our aspiration is to be steadfast in our conviction that psychological and physical destitution can be averted."

So as you can imagine the place is, or at least was a Hash drug den, awesome. These days the drugs are not quite so openly sold but still obviously there. Just listen for the whistles which signal the arrival of the police.

Following a telling of the "train ride to Prague story" it was revealed that a wild Danish woman by the name of Elana had used my inebriated state to shave my pubes off, this fact was greeted by copious amounts of laughter. The party was on and Beer, as usual was my drug of choice.

There were other things that happened but I'd better just pictorially summarise them:

Perhaps the pics need a few words to go with them: Had beers, saw football game, kissed wrong girl, pretended I didn't speak English, stole a bicycle, crashed it, pissed on expensive car, crashed bike in to police station, avoided police, got back safe, woke up 8hrs later still drunk, took wrong door, wandered the streets of Copenhagen at 8.30am, snapped out of it, rang Søren's doorbell from the street, thanked god that I was at the very least wearing boxer shorts....

Running out of money, having great time, wish you were here.

Photos:

Fuck the Nazis...

2006-09-20T18:40:00.000Z

The four days I spent in Berlin blur together as the beer was very reasonably priced, and as you know I like reasonably priced beer, a lot. The sites were pretty awesome too.

With a couple of Scottish guys I went on a organized pub crawl, not the usual sort of thing that I would normally indulge in but it was only 10 Euros and it included a good amount of free drinks which I thought would be worth it, and it was. The night was a bit of a blur and we ended at a place called The Matrix which was pretty cool, I seem to remember women dancing in cages but that may have been me, dancing in cages.

The following night we decided that because the kitchen at the hostel was so good that perhaps we should use it, cue super market visit and cue buying of Spooks. No not the British television drama series, or the little known Hip-hop group, and no, it has absolutely nothing to do with Halloween. What are you talking about Ben? Everyone knows the Smiles that you bake in the oven right? Well in Germany they have Spooks which are a scary version of the Smiles. Either way we thought that they must be just about the most awesome things on the planet, they tasted quite good too.

Post spooks we hooked up with some Aussies; Beth, Denise, and Amanda. They were keen for a beverage or two or three which suited us fine. After a fair few empty bottles lay scattered around the living room I decided that it was time to sow the seeds of an idea I had been mulling over in my head for a few days. The idea was a particular pub I had heard about. At first it was a hard sell, the name of it was 'White Trash Fast Food' but eventually curiosity, and a few more excellent beverages, got the better of them, we were off.

After bargaining with the door staff and saying that there were ten of us when there was only six we managed to get in for half price. Gotta love those law abiding Germans, they're so law abiding the thought of anyone doing something dishonest doesn't even register.

The most notable thing about White Trash Fast Food was its clientele’s propensity for anti-fascism. The place itself is just one big full on anti-fascist party. Cue the bands.

Imagine standing in a room not knowing what is about to happen surrounded by people that do. Then imagine that these people are very still but very excited, like locked and loaded mouse traps close to a mouse; they were ready to go off.

Then it happened.

From the darkness of the stage a single guitar played a single G string over and over at break neck speed. The Guitar whirred and whined, its string sounding close to breaking point when as abrupt as it started, it stopped. Not missing a beat a single spotlight centered on a punk, green Mohawk, leather jacket and piercings galore, he was holding a guitar, The Guitar.

“Fuck the Nazis”

“Hey”

“Fuck the Nazis”

“Hey”

“Fuck the Nazis”

“Hey”

The crowd responded immediately and enthusiastically to the Guitarists statement, everyone knew the script, hell even I knew the script

As the G String was stretched to its limit again and again the chants increased in volume. These guys were aggressive, hot blooded, and they were zealous. So was I.

Cool imagery huh?

Good bye Turkey.

2006-09-15T14:37:00.000Z

I flew to Vienna from Istanbul because the train out of Istanbul would’ve taken a few days rather than the hour long flight and I didn’t think there was much point in revisiting places that I’d already seen.

Nothing was really notable about the flight itself apart from the red stockings on the lovely Austrian Airlines staff which kept me thoroughly entertained.

It was good to see Heidi, Silvia, and Helmut again, and I am forever indebted to them for their hospitality. As Heidi was working pretty solidly Helmut and I did things like hiring out DVD’s, watching TV, and eating takeaway pizza, it was almost normal; he didn't speak English but it was just what I needed.

As travellers know, trying to do simple day to day things in a completely different setting/language/currency etc. is one of the cool things about traveling. The unfortunate thing is, cue double edged sword scenario, the novelty wears off. I guess I’m missing the carefree days when I knew exactly when I was going to get my next meal/shower/tikka masala with a garlic naan, etc.

So I’ve decided to make some attempt to return to “normality” (what ever that is), and make my way back to England to get a good curry.

But before my curry wishes could be fully satisfied, a promise I had made months ago to some Danes back in Romania needed to be fulfilled. I departed for Berlin with my eyes ever northwards in the direction of Copenhagen.

Yes mum, I am looking after myself...

2006-09-10T21:07:00.000Z

After all the e-mails of concern over the previous entry, I guess I better follow it up pretty quickly with the recuperation part of the story.

After the horror of the food poisoning of the last week, I decided that I need some rest and relaxation. I thought to myself that it would need to be in a place that I felt comfortable just doing nothing, apart from home there was only one place that sprung to mind, that place was Selçuk, Turkey.

I stopped briefly in Çanakkale where I had enough time to consider another visit to the Gallipoli peninsula, but decided against it on the grounds that apart from seeing it a month beforehand, I was scared that it wouldn't live up to the first time I visited. I'll save a second visit for an ANZAC day sometime in the future.

"So, here we are in Selçuk" I muttered as I exited the stuffy and sterile air conditioning of the bus. As before it was a beautiful sweltering day, and as before I wandered towards the ANZ Guesthouse where I knew I would meet Michael and Mehmet at the carpet shop. This time however the smiles and hand shakes (there is always handshakes in Turkey) were a reunion rather than a meeting, I was feeling better already.

I don't know how long I stayed, sure I could probably work it out, but to be honest I don't really want to know. I must have taken off my watch to have a shower one day and just forgot to put it back on. It was good to lose track of time.

Not to say that I didn't do anything at all, I had beach days, sleep in days, read a bad book days and... well that was about it, until Harry (the owner) asked me if I knew anything about computers. Before long I had redesigned the breakfast menu and received a free dinner for my trouble. Soon after it was my pleasure to attempt any odd job Harry or for that matter, anyone in town could offer.

The odd jobs ranged from simply correcting spelling or grammar to selling boat and bus tours. I was pretty much living for free for about 3 hours of work a day, which still left plenty of time for sleep-ins, books, and beach days.

Daniel worked around the corner and had been living "the lifestyle" for about six weeks longer than me. Being Kiwis, Otago Uni boys, and in the same situation we naturally hung out a bit. It was hilarious watching the Turks observe us as we chucked a Rugby ball around. Ever the triers, the Turks joined in but they simply could not match us in hand-eye coordination with an oval ball, this was round-ball country and we revelled in our superiority.

During a sleep-in day I was woken around mid-day by Daniel who had managed to find a pub in a nearby town with a Satellite dish that could possibly pick up Sky sport. This meant, he explained slowly to my sleepy brain that we could watch the Springboks play the All Blacks live in a few hours time. Of course I was interested, relative to the previous weeks this was an event, an occasion, a momentous spectacle worthy of beers! A trip to civilisation! What was I going to wear?

On arrival we were sorely disappointed to learn that there was a English Rugby League final on at the same time and there was only one decoder. A disappointed look between Daniel and myself passed between us as our dreams for a taste of home and a worthy occasion for beers disintegrated in to little pieces.

This did not stop the Turks however, as we all know the Turkish pride themselves on perfect customer service. Perfect customer service, as I am reliably informed by my previous profession is where a win/win situation takes place. This win/win situation came in the form of a quick call to the towns resident set-top-box hacker, a soldering iron, and a quick fiddle with the remote control. Suddenly everyone was happy. Beers were followed by beers which was followed by an All Black win.

Our revelry back in Selcuk that night was infectious, we combined the forces of three or four local hostels for a party back at my place on the rooftop terrace. Daniel and I proceeded to teach people from fifteen different countries the intricate nuances of Otago University's best export, and I know you know I'm talking about 'Circle of Death' right?

Waking the next afternoon with a pleasant hangover I decided it was time to move on.

Dry Humour...

2006-08-25T12:13:00.000Z

Istanbul... I think I'm going to die in a horrible vomiting shitting mess. The fact that I am here today writing this proves that I didn't die, though I wished that I did at the time.

"Arse of steel, arse of steel" I calmly repeat over and over to myself. One question remains as I make it to the hostel, "How have I not shit my pants yet?"

I collapse, a doctor is promptly called, who promptly calls an ambulance, which promptly arrives and rushes me to hospital. As I'm in the ambulance a single thought enters my dehydrated semi-conscious brain, "When I wake up, I hope they've cleaned the shit and vomit off me".

Once I regained my conscious ability to think my first thought, rather then being something profound about near death experiences, the meaning of life, or the way silent Velcro works, was "fuck somebody shit their pants". My second thought followed within seconds, simply "Oh fuck". Holding my breath made the unconsciousness come faster.

For a holiday experience I'd really recommend waking up in a pile of shit stained sheets on a low bed in the hallway of a busy foreign hospital, it really puts things in to perspective. There will forever be the before and the after, life changes from this point onwards.

As I regained my strength but certainly not my dignity; "No" I thought to myself, "dignity would come much later", I was acutely aware of a stabbing pain in my arm. "Hurt, pain" said a Turkish accent, despite the words not being a question "Yes" I answered, to no one.

It turned out that he was a Doctor and he was squeezing a bag which led to a drip in my arm. "What are you doing?" I asked accusingly. "Hurry hurry, busy busy" he said indicating the already overflowing hallway, I took it to mean that the concept of triage had decided to check me out as quick as possible.

I was allowed a shower and soap which went someway to restoring dignity. In a plastic bag I found my clothes with a bit of vomit on the tee shirt but thankfully, and incredibly no shit whatsoever. To this day I don't know whether they had washed my boxers or if I'd managed to hold on, I'd like to think it was the latter, and I'll swear to the day I die that that's what happened if anyone asks.

Dignity restored, and feeling like a million dollars mostly due to my newly and speedily hydrated body, I knew that I needed receipts for my medical care for insurance purposes. This was denied me by the long line and no English speaking receptionists. Fuck it.

The comedown from the magical Saline solution didn't take long, so I slept for about 12 hours and woke with a pain in my stomach. A burning ring of fire later and I thought that I'd better get in to the prescribed medicine.

Three days later and feeling like I was about to lapse back to square one, I crawled downstairs and hit Wikipedia. One final shit, I was determined that it was to be the final one, and I was off to the pharmacy with the name of a drug. Of course the drug was prescription only, my face dropped and I thought maybe if I shit myself here in the pharmacy they'll get the picture that I'm not fucking around.

Instead of shitting myself I calmly place twenty lira on the counter and look the pharmacist in the eye, he holds my gaze. I repeat the process until there is a hundred lira on the counter, his gaze falters. I've got him, he's mine, and so are the drugs.

Forty minutes later gazing at the beautiful Blue Mosque of Istanbul, words drift aloud from my lips "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I smell no sulphur."

Ironically and without emotion, my raw chaffed arse gets the joke and laughs with relief.

Thankfully there are no photos.

Goreme, no kebabs please.

2006-08-15T11:31:00.000Z

Still with most of the guys from the boat, I check in to Kose pension at around 6.30am with Kim cause shes so god damn organised. Crashing out for a few hours is required following our gazillion-hour overnight bus journey. It takes a morning snooze and a walk around to realise that we are in fact in a really, and I mean really beautiful part of the country.

Surrounded by volcanically created scenery we take lots of photos and hit the open air museum in the afternoon. Its hard to enjoy in the 45 million degree heat but impressive all the same. An early night and a swim in the hostel pool concludes the day.

Taking in the main sites of Cappidocia proves to be a sweaty all day task, apparently the bus has air conditioning, apparently. Highlights of the day include a walk by a river where some old women appear to be beating a sheep to death, and me climbing in to a fairy chimney closely followed by a woman who gets stuck and holds up the entire bus, I was the only one who found it hilarious though.

I meet a carpet salesman and his Canadian wife while wandering past their shop. The man is having difficulty with his digital camera and he can't speak any other English apart from the word "help". His wife explains that despite the instructions being in English she can' be bothered reading them, and would I like some tea? Of course I want tea, what do you think I'm doing walking past a carpet shop for?. Fixing the digital camera takes about 12 seconds and we chat for a few hours about nothing of consequence but its nice to experience some more Turkish hospitality.

The next day I spend lazing around in the pool with Jess and her British friend until grabbing a kebab and taking another overnight bus to Istanbul.

The photos are far more impressive than today's meagre writing effort so you'd best look at them here:

Olympos, Turkish style...

2006-08-13T21:38:00.000Z

Due to being my usual disorganised self I hadn't booked anywhere to stay and it was pretty much the busiest time of the year. Fortunately I had met Kim on the boat trip and she was over-organised and had overbooked and prepaid, this we found was advantageous to us both. We stayed in a room named "Sunset Strip". The "luxurious" Sunset Strip kind of had its own toilet and shower and was outfitted hilariously with, for two people that don't really know each other, a double bed. And just for your information, yes Kim is a total wild one in bed. I honestly haven't had such hilarious conversations with a sleep talker since 1992 where my younger brother Daniel, at age seven thought that 1am in the morning was a good time to do his tax returns.

Apart from Kim's night time shenanigans, Olympus was relatively uneventful, though there were a few moments to remember. There was a decent rock to jump off at the beach and I met a group of local kids, some of which were crazy enough to jump off the rock head first. Also during the beach visit I noticed that there was a decent amount of good skimming stones along the beach. I was having a grand old time skimming stones, right up until the point where I inadvertently hit one of the local kids on the head with a rock. I guess I was fortunate that he could understand the word "sorry" in English, pretty funny in hindsight actually.

With making a sly getaway at the forefront of my mind, I ended up going quad biking with some of the guys from the boat trip, it was notable for a ripe-for-the-picking fig tree, my hooning, and one of the other guys (Ben) driving in to a ditch.
After quad biking we checked out the famous Chimaera flames (above) which were pretty cool.

On our last day in Olympos we went to lunch at a cool restaurant situated in trees on a river and literally ate lamb-loads of lamb cooked in a kind of Turkish hangi before taking the night bus to Goreme.

Click here for all the Olympos photos.

Four days of pirating pleasure...

2006-08-10T12:42:00.000Z

Looking back on it all, all the days seem blur in to one. Basically I spent my time swimming, drinking, reading, eating, snorkeling, fishing, and then repeating the cycle with a great bunch of people.

I guess there was one particular moment of note though. After mooring in a bay for our final night on the water with about 20 other boats we found ourselves taking a water taxi to a bar.

Firstly, I should explain that this is not the kind of terrain that one would expect a bar to exist in, a rocky but calm bay on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey only accessible via boat, and utterly devoid of people. In fact it seems like this is the last place someone would put a bar. I guess no one told the owners of Smugglers Inn.

On arrival the said owners of Smugglers Inn 'treated' the crowds of people to a selection of pop music from various times in the last thirty years. You know the kind of music that everybody knows the words to and screams at the top of their lungs and dances like flocks of headless chickens to? So um yeah that's basically what we did for a few hours. Eventually in the early hours of the morning, sweating and laughing, we caught the water taxi back to our boat.

But our hardy drinking souls had not quite finished yet, no not when there were still cold beers on the boat to drink and pop songs still fresh in our minds. During this final beer someone had a fantastic idea (well all ideas at this stage of a big night out are fantastic), Lets streak! This so-called 'fantastic idea' was later attributed to me, however to this day I disagree to it being my idea personally, in my opinion it was more of a group decision arrived at collectively after some rigorous democratic debate.

Either way there were ten very drunk and very naked people in the Mediterranean that night. However there was one problem, the definition of streaking implies that one first get naked and then run around stupidly in front of people who are not, as we were, in a state of undress. Where the hell were we going to find such people in the dead of the night? let alone somewhere to simply 'run around stupidly' while swimming in the middle of the bloody Mediterranean?

The answer was quickly discovered after some more 'rigorous democratic debate'. 'Hey look a boat' someone shouted, 'lets go' added another. So there we were, drunk, naked as the day we were born, and about to climb aboard another boat with the intention to 'run around stupidly'. Climbing aboard presented no real problem, they had conveniently left a ladder down so that we could do so. The problem was that unlike the pirates of time gone by, we were neither stealthy, ruthless, or indeed cunning. Between us our pirate skills amounted to drunkenness, loudness and an exceptionally high quality of stereotypical pirate-like quotes.

'Hand over ye booze and women ye scurvy scoundrel, or I`ll keel haul ye and throw ye bloody remains to the sharks, ARRRRGHH'

Hence with only one of us on board the ladder was withdrawn and one unlucky soul was made to unceremoniously walk the plank. We returned defeated but defiant to our own boat and slept soundly, the subject of our dreams being similar to your average Wilbur Smith novel.

Finally, a collective sigh was uttered as peace reigned again over the Mediterranian, ...

Boat trip photos here:

Day tripper, y'all...

2006-08-07T13:05:00.000Z

So on the way to Fethye from Selçuk I decide to check out Pamukale to see the famous Heiropolis ruins and the thermal water-filled natural white terraces (travetines).

The ruins, especially the Theatre, are quite impressive and make for some great photos. However the much vaunted travetines proved to be a bit of a let down. The brochures implied that you could walk around them and even swim in them however due to it being a protected area of natural beauty this was not the case. I wouldn't have wanted to anyway because the Turks, in their infinite wisdom, had drilled down elsewhere and taken all the thermal water, leaving a bunch of naturally created white dusty terraces. I think the Turks need a lesson on how we (mostly) look after that kinda shit back home.

My day however was not to be ruined because the bus stopped at this random point on the highway and we were told that we had an hours break and that there was a waterfall 10 minutes hike away that we could swim in. Of course this was told to me in Turkish and I had no idea what was going on but I followed the locals as they wandered off in to the forest. The waterfall itself was fantastic as the temperature in the bus was hovering around 30 degrees despite the best efforts of air conditioning. I play the crazy kiwi and do a few cliff dives, well I say cliff dives when I mean I bombed off a rock that was about 3m above the waterfall, but none of the Turks did it! Oh and I saw my first frog.

Arriving in Fethye I find Ned, the guy who "booked" my accommodation has not actually booked anything, fortunately he's the guy that owns the boat for the boat trip that I'm going on the next morning so along with two others in the exact same situation I get to sleep on the deck of the boat for the night for free.

Before sleeping there was the small matter of 'bars are open and they have beer that needs drinking', now that's a problem me and my trusty wallet can help with. I head off with Arthur and Kim and we head to a bar that is full to the brim of people that hilariously I've already met and are basically travelling in the same direction as me. Much drinking and dancing ensues until I decide to try out my new best come-on line "so I've got this boat..." and I bring back not one but two girls (Claire and her sister) for more beers. Of course I'd already met them a few days before in Selçuk but still, I gotta get my own boat man...

I end up not sleeping at all and the girls leave about 8am and I get some breakfast followed by a haircut and a Turkish style shave at the barber. Now for those of you that don't know the significance of a Turkish shave I will explain.

First of all they lather up your face in shaving cream then proceed to shave you with a cut-throat razor, once that is done they re-lather you up and repeat the process. This is followed by a lemon spray which inevitably makes my face sting like crazy and then some sort of facial cream stuff all over my face. The man proceeds to crack my neck and all my fingers and begins to massage my arms and shoulders. He then gets me to lean forward and washes off my face.

I thought it was all over but he dips his hands in alcohol and smears it over my face and puts his fingers in my ears. This is a little weird but nothing compared to what follows, he lights up a small torch and at this point I'm a little nervous because my face is basically flammable right now but he leans my face back and taps the flaming torch on my ears and face to burn off what remains of the hair. While I don't get burned or anything the smell of the burning hair permeates the air as I walk out reminiscing about the last time my face was this smooth, i.e. when I was 11 years old. Now lets be honest, the Gillette mach 3 has got nothing on the Turkish shave.

Selçuk, and I saw breasts too...

2006-08-06T13:01:00.000Z

Well they're just not common in Turkey... anyway...

Making it to Selçuk I depart the air conditioned stuffiness of the bus and crash headlong in to a wall of heat, sweating as I head for the shade in the park across the road I am met by a smiling Turkish feller who walks me a block or two to the 'Australia New Zealand Guesthouse'. Fittingly the owner is Turkish/Aussie/Kiwi/Korean etc. well basically he has the accents down to perfection.

The evening BBQ and beer hits the spot, but I'm shattered so I hit the sack only to wake at about 5am to the airy loudspeaker broadcasted morning prayers that somehow seemed louder here than elsewhere.

Breakfast turned out to be a fair reason for getting out of bed I thought as I greedily munched down the decent sized omlette on the roof top terrace. Now lets get one thing straight, if there is one thing that I'll take home from Turkey its the roof top terrace concept but understand this: I'm a fan of omlettes and as you know I'm a fan of the roof top terrace concept but combine the two? Genius.

This hearty breakfast inspired me to borrow one of the hostel bikes and have a beach day, the beach being about 8kms away. I picked what I thought was one of the better bikes, ie. the one where the pedal didn't fall off when I touched it, and I thought to my self that this will be a good little half hour work out right? Well it took about 40 minutes but the beach was fantastically worth it.

I did howver feel a look of puzzlement cross my face as I observed the odd Muslim woman swimming in her clothes with full on head scarf, but I thought to myself 'Don't knock it to you try it Ben', but lacking a head scarf there was to be no trying that today so I biked off.

Twenty minutes later I realised that the bike I had chosen was, (while being one of the better ones) not exactly road worthy and I ground to a halt with a flat tyre and no front breaks. After sweating my ass off walking 20 minutes and then running out of water my soft ass decided to hail down an extortionly priced taxi rather than walk back.

The following day I went to the ancient city of Ephesus with another Kiwi and some Aussies. The ruins were impressive and I got the odd good photo. The hostel drove us there and then back to a resturant where we lazed on carpet and cushions eating Turkish pancakes, drinking Efes beer and snoozing.

As the sun set I tucked in to the hostel BBQ and the cold beers that I had bought from a curious old man who in halting English promised me a small refund on the glass bottles if I brought them back once empty. Laughing and drinking followed as we played a stupid drinking game until finally pulling out the MP3 players and speakers and rocking out to some tunes until the early hours of the morning.

In my mind I had designated the next day as another beach day, fortunatly there were others who had the same idea so we headed to a different beach nearer Kuşadasi where the girls treated us to a rather spectacular (i.e. bare breasted) sychonised swimming routine, don't tell their mothers, or more to the point the thousands of surrounding Muslim people that shun that kinda thing, but a round of applause duely followed all the same.

Oh yeah and a weird old Turkish guy pinched my ass... twice. I was mildly disturbed.

Finally picked up some new shorts from the Selçuk market on the Saturday and life was good.

And so are photos so look at them.

Ayvalic...

2006-08-02T11:17:00.000Z

Even though I stayed in a Pension that was once lived in by a French ambassador to a Sultan... Ayvalic was bit shit to be honest so I caught a bus to Selçuk.

Oh there is a nice photo:

Kia Ora and G'day's galore in ANZAC Çanakkale

2006-08-02T11:04:00.000Z

"Thats Bull-Ant, but with only one 'L" our tour guide rather seriously pointed out to us as we set off on the Gallipoli tour with what turned out to be an awesome tour guide. His name was of course 'Bulant' and he was quite possibly the most knowledgeable man on earth concerning the subject of the World War One Gallipoli campaign, and he revelled in it. Honestly the way this man gives a tour you'd think his life depended on it, he obviously loves his job.

It was inspiring to wander along ANZAC cove and North beach knowing that along one of these beaches a distant relative of mine once wandered, or more likely crawled or ran for his life.

RIP John William Small, died 15 April 1915 Lone Pine Gallipoli.

According to my distinguished official family historian (i.e. Dad - is there anything he can't do?) he was my 1st cousin 4 times removed.

The trenches though mostly filled in and sometimes a little reconstructed were pretty cool too and i got some good photos. Chunic Bair was of course a highlight, it was airy wandering around what really should be a simple hilltop but is in fact the site of pilgrimage for thousands upon thousands of Kiwi's come every 25th April. A simple hill top where so much drama took place circa 1915 and so much literature written about it subsequently. Pretty awesome actually.

On the sagely advice of my guide book I didn't bother with the Troy tour and instead met crap loads of backpackers doing organised bus trips along the coast. We went out for dinner and I tagged along to enjoy their pre-organised discounts, special drink deals, and their multitudes of Australian women. Am i being sarcastic about that last one? I'm honestly not sure...

Check the photos:

Istanbul: My friend, my friend!

2006-07-30T11:54:00.000Z

So the 19 hour train journey turns out to take 24 and a half. Surprisingly the trıp wasn't quite as bad as the extended hours suggest, I was fortunate to meet two Canadians (Tanya and Thea) on the train in the next compartment, their help was instrumental in stopping me from going insane stuck alone inside a small cabin that was more similar to the inside of a cramped but furnished prison than a train cabin.

But to be honest the train compartments reminded me of the Ian Flemming novel 'From Russia with love', the unfortunate thing was I going in the opposite direction, I did not have a Tatiana Romanova to share it with, and the tag line for my movie was not:

"JAMES BOND IS BACK! his new incredible women! his new incredible enemies! his new incredible adventures!"

Yes ladies and gentlemen my tag line read:

"BEN SMITH IS GOING TO ISTANBUL! his new friends the Canadian backpackers! his only enemy the hot and sweaty confined cabin where the the air conditioning does not work! his incredibly new sweat soaked nothing to pass the time boredom!

However, after minimal hassle from the infamous Bulgarian border guards and maximum train going forwards and then backwards and then forwards again we finally arrived in Istanbul.

Being my normally organised self I had no idea where I was or how to get to the hostel that I had booked, this obviously is not a wise thing in a sprawling city of millions upon millions. Fortuitously lady luck blind as she is guided me miraculously in the right direction.

I never knew that I had so many friends until I walked in to the Sultanahmet district of Istanbul. Seriously. Calls of "My friend, my friend, where you from?" called from... well everywhere! People clamour around to give directions or take me there themselves and to give their recommendations of the various hostels on offer, of course my pessimistic mind knows that the directions they give me have a carpet shop stop on the way and the recommendations come from the people employed to scout for customers. However this knowledge does not dampen my spirits as its great to just walk around and talk to people after being confined to quarters for the last day.

So after a fair amount of "Kia ora, Kia ora, hey Kiwi, free apple tea, no obligation to buy, have a seat my friend, what kind of carpet do you like" I make it to my hostel and check in exhausted.

Meeting up with the Canadians for dinner we go to a roof top restaurant with views of the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofia, and the mighty Bosphorus. The meal itself wasn't very memorable but the view is what we were paying for. A few drinks later we head back to the roof top bar on top of my hostel with a surprisingly even better view, we drink and swap travel stories until late.

The following morning I head off in search of some tee-shirts as the European summer has rotted the few remaining ones I have and I get sidetracked by those carpet salesmen again. A shitload of apple tea, a beer and a kebab later (all free of course) they finally understand that when I say "I'm not going to buy a carpet whatever the price" that I mean it and not that I actually want a lower price.

Finally hitting the Grand Bazaar I bargain for some "Raybans" sunglasses. I'm trying them on in the mirror and a man says

"You like, You like?"

and I reply "Yeah, how much?"

"Eighty seven lira, fixed price"

I laugh and say "I only have ten"

"twelve" he replies "because you are my first customer today" - keep in mind that its 2pm and crawling with tourists since opening.

"Deal" I say walking away "thinking" I got a deal.

I wander past a kebab shop that I ate at the previous day and I get the usual "my friend, my friend very good cheap food"

I reply "yes I know I ate here yesterday" at which the owner pipes up from the back "yes yes my kiwi friend, for you today freshly squeezed orange juice, as much as you can drink! on the house!"

Well I'm sold.

Istanbul photos here:

Romania - No I didn't see any vampires

2006-07-29T20:30:00.000Z

The train to Sighisoria Romania was undertaken mostly in the dark, my cabin-mates spoke about three words of English and I spoke no Romanian, hence conversation was at a standstill. Once it gets light I decide to check out the scenery, it looks grim, but that could just be the ghost towns, overcast weather or copious amounts of stray dogs.

I’m not sure what station to get off at so I decide to get off at the one closest to the estimated arrival time on the schedule, fortunately the train is exactly on time and I turn up in the right place, still a few place name signs viewable from the train would’ve been nice.

The hostel turns out to be an easy four minutes walk from the station; I settle in and decide to go on a tour because that’s what everyone else appears to be doing. Weirdly two Dutch guys in a jeep pick us up and we all pile in. We begin to see how the locals in the surrounding villages live, either really really poor or just really poor. The weird thing is that despite their poverty they greet us with smiles and the children follow us around striking poses, laughing and making faces. Of course if you take their photo they expect a few coins in return.

We visit all the deserted but well kept fortified Saxon churches that were pretty much abandoned centuries before. Saxon because the ruling Hungarians of the time gave land in return from protection from the Ottomans to the south and fortified, well for obvious reasons.

Drinking a beer in almost every village proves a great way to interact with the locals who are friendly but look at us like we’re aliens, which we are I guess. One bar has four old men sitting in it and all of them are wearing fantastic hats. I mention the words “awesome hats” enthusiastically to our group and one of the old fellers enthusiastically tips his hat towards me. As he looks me in the eye his wrinkled and aged face cracks a huge smile. I enthusiastically tip my cap back at him and return his smile, language barriers are broken.

After a few more beers the locals decide to really show us their hospitality, they crank up some phat tunes on a rusty old tape player. The thing is they assume that because we visit the Saxon church they believe that we are all Germans and the music turns out to be the oldest German folk music known to man, hilarity ensues as we don’t have the language or even the heart to tell them that actually none of us are in fact German.

In the evening I hang out with Soern and Jonas who are from Denmark. We drink a few unbelievably cheap beers, laugh and swap travel stories until the following day we all depart for Sibiu.

The minibus ride is notable for its death inducing driving as the three of us sit clutching the seats in front with whitened clenched knuckles as the locals calmly nod off despite the random swerving and dangerous speeds undertaken by the driver.

Old town hostel is nothing special in terms of its facilities however it is notable for its party hard staff. At this point I begin to realise that not only do Romanians drink every day, they drink every day to excess. As first I’m thinking that the Romanians are my kind of people but then my body informs me that I am not Romanian and therefore I will struggle to keep up with a people that treat beer drinking as an Olympic sport and every night is the gold medal match. Corporeal consequences are endured. I’m not so naive to say the clichéd “I’ll never drink again” speech but my body makes me resolve to cut back for at least a few days.

During the train ride to Bucharest an old man yells at us for taking our shoes off and I have an unrelated epiphany. It may have had something to do with the uplifting music on my MP3 player such as Guns n Roses, Queen, and interestingly a touch of Meatloaf but as the sun went down over the endless sunflower fields of Romania I came to the conclusion that I have a great life, Soren and Jonas backed away slowly at my over-enthusiasm.

Anyway, enough superlatives because here we are in sweltering Bucharest. My first impression of Bucharest occurred as we exited the train station, to my left an old man grunted as he blasted fourth a turd towards the already shit stained pavement, directly ahead of me a child of about 12 or 13 masturbated freely and laughed as three female Canadian backpackers hurried past, I decided that this was all too much and I promptly turned right and stepped in dog shit. I could tell already that I was going to have a ripper of a time.

Dinner was consumed in an Italian restaurant where my previously rock solid no alcohol resolve was finally broken. Hey twenty hours without alcohol is doing well for Romania! The next few days pass by uneventfully and Soren and Jonas depart for home with promises of a bed in Copenhagen if I need it.

Soldering on by myself I continue the daily battle to find a shady spot to sit/stand/walk in and sighting a McDonalds I feel an involuntary tingle as I smile with glee, McDonalds has air-conditioning! As I sit watching TV in the spot directly below the air-conditioning a man speaks to me as if in a dream, crap he wants me to buy something or get out, has it been 20 minutes already?

I decide to move hostels to a better one because the one I’m in is shit and I need a break from the party atmosphere. I meet a Swiss girl and we go for a walk in the park, she asks if I want to go for a beer and without thinking I’m having yet another beer. Hunger inevitably sets in and we hit a restaurant and proceed to wine and dine until the small hours swapping travel stories, talking EU politics and eventually ‘swapping recipes’. I figure I’ll just sleep on the 19hr train journey to Istanbul tomorrow right?

Check out the photos here:

Booty-pest... booya...

2006-07-27T19:21:00.000Z

Vısited Budapest again because it was on the way to Romania, my intention was to stay for just a day or so but I was sucked in by that eastern European charm or more accurately the cheap beer and a great nightlife.

After checking in at a smallish but charming hostel I was confronted with a yellow g-string clad Italian man of about 35-40ish who looked at me curiously for a moment too long. To break the awkward silence which had developed I simply said "Hi, how are you?" to which he replied in broken English "I am fine, or is it I am OK, or maybe I am good?" My response to this was to back away saying "ahh any of those will do" as he was beginning to rub his belly in disturbing and ever widening circles.

As it turned out other people in the dorm had similar experiences with The Belly Rubber. One young girl reported the Belly Rubber rubbing his belly with some kind of lotion, as she looked quizzically at him he thrust fourth his hand towards her face saying only "Calvin Klein". Backing away slowly ensued.

Apart from the Belly Rubber the hostel was full of other backpackers who like me were up for a party. With a few Americans, British girls and yet another Aussie called Scott we hit the town a few nights in a row and got positively slaughtered.

Sampling the local women, which incidentally I rate along side the beautiful Polish girls, was a priority. Being dangerously drunk and having the whole exotic "Hi I'm Ben from New Zealand" pick-up line this did not prove too difficult, as Scott and I found ourselves chatting to two beautiful Hungarians... well Scott did the chatting while my communication technique was much more body language orientated.

The following day Scott and I went to the outdoor water park on the Island in the middle of the river. You may recall in my previous Budapest entry that I visited the baths and was thoroughly unimpressed... I, simply put am an idiot, I was just at the wrong outdoor pool. This place has water slides, hot pools, cold pools and massage fountains, oh and there was a serious amount of hotties too. So obviously we stayed until closing.

While walking back from the pool in the early evening we were caught in the rain, and when I say rain I mean the mother of all thunder storms decided to let loose and bucket down on us. Eventually finding shelter in what looked like a cafe we got a coffee and found ourselves chatting to some friendly locals who seemed very excited to speak English with us, and very happy to share a few stories over a beer. Being Budapest and all one beer tends to turn in to two, which in turn turns in to three, and then of course you find yourself back at the hostel around 4am.

Ooh I almost forgot, I had a brush with the law. My intention to catch the metro to the train station to buy my ticket to Romania was almost thwarted by the local metro ticket inspectors who, after me paying every single day previoulsly, decided to check tickets the day I decided to have a freebie.

I had not even boarded the train when a woman approached me on the platform asking for my ticket, stalling for time while pretending to search my wallet looking for my ticket, I explained that I thought I had left my Metro pass in my hotel. This lame excuse did simply not cut it with the self important train inspectors who were already pissed at having to work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Smiling as she proceeded to explain that I had to pay a fine, and if I didn't then she would call the police and the fine would be ten times as much. I realised that I had to think fast. Brilliantly I decided that by feigning the fact I couldn't speak English I would be able to play the dumb tourist card. This of course was an utter failure. However it did allow me to stall for time a bit more until, as luck would have it a train arrived on the platform with hundreds of people who hadn't had their tickets checked. She takes her eyes off me for a split second and at the same time a choir group wanders past singing in Hungarian, I stand behind a tall guy taking off my hat and jacket and begın to hum along as we all drift up the escalator to freedom.

Damn I'm good...

Vienna: Part Deux

2006-07-18T14:34:00.000Z

Heidi meets me at the train station which is awesome of her. Even though I rate myself to successfully navigate (i.e. avoid death) around Vienna after visiting once before its still nice to not have to think about that sort of stuff.

Friday afternoon we see the massive palace which for years was the centre of the Austro-Hungarian empire, photos are taken and monuments are looked at.

We spend the afternoon in the sun along the Donau (Danube river) where Heidi unsuccessfully attempts to kill me by taking me to ISLAND OF DEATH!! Well, in all honesty its not actually called "Island of Death" but I guess I just have a habit of naming things in relation to the happenings of the place rather than actually knowing the real name.

So I ask Heidi where her favourite swimming spot is and she points out this seemingly innocuous island a short wade out in to the river. At this point I'm thinking "oh yeah hanging with the locals and going to the best spots..." Little do I realise that after spending 30 seconds walking (not sitting) on this so called paradise that I am covered in killer ants up to my arm pits. Sure they may not have been actual killer ants but the situation was disconcerting enough for me to dive in to the water hoping that these were just the mild form of killer ants rather than the more deadly killer-swimming ants.

The evening is spent hanging with one of Heidi's mates Fiona. Now for those of you who don't know Fiona which I'm guessing is all of you shes the kind of woman that half the time you think shes high on speed and the other half just wonderfully nutty.

Because of language difficulty I think that we're going to visit some guy called Herman until we turn up at an actual bar called Hermann, oh dear imagine my embarrassment. Its turns out to be a faux beach bar with beach deck chairs by the river-side. The bar is rather busy and leading on from my earlier faux pas I loudly but jokingly ask to speak to Herman, the girls thinks its hilarious but at least we get some service. Once we find a seat its turns out to actually be pretty cool.

The second bar was only notable for two reasons, firstly; the waitress taking a fancy to me because of my New Zealand accent, ooh I'm so exotic, and secondly my realisation that Austrian men have no hips and hence can not dance.

Saturday afternoon Heidi and I take buses and trains to the top of this mountain overlooking Vienna and I get paranoid about snakes as I'm not sure if Heidi is joking about their existance or not. I take one photo, hope it turns out cause it was actually a good view. Later on Heidi models a red bikini... Oh um I mean we went swimming, but I mainly spent my afternoon avoiding death, well more specifically, islands of death

In the evening we decide to go see a film festival movie at Kino Unter Sternen or Cinema under the stars. As I don't speak German and Heidi didn't really read the program we have no idea what the movie is until it starts. As the title rolls on screen my exact words are "oh my god this could not be more hilarious and awesome".

Cracking open the beers I brought with me should this exact scenario ever occur we settle down to watch the classic stoner flick, Dazed and Confused... Now Guy Stapleton I know you're jealous!!

By the time the classic "I get older and they stay the same" line occurs I'm quite plastered so of course the line is shouted out loud. Arty film festival types turn, stare, and laugh... hilarious.

Heidi is fortunately sober so we navigate back to her apartment pretty easily where she proceeds to laugh and beat the crap out of me with a pillow, the kill Ben theme continues.

A lazy Sunday afternoon and Heidi takes me to Prater which is a kinda fun-park-fair-ground kinda place. They have roller coasters, ghost trains, go karts but these petty things are not for us oh no. We're here for a gentlemanly competitive game of mini-golf. The course is not really up to the high standard of the courses back home but we have a competitive game all the same. (Well I take Heidi to school but its really how you play the game right? ;-)

Feeling hungry we hit a restaurant called Running Sushi where the food is on conveyor belts that travel between the tables and you can just pick however much you want of whatever you are game enough to try.

To conclude the evening we watch True Lies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. Surprisingly, despite Arnie sprechen de Deutch he does not do his own German voice overs!! This small detail actually makes the movie funny.

Heidi goes back to work and I just hang out relishing the chance to relax and not have to worry about anything. The following evening Heidi has to work again so I hang out with Silvia who is Heidi's older sister. We go to the outdoor swimming pool at the palace where literally mens jaws hit the floors as "ever so modest" Silvia reveals just how good she looks in a bikini. As we tire of the pool our thoughts turn to food so Silvia shows me her favourite Italian restaurant where they actually serve the red wine at room tempeture rather than those crazy eastern europeans who drink it chilled.

Leaving Vienna is hard as my hosts have been so gracious but I must soldier on...

Check out the Vienna photos here:

Back to Vienna...

2006-07-10T15:39:00.000Z

Back to Vienna, not sure why I'm going back rather then hitting the beaches in Croatia, but I think it has something to do with a certain Austrian called Heidi. So here I am breaking travel rule number one "Don't change travel plans for a woman". I justify it to myself by saying that "Free accomadation is free accomadation and I'll hit the beaches on the Black sea instead of the Adriatic - or do both!".

Ljubljana, Slovenia. No cars, no bras...

2006-07-10T14:23:00.000Z

The train in to Ljubljana (loob-lee-ana) takes a rather awesome scenic route that reminds me of road tripping the west coast of the south island back home. Forest everywhere but every now and then you can see the odd patch of cleared land where budding wine makers have their life style blocks.

I check in to this hostel that apparently was once a prison, honestly its a place you have to see to believe, all the rooms are ex-cells redesigned by Slovenian artists and... well... just look at the damn photos.

The evening is spent with a couple of students from ye olde England and we drink in the hostel bar in which weirdly we are the only foreigners. We eventually head out to a bar called Dr Skeleta or something similar, but I affectionately rename it, SKELATOR!!! Its a bar full of skeletons in the roof and walls and floor, to go to the toilet you have to push on the right book in the right book case, otherwise you'll embarrassingly end up in the staff room... like um... this um... dumb tourist from New Zealand did, but I didn't know him.

With the same guys from ye olde England I catch a bus to the lake in an area called Bled. I can honestly say that this place has got quite a lake, not big but beautiful, surrounded by mountains with castles, and with a large church on a small island. In fact one could, and one did say "would you like a touch of island with that church Sir?"

Finding a sweet spot where people are swimming we strip down and jump on in as its 35 degrees and we're wet through with sweat anyway. The lake turns out to be surprisingly warm and women are sunbathing topless. In fact one could, and one did say "Welcome to tit town boys, population somewhere abreast of tit-thousand tit-hundred and titty tit" to laughs aplenty. On closer inspection there were quite a few lookers but they unfortunately weren't the ones getting their gear off... Still the scenery will suffice.

In the evening following the lake I meet two different Englishmen. At first I think that they are gay bikers, however they bring up in conversation that everyone they meet thinks that they are gay bikers and I bullshit them and say " really? nah that didn't occur to me at all". We eat at a Mexican bar and the service is shit so we get a free round on the house.

After some good conversation we head to SKELATOR and the boys are suitably impressed. After a few cocktails each we head back to the hostel bar where we tell jokes and meet some local students. At this point the Englishmen head off to bed because they are English and the English as we know have weak bellys.

I go out to a few bars with some local students. Going out on the town in Ljubljana is hilarious as the locals travel between bars via bicycle. The fact that I don't have a bicycle doesn't seem to matter as I think I stole one from somewhere. We have a bit of trouble getting around as we're all quite wasted but as it turns out six people traversing gutters on mountain bikes while incredibly intoxicated is heaps of fun! I was almost sad that the trip to the bar was so short.

We all have an awesome time and at their request I teach them a Haka which they think is awesome, even the girls want to do it too but unfortunately I don't know any females Hakas...

Check out the photos here:

Wien, full of Wieners

2006-07-04T21:23:00.000Z

Went to Vienna for three days, it rained. Got some washing done. Spent a shit-load of money, didn't really do anything.

Beer cheaper than water?

2006-07-02T22:23:00.000Z

Warning to Dave Wynne, I think I found your heaven...

So I'm heading back towards Bratislava in Slovakia because of one simple fact, my guide book says that the price of beer is cheaper than water. This I gotta see...

I meet up with some Serbian-Australians called Rebbecca and Miller and a Brazilian called Mariella. We spend the day sweating and wandering the city in 35 degree heat soaking up the sites. Bratislava has an "old town" area much like all the other cities in Eastern Europe, a bunch of extremely modern and random bits of architecture, and a familiar contrasting post-soviet feel. By that I mean they have old castles and churches, large grey Soviet-era apartment blocks and a completely random UFO bridge!

We watch a Soccer game as it seems like the thing to do when the Soccer world cup is on. The pub is just around the corner from the hostel but its not like we can venture very far anyway as there is a rather disconcerting amount of thunder, lightning and rain outside. The beer does is in fact turn out to be ultra cheap, I spend about $6 NZ and I'm done like a doggies dinner.

The following afternoon, as the morning is a write-off, we mission to the castle at Devin which is about 25 minutes from central Bratislava. Its a beautiful place on the Danube and I climb to the top and take some good photos of the view. You can see all the way back to Bratislava and across in to Austria which appears to be covered in massive wind turbines.

The castle up close is rather disappointing as it feels like it was actually rebuilt the year before with a bunch of possibly old stones that may have been used in a castle possibly on that particular site. I'm certainly no castle expert but the light switches in the walls and air conditioning really give it away guys...

Deciding that I need some food, I find myself going out for dinner with Steve, Steve and Rob. They're all Uni students from England here for the cheap beer, i.e. my kinda guys. We find ourselves in the Slovak Pub sweating like bastards, fortunately this place serves up some fantastic cheap food, and by this stage the much needed cold beer, we proceed to eat drink and be merry.

The lower floor of the Slovak Pub is actually located in the old sewers of the city and proves to be the only place we can escape the incessant heat.

We hit a Cuban themed bar called Havana with awesome live music and order a Hemingway special thinking that Hemingway is the mans man of the literary world right? so obviously we're ordering a mans man of a cocktail. What arrives turns out to be a rather girly looking cocktail with little umbrellas. Needless to say the Hemingway special is downed rather quickly... in fact rather too quickly as the alcohol content turns out to be a rather manly portion. This speedy introduction of rocket fuel leads to dancing and a touch of grooving if you will.

Heading to the Danube because if there is one thing I've learned so far in Europe its that: if there is a city on the Danube then there shall also be a bunch of bars floating in the river itself. The theory appears to be correct as we descend below the water-line on a dodgy looking boat in to a pumping bar with poles and pole dancing aplenty - no it was not a strip club Dave, it was just your average Slovakian bar.

Eventually we stagger back to the hostel and start chatting to some Mexicans that switch between Spanish, French and English without warning. I'm rather drunk so I don't really notice but one of the Steves speaks fluent French albeit with a hard Scottish accent, its really quite awesome to listen to to be honest.

Waking sometime around 2pm I decide that I need to see the castle on the hill so I climb to the top of Bratislava castle. I'm glad I did really as the view is rather awesome. From this height you can see all the contrasting architecture and landscape; from the Communist-era apartment blocks, to the weird UFO bridge, to the Austrian wind turbines and finally the Danube snaking away in to the distance.

As the evening rolls around I brace myself for another big one because that's what you do in Bratislava. I met some more English students, Max and Jack. We eat more great cheap food and drink more ultra cheap beer. The night turns in to an absolute write off and my memory is limited to a lithely Scottish girl with a high proportion of "breast on chest".

Not a bad city really...

Photos are here:

Hungary for Buda...pest

2006-06-27T17:36:00.000Z

Arriving in Budapest after a rather pleasant eight hour train journey I look at the weather and my map thinking that its a lovely day so I'll walk the 20 minutes to the hostel. Turns out George W Bush is in town so the Metro is closed anyway, stupid Americans. So about an hour later I'm sweating like a bastard as I buzz the door to what looks like an absolute shit-hole of a building. Nothing happens. I re-buzz. Again nothing happens. Giving up I take off my pack and sit down on the footpath exhausted. I'm thinking, not only have I booked the shittiest hostel in the world but they won't even open the door.

Moments later a woman pokes her head out of the door and says "Hello, come in" to me in English. I'm thinking eh what the hell it looks like a shit-hole but its probably cooler inside than out. After taking the worlds worst elevator one floor as its quite clear that I can hardly walk, I ignore the shittiness of the hallways and suddenly find myself in this beautiful apartment come hostel. Its practically a B&B!

I get offered a customary welcome drink, visions of iced fruit cocktails run through my head until I snap out of it when she, whose name turns out to be Silvia, comes back with a bottle of spirits and a couple of shot glasses. Explaining to me that its customary to have a drink with someone and I'm travelling alone she decides to have a drink with me. The drink itself scorches my already parched throat and my eyes water like a little girl, Silvia assures me that after a lie-down I'll feel great in 5 minutes.

True to her word in five minutes I'm feeling like a million dollars.

The evening is spent with some Americans, Theo and Morgan. We catch some dinner and I try the local goulash and fresh water trout, a local delicacy I'm assured. As I begin to eat I begin to realise that every city in Eastern Europe along the Danube claims that the goulash and fresh water trout is their own. Still, I'm not complaining as the meal is nice.

Wanting a taste of the Budapest night life we find a couple of young Scottish gals who are up for a good time. We hit the "beach party" clubs along the Danube where we all partake in dancing, drinking, sitting in huts, and general good times.

The morning is spent nursing a hangover, so with the women of Scotland in tow I check out the famous Hungarian Turkish style baths. Warning to all: In Europe fat ugly people exist too, and insist on exposing all that is fat and ugly about themselves, shudders and general feelings of fear will follow.
I have a night out with Bianca the Aussie and we eat at a fancy restaurant. Fancy because it just turned out that the only one we could find that served a main lacking meat was rather fancy, those vegetarians, tut tut tut. Still after downing the odd bottle or two of fine Hungarian red I wasn't complaining. A very civilised evening if I do say so myself, which of course I do.

As I am experiencing the phenomenon known as "travellers feet", whereby after a month or two of travelling your feet cease to function as normal due to the inordinate amount of blisters and general "walking my ass off every day", I decide to partake in a city bike tour.

The tour takes in all the major historical monuments and our friendly tour guide, in between dinging his bike bell at all the attractive women, explains the sobering fact that in Hungary's entire history it has never been on the winning side of a war.

Not really believing that our guide is telling the truth concerning the Hungarian custom of dinging ones bell at attractive women I can't argue with the fact that my dings are eliciting waves and smiles from women too. At this point another sobering thought wanders through my head, perhaps they are not waving at me but at my exorbitant amounts of foreign currency?

Back at the hostel I'm drinking with Bianca and Nick the Brit. Nick has an awesome public school boy accent and apparently speaks fluent Portuguese. Our friendly host Silvia directs us to the clubs worth visiting on a week night and I again find myself out with some Scottish birds, although different than the previous ones. We find a cool bar with table football and many awesome games are played. Hilariously because of the Hungarian currency being generally great the table football games cost approximately 4 cents NZ and beers about $1.50, oh and the girls got balloons too.

What a great city...

Check out the photos here:

Prague: City of Sexy Danger...

2006-06-25T11:34:00.000Z

Like lonely planet says the night trains to Prague are for hardened travellers only. I catch the train with Scott the Aussie and we are with two Irish rugby players that are absolutely slaughtered and not finished drinking yet. One of them begins to freak out so badly that he hurls his clothes from the window of the moving train and decides that he wants to fight someone.

Cue Czech border guards who inform the Irish that there is no drinking on this train to which they reply, but we're Irish as if the Czech can understand. At this point 'naked Irish freaking out guy' gets the fight he wanted and the Czech border guards in their best broken English subdue him... oh and the gun pointing and punch in the face help too.

At this point using a Czech phrase I prepared earlier for such an occurrence I inform the Czech boarder guards that I'm not with them and flash that beautiful beautiful thing that is the New Zealand passport. This gets me and the Aussie out of the room and in to the next cabin where upon we spend the next two hours listening to the Irish get their bags and by the sounds of it, cavities searched.

After a eleven hour train journey that would've only taken nine hours I arrive in Prague exhausted with no accommodation at the busiest time of the year. Fortunately it only takes one hour to find a place. Note to all, never stay at a place called Golden Sickle or Golden Shit-hole as it shall now be known.

Prague itself is beautiful, the history and architecture blows me away. Just walking through the cobbled streets is pleasure and the famous Charles bridge lives up to expectation. Its a shame I ran out of batteries or I would've taken more pictures really.

I get some top shelf Czech vodka for about $12 NZD and polish it off with two American women from New Jersey. We get hammered and hit a massive club with 6 floors of all different kinds of music, The girls (Nicole and Anthea) proceed to pole dance often with me as the pole. Nicole decides that it is her duty to show me exactly what American, specifically "Jersey girls" can do and dirty dirty dancing ensues. Tourists and locals aghast but I'm hammered so I don't give a shit.

Loud porn star style sex follows where moves such as the reverse-cow-girl are flawlessly enacted while in an eight bedded dorm but everyone else was Canadian and therefore ever so polite.

We wander the city and catch some paddle boats on the river for an hour.

To apologise to the Canadians I get some more top shelf vodka and Scott the Aussie and I introduce them to Circle of Death. Three games later everyone is pretty hammered.
The Canadian boys head for the clubs but I'm in the mood to just chill so I go for a wander. On my return Anthea has injured herself while drunk believing that she was on the bottom bunk when in fact she was on the top. There is blood everywhere. I take a look and its just a flesh wound on her toe. Simpson's style calls of "I'll get the Iodine" occur, man I crack myself up. I clean and bandage her up and she promptly falls asleep.

Nicole is keen for more porn star style sex but I'm a bit tired and drunk but I think to myself "That's no excuse" and there is no stopping her anyway. Checking my watch 35 minutes later as I blow my load balls deep in her throat I'm thinking that Prague is awesome and I could really go a kebab right now.

Prauge photos here:

Krakow... Beautiful...

2006-06-19T11:09:00.000Z

After getting on the wrong train, i.e. first class instead of second and express train instead of slow train there is casual gun pointing and fines to pay, the fine is 10PLN and I ask if they have change for a hundred. I continue my journey to Krakow in style.

Ahhh Krakow... Beautiful, I'd fully recommend it to anyone, great night life, beautiful sites, castles and of course Auschwitz is an hour and a half away.

The hostel has a BBQ every night so despite already having enough Polish sausages to possible overdose I decide to go along, plus they have a pub quiz following.

I drink with some Canadian chicks and we get slaughtered on the hostel bar's 10 shots of polish vodka for 30PLN ($12NZD).

The following day I meet up with some Scots and an American and we go to a lake which used to be a quarry. The women are unbelievable and insane cliff diving ensues. Pity I didn't take the camera that day.

In the evening we all have a few beers and play pool at the hostel, surprisingly I take everyone to school. A relatively quiet night because the next day we're going to Auschwitz.

Auschwitz is... well its un-be-fucken-leavable, you can literally feel the personal hell of the people that died there. Everything is presented so matter of fact, from the bullet holes of the firing squad to the scratching of the names on the wall.

Auschwitz II - Birkenau is completely different, the scale is much bigger the numbers are much bigger, its more of a production line of death and appears to be less personal. As far as the eye can see there are the chimneys of the huts that housed people while they waited to die. There are two separate ash piles with small signs. Its quite hard to comprehend "Here lie the ashes of approximately Six hundred thousand people".

Back at the hostel the next day I wandered in to a massive Catholic procession. It turns out that it is a national holiday today and I run in to some school kids that I met in Warsaw who are on a class trip, they are keen to chat and tell me whats going on.

I go to a resturant and have a big night out on the town with some Danes and Swedes. I have a paticulary "good time" with a curly haired Swedish blond called Elana. I take her to the lake the next day and we get caught in the rain on the way back.

Check out all the photos here:

Warsaw Poland: What the hell…

2006-06-13T14:09:00.001Z

Arriving in Poland via air I get a very reasonably priced taxi to the hostel. I have a random night out with some Irish guys. We go to a club that is full to the brim of beautiful women, at this point I realise that Poland has no men, apparently according to the Irish all the men are in Ireland working.

I meet a hot hot hot local girl called Nap or Lap or some other single syllable name and take her for coffee, dinner and dancing, she is obvisouly blown away by my cosmopolitian ways and likes me for some strange reason, hey I'm not complaining. The next morning she says she wants to meet up later on so we can spend another day together. I wander through the hostel gates and there she is in all her hotness with... her mother. Mother and daughter smile at me and Mother says "You marriage". At this point I start freaking and politlely decline. Damn woman, I'm not ready for that kinda commitment!

The next day is spent wandering the city and then come dinner time I met an Aussie and a Canadian travelling together who are keen to go get a bite to eat. We go to a restaurant called Sphinx and eat heaps of fancy food and drink heaps of Polish beer and vodka. I’m dreading the bill but it turns out that everything is amazingly cheap here. Quite simply, we have a fantastic night out.

Belinda Courtney and I wander the town coming across an awesome park full of naked Greek statues, do I hear a photo-op? We see Poland's tomb of the unknown soldier and its at this point I realise that since 900AD Poland has pretty much been at war every 50 years or so.
The old town square is beautiful, after world war two it was utterly destroyed but they rebuilt it lovingly brick by brick. The weather gods are far too kind cause I’m sweating like a bastard and surrounded by oceans of beautiful women. The evening is spent drinking in the hostel with Belinda, Courtney and Rob the English guy.

The next day I check out the parks and museums and monuments. Suddenly I realise that there is a huge amount of cops with full on riot shield gear. I’m getting a little worried as I have no idea what is going on so I decide to head for the safety of the hostel. The problem is the more I walk the bigger the police presence. Once fear has reached all time highs I walk around a corner to the tune of Like a Virgin by Madonna which is blasting from somewhere. I’m so confused and I’m thinking that this is the biggest practical joke ever when I stumble upon what appears to be Poland's first Gay-pride peace march… Thanking the lord follows as I can be pretty sure that these guys aren’t going to cause trouble and the police are only there because Poland is a hard-core catholic state that is paranoid about such things. A few trannies on the back of a truck pass by rather harmlessly and all is well in the world again.

I see an Arthur Miller play in Polish for cheap. The unfortunate thing is that I speak three words of Polish and I can’t even guess which play it is so I pretty much have to guess at the story. Glad I went though.

Belinda and I go for a drink and play some pool, we get some even cheaper beers from the Supermarket and drink in the park on a grassy mound. We hit a jazz bar and drink and dance the night away. I experience the local vodka which is drunk with apple juice, I decide that I like it very much.

I check out the Jewish cemetery and its very airy. Some of the graves that pre-date World War have obvious bullet holes.

All the photos are here:

And that's Warsaw, hope your’re happy I’ve updated now mum ;-)

Gettin bark ta beer-sics…

2006-06-05T13:02:00.000Z

Had a few beers in Maida Vale with Mike, Sylvie, Sion and Jane, Sion as it turned out had a few too many, it seems Jane will never live it down.. Poor Sion, all he needs is a good cuddle.

So after a semi-big night out I set off quite hung over towards London Euston station to catch a train to Birmingham. The train is one of those fancy new fangled devices that leans in to the corners, and as a bonus I eventually saw some actual grass, it was green too.

For those that don’t know, Birmingham is the ugliest city in the world, it’s so backward the only colour that has reached this so-called modern world is brown, though to their credit it’s obvious that they have splashed out on the odd different hue of brown. Fortunately as it turns out Andy lives about an hour away from it in Lichfield which turns out to be a nicer area and the houses aren’t all joined together which is a nice change from the rest of England.

So the guys sit down to watch some football or soccer, I take my leave and have a snooze, football as it turns out IS good for something. We start BBQing and drinking the second shittiest beer after Lion Red in the world, yes that’s right Fosters.

Games of football and touch rugby follow, playing rugby and passing backwards turns out to be too much of a mind job for Harv who insists on running over the touch line and expecting people to pass him the ball.

A guy turns up dressed as a punk rocker and I think ‘eh what the hell, this is England after all’ until he says “how come no one else dressed up too?” Turns out that the English have practical jokes too.

Oh yeah there was an Irish guy too.

I was beginning to wonder if Andy had any female friends at all when some eventually turn up though clearly not enough to go around, jokes about going to France to see the Eiffel tower ensue.

We toast marshmallows on the BBQ and rip in to the spirits eventually settling down to bed Andy’s sister, I mean settling down in Andy’s sisters bed – ahh semantics - for a well earned sleep about 3am.

The journey back to London is rather uneventful though it is notable for a win to Sion over Jane at chess. Gratuitous fist pumping resulted.

Well I’m off to Poland tonight and I’m frantically trying to simultaneously learn Polish and read everything there is to know about Poland as I currently know nothing except what there is to know concerning WW2. At this stage pretty sure that mentioning the war or fraternising with Germans and Russians is not a good thing… will keep you updated.

Over and out…

Check out all the photos here:

In and out of the English gloom.

2006-05-31T11:17:00.000Z

Its time I gave people a proper run down of the London experience from
the beginning so here it is.

After a long flight I get in about 7.30pm GMT. Seeing Sion and his
newly shaven (balding) head is a sight for sore eyes, he's come to
pick me up, what a dude! Jane, Andy, Sion and I proceed to Waterloo –
yes THAT Waterloo - station for a few alcoholic beverages and a catch
up, I tell all about Singapore and the others tell me all about what
they've been up to in the year since I saw them all back in good 'ole
NZ.

At this point I've been awake for about 23 hours with four beers in me
I'm feeling a little tired, i.e. having trouble functioning. Waterloo,
Waterloo couldn't walk if I wanted to… We stumble home to Sion's at
about 1am.

As I wake the next morning I find myself in a room with a Corr's CD in
it, Sion man, we have to talk. The weather is typically English, i.e.
gloomy. Sion shows me around nearby Wimbledon but there's nothing much
to see.

The next day I'm a little less jetlagged so Sion plays tour guide and
we go to the Science museum, which is awesome! Sion and I spend hours
and hours in there doing puzzles and picking locks and learning stuff.
Learning turns out to be kinda hard work and it tends to make one
hungry, cue Sion – "I've heard about this famous Pie and mash shop in
Greenwich".

The pie turns out to be… well… lets just say that the English were
never known for their cuisine.

The pie has proven good for one thing however, it has brought us to
Greenwich and Greenwich is home to the Maritime museum and GMT date
line. Highlights include a Harrier jump jet and Sion full of pride
says "Some insignificant countries don't have such modern technology…"
my reply is "Where's the empire Sion, where's the empire? I guess not
even a jet that can take off vertically allowed the English to retain
their precious empire."

The actual date line - yes there is a line on the ground - is pretty
cool, jumping left and right while chanting "I'm on the east side, I'm
on the west side" confuses the Japanese tourists but makes me feel
like I'm doing something significant. The observatory and
time/watch/clock exhibits are pretty cool too.

The next morning Sion ad I embark on another big day. First stop
Leicester Square where I snap a pic of Charlie Chapman, the statue.

Piccadilly Circus… what a shitty circus.

Trafalgar Square where Lord Nelson is currently under refurbishment
and the mermaids are interestingly nip-less. Must write to the queen
about that one. Wait a minute there she is! We see her majesty drive
past looking lovely in yellow if you care about that sort of thing. I
play it cool thinking that its quite common to see the queen until
Sion admits that "Today Ben, we're on a par, its my first time too".

This inspires us to go and see if the old bird is up for tea and
biscuits with a couple of hansom young men like ourselves. However
security with automatic weapons and bushy hats say "NO" without us
even asking.

Sion went back to Guildford for a day or two so it was time to wrestle
all by my lonesome with the very arteries of London itself, i.e. The
London Underground, or more simply the Tube.

I saw London Bridge, which didn't fall down, and the Tower Bridge,
which was indeed towering. The Tower of London was less so, but
interestingly there is a legend that if the Crows leave the Tower then
London will fall, this is taken so seriously that all the poor birds
wings are actually clipped… Meaning that to take London all I needed
was a BB gun.

The Tate Modern museum was very enjoyable, I enjoyed the Lichenstein
cartoons and the 'Constructing USSR' exhibits, I could've spent days
in there.

St Paul's cathedral was big, beautiful but catholic. I tried to drum
up support for a 'Catholicism Wow' campaign that had more appeal to
the masses ya know… But everyone there was French and refused to
understand my concept of a 'Buddy Jesus'.

The National Gallery was the highlight of the day; I spent hours there
and got kicked out at closing. But not before seeing Scarlet Johansen.

The next evening I met up with Stu at a town hilariously named
Shepherds Bush. We had a few drinks at the local Aussie/Kiwi bar
called 'Walkabout' we met up with some friendly and un-annoying
Aussies. We got pissed and went to a bar called Puzzle where we
proceeded to play a game of giant Jenga… it was awesome, there was
people snorting cocaine in the toilets too… which was… hardcore.

Speaking of cocaine I met up with Katy from school the next evening,
welcome to the London drug culture, thanks for the warning.

Needing a scare on a gloomy bank holiday Jane, Sion and I visited the
London Dungeons. I thought it was kinda lame and not worth the money
or the queue but Jane screamed like a little girl, which was
entertaining.

My last night at Sion's so I cooked dinner and got a bottle of wine to
say thanks for putting me up on the cheap. Tonight I'm sleeping at
Mike and Silvies place until I get to Birmingham to see off Andy then
Warsaw Poland on the 6th of June.

--
http://thebeereffect.blogspot.com/

England: its the same, but different...

2006-05-24T09:45:00.000Z

Well England is one big place, I think I've finally worked out the Tube system after 2-3 days... NOT.

I've seen the major sites, including the actual Queen herself... the photo isn't great as some womans shapely bottom got in the way, but you can tell its the Queen's car because of the flag on the top of the car, check it out here: Sion and I are now on a par as its his first time that he's seen the Queen in the flesh too. She was wearing yellow in case anyone was interested.

Have seen lots of crime in London, one crime per day so far - its very exciting, much like Singapore death is waiting around every corner.

Am hoping to head up to Birmingham to see off Andy as he's coming back to NZ soon but we'll see.

At the stage of booking a flight to Warsaw to see if the Polish have death waiting around every corner also.

Anyway, the touristy sites are pretty self explanatory so you can just look at the photos here:

Cheerio...

Singapore, much hotter than yo'mama...

2006-05-23T09:50:00.000Z

So my first impressions of Singapore happened at 6000m in the air when
the in flight entertainment system told me it was 3 degrees centigrade
and local time was 5.30am. This in itself foretold of the stickiness
to come.

My first faux pas in Singapore occurred about 15 minutes after landing
in the airport… I mean who commits a faux pas that early? Honestly! As
I'm wandering through the airport laughing at all the hilarious
almost-English signs a sweaty white man (me) stumbles in to what turns
out to be a prayer room because the idiot (me) thought the picture of
the man sitting down was taking a crap and that he (me) was about to
drop a brown one. So many religions were offended that day.

Driving through Singapore, even in a bus, for the first time was
rather disconcerting, there is only one Singapore road rule it's: Stay
in your lane, and die. No one indicates, least of all the buses who
just honk their horn and move over leaving 3-4 cars on the median
strip… Keep in mind that this all happens at 90-100km/hr. Needless to
say the ride form the airport was very exciting.

So I (the sweaty white man) check in at about 7.30am to my hotel,
shortly followed by about 50 others and we wait for out rooms to
become available while sitting in the, as it turns out, only part of
the hotel without air conditioning. About 30 minutes later malaria
fear sets in at the site of one tiny mosquito from about 3m away,
bug-off insect repellent ensues and al the other sweaty white people
think I'm spritzing, jealous looks follow.

Lots of fat Chinese/Malay/Indian men with pot bellys… realise that I'm
at a reasonably fancy hotel and fat = rich.

Eventually I get to my room, it turns out someone fucked up and now
they've upgraded me to a 'studio' room. On arrival it looks like it
was built with the intention to one day shoot a porn movie in… From
the insto-music buttons on the headboard to the mirrors on every angle
on every wall, I'm left with the impression that this is definitely
porn material. At least there is air/con.

That afternoon I go on a tour of 'The magical Sentosa island'. I have
the tour guide from hell who continually asks me which hotel I'm from
for some inane reason. We took the cable car to the island which gave
some good views. Saw Underwater World, which was pretty awesome and at
this point I got sick of the tour guide so I ditched the tour.

So I'm alone on this strange jungle come theme park island and I come
across Singapore's national symbol which is a giant Merlion, that is a
Mermaid crossed with a lion. I give it the award for most extravagant
TV aerial.

I read the signs and then find myself at the setting of the magical
fountain where a few thousand non-white people are sitting waiting for
something to happen, I decide to wait with them despite being totally
soaked in sweat. While waiting I see random monkeys jumping fences to
scavenge, I take photos like all the other dumb tourists. Anyway the
magical fountain turns out to be a highlight, it looks like they spend
a few million dollars on pyrotechnics/lasers and kerosene every show.

I get back to the city by rejoining my tour group and catching the bus
with them and find myself having dinner at 11pm. I think it was a lamb
curry served on a banana leaf… well I think it was a banana leaf.

The next day sees me visiting the 'world famous, Jurong Bird Park'. We
have a good guide and the All Star Bird Show was pretty impressive, I
just wish we were there a bit earlier for the Bird of Prey show. They
have a huge aviary, where you can walk inside and feed the birds with
roaches and worms that you can buy. You just throw them in the air and
the birds catch it or hold it in your hand and they eat it out of your
hand. At this point extreme fear of bird flu sets in but the tour
guide goes to pains to point out that these birds are vaccinated and
completely safe. I wash my hands thoroughly.

So they have every bird you can think of here, Flamingos, Penguins,
Pelicans, Hornbills, and Eagles etc. They 'claimed' to even have a
Kiwi, which I didn't really believe. They also claimed to have the
biggest man made water fall too.

The talking birds were not very talkative although I got one of them
to mimic a wolf-whistle. I had a random lunch… think it was chicken.

The much-vaunted Night Safari was really good, a 45 min tram ride
though the jungle was pretty awesome. So close you could touch the
animals, not that it would be a good idea to as they were not tame.

The Creatures of the Night show included otters that were trained to
recycle and a leopard that jumps like 5m in the air. Had an up close
and personal encounter with a FUCKEN BIG snake.

After the shows there were numerous walks to go on, travelling by
myself meant that I was wandering alone through the jungle looking for
leopards. Stretching up thinking that damn I was a little lost I
disturbed a FUCKEN BIG spider web and spider, running for life ensued.
Fortunately I ran for my life in the right direction and I got back to
the main area believing that the bug spray had saved my life (again).

The next morning I took the buses around the city and hopped on and
off in various locations, got lost in malls the size of yo'mama and
ate what is probably the best Thai green curry ever. People tried to
sell me things where ever I went cries of Kiaora Kiaora New Zealander
followed everywhere. Almost bought a suit from this famous suit shop
they have pictures and business cards all around the walls of the
famous people wearing the suits with the shop owners.

Hilariously I discovered the next big thing in exercise called an
iRide. I walk past their stall in the middle of this big mall and see
about 10 Chinese business people bouncing up and down on what looks
like some sort of sex machine, my laughter is unstoppable. It's
supposed to simulate riding a horse, watching the instructional video
was the best comedy since the Life of Brian.

So I was out of another guided tour this one was billed as the night
adventure, the guide was hilariously bad. The boat ride down the river
in an old Junker was good even if it felt like it was going to sink at
any moment. We had dinner in this riverside café and then went to the
famous Raffles hotel where the Singapore Slinger drink was invented.

Got a fake G-shock watch for $4 Singapore dollars… awesome.

Second Singapore faux pas: Was in the mood for a beer so I thought I'd
try the hotel bar… BIG MISTAKE. Around 10 minutes after I arrive I
realise that this isn't really a bar, but at this point I'm not quite
sure what it is so I stay.

Pulling out my money for my second beer I'm suddenly surrounded by
like 5 women they all want to chat and I decide that as a lot of
Singaporean's do they want to practice their English on me. I make a
few jokes and have a few more beers and make myself the centre of
attention, as I am prone to do. I'm thinking that this is cool and I'm
very popular with the ladies so I'm having a great time!

Suddenly the 'Madam' comes out, yells something in Chinese and
disperses the crowd and a fight break between the women breaks out.
Things quieten down and I decide to finish my beer and go when
suddenly the 'winner' of the fight starts touching me and I'm like…
'Yep… it's a brothel'.

At this point I'm feeling really out of place but realising that it's
a brothel I see the guys who have been constantly playing pool for the
last hour are rather large and imposing fellas so I play along out of
fear while this woman in halting English tells me exactly what she can
do for $150 Singapore.

Exact words: 'What you like big boy, blow job, hand job, make love to you?'

Stalling for time I decide to bargain with her knowing that
Singaporeans always quote a price way to high first up. It turns out
that like all other commodities in Singapore Sex is no different. In
the end I get the following deal:

Exact words: 'blow job, hand job, make love to you, and (hilariously)
up the boom boom' for $125.

At this point, because there is no way past the bouncers at the door,
I'm a little worried that I may have to go through with it out of
fear, but when she says 'What your room number' I say 'Ah my
girlfriend is in the room, I guess you don't like girls'. She replies
'No but I get Gerri for you big boy' as she wanders off I see an exit
and I hastily rush for it, thinking that 'I thought this was illegal
here!'

Whew, got out of that one, but I'll have to write the travel agent
about that hotel… people need to know that shit man!

--
http://thebeereffect.blogspot.com/

Singapore... like a warm wet blankey...

2006-05-19T09:30:00.000Z

So much to say and so little time... so just check out some photos and vids that I have uploaded for now. I'll provide explanations later.

Photos here:

The good times just don't stop rolling...

2006-05-14T14:44:00.000Z

Went out for dinner at Chow with the folks on Friday night, food wasn’t too bad…

On Saturday it was my pleasure to be invited to what I will refer to as “Ben’s big day out”. After meeting some mates at Wellington train station we then set off to Porirua or what I will here-in refer to as “P-town”.

The weather in P-town was fantastic and this was very much a good thing as we were here for the very serious and competitive business that is Pirates Cove mini-golf. The game itself was less important than the fact that mini-golf was one of the things that I had to do before I left in case there doesn’t happen to be a course where I’m going, they’ve heard of mini-golf in Europe right? ;-)

Everyone made a credible job of throwing the game so that I could have the fairytale finish that I always wanted, this was much appreciated!

Following golf we found ourselves at Ban Mai Thai café for dinner. Spelling mistakes in the menu aside, Jared tells me the Roated Duck is pretty good.

We migrated to The Matterhorn for cocktails, the band playing was very funky, I would’ve danced or what will herein be referred to as “bipedal locomotion”, but there wasn’t much room with all the tables on the dance floor or what will herein be referred to as the “D-floor”.

Moving on to the Cavern club the D-floor was utilised for a bit of bipedal locomotion but we mostly just sat and drank in the comfy couches.

A quick visit to the Establishment signalled that it was home time. I arrived home via bus about 5.30am and promptly fell asleep dreaming of attractive women bipedaly locomoting on my D-floor.

Check out the rest of the photos here

Box Smashing...

2006-05-12T03:12:00.000Z

Mission: Survive last day of work doing as little actual work as possible.

Disappointingly there were several casualties from the evening before and not everyone made it to work, still with talk revolving around smashing box – thanks Ruby, there wasn’t going to be much work done anyway. I'll eventually post the box-smashing video too.

Mission status: Success.

End of days...

2006-05-11T02:14:00.000Z

It was much like the apocalypse I had always dreamed about. Let it be said that there’s nothing like going out in a blaze of glory, and the fires were burning hot for my last night out on the booze with my long suffering work-mates.

The crew convened at Wellington’s snobbiest drinking establishment soon after the conclusion of work at 12am. On arrival at Motel; not just drinks were bought, but whole bottles of drinks were bought, we were settling in for the long haul.

Over the course of three hours, unknown quantities of quality alcohol slipped easily down our thirsting gastroesophageal junctions to the point where bipedal locomotion, otherwise known as dancing took place.
Bridget [above] doing the robot.

While showing us her sexy dance moves poor Rachel slipped and hit the ground like a rock right in the middle of the dance floor splitting her chin a bit and actually fracturing bones, though she didn’t realise until the next day. At this point the night had reached that messy and scandalous stage so a taxi was promptly caught.

Bridget and I were drunkenly snap-happy with the camera so after a bit of cropping I managed to get some good photos to share, why so many photos of Cory Bridget? ;-)

See the rest here.

TENACIOUS Daniel

2006-05-09T11:30:00.000Z

"Tribute"

Needless to say, the beast was stunned.
Whip-crack went his Whoopy tail,And the beast was done.
He asked us: "(snort) Be you angels?"
And we said, "Nay. We are but men."

Rock!

Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh-ah-ah,Ohhh, whoah, ah-whoah-oh!

Happy birthday Bro.

It’s not how much we’re drinking; it’s how we’re drinking it…

2006-05-07T00:26:00.000Z

My younger brothers 21st birthday was brought in, much like many “coming of age” parties, with alcohol and lots of it.

While my memory of the whole event is rather blurred; I do remember that there was drinking, singing, drinking, eating and then some more drinking and finally sleep. My recollection of the specifics… are… well… quite literally non-specific.

This is a common problem, and it actually relates to one of the founding intentions of this website. Namely, what do my binge drinking friends and I really get up to?

Fortunately for drinkers everywhere, around the 4th and 5th Centuries B.C. Chinese and Greek philosophers described the basic principles of optics and the camera, while it took a few thousand more years to perfect and implement the process at least drinkers had some hope that someday their drunken antics would be recorded for all time and therefore take their rightful place in history.

Fast forward to 2006: Now every drunken shopping trolley ride, every pass out naked on a toilet seat, and every single cock and balls permanent marker on the forehead would be recorded for all time and placed on the web for all to see.

Thebeereffect however would never quite stoop to that level but it does help to answer my earlier question concerning what my friends and I actually do; the answer, simply put, is that we have a hell of a lot of fun.

Calling all heroes...of Guitar

2006-05-05T23:18:00.000Z

Calling all heroes...of Guitar

Receiving a text message from Jared on Friday that included the words ‘Guitar Hero’ and ‘beers’ immediately promised a good night. In actuality, my expectations were exceeded in every aspect.

Example: Going to get said beers, Guy and I come back with ‘crate of beers’. The promise of ‘beers’ was exceeded with the acquisition of ‘crate of beers’ thereby exceeding the original expectation. This beereffect can be explained with the following logical formulae:

If (promise) = (beer) what is effect on (expectation) = if (beer X crate)

Daniel and Paul were up from Dunedin due to Daniels 21st birthday party the next day so there were catch-ups to have and high-fives to give.

Some dancing followed.

Thoroughly enjoying my life, thank you very much.

2006-04-30T12:13:00.000Z

It all started around 8pm when I arrived at Monsoon Poon, fantastic name for a restaurant by the way. Due to my, and others stellar performance at work, dinner was on the bank. I had a prawn green curry which tasted great; I downed $30.00 worth of great wine which made everything feel very good indeed.

So with the lovely Hannah I proceeded to Katipo where we met up with Rebecca. There were a few bands playing and I got some good video.

The best band did covers of TV themes, stand out songs were ‘Happy Days’ ‘Knight Rider’ and ‘Batman’.
Hilariously ran in to Tony O’Connor who is down from Pahia, he seemed glad to be having a bit of a rest from Pahia. Once the bands had done their thing I was introduced to James who is a workmate of Rebecca’s he seemed pretty cool.

So following some good conversation and a few Monteiths Celtics the decision was made to have a bit of a sing-song at the K-Bar. It was quite busy and they were playing the short versions of all the songs so no one was getting much stage time. This was probably a good thing as we were all pretty hammered by that stage, saying that we still managed to have a great time.

In fact we were having so much fun; I missed my bus home. This ended up not mattering because Hannah, who is awesome, now lives in town and even gave me a ride to the train station the next afternoon so that I was home in time to get ready for work.

All in all another fantastic weekend, which begs the question, why am I leaving this marvellous city come 16th of May?

Pizza, beer and olive-based in-jokes…

2006-04-23T13:17:00.000Z

Pizza and beer is a rather good combination don’t ya think? Now if you add a good dose of olive-based in-jokes to the mix you have a recipe for jovial hilarity.

Firstly, let’s just establish the fact that in-jokes are funnier than your average “A horse walked in to a bar…” joke. There is no question about this and if you disagree with me you are wrong.

Secondly, I can’t write about particular in-jokes because if you weren’t there you simply won’t get it. I’m sure you’ve all had someone labour through a long story and get to the punch line that doesn’t seem to be very funny then follow it up with the obligatory “I guess you had to be there” spiel. So I won’t even go there.

The beauty and difficulty of in-jokes is that they’re hilariously funny to those that are in the know, yet boring and mundane to those who are simply told about it. So no, I’m not going to tell you the joke but I will, and have already made reference to it.

So I share a hearty laugh with the readers that actually get it…

Yes the olives, fuck that’s so funny I’m shitting my pants right now, Olives!! BAHAHAHA…

Everyone’s a comedian right? Just check out olive-eye below.

Hasta la Vista Shane...

2006-04-20T01:29:00.000Z

Well is was Shanes last week at the dreaded bank so on Wednesday night we thought we’d give him a hangover for Thursday, which incidentally happened to be his last day.

We started out at Shooters as it was student night and there were loads of cheap drinks going, not to mention pelvic thrusts.

We then “popped” over to Hope Bro’s for a few more drinks. I must say I do like Hope Bro’s upstairs, it’s comfortable and warm, “and they have a pool table too!” – thanks Garth. It basically has all the things that make a good place to drink.

Heng, Phil and I proceeded home via the trusty Co-op shuttles shuttle company, Phill was still attempting to pull off the odd pelvic thrust despite the limited confines of the van.

Laurens a Gum Specialist???

2006-04-09T14:04:00.000Z

So young Lauren said she wanted to celebrate her new job, so we did. A few beers in Hataitai was followed by a few more at Basement, followed by the mother-load, i.e. the infamous BEER TOWER. This time we got photos.
Its so good, Guy can't even open his eyes when in its presence.

It’s a gorgeous day baby...

2006-04-09T01:35:00.000Z

I had my “specialist” appointment on Friday, so I got up really early; I think it was like 10.30am – I know, you hate me. For those that don’t know what a “Specialist” is, I will explain, they’re the people that undergo years of intense training in order to be qualified to tell you what you already know, oh yeah RESPECT. So apparently I no longer have tendonitis, Wahoo! But I still have muscle cramps, this is decidedly not Wahoo, but evidently these cramps do not cause long term damage, so as soon as I stop using the computer for 8 hours a day they should come right. It’s a pity that I’ve resigned as now I won’t be eligible for any of those sweet sweet ACC payouts that everyone’s bludging uncle is on…

However, the title of this post is “It’s a gorgeous day” and it was, Jared and I went on a wander around, we even took in the aerial photography exhibition at Waitangi park, how cultural of us. Check out these pictures of the beautiful Wellington water front.

Introspective...

2006-04-03T13:18:00.000Z

This weekend I went about my business at a rather more sedate pace than usual. In fact on Friday night, not even one single drop of alcohol troubled my yearning gullet. This in itself is quite an achievement, or disappointment depending upon how you look at it. I hear your cries, “What is to blame Ben?” “Why must you subject yourself to the perils of sobriety?” And yes it is perilous, just check out this link *insert convulsion here*. In answer to your pertinent questions, I am solely responsible for the state I was in and the way I acted, I subjected myself to the jeopardy of sobriety merely… to save money, oh the shame...

On the up side I saw Underworld: Evolution and the more I think about it the more I think about giving Kate Beckinsale a bone.

The newest member of the family...

2006-03-30T13:33:00.000Z

...no I haven't impregnated anyone... not recently anyway. I've got myself a new digital camera! Check it out here. Isn't it cool? I got the blue one.

Inevitably with a new camera comes stupid photos/videos. Here are mine:

I wanted to photoshop little gangsta hats/suits on the dogs just for fun, but I couldn't be bothered.

Whew... now that I've got that out of my system I promise only quality stuff from now on. Actually I'm not going to make any promises, lets re-phrase that. I can promise... stuff from now on.

I’m leaving on a jet plane; don’t know when I'll be back again.

2006-03-27T14:29:00.000Z

It’s all booked and paid for and everything seems to be falling in to place, I’m not usually this good at organising things. Passports are almost sorted, work has been sorted for some time now, and I’ve even taken advantage of the Kathmandu Easter sales and got myself some luggage.

I leave Wellington at 8.30pm Tuesday 16th of May; it's only (this far) away! So as you can see you have a limited amount of time to get me going away presents. It’s also my birthday on the 13th of May so you have extra incentive to get me something nice and useful!

Like shoes maybe...

Its moments like these…

2006-03-26T13:01:00.000Z

It was a rather restful weekend, punctuated by recurring medical problems, curry and celebrations. We’ll skip the recurring medical problems because I am of the firm belief that they only happen to old people and I am 23 years of age, i.e. not old.

So I guess that brings us to curry, Indian curry to be precise, Indian curry from Curry Village to be even more precise, in fact the Indian curry from Curry Village mentioned eariler on Valentines Day to be insanely precise. Right are you with me? You are? Good, let us continue. Guy invited us all out for dinner; the word “celebration” was bandied about a bit and as there were no obvious signs or reasons for a celebration, rumours and gossip flourished. A new job? A marriage? A change in sexual orientation?

Dave was the first to crack, as usual. Guy’s response was poetry in motion. He stands up and says that he has an announcement.

“I’m Gay”.

Silence.

“Oh ok” – Neil is never one for an uncomfortable silence

Conversation continues for a few more minutes and Guy makes another announcement, this time without any fanfare.

“I actually got a pay-rise, so not gay”.

Round of expected congratulations ensues… hilarious…

The last of the summer wine…

2006-03-19T13:21:00.000Z

I guess that’s it then, summer is over. Daylight savings has finished and the weather is starting to pack in. It’s a sad time but we did see off summer in style on Friday, which also happened to be St Paddy’s day.

Billed as the last BBQ of the summer, we dutifully turned up to the Hataitai flat. Jared, bless his little soul had got me beer and a T-Bone, so from the moment I arrived there was happiness. As a side note, that man sure knows how to BBQ.

Dave and I spent many a happy hour reliving our former glory days as students in Dunedin; this was followed by some fantastic re-enactments of bad language and behaviour, ahhh those certainly were the days.

Some random chicks turned up, they seemed to know who I was so I played it cool and pretended to know them back. I think they went to my school or something.

Rebecca H and I decided to hit the town, realising that young Hannah would be finishing work in quarter of an hour. One text asking her if she wanted to come was answered 12 seconds later with an “Ok you talked me in to it, pick me up from work” – Hannah, you’re awesome. Also in the awesome yet additionally hilarious category, visiting my workplace while in a state of inebriation, I’d totally recommend it to anyone that works in a soulless job like me. It really lets you realise that the bastards haven’t got all of your soul just yet.

By this stage I was quite far gone, but I’m pretty sure there was dancing and Irish bars, and possibly dancing in Irish bars too. I said ‘no kebabs’ but got hungry and everyone else was having them so that rule went out the window pretty quickly.

Saturday morning I was feeling pretty damn well hung over so I moved about 4 meters up the stairs and watched the cricket all day, which is exactly what I had planned to do however I had planned to actually go to the game. To make up for my laziness I called upon Dad, who with a little prodding, (i.e. I’ll give you $10) roasted a lamb for dinner, it was awesome; he even made mint sauce, made mint sauce! I swear there is nothing he can’t do. So after that single act I felt like I had spent the day well.

Sunday was also not to be your typical day of rest, oh no. I had free cricket tickets from work and I was determined to use them, oh yes I was. Davey and I picked up some food and proceeded to the Basin, which it must be said, is the most beautiful ground that you could ever have a picnic on, let alone watch a test at. Lara got out for a measly run, which made his total for the match a massive two runs. The weather sort of packed in at the Tea break but it was time to trundle off to work anyway.

Like lambs to the slaughter...

2006-03-16T22:32:00.000Z

Suitably suited up we filed up outside Wellington’s crappiest drinking establishment at precisely five past twelve, AM that is. Shooters on a Wednesday night has a large assortment of under priced drinks and under dressed students all doing their best headless chicken impressions on the dance floor. However we were not there to dance, no not at all, we had a clearly defined mission, get slaughtered.

As we were all bank people, not only do we look like money, we smell like it too, it comes from working with it albeit in electronic form all day. Since most of us have no social lives most of us actually have money to spend so this was the time to put ones money where ones mouth was, so to speak, or should it be, so to drink?. Fortunately this was no great struggle as a round of beer for seven people was only $21.

Suddenly we were everyone’s best friend, as typically one is inclined to believe when one is drunk, however in our case it was true, this is probably because Dave A decided that the way to make friends was buying them tequila. In my experience buying someone tequila is a good way to have ones first lesbian experience, but that’s another story altogether.

Four of five shots of tequila later, Heng swears I had seven but that seems impossible as I don’t appear to be a lesbian yet, we hit The Big Kumara where they have a half decent live band that plays songs that all drunk people can sing along to at a volume that no one can hear the drunk people singing. In all honesty it was great.

As for Thursday at work, Shane H summed it up with the words “I want to cry”. It appears that he’s good at summing stuff up.

Attention class, take out your spatulas…

2006-03-12T12:02:00.000Z

Recipe: Warm Flat
- A simple dish that never fails to satisfy. An easy and delicious recipe that will impress your guests!

Ingredients:
- 30 ripe people
- 1 full keg

Method:
- Mix

Yes indeed ladies and gentlemen I went to the Brooklyn road flat warming on Friday night and yes there was a keg. Isn’t it funny how parties with kegs are always just that little bit messier. All sorts of shenanigans flourished, it was great. There was a solid amount of good conversation, the odd bit of dancing, and mix all that with a constant supply of alcohol and you have the makings of a very enjoyable evening.

My god, I was hung-over the next day, I slept over and I actually couldn’t move until about 12pm, I believe The Mill no brand keg was partly to blame. Fortunately there was test cricket on TV so we went about things at a gentlemanly test cricket pace. Guy finished off the keg-dregs and by the time the cricket was finished for the day I was ready for food. I like to wolf it down… fried rice that is, sweet.

As we were all pretty wasted the next evening a good dose of board games was in order, Scene It and Travel Trivia took us through to 1.30am when I finally took my leave of the good hospitality of Brooklyn road and proceeded home...

A Bright Abyss indeed...

2006-03-05T12:36:00.000Z

So yeah I went to the St James theatre on Friday night, there just happened to be a show on and I just happened to have tickets, how very convenient, how very… cosmopolitan, bourgeois almost. With mixed emotions, I saw an imaginatively comic acrobatic display that at times reminded me of the hilarious Arlecchino character in Italian Commedia dell'Arte and at times made me feel nostalgic and want to go back to Otago and ‘Lunch Time Theatre’. It was directed by and also starred James Thiérrée, a Chaplin progeny, yes that Chaplin.

Following the theatre I met up with Natalie in Jet, we had a few drinks and hung out there for a while then we moved on to Vespa lounge – and yes it does have a Vespa scooter strung up on the wall, not to mention relatively good couches too. The night was a cold and blustery one, so I was warm and safe in bed by 2am.

Saturday, I watched the weekends sporting loses, Hurricanes, Blackcaps etc. and decided that it was cold outside and tonight was to be a video night. I watched Constantine with Dad, notably there was minimal sighing and reading of the news paper, he even made pop-corn! Is there anything he can’t do?! Davey called later on so we caught a late movie about the first Gulf War called Jarheads; it was pretty good and confirmed everything I already thought about being an American soldier.

All in all a very cultured and civilised weekend… werid.

Sport was the winner on the day.

2006-02-26T12:02:00.000Z

Super 14 rugby has really kicked off with three wins on the trot to the mighty Hurricanes; this makes me happy because I put $20 on them to win the competition. Andy thinks the Chiefs will win, however Andy is a very sadly mistaken Englishman. In fact its mistakes like this that cost the English the Empire and Andy is proof that to this day they still haven't learned a thing.

Speaking of the English, they got spanked by Scotland; I imagine this makes Sion very happy.

In cricketing news, the Black Caps also continued their dominating form verses the West Indies, kudos to Nathan Astle for the ton and the catch that will probably be shown on countless replay reels in cricket playing countries. In other news I’m going to Jamaica for the world cup in March 2007, Tony and Guy you better start saving.

Right, I promise that is all I’ll say about sport.

Not to be over-shadowed it was Lauren's birthday, yes THAT Lauren. I was introduced to her father as THAT Ben - both of our reputations apparently precede us. She turned 26 I think, I'm not sure I was rather intoxicated. A load of people went to Cafe Istanbul, the food I got was really quite crap, lets rename it Cafe Load-of-Bull, good, now I feel better. Fortunately there was plenty of alcohol to drink so our spirits were high.

Following dinner we wandered around and eventually found ourselves at Chow, Rebecca and I chatted at length about things I can't remember and Lauren played the drunken birthday girl and got drunk and went home early.

And that’s about it…

Good Vibrations.

2006-02-19T12:43:00.000Z

So it’s Friday again, and I make the trek from the valley to the city as I always do, (I get around) meeting up with G as I always do, with the intention to have a few drinks, as we always do. So far so good.

Suddenly something incredibly lucky happened, we stumbled across a restaurant named 'Luckys', and to be honest it’s rather lucky we did. A fantastically good value meal was consumed, people we knew came up to us and said hello and we formulated our plans for the evening.

Guy's friend was having a flat-warming so we hit the New World with the intention to pick up a six-pack to share. "What a stupid idea that was," we say as we eventually pick up a dozen Speights. We're buzzing as the evening is feeling very promising.

Guy's friend Kim lives up on the hill and Guy takes a wrong turn so we climb higher than we need to, but that’s okay because it just made the beer we were carrying taste better when we finally got there. The conversation is good natured and very friendly, laughs all round basically. Guy joins a cricket team - the fact that he has never bowled or batted using a real cricket ball, let alone actually donned pads and gloves doesn't matter apparently, awesome, my kind of team. (Fun, Fun, Fun).

Kim, Dana, Guy and I hit the Cavern Club. The staff recognise us and give us business cards and a discount card for the Curry place next door, (see valentines day entry) how very friendly of them. Guy says “Surprise me,” when it’s my round so of course I get Margarita's. (Kokomo).

Once we're all suitably intoxicated, one of the girls asks "Can you guys dance", Guys response to that made me laugh, "Not me, but Ben has been known to dabble". Well with an introduction like that its all on. We request a few suitable songs and the bar staff are willing. The retro surroundings make it easy for us to think we have some rat-pack cool, we're so money and we don't even know it. (Good Vibrations)

The next morning I'm in the neighbourhood so I text Amy and she’s keen for some brunch after piking on us last night, her flatmates give me coffee and apple juice which is significant as I am nursing quite a hang-over. (Help me Rhonda)

After some food the hang-over wanes away and its time to think about all things cricket as today the mighty Black Caps are playing the Calypso Kings! I.e. the West Indies. As I am completely unprepared for the day due to not going home last night I wander in to the Warehouse and find myself a very sensible hat for a very sensible price, how very sensible of me.

I meet up with Guy and Richard who are having lunch at the Occidental, they drink beer, I drink water. We meet up with Belinda and Tania at the cricket and Tania goes gaga (more than usual) over Nathan Astle cause he gets a solid 90 runs and the Calypso Kings turn in to the Collapse-o Kings and the Black Caps clean up.

I'm exhausted and in dream world by 12am. (Sloop John B)

Sorry I was listening the the Beach boys as I wrote this.

Valentines for Single People...

2006-02-15T00:04:00.000Z

Considering that I believe Valentines day is a total crock, I sure celebrated it romantically.

I hear you asking "How so Ben? you're currently a single man!" my answer to you is as follows:

7.59am:
(TXT to Guy) - Hey bro, i'm @ a conference today that finishes at 5, if u don't have a valentine already do u want 2 have a drink after work? ;-)

8.02am:
(TXT to Ben) - Sounds good bro. I have just the place in mind 4 a drink. Meet me @ 530pm outside jet.

8.03am:
(TXT to Guy) - Awesome, Can do.

4.59pm:
(TXT to Guy) - I finished early where are you?

At this point I meet up with my workmate Rebecca on the street and invite her along.

5.28pm:
(TXT to Ben) - You finished early, i finished late. I will see you in 15.

Rebecca and I have a few drinks with her auntie at Jet, Guy turns up then the three of us go to this place called the 'Cavern Bar'. It has a cool Elvis/Buddy Holly/Stairway to Heaven theme thing going on - its pretty cool and the bar chick has a huge set of personalities.

Rebecca encourages us to visit the ladies toilet because there is a hilarious poster on the wall or something, surprisingly Guy has far more guts than I do and he spends a good thirty seconds in the forbidden grotto, where as I only manage a pussy ten seconds before the society’s conventions embarrassingly cause me to panic and run out of there without having taken in the full implications of the hilarious poster, to this day I am mocked.

I’m hungry, we can’t decide where to go so we set off in search of food arriving thrity seconds later next door to eat Curry cause the sign outside says “Valentines Special, Free Champagne for all Diners”. We’re appalled at the Indians running the joint so blatantly appealing to the Kiwi drinking culture, but so totally sold on the idea. The meal was fantastic, service good and the conversation better.

By the time 8.30pm rolled around we were three very happy Valentines. Rebecca and I trundled off to catch the train home seeing some quite serious (Valentine style) face munching. Now I’m not afraid of PDA, but this was ridiculous! Seriously woman did you lose something down his throat? It was kind of like a car wreck, you look away but the horror is all too intriguing. Twenty minutes of “face munching” related one-liners follow and make for a hilarious ride home, awesome...

The Wind Tunnel Faux Pas

2006-02-13T10:31:00.000Z

Yes it was that time of the year again, Saturday night was the work awards evening. You may have guessed from the title that perhaps there were a few unwritten social rules that were broken... and you'd have guessed right.

You would think that surely by now, breaking those rules is so common-place at work functions across the country that someone is literally expected to commit the odd faux pas so that everyone can actually have fun and have something scandalous to talk about over the water cooler the next Monday morning! In my humble opinion, staff morale should hit new highs for months at the cost of a small decrease in productivity for a short time.

It’s a pity that not all faux pas are created equal. Imitating your manager’s patented “wind tunnel” hair style is funny when the joke is kept to the right people. Likewise the office hot-chick wearing tiny hot-pants to the “black-tie” dinner is certainly funny. Mores the pity that she was inevitably asked to leave; fortunately the picturesque image of those hot pants walking up stairs will certainly live on in memory! Mmm… ahhhh… um anyway, I digress, what was my point again? Oh yes, getting violently drunk and abusing people is certainly not funny and will live on in memory but in a strongly negative way, and that was what the odd person did, not that it ruined the night for me or anything but I know certain people that will never ever get promoted because of their behaviour in social situations.

In conclusion, no, I didn’t win any awards, but the food was great the drinks were on the house and I got away with my drunken faux pas because; while I drink to excess, I also know where my limit is. Yes I pulled off the “wind tunnel” joke successfully for the second year in a row, but kept it to the right people. Yes I danced with my manager, but at a safe one metre distance. Yes I tried to order drinks off another manager that I hadn’t met yet thinking he was one of the waiting staff, but was thankfully rescued by a colleague. Yes I got a hold of someone’s video camera and zoomed in on the ample bosom on display, but I didn’t film myself. Yes I thought about doing things with colleagues that involved a party in the orifice and I’m invited, but I remembered what they look like without the beer goggles.

This ladies and Gentlemen is my lesson on how to enjoy your self at a work function and not get fired, have a nice day.

Google is more scary than your mum...

2006-02-10T02:26:00.000Z

So I thought to myself, I wonder what happens if I search for myself on Google, as I expected there is a gazillion "Bens" in the world so I decided to search under the most common pseudonym that I use during my travels on the web. My first response went something like this "Oh my F-ING GOD!" Two pages of Google results and every click pointed to something that I've done whether it be an old forum post somewhere, an online auction I bid on, this blog, hell! Even my seti@home results are there for the world to see!

My second response went something like this "Oh my F-ING GOD! There is no such thing as privacy".

My online life, right there for anyone to see or browse through with the right search term, that's scary as hell man!

My third respose went something like this “I have to get some more (and preferably common) pseudonyms pronto!”

The birth of our wonderful nation...

2006-02-06T12:13:00.000Z

"Waitangi Day commemorates the signing of a treaty at Waitangi on 6 February 1840 by a group of Maori chiefs and the British Government, represented by Lieutenant-Governor Hobson. The question of what obligations the Treaty of Waitangi placed on each side has been a subject of contention ever since".

"A private member's bill on a New Zealand Day had been introduced by Matiu Rata in 1971 and, during debate on the new bill, Rata, now Minister of Maori Affairs, indicated the government's intentions: The day, he said, was to be neither 'a symbolic nor religious occasion' but a day for each New Zealander to enjoy as they saw fit." - more here.

So how did you celebrate? Guy and I had an adventure and travelled to Porirua (or P-Town - as Guy refers to it) and played a round of pirate themed mini golf. Awesome. Incidentally Guy narrowly lost by one shot. But Waitangi day was... well... the real winner on the day. The sun was shining, the people were smiling and the 14th Festival of the Elements at Te Rauparaha Park featuring art, crafts, song and dance was on. The treaty bus was there too, it was full of knowledgeable signs and as you all know I have a certain fondness for reading such signs, pity there was no where for a "good sit" to contemplate the knowledge I had just gained.

We visited "The Realm Haitaitai" - surely you've heard the annoying jingle. We then had a few more beers in town. It was the perfect way to enjoy the day as it was originally intended - "as [we] saw fit".

Life is transient...

2006-02-05T12:32:00.000Z

Friday it was Nick's birthday so we had a BBQ and sung Karaoke - well I did, most people just wailed, but then again I was rather intoxicated so I probably just wailed too, but don't tell my ego. I'm a male and male egos are delicate. My version of Adam Sandlers Medium Pace was quite memorable if I do say so myself. Sweet ego is now good, lets carry on.

The parentals are away camping - they're such cliché baby boomers it’s sickening. So inevitably I'm looking after the farm, crap I forgot to feed the hens, no mater I'm sure they'll kill a pigeon or something if they get really hungry.

Saturday (Sevens night) was a huge night on the town, so I hear. I was just not feeling it so despite several invites (including one from my dubious Chinese friends) I stayed home - partly out of fear but mostly cause I just wasn't feeling it ok! Can't believe I keep turning down two women that, dare I say it Dave, are totally spin-able.

I know I'm an idiot but as most of you know the old adage "If you play with fire you get burnt" really does apply here. Initiate self check... Whew ego is still intact, though only barely.

So I stayed home with my geeky self and ordered Pizza, watched TV and episodes of the X-Files, then surfed the web for pic's of Gillian Anderson – I guess I'm a 1995 geek and a sucker for fringe pop culture. So cliché generation X its sickening.

Hey wait a minute, stop trying to Pigion-hole me and tell me what is cool and get off my back man I don't care what you think. I'm going to start a pop/punk/emo band so that I can express my fustration. Yeah that'd be original and not clichéd at all.

I love weekends...

2006-01-29T12:10:00.000Z

This weekend was rather relaxing.

Had a BBQ with Jared, Jess, and Dave, then went out with Guy for a few beers at a place called Mercury - Guy decided that it was the type of place he'd take a woman if he wanted to seduce her so watch out ladies you'll be powerless to resist his mojo.

Saturday I met up with Stu and Guy in Petone for the Jackson Street festival. There is a Speights Ale House in Petone now - not entirely sure if its something to be proud of but they have one so lets just leave it there.

We went to Davey's house which is in this cool almost apartment-like flat above a Pizza place for a few more beers - which turned in to a few more and then a few more. Yeah we missed the bands playing 20m away but had a good time anyway and everyone thought Stu was cute, but Stu seems to have that affect on men sometimes so go figure.

Man, you take road trips with passion.

2006-01-24T12:00:00.000Z

So its 10am on Tuesday 17th. My mum says “It would be good for you to get out of the house”. It’s funny how the biggest/best journeys start with the smallest steps.

I decide to take mums suggestion to the extreme and no less than thirty minutes later I’m sitting in a rental car with eternal good mates Guy and Tony travelling north… with passion.

A quick stop at Harcourt park to check out Dad’s Omaru stone carving, which appears to be coming along nicely. He sends us on our way with the best hand gesture ever invented, meanwhile feminists everywhere cringe, and the lads laugh for the next few thousand kilometres. Hilarious, as always Dad. Again and again I ask the question “Is there anything he can’t do”? The resounding answer, as always, is simply “No”.

Dads Carving

In Otaki, we stopped off at Tony’s auntie’s place; we eat egg salad and coo at some baby swans.

During our drive through the Taranaki region we visit Tony’s country in-laws and after a vomit inducing drive down a lost highway find ourselves late for dinner at Whangamomona Hotel. A Three course meal and a few beers later, we are feeling pretty fucking satiated. Sleep time. Awesome.

The Hotel

The next morning what I had thought for the past three days was constipation turned in to an epic day of three different medical professionals copping a feel of my testiculi. Finally the surgeon at New Plymouth hospital confirms what I kinda thought all along. Namely that I don’t have a hernia, I’d simply torn an “FM” during an all night bender, refer last Sundays entry…

Eventually after tiring of having my testicles felt up by men in white gloves we make it to Hamil-shit – a town punctuated by its pure shittiness. We stayed with friends that were seemingly oblivious to the aforementioned shittiness – i.e. they had actually bought a house to live in there. Seriously each to their own but Hamil-shit is just not for me Jon and Lisa.

It was great to see young Chizzy again. He is thriving and looking well, we drank the organic beer we picked up at a crazy little brewery on the way to Hamil-shit earlier in the day. Yes that’s right ladies and gentlemen; earlier in the day, in fact mere hours after being discharged from hospital I was visiting a brewery.

The next morning was the day of The Big Day Out, so we drove to Auckland, a town punctuated by its unadulterated and unwarranted superiority complex. In my opinion, the only thing complex about this city is getting from place to place.

This is me in Hamil-shit.

We find our way to Guys sister Sophie’s place without too much trouble. We grab Tony’s BDO ticket from Sophie’s letter box; it’s been couriered there because Tony is awesome… at forgetting important shit. He would seriously forget his own balls on the way to an orgy if they weren’t in a bloody sack.

We park the car, Guy has a beer and proceeds to use the “peer pressure” technique followed by the “I will give you money” technique to convince me to come to the BDO, it works cause I’m a proud capitalist at heart. We head to the building that says “Railway Station” in big-ass letters, we’re so smart. Of course the people inside laugh at us as they tell us that this is not actually a train station. Fucking funny bastards if you ask me.

Tracking down the actual train station with the help of MAX - the friendly bus timetable company - we eventually board a train. Going on our present luck it might not have been an actual train, though it appeared to get us to our destination and acted very train-like.

The sun is hotter than your mum so I grease myself up… in sunscreen. There are still door sales so I guess there is no pulling out now.

Things I did/Bands I saw etc

- Went to the inflatable bar, weird.
- The Living End – quite rocking
- Purved, got some food, wandered around avoiding ex’s and workmates, looked at stuff.
- Elemeno P – didn’t live up to expectation
- The Brunettes – Heather will you marry me?
- Henry Rollins – he doesn’t like GW bush, sweet.
- Wolfmother – awesome, awesome, awesome – I bought the CD.
- Iggy and the Stooges – I foresee many more years for that machine of a man.
- White Stripes – a bit too instrumental but still awesome.

So it’s on the train and back to reality. Because we are in Auckland, it turns out our train does not go to the station we came from so we get off at Newmarket and walk down a street called Parnell Rd hoping it goes to Parnell, thankfully it does.

Sophie is awesome; I think I will marry her. Her shower was a welcome sight and cleanliness soon followed. Her flatties were having a few drinks but we were too tired to really participate, so we all piled in to Sophie’s room and slept like babies.

All praise to Sophie for taking us to a decidedly nice and non-wanky place for brunch, I got French toast smothered in bacon and maple syrup; it was just what I wanted, Sophie is Ō for awesome.

We arrived in Pahia about 7pm after a leisurely drive stopping off at two places, firstly a really nice beach for a swim and a spot of Frisbee and secondly stopping at some nature reserve with a big cliff and a few Ram’s with large sacs, Tony insisted on taking photos. At this point we recorded a few Maori myths and legends from a book Tony bought on audio, they’re awesome I’ll post them.

Us at really nice beach

Tonys gratuitous sac pic

We stayed with Tony O’Conner whose family was very hospitable. Later on that night we ate fish n chips and got drunk. We went to this dodgy bar called the Lighthouse or something. There was a cover charge, at first we were thinking lets go somewhere else, then upon realising that there was no where else to go we paid up and went in. I was king of pool holding on to the table for quite some time until I gave it away due to a Wet T-Shirt competition beginning. Perving followed, then the sense that this sort of thing really should be illegal and probably is, but this is northland and nobody cares. There are lots of photos – Tony was holding the camera – but I won’t post them.

The walk home was interspersed with howls of Wolfmother “Come and see the minds eye, we can find it if we try” and other heavy metal acts performed by yours truly on a rickety picnic table. Colossal. Oh and Guy played front spoon that night.

Wolfmother himself, i.e. me

After a splendid breakfast we set off to explore the birth place of our wonderful nation. The Waitangi grounds were simply fantastic, there was an inspiring sense of history everywhere and I read every single word on every single sign, go on test me. In summary; the flag pole is bloody colossal, the view breathtaking, and the entry price worth every penny.

Colossal flagpole.

Inspiring sense of history.

Following our serious trek through the birth canal of our nation we needed some light relief. So Guy drove the car for a few kilometres, cue laugh track.

We met up with Lucy, Tommy, and Alex, some British siblings with a campervan that we met at the aforementioned wet t-shirt competition, they like us, did not compete. What followed was the single most amazing mini-golfing experience in existence. Seriously if you get the chance to play the Paihia mini-golf course do it, you will not regret it. Allow 2 hours if your group is like 5 people or more and expect to pull off shots like the so named “axe attack” where by one holds the club with a two handed axe grip and strikes downward on the ball thus causing the ball to pop skyward out of the sand trap, complex man. This is one course where a working knowledge of trigonometry just isn’t enough, you’ll practically need Stephen Hawking doing the calculations to stay out of the bunkers, pity his wheelchair wouldn’t be able to navigate the course.

There were hot chicks too

We ate curry for dinner then Guy played front spoon again.

The longest drive ever:
So we had one day to get from Paihia to Wellington because Guy had work the next day. We left at 9am, to the tune of our Maori language pronunciation CD and got petrol in Auckland, sure we had to ask for directions to get out but we found one friendly stranger that even took off her sun glasses to speak to me and tell me how to get back to the motorway – how polite.
We had lunch in Cambridge, there was a statue of a horse but we didn’t get a picture of me riding it. We played mini-golf in Taupo and picked up young Chizzy’s cousin Sarah, swam in the lake and ate burger king.

Only one of us saw the Taniwha on the lake.

We reached Wellington at about 12am, epic.

The end.

I'm back...

2006-01-23T12:33:00.000Z

So yeah, Tony and Guy turned up and packed my bags and basically kidnapped me and took me on holiday for a week. I have over 200 megs of photos to share and I'm working on a write up, watch this space.

Now free is my kinda price man!

2006-01-16T11:32:00.000Z

Went to the free concert in the gardens again earlier this evening, The Aviators were playing and yes they were wearing aviator glasses, well most of them were. They’re a funk band and they are… well… funky – I even danced so there you go.

It was the lovely Rebecca’s birthday. Lots of the same people from Friday night were there as well plus Stu, Lauren – yes that Lauren, and of course Tony and his mate Richard from Nelson.

Also ran in to the vivacious Tanya who is another friend of Tony’s. There was talk of the W.Indies game, must get her number.

Tony is up from Christchurch on his merry way to the Big Day Out. Tony and Guy have hired a car and intend to take a week to road trip the North Island, I’m sure it’ll be huge and they’ll love it. There is some talk that I might go with them, originally I couldn’t go cause I couldn’t get leave, however now that its doctors orders that I stay away from work it does sound mighty tempting. No decisions as yet, I never was one to believe in fate but it is mighty convenient. I’ll sleep on it.

Rebecca’s flatmate Gabriel was there also, there is something alluring about her that I can’t put my finger on, she seems quite hard to read. I wonder if she is single.

All Star Weekend...

2006-01-15T12:00:00.000Z

A Super Saturday.

Thanks G for waking my lazy ass up at 1pm by the way, I should buy you flowers.

It was a hot sunny blue-sky day, a day for falling in love if you will. What transpired wasn't quite like falling in love but it was pretty close. We played basketball, we had a 3 point shoot out, a slam dunk competition and there was a horse involved. The gangly limbs of G-Master Dunk were the winners on the day as expected.

Followed by a scoop of chips we pac-ed and save-ed, choc-barr-ed and had a very civilised BBQ back at Jazzy-highest-individual-dunk-score-of-the-day-Jay-dogg's house. Neilio was there, I finally found something in common with him, we're both unliked by the same person for the same reason, some bonding took place.

We played cards over a few beers then went home, super.

A blast from the past...

2006-01-14T21:30:00.000Z

So it was Friday the thirteenth and some totally whack shit happened, read on.

First of all can I just say that Wellington totally rocks. You simply can not argue with a month of free concerts in the Gardens!

With a bottle of red, a chunk of brie, a pasta salad and a loaf of bread, I sat down a little sceptical at first, but was charmed by an atmosphere of good vibes. All thanks to Rebecca for the idea of course, otherwise I wouldn't have even gone.

I saw The Chandeliers/Ghostplane gig. Ghostplane started off, they do a good pop rock set, and of course everyone fell in love with their bass player, well I know I did. The Chandeliers used a bit to much keyboard for my liking but once they warmed up (and I got to the end of the bottle) I was really enjoying the vibe.

Oh yeah there are real glow worms in the botanical gardens, trippy.

A quick stop back to Rebecca's was followed by another quick stop off at the flat of some totally cool cats but I can't remember their names, they were totally solid by the way, who ever they were. Following that, I vaguely remember a sing-song walking down a hill which was cool.

And then a moment of calm ladies and Gentlemen... Yes that's right, Beer Tower was re-visited.

Beer tower was followed by Karaoke at K-Bar. I must've been rockin cause random Polynesian people I didn't know said clichéd (but welcome) complentary things like "man you sing with passion" - which was weird, cause usually I sing with Guy.

Pete Nichols was quite a blast from the past. He's a fella that flatted with some old friends of mine; I haven't seen him in three years, never kept in contact. So anyway he generously offered to do some landscaping for me - wasn't quite sure what to say to that?

So it was Pete, me and his mate Stu, because Guy, Jann, and Rebecca left me to my own devices. After partying hard for another hour or so I ended up by myself (pretty much), I eventually made it back to Guys house a few hours later at about 7am. What transpired in those few hours however shall never be written down, lets just say I'm a bad bad man, awesome.

On the subject of gratification...

2006-01-12T13:10:00.000Z

My wrist is really sore, so I'm going to the doctor at 12 tommorow this is how I envision the visit:

Doc: What seems to be the trouble?

Me: Its my wrist, its bung.

Doc: I see (pause) you'll really have to limit the masturbation Ben.

Me: Damn.

[update: I have Tendinitis, crap]

Today I am a happy man...

2006-01-11T12:37:00.000Z

I was recently dreaming about the perfect everlasting gaze of bullets with butterfly wings under the window paine, Today is the greatest... Yes I have been listening to Smashing Pumpkins.

I have decided that Rocket off Siamese Dream is my favourite song of the moment, the realisation hit me on the taxi home this evening as I had inadvertently hit repeat for the fourth time, its a strangely uplifting song. Maybe I'm weird but grunge music, despite the kate moss-heroine-addicted-image, is really really uplifting. Perhaps its not grunge, but just the early/mid nineties that gives me that uplifting feeling and I'm somehow transported back there by listening to the music of the era.

What so special about that era for me? Well there was a lot going on, I was deeply in the throes of puberty for one, I think I was about 12 or 13 when I first heard the Siamese dream album, so yeah I guess that could be right. Though I don't remember a whole lot of good times puberty-wise... I remember a class at intermediate school about masturbation, that was probably the highlight of the school year, I think I laughed for about three weeks after hearing my poor teacher a year or two out of Teachers College have to teach this class...

some student: So masturbation is like... OK then?

Mr S: haha yeah, well its not going to kill you.

Some student: So do you masturbate then Mr S?

(pause)

Mr S: well... yeah - of course he had to say yes after dispelling rumours that we'd go blind or it would drop off etc.

At this point a whole lot of 12 year old boys burst out laughing and don't stop for seriously three weeks... So glad that I did not go to a Catholic school right now. Though I guess I have to transport myself back in time to find it funny... I wrote "some student" cause I wasn't sure if it was me saying it or not, it sounds like something I would've said however, ha.

Growing up thinking its normal to jack off to your hearts content is the greatest thing school has ever taught me to be honest, now thats freedom mid-west America.

So looking at the psychological trail of thought, listening to a certain type of music makes me feel good cause I associate it with jacking off??

Hey works for me...

Good Evening, today I am happy...

2006-01-11T12:16:00.000Z

I hope that this actually posts to the blog man... this will be so convenient if it does! the first blog entry sent directly via e-mail alone!

There is no such thing as a free lunch...

2006-01-07T13:00:00.000Z

Economics himself once told me that…

The theory of supply and demand describes how prices vary as a result of a balance between product availability at each price (supply) and the desires of those with purchasing power at each price (demand).

If I was to supply a product that you need and you could not pay for it because you spent all your money worshiping a false idol you have several options.

Option one – Exercise your choice as a consumer. “Yeah I’m going elsewhere” – Did I mention that its all the same whereever you go? “Well whats option two then?”.

Option two – YOU ARE FUCKED SO DO WHAT I SAY. “But that’s not fair I'm telling God” – don’t start with me buddy, I may aswell be God to you, its not a good idea to piss me off.

Option three – Argue with me until you are red in the face. “Yeah that’s what I’ll do that will get me somewhere” – I told you not to start with me.

Option four – Eventually run out of things to say as your argument hits a brick wall. Realise that you got yourself in to this and it is your own fault, lesson learned? “Fuck you asshole, where’s your christmas spirit?” – I’m not Christian, have a lovely evening Sir, goodbye.

And if you’re still with me you’ll realise that I’m trying to say choose option one even if it hurts, make the world a better place.

All Hail the land of the rising sun!

2006-01-07T02:15:00.000Z

The Beer Tower… I’ll say it again for good measure… BEER TOWER!!

To understand an invention as truly amazing as the Beer Tower you have to understand that it’s a Japanese invention. Yes that’s right the same nation that brought you other revolutionary inventions such as the Samurai Sword, the Toyota Corolla and the Walkman… but lets be honest there hasn’t been much else to compare, until now!

My friends, I am talking about the Beer Tower. I don’t have a picture as yet, but will endeavour to get one as soon as possible. For now you’ll just have to make do with my description.

The first thing that strikes you with the Beer Tower is its sheer size and perfect cylindrical shape. It stands about a metre tall, is clear glass and all class. Protruding from the side near the bottom is a tap, just like those “on tap” style taps in bars. From this tap pours forth pure gold in the form of Monteiths brand beer, made better by the very fact that you are drinking beer from a veritable shrine. Thats right, All Hail Beer Tower!

My description pales in comparison with the experience of being there so you will just have to try it, nay, experience it for yourself!

There is a little unnamed bar/restaurant in a secret location known only to a sacred few. You’ll know you’re in the right place as you enter the bar itself by the overwhelming sensation that you were brought here by powers greater than yourself, that power my dear friends is the Beer Tower’s super secret mystic power.

Again you will have to experience it for yourself but I’ll do my best to let you the unwary traveller in on as much as I can lest you fall casualty to its awesome awesome-ness!

It all began hundreds of years ago when sailors wrought by months at sea, dehydration and a lack of contact with the fairer sex, were thought to jump overboard believing they were is fact leaping in to the arms of beautiful mermaids.

There was one man, one hardy seamaster that could resist its power, he reported to me before he passed on, among other stories, that the sailors were in fact sailing just off the coast of Japan and they had merely sighted the tall stacks of the greatest and as yet unnamed drinking implement ever created by man, we now know it as The Beer Tower.

Be warned.

Back to work...

2006-01-02T12:32:00.000Z

It was back to the grind today and it was as busy as your mum. All the corporate monkeys insisted on wishing me a happy new year, it was fun seeing the dejected looks on their faces when they heard my rather lacklustre “Thanks” instead of a cheery “Happy New Year” in return… I love being a cynical bastard!

Speaking of bastards, the wind was blowing like forty of them– as my old man would say. The taxi home barely got above 70km/h on the motorway.

Heres the latest fuck-wit story to come out of work lately:

F-Wit: (In an irate voice) “Hi I just received a call and the caller said they were from the bank, the guy knew everything about my credit card, I just wanted to check if it really was from you guys cause it sounded dodgy” *fair enough I think*

Me: “Sure (I security check him, he passes, I look in to it) yeah it looks like we called you because we were concerned about some out of character transactions on your credit card and it looks like you confirmed that they were your transacti… (he cuts me off)

F-wit: “But how do I know you’re from the bank”

Me: “You called us”

F-Wit: (with a "I'm smarter than you" attitude) “But how do I know if the number I dialled is really the bank?”

Me: “Where did you get the number from?”

F-wit: “Well it’s on my credit card”

(There is silence, as I put him on mute and make a sound like a constipated old man with a low IQ – the corporate monkeys look up and stare)

Me: (overly polite) “Do you have any further questions Sir?”

(Silence)

F-Wit: “Fuck you smart ass” (hangs up)

Well that was quite a bender...

2006-01-01T22:26:00.000Z

Well... what can I say... Greytown - I came, I saw, I got f-ing wasted!
Greytown was quite a blast really. Some friends and I stayed in a homestay during new years.

Events included the consumption of meat (no we're not gay), the consumption of copious amounts of beer (we are alcoholics though) and frequent visits to a hot tub
(hmm we can’t defend ourselves on that one).

So as you might have guessed, the gathering tended towards the sausage rather than the bread-roll if you know what I mean… around 11.30pm we went in search of said bread-rolls…

A two minute walk to the local revealed that we were the life and soul of that pub and that the women were either skanky, fat, or old…. or a combination of all three – not that there is anything wrong with skanky, but only in the right circumstances of course. Yes I’m being harsh but some scary shit went down in the reputable White Swan (again no we’re not gay). An old woman felt me up, a smiley man in a fantastic Hawaiian shirt felt Stu up and no one felt Guy up – will somebody please feel that man up for the love of god!

There was one cute girl, she was one of the bar staff, and three blind (I think she was cute) drunk men can not impress one attractive, sober, woman that has been on her feet working for sixteen hours, listening to countless lame attempts to impress her.

So herein lays our lame attempt to impress said cute bar chick:
Purpose: To get Guy laid
Strategy: Mention we have a hot tub waiting, thereby convincing her to come back to our pad where Guy can make sweet little bunnies with her.

How it went down:

No one, despite being so drunk we are talking shit non-stop, has the nerve to ask her except me. At which point the White Swan decides to close and the oldest bouncer (who should have been in bed hours ago) kicks us out. I decide to follow thorough with the plan regardless. We walk right past Jerry-actirc who can’t catch us cause we’re men on a mission. I walk right up to the bar and she’s not there. Guy decides to rescue the situation by stealing a lemon from the bar.. Awesome! I’m suddenly on look-out duty, and then with the lemon successfully within the confines of Guys pocket, there she is!

Me: “Hi, I don’t think I’ve wished you a Happy New year yet… so um well Happy New year…”

Bar chick: (smiles, then she looks at me like I have more to say)

Me: So um, my name is Ben by the way we all thought you were the best bartender *I’m such a lamo*

Barchick: Thanks, I’m *can’t remember her name, fuck I’m a lamo, then we shake hands, at least I got to touch her*

Me: …and we were wondering what you were doing after you finish up cause we’re going to a party and there’s a hot tub and… well… you should come…
(Pause)

Barchick: er… (Pause) ok whats your number I’ll text you when I get off

Me: do you have a pen? I’ll write it down *and I’m thinking, how did that work? and can I even hold a pen?*

Then we look around for a Pen of course there isn’t a pen in sight and Jerry has my arm at this point.

Barchick: Wait outside I’ll get a pen…

Halleluiah! Am I on hot-man drugs?

So we wait and I tell the others and then those disbelieving (paul-like) creatures think lets just go… when out she comes with a pen… I’m the man…
So off we go… she turns out to be free with her texts but decides that she is too tired and we’ll meet up tomorrow… when we’ve gone home… crap.

So its just three men in the tub and Guys package decides to look at the stars, cries of “He’s taking his pants off” and “He’s just standing there” wake Daniel up and provide us with copious laughs the next morning… and life is good again…

Peace.

Ok so here I am...

2005-12-28T12:25:00.000Z

People often tell me I’m crazy so heres me in a nutshell (help I’m in a nutshell...) on the web.
I was gonna do one of those fancy msn blogs but they all look like a guy in a Hawaiian shirt wanked on them, not a big fan of gold and aqua you see. Still they have lots of space for photos... so we'll see...

Myspace was crap though, three marriage proposals was just too much, I already have enough friends thanks.

My target audience is really just myself and maybe some friends and family that want to keep up with what’s happening…

Hope you enjoy…